In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 1):

The drive to Bolton is quite as you traverse the back roads of Arkham. Around you the land slowly transforms from woodlands to farmlands to urban city sites. Bolton is a small remote factory town not yet assimilated as a commuter dormitory into the large web of Arkham. It's namesake is the Bolton Worsted Mills which are the largest in the Miskatonic Valley. Highly Puritanical in spirit, the town had even gone so far as to outlaw the sport of boxing, with mixed results as surreptitious and ill-conducted bouts among the mill-workers were still commonplace.
While Mike had bootlegged all across Arkham, he had long avoided Bolton. The town had a surprisingly good police force for so small a community.

Pulling the truck over in front of a small newsstand, the engine sputters as it is turned off. A moderate number of people mill about on the streets in the midday sun. Everything seems picturesque.

"Well I'm not sure what the plan is" says Father Henesey, "but we have to keep the stone hidden. If it's powers were unleashed in a town like this who knows what..."

*BANG*

Everyone in the truck starts as a hunched elderly man slaps the hood with a rolled up newspaper. Thick lensed glasses rest on the bridge of his nose, magnifying his watery eyes. "Either buy something or get this piece of junk out from in front of my store. You're scaring away the customers." Seeing the shabby piles of papers and the ramshackle wooden stand, it seems like he doesn't have many customers to begin with...
This message was last updated by the GM at 12:43, Thu 21 Dec 2017.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 2):

Mike rolled down the window and stuck is arm out of the truck, a Lucky strike in his fingers. "Sorry to infringe on your business my good man." He took a drag to calm his nerves and keep his exhausted mind lucid, "Would you be kind enough to direct us towards the clinic?"

He fished around in his pocket with his free hand and pulled out a quarter, "And could I get a copy of today's paper?" He offered it to the man.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 3):

The old man snatches the coin from Mike's hand with surprising speed. "No change," he says as the quarter disappears into his pocket. He slowly ambles back to the stand and scoops up a paper before returning to the truck and handing Mike an edition of Bolton Gazette. "Ain't got no clinic. Most people go see Dr. West at the mortuary," says the man. Reluctantly he adds, "Its over on Baker Street. Go north till you hit the town square and take a right. Its 'cross from the cemetary."

A quick look at the paper shows the usual stories. Pieces about town gossip and local happenings form most of the paper's content. However Mike notices a story, more of a blurb, that tells of mysterious deaths at the town's mill.

*BANG*

The man slaps the hood of the truck again. "This ain't no library," he grouses.
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:44, Fri 22 Dec 2017.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 4):

Mike handed the newspaper to the Father next to him and pulled away heading towards the Mortuary. "He's a grumpy old fellow, isn't he?"

As he turned the steering wheel, trying to keep the car under control he mumbled to himself, "Should have asked him about a mechanic too."

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 5):

As the truck rounds a corner it gives a violent lurch, rocking its occupants. Father Hennessy picks up the paper and begins to thumb through it.

“This town sure takes their faith seriously,” he says as he read. “ Listen to this: ‘Good news faithful of Bolton, thanks to the hard work of Constable Myers and his dedicated officers, the diabolical working of Satan to undermine the believers of Bolton have been uncovered! Be sure to pick up your curfew passes from the church and attend tonight’s bonfire as we purge the taint from God’s most beloved town.”

Though unfamiliar with the town Mike is able to eaisly navigate the streets. However, the missing bumper and occasional squeals from the engine have begun to draw disapproving stares and whispers from the people walking the streets.

Turning at a sign marked Baker Street the party is soon driving along the edge of a peaceful cemetery full of ornate headstones sepulchures. A sign painted to depict a dawning sun reads The Lofty Heights of Bolton. A small placard at the bottom reads Dr. West M.D. Behind it stands a sterile looking painted a dull slate gray. A hearse is parked in the driveway.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 6):

Mike pulled into the driveway next to the hearse and gets out. He dropped his Lucky Strike to the ground and stomped it out. With everything that happened in the past few days, it all seemed too fitting for them to be visiting a doctor in a mortuary.

Well, could be under worse conditions I suppose.

He went over to the Father's side and offered to help him to the entrance, "Need a hand Padre?" He asked sheepishly.

He looked at his weary friends in the car. "Well guys, last stop before we can get some shuteye."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:41, Wed 27 Dec 2017.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 7):

Mike grunts and braces himself against the car as he lifts more than helps the father from the car. "Sorry," says the priest, eyes drooping heavily. "I'm just... tired is all."

With Father Henesey leaning heavily against him, Mike leads the rest of the party to the stairs of the funeral parlor. For a wooden building exposed to the elements, it's immaculate with nary a flake of chipped paint. The hedges that line the porch are perfectly trimmed into eerily human-like topiaries in various stages of action.

As you approach the stairs, the father sags down into a seated position, kept from toppling backwards by the railing. "I'm not so young anymore... Just let me... gather my strength for a moment..."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 8):

Byron steps out of the vehicle into the grit of the street.

He had nodded off on the trip up, only having written two and half pages of reference material.

He rotates his torso left and right, setting of a series of popping noises up his spine.

Despite his exhaustion he feels the healthiest in years. He attributes it to the rejuvenating powers of the stone.

He found the prospect of meeting a mortician who was also a medical practitioner to be rather odd, but it peaked his interest.

He follows his friends into the building, hoping to inquire as to the life story of this doctor.

In reply to novissimo (msg # 9):

Mike nodded to the old Priest as he released him against the railing. He turned to the door and rapped on it with his knuckles. He hoped he didn't look as haggard as he felt.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 10):

The sharp rap on the door is met with an eerie silence. As an uncomfortable amount of time passes, Mike raises his hand to knock again when the door opens slightly. A small, slender, spectacled man with delicate features, yellow hair, and pale blue eyes stares at you through the narrow gap in the door. He takes in the scene before him, a group of tattered and bloody strangers at his door, impassively.

Pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the tip of his index finger, he says in a soft voice, "Yes?"

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 11):

Mike smiled sheepishly at the spectacled man, "Good day, sir. Dr. West, I presume? I understand you're the physician of Bolton and we're in need of some medical assistance." He gestured to the Priest.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 12):

The doctor's eyes slowly move over to the father, taking in his haggard breathing and obvious wounds, and back to Mike.

"Yes... I'm Dr. West..." The pauses between his words give you the feeling that the doctor doesn't entertain much company. "What happened?" The door hasn't opened any further...

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 13):

Byron steps forward.

"We've applied first aid but require professional help. We hope we're not being too presumptuous but we were told you are the primary physician for this community. Is that the case? May we kindly enter?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:35, Tue 30 Jan 2018.

In reply to novissimo (msg # 14):

The doctor's gaze once again slowly moves, this time towards Byron. The academic can feel gooseflesh rise up and down his arms as the doctor's eyes seem to dissect and dissemble the world around him. Having moved forward, Byron can see that the doctor is wearing a plastic smock and knee high rubber boots.

"So.... You're not from around here.... Have you gone to the police?" the doctor asks softly.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 15):

Mike scratched his beard, "No need for the police Dr. West. We're up for a camping and hunting trip. Last night a bear got into our camp. He must've been hungry because it took a few of us to get him down and Padre here took a bullet in the fray."

Mike did his best to look sincere and worried. Though he was really worried anyways.


15:12, Today: Jrodimus rolled 30 using 1d100 ((30)). Pass.

"So, can you help us Doc?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 16):

As soon as Mike assures the doctor that the police aren’t nessecary his eyes seem to become unfocused and you get the distinct impression that he is no longer listening to the rest of the fabricated story. Low and under his breath you can barely hear the doctors mumble. “CH2O at 30.031 grams per molecule... if I were to adjust the voltage... C2H4O.... and it’s fresh... so fresh...”

The doctors eyes snap back into focus and he steps back, fully opening the door. “Come in.... place the patient in the back room”.

While none of the party has much experience with moratoriums and funeral homes, Dr West’s seems picturesque. In one corner are plastic flowers arranged into bouquets. On the other side of the room, a number of caskets are open and displayed. The center even has an exquisitely detailed mannequin of a young woman laid in repose. The only thing out of place seems to be a large metal door that is padlocked shut.

“There... to the left” gestures the doctor.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 17):

Mike followed Dr. West into the Mortuary with the Father leaning against him. He felt the old man slip and gripped his shoulder to keep him steady. Gently he guided him to the exam table to give him a place to rest. Though the doctor was acting strangely, it was no stranger than anything else he had seen over the past few days.

Jesus just let me lay down for a moment.

But the prospect of sleep was fleeting. He had to stay alert. They were in uncharted territory now.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 18):

The exam room is dominated by large metal cabinets that are stocked with vials of all shapes and sizes. In the corner is an anatomical skeleton. The walls are decorated with various medical diagrams depicting organ dissections  Mike is able to help the father lay on the examination table. "Thank you my son," he whispers as he settles onto the table and closes his eyes.

Dr West silently moves about the room, places various tools and devices on a steel tray. "His abdominal cavity has been pieced by a bullet. This dramatically increases the chances of a blood infection or sepsis." The doctors slow speak has disappear almost entirely. "If his bowel has been perforated he will soon be in intense pain. That makes removing the foreign object all the more difficult. It will require..." He continues on listing a number of surgical techniques.

Walking over to one of the numerous cabinets, the doctor grabs a vial from a shelf without even glancing at the label. He begins to fill a large syringe. Looking up he notices the party standing there and seems to start. His gaze slowly moves over the group. "In the other room.... There is a bathroom... with a shower... You should clean up... You're tracking in dirt..."

Looking behind you, you can see a trail of dust and mud.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:49, Wed 31 Jan 2018.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 19):

"My, how truly thoughtless of us," Byron says apologetically.

"Perhaps we should visit the wash room."

While cleaning up would be ideal, Byron was a bit suspicious of the way the Doctor was acting, as no doubt any one would be.

Byron turns to Mike "I'll let you go first Mike."

Then he turns to the West "Would you care for some assistance Doctor? I had some medical training and experience during the war."

In reply to novissimo (msg # 20):

For the first time an emotion fills the doctor's face: unbridled fury. But as soon as it appears its gone. "Your assistance is... unnecessary". He walks over to Father Henesey and administers the injection. The priest groans slightly before falling still, the only sign of life being the slow rise and fall of his chest. Dr West begins to bustle about the room again, scrubbing his hands and putting on a pair of gloves. "It will take a moment for the sedative to take effect. At that point there will be a reduction in pulse and respiratory activity..." he mumbles to himself, lost in his medical knowledge.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 21):

Mike nodded to Byron, "Alright, I'll go first. I think we're all due for a shower."

Careful not to tread too much dirty, he headed to where Dr. West pointed out and got ready to take a hot shower.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 22):
Byron
While Byron isn't much of a physician himself, Dr West's skill is readily apparent. Within moments he has the father's shirt open and is gently prodding the wound with a pair of forceps. "For all the mystery that surrounds it, the body is nothing more than a complex organic machine". The father groans as the doctor pushes the forceps into the wound, a trickle of blood forming. "Dean Halsey never believed, but I'm so close." After a few moments of digging he retracts the forceps, the metal slug held between them. A smile lights his face. "All I need to do is replicate the results." Suddenly he seems to become aware of Byron's presence. He pauses for a moment, eyes running over Byron. "You... are from the university.... aren't you?"

Mike
As Mike crosses the room he passes the metal door. Of all the things in the room, it's the only thing that seems out of place. Large well-oiled hinges are bolted into the wall although the weight of the door has left a large arching scuff on the wooden floor. A large padlock ensures that the door is securely shut.

Mike is able to find the shower without much trouble although shower may have been a bit of an overstatement as it resembles something that you'd find in a slaughter house. The 'shower' is little more than a tiled room with a shower head extending from the ceiling and a drain inserted into the floor to let the water escape.

Even with the lack of comforts, the hot shower does wonders. Despite the sting of water running over his cuts, Mike can feel the knots unwind in his back and shoulders. While there isn't any soap he is able to scrub away much of the dried blood and mud.

I left my baby lying there, lying there, lying there, I left my baby lying there, to go and gather blaeberries..

Despite the heat of the shower, Mike's blood runs cold. He can barely hear the voice over the running water...

Ho-van, ho-van gorry o go, Gorry o go, gorry o go, Ho-van, ho-van gorry o go, I’ve lost my dearest baby-o

Turning off the water, the small childlike voice becomes clearer...

I saw the little yellow fawn, But never saw my baby.

It seems the voice is coming from a small vent in the wall...

I traced the otter on the lake, But could not trace my baby...

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 23):

The hot water felt amazing as it washed away the blood and grime from the past 24 hours. As his muscles loosened up, Mike almost started to feel like a normal civilized person again.

"I left my baby lying there, lying there, lying there, I left my baby lying there, to go and gather blueberries"

Mike's breath caught in his lungs.

What the fuck? Is that a child?

As the eerie lullaby continued, he turned the shower off and grabbed his towel. With the noise from the shower subsided, he could hear the voice more clearly. He started to towel off.

"I traced the otter on the lake, But could not trace my baby..."

He pulled his trousers on and as he buttoned up his shirt he leaned in to see if he could hear the voice better. He looked towards the heavy metal door.

Is someone in there?

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 24):

Leaning closer, Mike examines the run of the mill vent. As he draws closer the song abruptly stops. Mike waits expectantly for the singing to start again but after a few moments it's clear that whatever was there is gone. Straightening his shirt and doing the last few buttons, he brushes off the whole incident as a stress induced hallucination.

The sooner I get some shuteye the better. Giving the knob on the shower one final twist to completely close the valve, he turns and strides back towards the exam room.

As Mike departs, the voice calls out to his retreating back, it's child-like timbre replaced by a low raspy growl:

See you soon Mikey
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:25, Sun 04 Feb 2018.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 23):

Byron couldn't help overhearing the doctor's muttering to himself.

He had a curious and unnerving air about him, though he seemed quit competent as a medical practitioner.

"Yes as a matter of fact" Byron says, looking at the Doctor sideways, answering his question.

Byron heard the Doctor say something about Dean Halsey.

He was curious now as he hadn't known Dean well, but knew he was a skeptical man.

"Did you study there? Did you know Dean Halsey?"