That stops 'im. "...I see... So you are one of those whom Satan tricked into reporting to the Collins estate... Tricked... or assigned..." He turns. "And you must be the suspiciously-handsome sailor that Abigail Collins' epistles mentioned... How... coincidental that you should be the first two that I meet upon my arrival in Collinsport..."

Harry sardonically snorts at the man's words. "My face is curse enough already. If anyone's liable to draw a knife across it, it'd be me." Pointedly gesturing to the inn, she tells the stranger. "God grant you the rest you deserve, sir. Good night."  Harry turns then to the Professor. "Staying at the inn tonight, or am I to walk you to Collinwood?."

"And still, we helped you, like good Christians," the Professor says. "Good night."

He has no intention of speaking to the man any more.

"Let's walk back to the mansion," he says to Harry.

The man gapes open-mouthed at the two of you. He tries to speak, but seems at a loss. He's a naturally-suspicious man, but he has no proof of anything infernal about either of you. He finally turns and walks away in the direction of the Collinsport Inn.

(OOC: So, I take it you're both heading to Collinwood on foot...?)
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:38, Fri 06 July 2018.

In reply to They (msg # 24):

OOC: Given that all the landmarks Harry knows are 150+ years out of date, we definitely shan't chance the trail through the wood. We'll follow whatever passes for a road from town. It also lessens the chance we wander off a cliff.

The Professor lets Harry lead the way.

Collinsport isn't THAT large... certainly no one has ever said otherwise... so as the minutes pass by, eventually the professor and Harry find themselves halfway up the winding road toward Collinwood.

The howl comes again.

It is much nearer, now. The fog makes it difficult to say exactly how near...

No member of the Collins family owns a dog.

Harry passes her lantern to the Professor and draws her knife. "Stay close. Solitary wolf ain't likely to attack," she tells him, "but a pack's another matter. May want to find a sturdy tree to climb. Won't outrun 'em."

Something is coming closer... not from behind you nor ahead of you, but from over to the side, back behind the thick bushes and trees... it sounds like a man and a large dog... you hear fast, rushing footsteps like a man, but you also hear growling and snarling like that of a large dog or hound.

The Professor starts to mumble and wave his arms around... then almost falls, but luckily, he has his cane to lean on.

The fog, which only hindered Harry and the Professor, now strangely becomes malleable and helpful, covering them, hiding them.

"Hush... maybe they won't notice us!"

---

Casting Obscuring Mist.
The User is surrounded by a mist that reduces visibility to 5'. Beings up to 5 into the mist enjoy a +2 Bonus on their Armor Class. Beings more than 5' into the mist enjoy a +4 Bonus on their Armor Class, and count as Invisible for effects that require a visible target.

Harry curses under her breath when the Professor seems to undergo some sort of seizure, but her hackles start to rise as the fog thickens. She clams up and moves to cover the lantern. Or perhaps stab the old man. Both are tempting, as is the urge to flee. Damn you, Charity Collins, she thinks to herself. God damn you to hell.

The sounds come nearer.

Then... other sounds approach.

A carriage is coming up the road behind you, led by at least two horses.

It's going slowly... but the slower it gets, the less you can hear the man and the hound, or whatever that is, off to the side.

Finally, it's slowed to a crawl... you can see the very diffused light from its headlamps. "...Ah'm sorry, Mr. Collins, but this fog's gettin' thicker an' thicker... I just can't go any faster'n this..."

It'll be easy to step out of the way of the carriage... but maybe you want to make yourselves known to the driver, since it seems like the arrival of the carriage is all that's keeping the sounds out in the bushes and trees at bay...?

Emboldened by the mention of a Collins, and scared by the noises, the Professor calls out: "Good people, please, stop the carriage!

"We are sorry to interrupt you, but the fog calls for extreme measures... May I inquire, are you headed for the Collins mansion?"

You hear the carriage stop, though the horses are still rather restless... and/or nervous. "What the... who the hell is that...?" comes the grumpy voice of an older man.

"Someone's already on the road, Mr. Collins," says the voice of the youngish man who spoke earlier. "I think it might be little Leo's new tutor...? Who's out there...?"

You can't identify anyone yet, though. You can barely see the horses and the carriage, and the vaguest shape of a carriage-driver... They're all right near you...

"Yes, I am Professor Willoughby. I was in town, but then this fog descended. I'm sorry to intrude on you, but I'd appreciate a lift to the mansion in this time of need."

"...You said we..." says an older male voice, "...whom else is out there with you...?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:02, Thu 31 May 2018.

Harry calls to the carriage. "Harry MacLeod, sailor with the fishing fleet," she replies, eye still focused on the direction from whence came the growls and thrashing. "Professor didn't have a lantern, offered to walk him back. Fog's gotten worse, though."

"...I must admit, it certainly has... I can't even see you now..."


"Mr. Collins, the horses sure are restless..." comes the coachman, "like they smell a predator out there..."



Do you mention the noises you were hearing?

Harry confirms the coachman's fears. "Heard a wolf or wolves earlier," she confides. "May still be close by. Fog's made 'em bolder."

"Good lord," says the older man. "Well then, if you can see the carriage to get into it, come on, then, let's not tarry here..."

The two of you (based on the position of the carriage's headlamps, and the voices you've heard) find the carriage, find a door, and get in.

Inside is a man that the professor now recognizes as Lucas Collins, the slightly-younger brother of patriarch Isaac Collins. From what you've heard, Lucas seems to handle the Collins' family's accounts (in this era). Isaac still has final say in everything, of course, but since business is good, Isaac doesn't seem to interfere very often.

"All right, Timothy, let's go," Lucas Collins commands, "as fast as you can without hitting a tree."

"Yessir...!" says the coachman, and the coach starts slowly moving...

Harry climbs up to sit beside the coachman, after helping the Professor into the carriage.

The coach driver, apparently named Timothy, is a slightly beefy young man of perhaps 20 or so. His countenance is grim and concerned, his manner too tense to speak. His constantly-roving gaze shows that he's clearly worried not about Harry sitting next to him, but about what's out there in the trees... although the fog does lessen a bit after the first several dozen yards the coach travels from the spot where Harry and the professor got on...



Inside the coach, Lucas Collins also seems uncomfortable. "...So..." he says to the professor, and then trails off, not sure what to discuss. Then he brightens a little. "...Are you interested in, ah, antiques...?" he asks. "Venerable works of art...?"

"Thank you so much."



"Yes, certainly! Masterpieces of art and craft talk to us, I think. They tell us of greatness, both material and spiritual. Are you, perhaps, a collector, a connoisseur?"

Lucas's demeanor warms. "Ah! I have some very expensive pieces... I ought to show them to you some time... Perhaps in a few days..."



At Harry's side, the driver slowly begins to relax. "...Fog's thinning out the farther we get up the hill, Mr. Collins," he calls back, because it's true, and he doubles the speed of the carriage... it shouldn't be too long now...

"I'd be delighted to accept your invitation, Mr. Collins."