The fishing boats are just about ready to leave for the day...

Harry hastens up the gangway ahead of the stragglers and checks in with the duty officer for her assignment.

Harry receives her orders for the day, and the boat sets out to deeper waters.

"...Not like you to cut it close," says a sailor nearby Harry. "You feelin' sick?"

Harry grunts a reply as she works. "Longer walk this morning. Stayed overnight at Collinwood."

"Eh?! What were y'doin' there? I'd much rather need t' go t' th' doctor than have t' go up there... And overnight, y'say...?!"

Harry snorts in amusement. "Boy's new tutor didn't have a lantern. Offered to walk him up to the house," she remarks. "Put me up with the coachman on account of the fog and the wolves."

"...Ah... so that's it..." He pauses. "...Wait, wolves? There was a cow killed not far away two nights ago... some say it was a wolf... some say it wasn't..."

Harry gives the man a glance. "Bear, maybe? Or couple of bobcats?"

"...Mm. Who knows, I guess..." The man looks out to sea and sighs. "What about you, you heard any good gossip lately...?"

Harry shrugs. "Some preacher in town to visit Miss Abigail. Another without the sense to carry a lantern."

"Mm." The sailor appears uninterested. "...I suppose I was hoping for gossip about the new doctor, since he came to town same time's you. He seems a decent fellow, and people are understandably a li'l anxious about him sticking around, considering what happened to the last doctor..."

Harry raises an eyebrow at this news. "What happened to the last doctor?"

"Mm. No one knows exactly, but we all know, vaguely... He lost his mind over some woman... some strange woman who sang his heart out of his chest in love with 'er... and his brain out'a 'is skull... He ran off t' be with 'er-- a little shack just up the coast-- but none of us ever saw 'im again... and she only spake some strange European tongue no one around here knows, so no one could ask 'er..."

Harry spat over the side. "Hope she cooks half as well as she sings."

Harry spent the remainder of her day listening to the shipboard scuttlebutt and plying her crewmates with careful questions aimed at expanding what she knows of the Collins family, other important families, strange occurrences in and around town, and conjecture about the looming 'dark times'.

14:03, Today: They rolled a check for Harry and got: 20 using 1d20 ((20)). Not good!

Other than worry that whomever beat that poor girl down at the docks might strike again, and vague anxiety over what sounded like a hungry wolf around town lately, Harry's questions, generally speaking, don't stir up much.

OOC: More like people poking their noses into Harry's business, with a 20. She's about due for a fistfight, isn't she? LOL

OOC: I didn't know if I wanted to make it a check of INT (asking the most useful questions) WIS (reading the personalities of her shipmates to figure out how to manipulate them) or CHR (making them want to talk to her), but when I saw the 20, I was like WELP doesn't really matter what kind of check it was, does it?

OOC: I suppose it matters only insofar as consequences are concerned. A fumbled INT roll means she asks stupid questions that annoy her crewmates. A fumbled WIS roll means she completely misreads her crewmates and that annoys them. A fumbled CHA roll means she comes off as the hard, cold, aloof person she actually is and endears herself to no one. Any or all could lead to fists flying, given that Harry is Aggressive.

OOC: I'd say I was mostly leaning toward thinking of it as a CHR roll...

OOC: I see a chain of events like so: Harry misreads her crewmates and, being hard, cold, and aloof, asks off-putting, tactless questions which lead to big trouble. Someone might throw a punch at her, attempt to shank her, try to knock her overboard with a swinging block-and-tackle, or endeavor to get her fired. Either way, Harry now has an enemy.

The other sailors get tired of Harry's questions. Who is she, a newcomer, to stir up the fears of those who have to live in Collinsport?

The captain does a lot of shouting at everyone to stick to their damn work, so a fight doesn't quite start, but one man, by the name of Zeke Macintyre, seems to have taken the most offense, and occasionally glares at Harry now and then throughout the rest of the afternoon.

Harry returns Macintyre's glares with her own piercing gaze, as if daring him to start something.

Zeke looks tempted, but every time, he glances at the captain, who watches both of you closely. Finally, he just smiles, clearly deciding to postpone things for some time when neither of you are at work.

OOC: Does Zeke bear any resemblance to Bigby, given they've they same last name? ^_^

Kinda, but not identical, like with Willie Loomis and John Loomis. He's shorter, and a little stockier, but otherwise, yeah, there seems like there might be some resemblance, especially if you subtract factors like being more tanned (well duh, he's a sailor) and a bit greasier (1795 hygiene), etc. etc.

Harry makes preparations to evade the inevitable after-work ambush by Macintyre and his cronies. She takes her time finishing the day's tasks, purloins a waterproof oilcloth sack whilst below, fills it with her boots and squall gear, then slips over the rail unseen and down the starboard side of the ship to swim ashore somewhere it's unlikely she'll be attacked.

---

OOC: A suitable destination within easy swimming distance should be easy enough to recall, should it not? INT and WIS are both 11. Possible modifiers: +1 for Avocation (Smuggler), +1 for Affection (The Sea), +3 for Good Sense Of Direction. If nothing else, she can make for the shore at the base of Widow's Hill. That's only a mile or so...

(I'm not even going to make you roll for the WHERE of it--)the easiest spot to swim to would be over there near the base of Widow's Hill.


(09:21, Today: Con check: They rolled 20 using 1d20. (Geeeez.))

Harry makes it past the rocks and onto the sand, but she's very tired and cold and may have swallowed a little water. Her stuff in the sack is still dry, though.

Harry drags herself into the caves and climbs as high above the high tide mark as she is able before collapsing. After as brief a rest as she can manage and with as few rests along the way, she begins climbing the easiest of the natural stone chimneys to the clifftop.

It's getting dark... fortunately

1. Harry has a pretty good idea about the lay of the land, since the land hasn't changed that much over the decades, and

2. There's no sign of any howling so far tonight, even though the moon is up for canids to howl at. Might be safe to walk around and stuff.


You know that the Collins Old House is sort of northish, Collinwood itself is northwest, Collinsport is west... Eagle Hill Cemetery is north-by-northeastish.


But what are your plans?

There used to be a farmhouse with a barn off past Collinwood, to the north-by-northwestish, if you need a place to spend the night... and then there's a large cave, above even high-tide level, off to the, ah, east-by-northeastish...
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:51, Tue 10 July 2018.

Despite her familiarity with the tunnels, Harry knows better than to attempt to traverse their labyrinthine depths without a light source. She instead elects to head for the nearest egress atop the cliffs and, once she reaches it, pauses to wring out her wet clothing and don the dry things from her duffle bag. She allows her eyes time to adjust to the growing darkness before setting out for Collinsport on an indirect path that will take her past both Collinwood and the Old House.

You trudge past the old house, and then you pass south of Collinwood itself... but just a little while after that, you run into more fog and mist.

You hear someone stomping around, sort of muttering... it doesn't sound like the panting, growling thing from the night before, it definitely sounds like, well, a normal man... very possibly a man who's even more irritated by the fog and mist than yourself.

Then the footsteps stop.

"Who's there? Who is that? I hear you-- I heard that footstep, Professor! You cannot hide from one appointed by the Lord!"

Oh, terrific, it's that weird fanatic you and the Professor met yesterday. For some reason he thinks you're the Professor.

Harry crouches and feels around the ground at her feet until she manages to collect roughly a half-dozen small stones. At intervals of approximately ten heartbeats, she lobs a stone toward the southwest, west-southwest, due west, west-northwest, and northwest in sequence as best as she can reckon. She then draws her knife silently from its sheath and waits, eyes and ears straining for any sign of approach.

"Ah ha!" the man shouts, and he heads stomping off in a vaguely north-west direction.

Harry mulls leading the witch-hunter to an untimely fall onto the rocks at the base of Widows' Hill, but reconsiders given her weakened state. Just my luck if he were the Lord's appointed and it's me who takes the untimely fall. Battered enough already from my swim. She lobs the last of her stones to the north and north-northeast before heading to the southwest as originally planned, keeping as best as she is able to the edge of the fog. Professor owes me twice now, she thinks to herself. More if I include coming up with the tale that bought us all time to puzzle through who... or what... landed us here.

You hear, a bit farther off, the sound of loud footsteps, running away into the trees. The sound seems to originate somewhere past your unwanted listener, then head away into a direction off to west.

You very soon hear stompy footsteps pursuing these noises, also heading off vaguely to the west, where the land slopes increasingly downhill... with no trail. Mr. Appointed-By-The-Lord might very well run into a tree and hurt himself, given the slope and the difficulty of the terrain...

Oh well!

If you continue to move slowly and quietly at first, it should now be safe for you to resume heading back toward the town...

Morbid curiosity gets the better of Harry and she sets off in the direction of the two pair of footsteps, moving as safely and stealthily as she can. Safety being more important, she periodically pauses to crouch and get her bearings. She gathers another handful of stones along the way, and uses them in an attempt to adjust her prey's trajectory... and that of her prey's prey... toward where the railway station would eventually be located, north of town.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:52, Sat 14 July 2018.

(Before we continue-- there were no railroads in Maine (as was true of almost everywhere in North America) at that time. The steam engine was only barely that developed yet, and most people didn't have that much faith in its ability to handle things like hills, so they weren't laying much track yet.)

OOC: Edited to correct my mistaken modernism.

As you reach the edge of a downslope, you can tell the man is having trouble moving through the thick trees and bushes down there...

You toss a rock or two, but it's so thick that you soon stop, because it's increasingly hard to keep him going without making it sound like his quarry has taken to the treetops...

Following the edge of the slope as best she can, Harry circles to the north, alert for signs of the two men's positions. The fog would thicken as it flowed down the hillside, making visibility even worse for those traversing it, but keeping to higher ground might win her free of it sooner. She cursed it under her breath.

You can hear one man down there, getting more and more irritated.

Nothing else, though...

Harry reverses course, following the edge of the slope back around to the southwest. Once the sounds of stomping and thrashing fade somewhat with distance, she turns and makes her way directly toward Collinsport.

Soon, the mist and fog clear. Huh. Odd. You look back. Still there, for now... But none ahead of you... Seems like a comparatively clear night. And the full moon makes it fairly easy to see, considering...

Harry returns her knife to its sheath and continues onward to town.

(Nothing will stop you from getting back to town... What do you plan to do when you get there...?)

Harry figures she's out of luck where a hot meal is concerned, it being after sundown on the eve before the sabbath, so she stops at the Blue Whale for a bowl of cold soup, a hunk of crusty bread, a wedge of cheese, and a mug of ale to wash it all down.

OOC: Did we ever determine what time of year it was? If so, I've forgotten.

Harry feels a bit better now that she's eaten...

Just as she's finishing, though, Harry sees Zeke Macintyre come through the door.

Zeke sees her, too...

Harry pushes her chair back and raises her mug to him, content to let Zeke make the first move. She leans back, knee raised and crooked, and rests the sole of her boot against the table edge on the off chance he's rash enough to charge her and she needs to kick it into his path. She drains the last of her ale but holds onto the mug as a weapon of opportunity.

---

OOC: Are the mugs glass, pewter, wood, or something else?

Zeke gives Harry a look of surprise and scorn (and is there, perhaps, a bit of grudging respect? Mm, it's probably just more surprise than anything), then looks around. He seems to feel that the room is perhaps too crowded to start anything. He sits (near the door) and loudly orders a drink, which is soon brought to him. He seems content, for now, to simply drink in peace...

Harry orders another mug of ale and pretends to down it all in one quick series of gulps. She keeps pace with Macintyre, ordering two drinks for every one he orders, but drinking none of them. When his consumption finally seems to taper off, Harry rises to her feet and, feigning unsteadiness, stumbles toward the door and out into the night. She takes careful note of anyone who seems preparing to follow her.

As a matter of fact, after two blocks, Harry does detect someone following her. They don't seem terribly good at it... the surreptitious part, that is. Or maybe they want her to know they're back there, just to scare her?

Harry continues weaving her way toward the Widow Morgan's, pausing to lean against one of the buildings where the lane turns and feign sickness. She lingers there long enough to hopefully gain a glimpse of her pursuer, but not long enough to allow them to catch up with her.

So I did a WIS check...

08:47, Today: They, on behalf of Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry'), rolled 20 using 1d20 ((20)).

This just in: The dice hate you.

Someone completely blindsides Harry.

Before I roll... is your Armor Class of 1 based on what you're wearing...?

OOC: Yes it is.

(09:30, Today: They rolled 3 using 1d20 ((3)). So much for armor class.

09:31, Today: They rolled 1 using 1d2 ((1)).

Someone's fist does Harry 1 point of damage.)

Someone's fist seems to come out of nowhere, and whacks Harry in the head.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:33, Wed 25 July 2018.

Harry staggers out into the lane from the force of the blow, ducking and weaving to the best of her ability.

---

OOC: Preparing to dodge gives me an AC bonus equal to half my DEX, so next round Harry will have an impressive AC 10.

Turns out-- big surprise-- it's Zeke Macintyre. Fortunately, he's apparently by himself...

He attacks again... but misses.

Harry continues to dodge and weave, hoping Zeke will tire and leave an opening.

---

OOC: Will prepare to dodge until I win initiative or get hit again, then attack.

Since you know the system better than I do: How does one win initiative?

I was willing to just let you have a turn on offense after his last attack failed to land...

OOC: I believe you flip a coin each round to determine which side has initiative. Okay, will come out swinging...

Harry takes advantage of Zeke's overextension to plant a series of quick jabs to his ribs.

---

11:32, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 3 using 1d20.  Fisticuffs with Z (DEX 18).
11:32, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 3 using 1d2+1.  Damage.

So now does Zeke get to counterattack? Or do we start rolling for init?

OOC: The only rationale for initiative is that someone who goes last in one round might get to go first in the next and potentially land two blows in a row. Keeping initiative is good because you can potentially knock your opponent out before they retaliate. I'm good with whatever. Harry has 9 hit points left, she could still win even if Zeke has more.

(13:14, Today: They rolled 2 using 1d2 ((2)).

Harry gets to act next... go ahead.)

Harry attempts a right cross to Zeke's jaw but in a moment's hesitation fails to land the blow.

---

20:19, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 18 using 1d20.  Fisticuffs with Z (DEX 18).

09:36, Today: They rolled 10 using 1d20 ((10)).

09:36, Today: They rolled 1 using 1d2 ((1)).

Harry takes another point of damage.


09:37, Today: They rolled 1 using 1d2 ((1)).

Zeke wins initiative for the next round...

09:37, Today: They rolled 9 using 1d20 ((9)).

Zeke lands another blow...

09:42, Today: They rolled 2 using 1d2 ((2)).

...For 2 more points of damage.

Angered by the two blows Zeke lands, Harry swings wildly and throws herself off balance.

---

01:49, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 20 using 1d20.  Fisticuffs with Z (DEX 18). Let's assume the 20 means Harry loses the initiative again.

OOC: We could speed this up by rolling for several rounds at once. Roll a bunch of d2s so we know initiative order, then we each roll a bunch of d20s and d2s for our punches and damage, and determine who goes down first. Not that I'll argue with the 1 XP I stand to earn from this fight if it requires many more posts. LOL

(OOC: What's your max HP right now compared to your current HP? I think you have rather more of a max than Zeke does...)
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:00, Fri 27 July 2018.

In reply to They (msg # 71):

OOC: My maximum is 10, my current is 6. All my rolls for HP have been below average.

Part of the reason that I ask is that your character sheet says:

Hit Points: 14

In reply to They (msg # 73):

OOC: I leveled Harry up a couple days ago when you posted about XP per ten posts. Not that there is much difference from Level 4 to Level 6, with my bad dice rolls. Am still using my Level 4 stats (10 HP, +1 Damage Bonus). I forgot to add the two level bonuses to my attributes, thought I would add both to CON.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:50, Fri 27 July 2018.

Ah ha! So 14 is what it will be if you survive until after the chapter break, got it. :)

Anyway, I think we should keep plugging away, and not get ahead of ourselves...

09:52, Today: They rolled 11 using 1d20 ((11)).

09:52, Today: They rolled 2 using 1d2 ((2)).

Harry takes 2 points of damage.

Harry swings once more, despite the pounding she has received, and manages a glancing hit.

---

11:30, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 13 using 1d20.  Fisticuffs with Z (DEX 18).
11:30, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 2 using 1d2+1.  Damage.

Zeke can't help but cry out in pain. "Aggh!"

He's looking a bit desperate, now. It's starting to dawn on him that Harry is tougher than he realized... both of you can dish it out, but Harry can really take it, too.

Also, lamplights are just starting to show in a couple of windows nearby that were dark before... the fight is just starting to come to the attention of people nearby...

Zeke grimaces and decides it's now or never...

10:56, Today: They rolled 1 using 1d2. Zeke wins initiative.

10:57, Today: They rolled 3 using 1d20 ((3)). Zeke hits.

10:57, Today: They rolled 1 using 1d2 ((1)). The resulting blow is less than Zeke hoped for.

Harry takes one point of damage.

Just when it looks like the fight is almost over, one way or another...

WHAM

Zeke goes down, attacked from behind by a new arrival from out of the shadows.

Harry looks at this newcomer: the somehow slightly-feral-looking man is a little taller than average, although it's hard to judge as he's constantly moving. He seems quite anxious, and can't seem to stop fidgeting-- he shifts his weight, pacing and sort of circling around Harry (she makes sure not to turn her back on this new arrival). His hair is unkempt, his jacket is unbuttoned, and the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, too. He's smiling, a toothy, twitchy sort of grin, but somehow that doesn't make Harry feel much better.

He drops the now-bloody rock that he held to help him ambush Zeke. "Well, hello there," he says to Harry.

...There's something in his manner... Has he spotted that Harry is a woman...?

Harry spits a gobbet of blood to one side as she watches the newcomer. "If you're expecting a thank-you-kindly," she growls between breaths, "you interrupted the wrong god-damned fight." Harry waves the man out of her way. "Get! I've a bed calling for me and church to attend come sunrise."

The man raises his hands in a pre-grabby sort of gesture. "Actually, I was rather hoping--"

--A dog barks. Someone somewhere says "Hey! Who's over there?" There are footsteps approaching, that get faster. A couple more windows get lights in them.

The man twitches-- he almost sort of convulses-- and he starts to run off.

(Does Harry try to stop him?)

Harry launches herself at the stranger for purely selfish reasons, as soon as he turns his back to her. Knowing she'll be otherwise blamed for Zeke's injuries, even the one she did not inflict, whoever this was could provide a convenient scapegoat. Harry aims low, throws her weight against the back of the man's knees, and wraps her arms around them in an attempt to bring him down.

---

14:20, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 2 using 1d20.  Aiming for the knees!