In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 32):

Still leading with his grandfather's revolver, Mike carefully approached Peg Leg. He keeps the handgun ready in case he needs to fire a shot off quickly.

Once he gets close enough he roughly nudges the villain's one good leg with his foot. "Hey asshole, still alive?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 33):

Mike's nudge fails to elicit a response from the thug and serves only to bloody the toe of his boot. Turning from the armoire with a large first aid kit, the father sees the man and gives a start of surprise. "Blessed Father! Is he still alive?"

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 34):

"I sure hope not," Mike replied to the Priest. He took some of the preferred bandages from Father Henesy and took his shirt off. "Help me bandage up these scratches if you could." He started to unwrap the bandages and rubbing alcohol.

15:43, Today: Jrodimus rolled 78 using 1d100 ((78)).

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 35):

While Mike's clumsy attempts to bandage one arm with the other seem to do little good, the end product a loose tangle of gauze around his forearm, Father Henesey removes a small tincture of iodine and a swab from the first aid kit. "Turn around my son," he says gently. Mike's occasional hiss of pain is the only sound as the father cleans the jagged cuts left by the shadows. "Unfortunately they don't teach much about tending to physical wounds in the seminary. We tend to focus on the spiritual ones," he says with a soft smile.

OOC: Failed first aid roll

"What should we do with..." he nods over to the man slumped against the wall. "The least I can do is say a prayer..."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 36):

Wincing as the Priest tended to his wounds, Mike looked at the inert body. He hated the thought of leaving a rotting corpse in the cabin.

"I suppose we ought to bury him. But he doesn't deserve a Christian burial. Maybe we should just burn him."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 36):

“Father” Byron says to the priest without prompting, with a still vacant facial expression.

Though his psychotic bout has faded, he is consumed by one image in particular.

“You seem to be a master of occult lore. Does the symbol of an eye with a burning pupil enclosed by a star mean anything you know of?”

In reply to novissimo (msg # 38):

The father pauses as he dabs at the wounds crisscrossing Mike's back. "An eye on fire inside a star? I can only pray to the almighty that I never see such a sign" Mike hisses as the preist resumes his ministrations. "Where did you see it? Perhaps if you could sketch it for me I'd have a better idea..."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 08:22, Mon 27 Nov 2017.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 39):

Silence fills the cabin as the father finishes tending to Mike's wounds. "I'm sorry I can't do more for you my son." With a tired sigh he slumps down in a chair. "After that incident in the woods I don't think I need to reiterate how dangerous this stone is. And I'm afraid this isn't the only one." With a slightly shaky hand, he reaches into his jacket and removes a flask from which he takes a long pull. He offers the flask around saying "I'm sure the lord will forgive us a bit of vice in such trying times". Settling back in the chair he tugs at the collar around his neck. "Jack lead me to believe that this shard is just one piece of a larger whole. I think his plan was the steal the rest. While I don't dare test it, he told me that the shards remain connected and they could be used to find the other pieces. I fear for his safety..."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 40):

Clarke, still shaken from the events previously, stood outside the cabin. He could make out the mumbling of his friends and the priest inside. Only snippets could be heard. Something about his shot having killed the man previously, and an eye.

The forest was cold. Colder than he'd thought a place could ever get. A chill ran through his hands.

Zoe smacked her lips. She was wearing a thick duffel coat. It was plain and worn, something you might find in a military supply closet. She had jeans on, loose, they fitted the atmosphere.

"Clarke," she said with no taunt in her voice, "are you sure you want this?" She turned her head and looked at the direction of the shadows around the cabin. Beyond that, the forest. An endless sea of brown and green.

"Well, shit," Clarke mumbled to himself. He scuffed his foot against the ground. "A pastor ain't supposed to abandon his flock."

"And a spy knows when to fold."

"That's not me anymore. I'm a good person Zoe."

He could see her hold her tongue. For a second. "Tell that to the dead man in there. Probably had a wife too. Good, bad, I don't care. I just want you alive."

Clarke smiled at her, only a little. "It's too late for that, I'm already dead." He pulled his jacket close and walked into the cabin. The priest looked like he'd just finished an explanation of some kind.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 40):

Mike pulled his pack of cigarettes out of his shirt breast pocket after putting it back on. He lit it and inhaled deeply, feeling his wounds across his back. He eyed the Priests whiskey and reached out, "Do you mind, Padre?"

He looked at Byron and Clarke, "Well guys, if there are more of these shards I suppose we should find them. We should check the car outside for clues. Might lead us to Jack."

He approached the body and begin sifting through his pockets looking for anything he can find of value or clues.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 42):

As Mike starts to rummage through the the man’s pockets, the body slumps sideways with a soft groan and a whimper. Mike jumps back in surprise, realizing that though the man is gravely injured he is still alive. “Heavens above!” exclaims Father Henesey. “He’s still alive?!” He grabs a handful of bandages and rushes to the man’s side, dropping to his knees next to the man despite the widening pool of blood that covers the floor. “He’s lost so much blood already,” say the father as he presses a white bandage to the man’s wound. It quickly turns a shade of crimson. “Don’t just stand there son, I need you to put pressure on the wound!”.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 43):

"Priests," Zoe spat. "Take away a woman's right to speak, but a male murderer needs his life saved. You should put two in his head and let the abyss sort it out."

As if in a reflex to her words, Clarke slid his revolver out of its holster. For a moment he hesitated, the weight of the metal in the gun seeming to weigh down his body. Then he felt himself on auto pilot.

"Let God deal with this one out Father." He took a step closer. "We're all damned otherwise."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:04, Thu 30 Nov 2017.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 44):

Clarke
"No, if I can stop the bleeding we may be able to save him. We can load him in the back of the truck and drop him off at St. Mary's. The police can take it from there," says the father without looking up, oblivious to the naked revolver clutched in Clarke's hand. "Maybe we can cauterize the wound?"

Byron
As everyone gathers around the dying man something happens that breaks Byron from his stupor. Now is your chance a soft voice whispers in his head. Quick before the opportunity is lost. I am rightfully yours! Byron can feel the shard probing at his mind but it's efforts are weak and feeble, like a man trying to grasp him through a chainlink fence.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 44):

Still shocked that Peg Leg was alive, Mike put his hand on Clarke's shoulder gently. "Hold on. Let's see if we can get some information out of him. Then we'll take him out back and finish the job." Mike spat on the floor in disgust.

Mike moved to help the Father stop the bleeding. "Someone tie his hands."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:29, Fri 01 Dec 2017.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 46):

Clarke took a second to process Mike's statement. Zoe glared at him. The gun felt heavier than before.

He slid his revolver back into his holster and called out, "Byron, can you see any rope over there? I'll try to look on this side." He started to search around the room for a thick cord, the kind that wouldn't break even if pressed.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 45):

Finally taking a moment to think he tries to remember if he’d ever heard of these occult shards before.

*roll 92 against occult knowledge of 70 (fail)*

The shards aren’t familiar to him, at least not until tonight. But what about the wood carvings?

*roll 69 against occult knowledge of 70 (win)*

“Ah yes, there may have been something...” Byron trails off.

The hideous voice of the shard was in his mind again, compelling him to commit horrible deeds.

He recoiled “what do you want? Where have you come from? Who made you?” He asked all at once in his mind.

In reply to novissimo (msg # 48):

Clarke noticed a rope in the other room and picked it up. He snapped it twice to test its strength. It seemed sturdy enough, although a tad too thick for his liking.

In the middle of walking back into the main area, he heard Byron snap at the shadows. A lingering reaction, Clarke guessed, from holding the stone.

He stood in across the table from his old friends, waiting for the priest to get out of the way. "Byron, we're tying this man up to get information about Jack. All going well."

In reply to novissimo (msg # 48):

Byron
While Byron doesn't recall the sign itself, he does recognize the symbol painted upon it. It comes from the legend of Faust, representing the powers and ever-present watch of Mephistopheles. The academic in him remembers reading of Goethe rendition of the legend in Soren Kiekegaard's Either/Or:

The story concerns the fate of Faust in his quest for the true essence of life. Frustrated with learning and the limits to his knowledge, power, and enjoyment of life, he attracts the attention of the Devil Mephistopheles, who makes a bet with Faust that he will be able to satisfy him; a notion that Faust is incredibly reluctant towards, as he believes this happy zenith will never come.

In the first part, Mephistopheles leads Faust through experiences that culminate in a lustful relationship with Gretchen, an innocent young woman. Gretchen and her family are destroyed by Mephistopheles' deceptions and Faust's desires. Part one of the story ends in tragedy for Faust, as Gretchen is saved but Faust is left to grieve in shame.

The second part begins with the spirits of the earth forgiving Faust and progresses into allegorical poetry. Faust and his Devil pass through and manipulate the world of politics and the world of the classical gods, and meet with Helen of Troy (the personification of beauty). Finally, having succeeded in taming the very forces of war and nature, Faust experiences a singular moment of happiness. Mephistopheles tries to seize Faust's soul when he dies after this moment of happiness, but is frustrated and enraged when angels intervene due to God's grace. Though this grace is truly 'gratuitous' and does not condone Faust's frequent errors perpetrated with Mephistopheles, the angels state that this grace can only occur because of Faust's unending striving and due to the intercession of the forgiving Gretchen. The final scene has Faust's soul carried to heaven in the presence of God by the intercession of the "Virgin, Mother, Queen, ... Goddess kind forever... Eternal Womanhood. The Goddess is thus victorious over Mephistopheles, who had insisted at Faust's death that he would be consigned to "The Eternal Empty."

Strangely he remembers Kierkegaard's conclusion that "Goethe's Faust is a genuinely classical production, but the idea is a historical idea, and hence every notable historical era will have its own Faust".

"Byron, we're tying this man up to get information about Jack". Byron starts at the sound of his name. He can no longer feel the presence of the shard.

Clarke
Father Henesey finally looks up at Clarke, seeing the length of rope he holds in his hands. "If we don't do something now, I'm not sure he will survive long enough for us to tie him up and question him." He switches the now soaked bandage with a fresh one, throwing the used one aside. "Do any of you have any medical experience?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:34, Fri 01 Dec 2017.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 50):

Byron pauses to reflect on his appreciation for his having taken the time for such deep studying. It has proven useful.

Byron approached the stranger. He started helping the Priest perform first aide on the man. “I was in the infirmary for a month during the war. Took some shrapnel in my shoulder. When I was well enough they recruited me as a make shift nurse. I considered becoming a doctor before settling on psychology. Less bloody.”

He started tending to the wounds (first aide = 60 rolled 16 (success)

He grabbed a bottle of whiskey, tore the man’s shirt to make a rag, soaked it in whiskey and pressed it to the bullet wounds.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:48, Mon 04 Dec 2017.

In reply to novissimo (msg # 51):

Father Henesey steps aside as Byron begins to treat the man's wounds. Despite the blood Byron is able to stem the flow and manages to dress the wound. Stabilizing the man is all he is able to do however without proper medical equipment

"We can't leave him lying in his own blood," says Father Henesey. "Though I suppose if we are going to question him it doesn't matter how comfortable we make him..."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 52):

Look at all that blood...poor Elizabeth would give us hell for messing up the floor so bad.

For the first time since they arrived, Mike looked around the cabin. Though the morning sun was just peaking over the horizon, the white light mixed with the yellow of the lanterns cast an ethereal ambience around the room. He remembered when he and his three friends would play chess and checkers when it was raining, over in the corner of the room. And how they would chase each other through the woods, playing army. Or plotting how to get to the cookies Elizabeth would always bring on the trips before dinner time. Later on it would be about girls, hopes, and dreams. The sexy 8th grade math teacher, what was her name? Oh yeah, Mrs. Leslie.

Mike almost smiled in his reverie.

What happened to us?

The pit still sat heavy in his gut.

Shaking his head, Mike looked to Clarke, "Alright let's tie this sonofabitch up.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 53):

Byron looks at the man’s legs.

He takes a length of Clarke’s rope and then ties the man’s legs together at the ankles

Then he tied his thighs together.

*rolled 66 on dex of 60 (fail)*

The exhaustion of the previous night’s events has left him weak and he unknowingly fails to pull the rope thight enough.

“This should make it so he can’t get up.”

“Someone get his hands.”
This message was last edited by the player at 03:17, Wed 06 Dec 2017.

In reply to novissimo (msg # 54):

Following Mike's suggestion, Clarke took the top and attempted to tie up the man. Zoe was shaking her head, her eyes firmly rolled up as if to indicate this was a bad idea. He didn't need her input, he thought so too. He preferred dead enemies to live ones, but the group had spoken.

(Roll to tie up man: Dexterity - Fail - 95)

As he tried to tie the man up, his fingers shook and the nerves of the night finally got to him. He couldn't remember which knot should go where nor the order they required. At the end, he looked at the mess of rope and mentioned to Mike, "You better check my work. I'm too tired to."

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 55):

Mike watched his exhausted friends fumbling with the ropes. Clarke seemed to get something tied, and at his friend's request he checked the knot.

13:13, Today: Jrodimus rolled 60 using 1d100.  Checking and fixing knot.

He noticed that the knot was too loose, and tied it and then knotted it again.

"Looks solid, let's wake this bastard up."

He slapped Peg Leg in the face just hard enough to wake him, but not hard enough to hurt him.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 56):

As Mike checks the knots  on the ropes around the unconscious man, he notices a large deeply purple area on the man's abdomen. The physical stress of being manhandled and bound head to toe seem to have worsened his condition as his breathing is now ragged and coming in short rasps. Mike's attempts to rouse the man have little effect.

"I don't think he is in any condition to be answering questions at the moment my son" says Father Henesey, laying a hand on Mike's shoulder. "And he won't be getting any better lying on a cabin floor in the woods".