The professor, the doctor, and Harry soon arrive at the front door of what Harry recognizes as the Old House... except that it looks like it's in excellent condition...

https://vignette.wikia.nocooki...st?cb=20080715213812

The Professor takes initiative and knocks...

In reply to Prof. Everett Willoughby (msg # 2):

After a little while, an attractive brunette maid comes to the door... "Yes?"

At that moment, though, John Loomis rides up in the driveway, as well as a carriage. From the carriage, a man gets out, an older man. "Stop right there," shouts the older man. "Do not let those people into the house!"

http://bit.ly/2BxqjrZ

He seems like the type of man who shouts a lot, but even so, he's really shouting extra right now.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:15, Thu 15 Feb 2018.

The Professor steps back from the doorstep.

"Beg your pardon?"

In reply to Prof. Everett Willoughby (msg # 4):

The two men advance on the porch. "I met Mr. Loomis on the road," says the older man, "in a very excited state, but when I could get him to calm down and tell me the whole story, he said that three strange people-- and now that I see you, I understand better what he means-- accosted him, although possibly mistaking him for someone else, or possibly not, and that the youngest of the three men started a fight with him and bloodied his nose-- I had the evidence for that in front of me as soon as I saw him. Who are you people, what do you want here, and what possible explanation can you offer for your actions? I find it highly unlikely that my sister Abigail has sent for you, nor for anyone remotely like you-- I have certainly heard nothing about such a thing!"
This message was last edited by the player at 19:15, Thu 15 Feb 2018.

Not having stepped onto the veranda, Harry spits to one side. "A man, very much the spitting image of your Mr. Loomis and claiming to be one William Loomis," she tells the irate older man, "told me of work available in Collinsport and that I should seek out a Miss Abigail Collins." She gestures to the doctor and professor. "These gentlemen I met the eve before I left Logansport. Offered to help them reach Collinsport, as neither's from these parts and they feared getting lost." She spits again to one side. "Took pity because some unscrupulous captain marooned 'em. Stole everything they bore on their travels save the clothes on their backs and what they were carrying. Weren't bloody Christian, you ask me."

In reply to Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') (msg # 6):

John Loomis' jaw drops. These are details he hasn't heard before.

The older man is also flustered. He really hadn't expected anyone to have anything remotely like a rational explanation.

"Well... well, we shall see what my sister has to say about this." He turns to the maid. "Sapphira, is my sister Abigail in?"

"Yes Mr. Collins. I believe she's upstairs writing a letter."

"Mm. As she so often does, these days... please go to her, and say that I wish her to come downstairs-- urgently, right away-- in regard to three... strangers who have come in regard to an offer of work that someone told her that she had made."

"Thank you, sir," the Professor nods, and waits for Abigail to appear...

In reply to Prof. Everett Willoughby (msg # 8):

Soon enough, a woman comes to the front door. "Abigail," says the older Collins man, "these... people... say they... Well, I'll let them explain it to you."

https://darkshadowseveryday.fi...gail-is-the-bomb.jpg

You explain the situation to Abigail, sticking with the same story you've already explained to the Collins man.

Her reaction is increasingly... well, horrified. "I have sent for no such people! John Loomis has been here every day for weeks! It's clear what's truly going on here!"

You hold your breath, waiting to hear what Abigail thinks is truly going on here...

Only Harry, the Collinsport native, has a sneaking suspicion of what's coming, and she successfully hides a smile.

Abigail looks from her brother to John Loomis, to the doctor and the professor, looking at her with expectant faces. "I can hardly believe you're all looking at me that way! How can there be even the slightest shred of doubt? Obviously, this is the work of WITCHCRAFT!"

Her brother and John Loomis got an oh please no look on their faces at the words this is the work of, which changed to oh no when the final word came, but their expressions did not slow Abigail down in the least. "The devil must have sent a fetch! An infernal double! To impersonate John Loomis and send these people here! I must write to the Reverend Trask about this at once!" With that, she disappears back into the house, and you can just about hear her dashing up the steps.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:41, Sun 18 Feb 2018.

The Professor turns towards the older man, and looks him straight in the eyes. "Please, you have to believe us."
His voice shifts down a tone, and he lifts his hands in an expressive gesture. To an outside observer, it might seem that this is simply his manner of talking... But in reality, the Professor is directing his raw willpower against the Collins man.

"You know that your sister is just playing around. You can let us in to talk to her."

OOC: The Prof. attempts Hypnotism (page 233), takes one non-lethal damage.

"Through eye-contact, tone of voice, and intricate hand gestures the User commands the attention of a Nearby person, and makes them more susceptible to suggestion. The person must be of the same or lower Level than the User. If the person fails their Wisdom Save they will do nothing but pay attention to, converse with, and otherwise attempt to please the User. If the User attacks the victim the effect automatically ends. Once the effect ends, the hypnotized person will not remember being hypnotized, or anything that occurred while under the effect."

In reply to Prof. Everett Willoughby (msg # 10):

(Nice try, but Issac Collins makes his Wisdom save.)

"Playing around? I only wish that she was jesting! I've never seen anyone so serious about the dangers of witches in my life... witches meeting in covens, witches walking among us, witches behind every woodpile."

The old man looks at the three of you. "But you... No, I don't think I will let you in. Just because I don't think you're witches doesn't mean there's any reason for me to let you into my house. It's enough that we have one unusual guest already... I don't suppose any of you are musicians?"

The Professor tries to gain Isaac's sympathy in a more natural way...

"Musicians are never up to anything good. Just noise and distraction."

Surprisingly, the man gets a strange, far-off look. "...You know, that's entirely what I used to think, more or less... until..."

He shakes his head. "Well, that's neither here nor there."

He glances around, as if trying to remember what he's doing. A glance at John Loomis makes him turn toward all of you again, especially Harry. He starts to say something... then seems to remember that he's had the explanation for John's bloody nose already. He frowns, searching for words... "...Well, if I don't think that you people's being here should be attributed to witchcraft, and if you people don't think so... how do you explain what's brought you here? What is one to make of all this, in your opinion...?"

Harry ruminates for a spell then spits to one side again. "Someone playing pranks on poor travelers, no doubt," she finally says. "Much as the sailor in me wants to agree with your sister." Harry turns her face toward her companions. "Weather should hold if you gents care to return to Logansport right away."

The elder Collins raises his eyebrows and looks doubly hopeful at the ideas that, first, there might be some rational explanation besides Abigail's theories for these unexplainable events, and, second, that the visitors might choose to leave the area of their own accord...

Harry glances up at the Old House for a few moments, then turns a hawkish glare at the elder Collins. "Family have any enemies, Mister Collins? The name Isabella mean anything to you?" She spits to one side again. "Truth is, heard things made me reconsider coming here. Desperate times call for desperate measures, though." She lifts her chin toward her companions. "All just folk far from home trying to find our way, if you know what I mean."

This is a man who is a genius at appearing shocked, astounded, and confounded, and you see that genius at work again now--he is truly in his wheelhouse. "What-- I-- You-- What-- Isabella?!?!? Yes, the name Isabella certainly does mean some-- Isabella is my 14-year-old daughter! What-- Whatever do you mean-- See here, just what are you insinuating? What does my daughter Isabella have to do with this?"

Something in the way he looks at Harry now makes you all realize that part of his growing outrage is that, like John Loomis, he (incorrectly) thinks Harry is a (striking, attractive) young man. Such a stranger, a young man (as he wrongly thinks Harry is) having any awareness of his 14-year-old daughter's existence would, were he not blessed with good health, be giving him a conniption fit. As it is, he's just extremely loud.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:54, Sat 03 Mar 2018.

Harry nods toward Loomis. "Overheard your man's 'twin' bring up the name. Couldn't see who he were speaking to," she tells the elder Collins. "Conversation's tone weren't too charitable, no sir. Reckon there was a fair bit of hate fueling the discussion."

In reply to Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') (msg # 18):

Now you've really thrown the old fellow, but instead of being angry, he's more worried and bewildered. "What... what... who... who could... who would... could it be...? But what would he want with Isabella...?!?" He looks up, focuses. "I must find my daughter Isabella, at once, and speak to her about this... Excuse me..." He starts to head into the house, but then stops. "Are you... What exactly are your plans, next...? I may want to speak to you again, hear more about this... Where do you expect to be the rest of the day...?"

Harry simply grunts. "Vouchsafe these gentlemen and I a loaf or two of bread, some fish stew, and ale enough to slake our thirst." she says, "and I'll be wherever you wish me. We've come a long way with neither coin or aught to eat." She gestures to the nearby woods. "We can take our ease in the shade just beneath the verge."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:23, Thu 01 Mar 2018.

"Bah..." says the old fellow, "Food, yes, but water'll be fine for you... I want you sharp for remembering any details you might have heard this man say... I'll see to it right away..." He turns back and heads into the house. "Mrs. Malloy? Mrs. Malloy...!"

John Loomis stands awkwardly, looking like he's thinking nervously, probably about the idea that he has a double out there somewhere (who may or may not be involved with witchcraft)...

The Professor calmly follows Harry to a cozy place under the trees. Hopefully, there's a bench to sit on...

"Thank you for, well, clearing this mess up, at least slightly. I'm still confused... Who is Isabella?"

Harry lowers her voice in reply. "The first voice we heard during the séance said her name was Isabella," she murmurs to her companions. "Now we have only the second to identify, the one who brought us here."

Soon, a woman brings you food and water on a large tray... Her once-red hair is almost all silver, now... "Here you are... I... hope you like it..." She just puts the tray down amongst where you're sitting, since there's no table... "...Are you... enjoying your... visit? Mr. Collins didn't say much about... why you were here..." She's apparently curious for gossip.

"Thank you very much," the Professor smiles at the woman. "Say, do you work for the lady of the house? What can you tell us about her?" He tries to get some gossip out of her first.

"Oh, no, she has her own servants... I'm just the cook... ...Er, I presume you're asking after the elder Miz Collins? Or do you mean Miz Anne?"

The Prof. continues probing the soil.

"Well, I meant the elder Collins... But it seems the authority is shared by the two ladies! Does this make things complicated?"

"Mm, I can see how one might think it would, but they don't really seem to get in one another's way. There's Miz Sarah, who's the elder Mr. Collins' wife-- he's the one who told me to come bring you summat-- and there's Anne, who married Mr. Collins' oldest son, Leo. They're both in their middle-30s... me, I like both ladies." She thinks. "I suppose they don't get in each other's way because Miz Sarah was already the queen bee of the house when Miz Anne married into the family, so she's used to letting Miz Sarah's orders stand, unless something comes up that Miz Sarah ain't around to deal with right away. They like each other, and get along... makes things easy on us all." She glances back at the house and clucks her tongue. "Blessed sight easier than if Miz Abigail were in charge of everything..."

"What makes you say that? What would be different if Miss Abigail was in charge?"

"Pffffffft. You must not've met 'er. We'd all surely be at our prayers three times a day, or more, just fer a start. There'd be a huge reduction of brandy-drinkin' in this house, I can tell ye' that fer sure. There's nothin' wrong with prayers, mind, but... You'll understand if y' ever meet 'er."

Harry helps herself to some food as Mrs. Mallory and the Professor converse. "Was she always like this, your Miss Abigail?" she asks between mouthfuls. "Or did she seek God's comfort after some tragedy?"

"Mm, I haven't worked for the Collins family long enough to know first-hand... but they say she had her heart broken way back when she was a pretty young thing. Her love died at sea in a storm, they say..."

Harry bobs her head knowingly. "Sea don't care for a man what loves another more than her," she observes without irony. "A jealous mistress, she is. Sailor wanting to avoid a watery grave learns that quick."

Mrs. Malloy nods. "...Well, I suppose I should be getting back to the house... getting back to working on preparing lunch..." She seems slightly hesitant, however, in case the three of you might want to talk with her any further...

Harry fixes Mrs. Mallory with her gaze. "Lost at sea, you say. Somewhere along the coast?" She gestures in the direction of Widow's Hill. "Rocky hereabouts. Rough in a storm. Anyone survive, or did news 'come in with the tide' as the saying goes?"

"And what can you tell us about young Isabella?"

In reply to Prof. Everett Willoughby (msg # 36):

"Oh, Isabella? A pleasant girl... 14 years old, perfectly obedient, well-mannered enough, quiet..." Mrs. Malloy looks a bit nervous. "She... Isabella... um... she has... well she's got a bit of the sight, you know..."

The Professor is intrigued.

"The sight? Do you mean she... sees things before they happen? Or things that are not there?"

"Ah, more the second thing. She tries to keep quiet about it, but I remember when she was younger, she wouldn't sit in a certain chair because she said it was 'Amadeus' favorite chair, and he doesn't like other people sitting in it.' With Amadeus Collins dead now for almost 100 years! She hasn't mentioned anything that obvious these days... I'm sure she's afraid that her great-aunt Abigail might catch her saying summat like that... But I can tell she still knows more than she says about such things... there's a far-off look in her eyes..."

"Interesting... Does she have anybody around the house she can be more open with? Somebody she trusts?"

"Mm, no, not really. She's too afraid of Abigail, I suppose. One might think that her older brother Daniel and Isabella would be closer than they are-- he's always so interested in... unusual things... but perhaps their age difference gets in the way. He's 12 years older than she is, after all, and so has a grown-up's responsibilities to keep in mind..."

"What kind of unusual things is Daniel into? Makes you wonder... if he is older, he is probably more active and open in pursuing his interests? Even alongside his responsibilities?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:48, Wed 21 Mar 2018.

"Oh, I don't know... he likes collectin' ghost stories, and things from the far east, the orient... spooky things like that... I... I should really be gettin' inside now..."

"Sure, sure, I don't want to hold you up! Just one last thing: where does Daniel live, which house? Is there any place he goes to often, outside the houses? I have a couple of things he might be interested in."

In reply to Prof. Everett Willoughby (msg # 44):

Mrs. Malloy blanches at the implication that you might, yourself, be some sort of dealer in spooky merchandise. "He lives here for now, will live at Collinwood as soon as everything is all moved in... As for... When he wants to get out at night, I think he goes to The Blue Whale in town, like most people..."

She turns and heads back into the house.

Harry stuffs another plug between cheek and gum. "Get farther talking to the servants, seems." She spits to one side for emphasis. "Didn't learn anything new about Abigail's lost love, though." She fishes in her ditty bag for a moment before producing a whetstone. "If this is where the other voice first comes in, reckon we oughta keep a lookout for other new arrivals." The big knife comes out from beneath Harry's squall jacket, and she proceeds to sharpen it in almost a ritualistic manner.

"I was trying to find a person in the family who we might get closer to," the Prof. explains. "This Daniel Collins boy sounds like a good candidate. I will try to find him at the Blue Whale."

"Maybe later we can talk more to the servants."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:34, Thu 22 Mar 2018.

In reply to Prof. Everett Willoughby (msg # 47):

The old fellow comes back up to you. "Well, I can't find Isabella right now, she's probably down by the shore or walking in the woods or over at the new house by now for all I know... Do you happen to have any details of this 'Willie' Loomis that you've remembered, or any clues about the man he was talking to?"

Harry answers the elder Collins after a moment's thought. "Him and your Mr. Loomis were as alike as peas in a pod," she tells him. "As for the other party, could've been a woman for all I know." She spits to one side and continues. "Tricorn hat. High-collared cape or greatcoat. Dark hair. Never saw their face or heard their voice clearly. Facing away from me the entire time."

In reply to Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') (msg # 49):

"Oh? Hm... sounds like a military man to me... or perhaps, as you point out, a man-- or woman-- wanting to give that impression... Yes... Hm... I'm glad I asked you to wait... Anyone else got any details that've come to you...?"

Harry's hand pauses with the whetstone. "Nice day for a youngster to go wandering about," she says, gesturing harmlessly with the knife. "Grew up near here. Seal Cove, beautiful country." She spits to one side and resumes caring for her blade. "Think this weather will hold?"

"Bah... I didn't mean just details about your life story nor the weather, I meant about this strange lookalike causing trouble for my family! ...Let's start coming at this from another direction... You there, sir, tell me more about yourself... what sort of work did you expect to find here?"

"I am a doctor, sir," says the doctor. "Since my understanding was that Ms. Abigail Collins was a mature woman of means, that perhaps she might have need of a personal doctor. I was led to believe that her health was not of the finest."

"On the contrary, my sister may outlive me, if she can avoid working herself into a conniption fit one of these days..." He turns to the professor. "And you... what sort of work did you hope to find here?"

"I'm a historian. I compile the genealogies and chronicles of New England's finest families," the Professor says, and, technically, this is not even a lie. "I was looking to clarify certain points of my genealogical studies."

In reply to Prof. Everett Willoughby (msg # 53):

The reply doesn't seem to meet with the man's approval nor disapproval. "I see." He turns to Harry. "And you, sir? What manner of employment did you expect that my sister might have to offer...?!"

Harry finishes honing her knife, which disappears again beneath her squall jacket. "Just heard of work, sir, and thought to take it if I could," she replies. "Been a sailor all my life, told she needed hands for a ship. I'm strong, good pillot, fair carpenter."

In reply to Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') (msg # 55):

The man crosses his arms and sighs. He seems sad that none of you have given him a reason to shout at you. "...Hmph. I don't know what to say... Let me think." He stares at each of you in turn.

"As for a doctor, Collinsport could use one, actually. The last one... left. ...In fact, I think his office is still empty, as I recall... Could I possibly interest you in staying in Collinsport...? Perhaps a small loan from me, to get you started... considering the unfortunate circumstances you three have had of late...?"

"As for you... How do you normally make your living...? As a genealogist...? In academia? Do you write books about such things...?"

"Finally, your skills, sir, are rather more naturally in demand in a town like Collinsport... Do you have any experience with fishing boats, specifically...?"

The doctor's face suggests that he's interested in taking Mr. Collins up on his offer, but that he wants to see how you two will reply, first...
This message was last edited by the player at 13:51, Tue 27 Mar 2018.

"Yes, but also as a private tutor. I teach history and languages."

In reply to Prof. Everett Willoughby (msg # 57):

"Hmmmmm. What languages?"

"Classics: Latin and Greek. But also modern languages, like German or French."

In reply to Prof. Everett Willoughby (msg # 59):

"Hm. My children have all had tutoring in Latin, of course, but their Greek and French is not the best... haven't had German, though, that's mildly interesting from a business standpoint... I think I'll ask my wife's opinion... And my oldest son, Aaron... his little boy Leo will need a tutor sooner or later... have you ever worked with small children? Leo is only 5, but they learn languages best the earlier one starts 'em, it's always seemed to me..."

"Depends on whether young Leo has mastered the art of reading and writing. But I have heard from fellow tutors, that indeed in the early years, children are rather capable of learning to speak a language, without reading or writing it."

"He has a governess, a Miss Wick... he can read and write about as well as you'd expect for a 5-year-old, which isn't terribly well, but..." Mr. Collins shrugs.

Harry spits to one side and nods. "Fished these shores from Ogunquit to Passamaquoddy, and the whole of the Gulf from Nantucket to Nova Scotia," she replies with no small pride. "No stranger to the farther banks either, from St. Georges to the Flemish Cap." She stows her whetstone in her ditty bag. "Haddock. Redfish. Herring. Cod. Hailbut. Lobster. Crab."

"Lobster? Let's not be uncivilized. But I understand your point-- you have a wide range of experience. The Collins fishing fleet mostly fishes herring, although at times we'll take sardines or mackerel, sometimes cod."

"So... Doctor, you've heard my offer... sir, I'll speak to my wife and son about tutoring possibilities... and... Oh, this is awkward. What are your names, please? I am Isaac Collins... or were you aware of that already?"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:51, Tue 27 Mar 2018.

"I'm Professor Everett Willoughby. Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Collins."

Harry simply grunts. "Harry. Harry MacLeod."

In reply to Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') (msg # 66):

"Dr. Jarrod McKenzie."

"Mm. Well then, doctor, professor... Mr. MacLeod... I am making some very kind offers, it's true, but I'll also admit to an ulterior motive... I want you around Collinsport to act as my eyes and ears, in case you are contacted by either of the persons responsible for sending you here... by doing you a kindness and working to set you up with employment, I will expect you to come and report to me first if anything like that happens, or if you hear of any other plots or schemes involving members of my family... will you each accept my offer... and my proposal...?"

"I accept your terms, Mr. Collins," says the Professor, and reaches out to shake hands on it with Isaaac Collins.

In reply to Prof. Everett Willoughby (msg # 68):

"As do I," says the doctor, who does the same. "But what of you, er, Harry?"

Harry grunts and spits again. "Real eager to get my mitts on who sent me here," she says, fingering her knife before it once again vanishes beneath her squall jacket.. "Yeah... I'm in."