09:12, Today: Father Simon Cole rolled 23 using 1d20+5.  Spot.
09:11, Today: Father Simon Cole rolled 7 using 1d20+5.  Fort Save.
09:11, Today: Father Simon Cole rolled 16 using 1d20+10.  Survival.

Simon found his footing, easier than Ian but far less so than Lily. The cold and rain were another story. He began to shiver, pulling his arms up around his chest. By the time they reached to outcropping he had to work to keep his teeth from chattering. He could not stop his lips from turning blue. Despite this and the rain, his eyes did not fail him. He pointed toward the castle, "Our destination, yes?"

Jo's petite frame made it somewhat simple for her to tread along in Penny's footsteps, daintily hopping from one place to the next. She kept her eyes on the ground, and made sure she did exactly as she was told... she knew better than to not listen to the expert in these situations.

Seeing that Lily was doing well, she teased,

"Looks like we might have to help our more awkward companions next time, hmm?" she asked, laughing.


Fort: 21
Survival: 19
Spot: 17

Finally making up for my sissiness with the needle! :P

Penny laughed at Ian's comment. 'Ha! You should see it in winter!' She strode boldly across the moor, determined not to appear uncomfortable or cold. She tried to view it as "bracing". But as the cold started to bite, and bite hard, she had to admit to herself that she'd been too long away from the moor, that her prior expeditions had had good preparation, good weather or daylight, or the recklessness and vigor of youth. These really weren't the best conditions to be out on it; in fact, they were almost the worst. Frankly, with visibility so poor, they'd be lucky not to be swallowed by a bog, or worse.

As they walked, Penny kept up a running lecture to explain the local hazards, to ensure the hunters were adequately prepared, to stave off the cold and discomfort, and perhaps to show off her knowledge. The emphases in her accent seemed well adapted to the weather, harder sounds not stolen away by the wind. She explained the bogs and mires, and the "feather beds" or "quakers" of bright green sphagnum moss growing over them, giving the appearance of sturdy ground.

Though she had no clear direction or landmarks, and moving as much by instinct or a sixth sense as practical knowledge, Penny led the group on a careful path, skirting the bogs and mires and ordinary mud puddles. This was not always successful, though not through any fault of hers. She helped clumsy Ian out of a bog, managing to retain his shoe. Staring thoughtfully at the muddy water, Penny crouched and muttered a few words, her language unknown. She then gently placed one of the knives in the water, watching it sink slowly to the bottom. She was relieved. Rising, she regarded Ian. 'Next time, we can go to Scotland.'

At one point, she had the whole group halt and not make a sound or movement for a few tense minutes. When whatever it was had passed, she moved on again, without a word of explanation. Penny was reluctant to explain all that she knew of this place, fearing their judgement.

Penny spied the tor, a distinctive granite outcrop silhouetted against the cloudy night sky, trying to remember the tors after so many years. 'Our first landmark, anyway. If I don't recognise it, well, we might find a cave to shelter in, or else see another landmark or the lights of a village. Also keep an eye out for menhirs, standing stones.'


OOC: Oh, gee, good on me for thinking of it. :| Fort 16.
21:39, Yesterday: Penny Dreadful rolled 16 using 1d20+6. fort vs weather.
11:25, Today: Penny Dreadful rolled 18 using 1d20+9. spot.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:01, Wed 30 Sept 2015.

Simon did not know which was more irritating, being led about in this accursed weather or the fact that Penny seemed totally unbothered by it. "Best get moving then, I doubt we would survive a night in this without shelter."

Ian laughs at Penny's comment about Scotland and Lily gives a wicked, teasing chuckle at Josephine's remark. Indeed! But don't worry Ian, we can always carry you out if it comes to it she winks. He rolls his eyes and mutters something you can't quite catch but that doesn't seem to be accidental.

Soon you reach the tor and Penny gets her bearings. The driving rain and wind make it difficult to see but Simon does indeed seem to spot some lights in the distance. You can't tell from here but it could very well be a large house or manor as there aren't quite enough to be a village but there are enough that you doubt it is a simple dwelling. You judge from what little you can see it will take about an hour to reach it. Meanwhile there is a large, deep gash in the tor that would easily shelter all of you should you wish though it will be a bit wet and cramped and a fire is out of the question in these conditions. You can either stay and be squished and out of the elements or you can surge through and see how you fare...

Despite shivering Simon spoke up, "I vote we continue on. No fire would make for a terrible night."

Seeing the tor rise defiantly out of the moorland, Penny clambered up the granite boulders and grassy slopes, using her cane for support. The elevated rocky outcrop was at least drier than the rest of the land. 'Indeed not.' Seeing that Simon had spotted some lights, Penny followed his gaze and tried to identify them, as well as a path there and how long it would take. Where was she? 'It may look close, but it will take us an hour to get there. I can't even tell what time of night it is... Do any of you wish to rest a while before we set off again?' she asked Ian, Jo, Lily, and Simon.


OOC: Does Penny recognise the settlement/manor?
This message was last edited by the player at 15:34, Wed 30 Sept 2015.

Penny does recognize the area and judging by the general direction Simon has pointed her she realizes it is quite possibly her own home they are looking at.

In answer to your question Lily grins at Ian. I'm fine to press on, though I understand if Ian needs a break she gives him a wicked smile and he sighs, shaking his head. The poor man is covered in mud, peat and bits of vegetation for he has fallen numerous times. I can make it. I think. Just don't let me drown in one of your bloody mud puddles on the way he mutters. Now if you need a rest Miss Hartley, we'll be fine to oblige he adds almost hopefully to the blonde woman.

Simon caught onto the joke, "I think Ian needs a rest as well. I am good to continue, though."

"Nope!" Josephine brightly chirped, smiling, "Thanks for worrying about me, Ian. I'll be sure you're the first to know when I need a rest. I'm doing great, for now. Shall we continue?" she half-teased him, calling him on his words with a grin.

Simon couldn't help but laugh, "I think the girls are running rings around you, my man."

Ian looks a bit embarrassed and quickly stands up again, the epitome of health and vigor, or at least pretending to be. Let's get this bloody over with! he declares, already eager to get going.

ooc: Ok, presumably the next hour will be spent traveling to the house, we'll use the same rolls from before so no worries there. Ian, poor thing, will need some help and by the time you get there he will be a shivering wet mess and will have nearly sunken into several bogs multiple times. He will need close watching. As for the house itself, I will let Penny describe it to you considering her connection to it, that and she'll probably do a better job than me anyway!

There was no terrific flash of lightning to illuminate that grim and crumbling pile, but there might as well have been to Penny's eyes. The brief shaft of moonlight and the sheets of rain that swept over it were more than enough to limn the so hauntingly familiar lines. Those chimneys and gables, the overgrown grey stone walls, the late Tudor style that hearkened back to the Medieval. A nameless dread that crept before her since hearing Emma Bently's verdict now came crashing upon her with the full, horrible truth. For all her preparations, as far as she'd come on her own, it still hurt to come back.

Penny was, indeed, home.

'No, no, the ground ahead is quite treacherous.' Penny tried, the excuse sounding feeble to her ears, that she was simply delaying and prevaricating. She needed time. 'We should wait here until daylight... It will be safest for Ian. In fact, I think I know a decent cave around here we might wait out the rain in...' She'd climbed so many of the local tors, and the boulders had felt so familiar. Perhaps she hadn't climbed this tor before, but she would, in about ten years' time.


OOC: Sorry to delay, but I figure Penny will be reluctant.

I did some research. Here's a nice, ancient, history-filled overgrown manor of Dartmoor that's much like what I've pictured:

http://www.newsusauk.com/news/7965-country-manor-once-won-by-
sir-francis-drake-in-a-bet-in-1581-goes-on-sale-for-1-25m-and-
there-s-a-lordship-thrown-in.html

Sorry, RPOL wouldn't accept the full link.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:57, Fri 02 Oct 2015.

Simon looked t her like she was mad, "Penny, I am cold tired wet and hungry. I am exhausted actually. You may have the strength to continue on and climb to a cave, I do not. I will brave this treacherous..." he paused sensing something  he had overlooked a moment ago. "Now that I see it, your probably right. Perhaps there is a barn or similar building we might weather the night in?"

Despite Jo teasing Ian, she was quite fond of him, and she slipped over while the others spoke, and offered him a helping hand, or shoulder, depending on what he needed. She didn't want him slipping off and exhausting himself, so she worked quietly, chatting softly with him to keep his spirits up as well as they went.

'Better we rest then.' Penny said, nodding slightly to Simon as he relented, seeming to understand her reluctance. 'Even if just for an hour.'

Penny set off back down the slope of the tor, careful of the wet and slippery granite boulders, already smoothed by time. She began circling around the pile of rocks, away from the cleft that offered false promise of shelter, and making for cave entrance she knew lay lower down on the eastward side. The route was familiar, and coming back to her in ever-greater clarity. Of course, everything had seemed much bigger, when she had been so much smaller. 'Come, there's a cave down here, it should be dry enough and out of the wind.'

But when got to the promised spot, she found nothing, just a grassy slope and the expected orifice covered over by a fat round boulder. It had lain open before – in the future, when she'd found it. 'Help me lift this.' Penny begged, working her fingers around the boulder and trying to haul it out. She didn't have the strength to do it on her own though.

The boulder rolled out, with dirt and earthworms; Penny bade them leave the stone close by, as kind of door or windbreak. Revealing inside was a black hole, lead into the tor, down into the earth. 'Folk hid here from the Roundheads during the Civil War.' Penny noted. They weren't the only ones.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:54, Fri 02 Oct 2015.

Simon helped push the rock aside. As the others filed in he waited and touched Penny's arm. He looked at her, conveying what he could of being with her and hoping to bolster her courage with his own. "Whatever it is, you won't be alone in facing it. I know you might prefer it that way, but you need us. We are here for you. We are your friends. You can trust us." He pulled away but added, "You know I will keep your confidence, if there is something you need to tell me."

Looking back and forth between Simon and Penny as Simon uttered his questionable words, Josephine chose to smile and play ignorant, and turned back towards Ian, busying herself suddenly, and ensuring she gave them room to speak in private.

'I know I can trust all of you. And I will – in good time.' Penny deferred, before crouching and venturing into the cave mouth, leading the others in. The cave was granite stones and compacted dirt, narrow and so low they had to walk stooped. 'Left next... You'll have to duck here.' She knew the way already, despite the utter darkness that swallowed them up. After all, this wasn't the first time she'd been down here, though it was the first time this cave had been visited by her. The inverted sense of déjà vu was overwhelming.

...The girl will sit sobbing on the grassy slope behind the tor, railing at all the injustices of the world, and of the home. It wasn't fair! She'd just had to get away from the house and from Father, though she knows now she will get a hiding for running off. The governess will not protect her. She's in no hurry to go back.

She looks around, across the moor which she's always found so beautiful and peaceful, so vast and free. Then she spots a shadow behind a boulder. More than a shadow, it is a hole. Curious, intrigued, in need of a distraction and defiance, she wipes away the tears and clambers across, peering behind the boulder – just enough room for a girl to slip behind and hide – and into the hole. It was too big to be a burrow. It is a cave! Head filled with adventure stories like Alice in Wonderland, the girl ventures inside, down the warm tunnel and deep into the earth...

'Wait here,' Penny said, stepping away from the group. With no fumbling in the dark, she pulled something off the wall. With a match from a waterproofed container, she lit the ancient torch, shedding warm orange light through out a decent-sized cave, dry bar a regular drip-drip and the distant howling of wind and rain. There were rounded rocks to sit on, though there were only ancient ashes in the firepit. On the other side, the cave narrowed again into another tunnel, leading still deeper into the earth. 'Come in, we can rest here.' Penny replaced the burning torch on its wrought-iron sconce, then placed her matches in a certain position beside the firepit.

...It is completely dark, as black as ink. She has lost touch of the walls and stumbles blindly through a great open space, all turned about and completely lost. Panic rises in her. What if she is hurt, what if never finds her way out? No one knows she is here. What if she is never found? She trips on a stone and falls, banging her knees on the hard stone floor. Sobbing again, she crawls now, afraid of sudden drops in the floor. Her hands pat across the ground, then alight upon a small box. Fumbling, desperate, she opens the box, but spills half the contents, but catches some. Matches! What were matches doing here? Wondering at this miracle, she lights one against the rough stone...

Penny sat herself on a boulder, hugging her knees, lost in memories of the future.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:50, Fri 02 Oct 2015.

Eventually Penny spoke up, though as usual she circled around the topics she found particularly personal. She was in lecture-mode. 'Now, you should know there are several types of common monsters we must watch out for here on the moor. Ghosts are quite common, of course, and good luck finding, salting, and burning the body of one who has drowned in the bog. And so there are also bog people. You see, the peat may preserve a body remarkably well – too well, in some cases. The ancient tribes would deposit the bodies of their dead in these bogs, or else use them for sacrifices and executions. Plus, there is always simple misadventure. They can be thousands of years of old, or even a few years. Some eventually find their way out of the bog again. Then there are the bogs themselves...'

'There is also the Headless Horseman, and, some say, headless horses. There are some witches, of course, bog hags who live out in the distant moor.'

'Then there are black dogs – portents of death and psychopomps that guide souls to the afterlifes, they may only be seen by the dying and the doomed. The demons capture them, torture and train them to become the hellhounds you are familiar with. Sometimes they let them run wild upon the moor again... Listen carefully to the howling wind, and you may the hear the dogs baying.'

'And then there are pixies.' Penny shuddered, and not for the cold. 'Pixies.'

Penny grimaced, listened to the distant rush of rain outside. There was no sign the rain would be letting up any time soon. 'Fortunately, on a night like this, I think they'll all be home in bed.'
This message was last edited by the player at 07:31, Sat 03 Oct 2015.

Simon watched Penny with a mixture of concern and angst. He knew there was something bothering her, and like a true stoic she refused to let anyone help her. He struggled, vacillating between keeping hims mouth shut and pushing her for answers. He decided on a middle road, a gentle nudge. "I get the impression you've been here before, this cave I mean. It was extraordinarily well concealed - by a master at concealing and only the person who hid it would be able to find it I assume." He studied her, hoping to get her to open up with gentle persuasion. "Is there anything we should know about it? Perhaps something only you would know?"

A nudge or invitation was what Penny wanted, a reminder that people cared and wanted to know. 'Perhaps.' she began, narrowing her eyes at Simon in consideration of how much to say. 'These tunnels have held many secrets in their time. A shelter in times of trouble, a place for certain religious practices. They go as far back into history as they do deep into the earth.' Penny pointed to the other dark tunnel, the one that led still deeper under the moor and into the granite bedrock. 'Down there, you will find the markings of a Celtic tin mine etched in the walls; the people here traded tin to the Phoenicians and Greeks, and later the Romans. Deeper still, you will find Stone Age cave paintings and idols of great antiquity... The entrance was sealed about a century ago, I estimate.'

'But remember, we are in the past. I will find the unsealed entrance in, oh, eight years' time. So I have been before, but not yet – if you follow my meaning. I will leave the entrance unsealed just so as we leave. Think on that: like the chicken and the egg, how was this cave first discovered? What fate guided me here?' she wondered, and for now she had no answers. Was it time or fate, God or the spirit of this place, or was it she herself, making her own destiny?

...The first match has burned all the way down to her fingers before she collects her wits. She is in a cave, a big cave! Lighting a second match, she finds her way to one of the torches. She pulls it down in the dark, then lights it with a third match. The sconce is too high up for her, so she leaves the torch propped between two boulders, and picks up the remaining matches. It is very good luck to find them. But how did they come to be here? Maybe someone else had visited this place and left them behind. For her?...

Penny had since shed her sopping coat and left her furled umbrella by the entrance, and she was slowly drying by the heat of the torches. The cave grew smoky, but most of the smoke drifted up out of the upward sloping cave. She led her friends through the process of deduction as Holmes would do with her; this time, she herself was the puzzle. 'You know we have come to the year of my birth. You have seen that I am intimately familiar with this land and its secrets. Some of you know my true name – Darkmoor – and may well link it to the dark moors outside. And did I not say I had come home when we arrived? Plus, you know I will come here again in only eight years. So what do you make of the manor outside?'

Simon was content to shiver and listen. He found a place to sit and try to be comfortable, which was difficult. Penny's answer made sense in a round about way. He for one was uncomfortable with what might happen if they inadvertently altered their own future. He kept himself in the "now" by focusing on Penny. He answered her question, "Though I am unfamiliar with them, it seems like what I expected from an English Manor house. Am I missing something?"

Penny sighed, sure she would have to say everything herself. 'It's name – that is Darkmoor Manor. The house I grew up in.'
This message was last edited by the player at 00:29, Sun 04 Oct 2015.

Simon moved a stone with his foot, "Is it haunted as well?"