(Take it away, Harry...)

Harry spends the initial part of her morning in town coordinating the search parties before despatching them on their various routes. Knowing the land, she sends the southward group along a gentle track that will steer them well away from Deirdre's seaside cottage. The northward group Harry sends timed to afford them the greatest window in which to search the many sea-caves along that coast. She sends the inland group along the main road out of town. Harry leaves it to the Collins men to decide the leadership of each group. Once all have left on their respective errands, she hikes back up to Collinwood.

Nothing interferes with her ascent, and after a lot of mostly-uphill walking, she arrives.

Harry requests permission from Isaac or Sarah to inspect the late Abigail's quarters. "I shan't know whether there is anything of use to my investigation until I find it," she replies to the inevitable enquiry. "Even a seemingly minor clue may break the case open, in combination with other uncovered facts."

Sarah, impressed by Harry, is all for this, and allows her into the room in question-- and leaves Harry alone therein.

(Ghastly Affair (remember that thing we're using?) says:

quote:

...Characters with high Wisdom will notice many things that others don't...

So clue-looking seems like a WIS check to me...)

Harry combs through Abigail's room until midday, attempting to disturb as little as possible. She returns shortly after lunch to inspect the window where Isaac said he saw the 'monkey', then combs through the entire room a second time in a slightly more invasive fashion. When she hears the grandfather clock downstairs chime three in the afternoon, Harry excuses herself, asks that Abigail's room not be disturbed, and heads out of the house. She steels herself during the walk to enter the one place she has never been able to before: the cemetery.

---

22:44, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 14 using 1d20.  Check Vs. WIS 13.
23:06, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 5 using 1d20.  Save Vs. Phobia [CHA 13].

Harry finds nothing of usefulness in the room... but at least she's able to steel herself to visit the cemetery without panicking at all...

Harry makes her way to Collins mausoleum, not knowing entirely what to expect. Any number of folk might have released Bigby by now, with Rumson, Isabella, and the Professor at the top of Harry's list of hypotheticals. Or she might find the Professor, the Doctor, and that Regina woman all laying low there. Or dead with their throats torn out, and Bigby a raving madman. One less thing to think about, regardless, and possibly several less things.

Good news!

Harry finds no dead bodies! Nor bleeding, mortally-wounded bodies! No bodies at all except herself!

Bad news: No bodies except herself. The door to the secret room of the mausoleum is open, and there's no one inside.

Whatever form he might currently be in, there's definitely a werewolf running around loose somewhere.

Harry wedges the the secret room's door open before searching for the mechanism which allows the door to be opened from the inside. She also searches the room for anything which might have been left behind by its most recent occupant(s).

---

14:58, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 2 using 1d20.  Check Vs. WIS 13.

There's nothing left behind of any interest.

Except sort of... Harry does find that there's a stone on a hinge that swings out. Underneath is a switch or latch or whatever one would call it that makes a click at the door when pushed.

So... maybe... he let himself out, as a human. Surely the werewolf couldn't have stumbled upon it and also activated it?

...Or was the truth more complicated? Did someone come, open the door from the outside, and then they were grabbed, thrown in, trapped inside, the werewolf ran off, the person knew the secret of how to open the door, they let themselves out...?

Or something else...?

There's just no way to tell.

There's no drops nor spatters of blood on the ground, though, at least...

Harry leaves the secret room and closes the door behind her, then makes her way to the caretaker's cottage. "Any strangers visit the cemetery of late?"  she asks the old man. "The Collins mausoleum in particular?" She offers him the bread, cheese, and beer she had brought for the absent Bigby. "Is it the mausoleum where Miss Abigail will be laid to rest?"

"Not my job to guard the place. Just to take care of it. I seen strangers around here and there lately... none of 'em linger in the cemetery fer very long... Which is good... the dead must rest in peace..."



The food and beer soften the old man's attitude... slightly. "Naw. Mausoleum's full. She'll be laid in a reg'ler grave later today."

Harry thanks the old man and leaves him to enjoy his repast. She hikes back down to town and, at a loss for what tack to take next, stops at the Blue Whale for a drink.

Hmm. There's another Collins in here... Daniel? Yeah, Daniel. Having a glass of wine, and staring at the reflection of the light off the water hitting the windows and ceiling...

Harry pulls up a chair at Daniel's table after ordering a pint of ale. "Aught troublin' you, Master Collins? Y'seem a wee bit distracted. Any of the search parties report back? Fair enough morning for it, though the weather's apt to shift before long. Fickle, autumn is."

(Hmm... CHR roll, please...)

Harry takes a long draught of her ale and skims the tavern's other occupants as she awaits Daniel's response.

---

10:44, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 10 using 1d20.  Check Vs. CHA 13.

"Yes, I find many things troubling. Aunt Abigail's death can be explained away, as far as I know, but the disappearance of young Leo's tutor and two doctors in a row... And-- again, so far as I am aware-- the search parties have so far turned up nothing... Mysterious things are afoot... I cannot help but feel that there is... Well, I feel that something unpleasant hangs over the town, and my family in particular. ...Tell me, do you believe in the supernatural?"

Harry simply grunts. "Superstitious lot, we sailors. Prefer t' hedge our bets. Safer t' believe than not."

"I see..." He frowns, thinking. "...Did you know any of the missing persons at all? Personally, I mean...?"

Harry takes another draught of her ale. "Just the common bond of fellow travelers in a strange place. Faces and names y'know in a sea of strangers. Ne'er met a one ere crossing paths in Collinsport or en route. Save folk I've no ken of. Who all's missing, apart from Willoughby, McKenzie, Gallow, that Regina woman, and that bloke who escaped gaol? Oh, and there's that vagabond camped out on Eagle Hill."

"'Gallow?' 'Regina?'" Then he sort of does a double-take. "...Vagabond...? What vagabond...?"

Harry shrugs. "Macintyre was his name. Scotsman from his accent. Have t' ask th' Constable about Gallow. Was helpin' investigate the fella who escaped. Regina is a handsome redhead the Professor and your cousin Gerard know. Only met any of 'em once, myself."

Daniel seems slightly more unnerved than he was already. "It would appear that there is more going on in Collinsport's demi-monde than I ever suspected," he says. "I--" He looks-- really looks-- at Harry for what feels like the first time. "Do you know..." he says, "I feel... that I've seen you somewhere before... Or someone very like you..." He frowns. "Tell me... have you ever heard of the I Ching...?"

Harry downs the last of her ale. "Heard th' name before, aye. Some kinda Chinese sortilege." She returns Daniel's gaze. "Just saw me th' other day. Been drinkin' a while, have ye?"

"I have not." He muses about what to say next. "...The I Ching can be... Well, I happen to own a very special set of I Ching wands. The professor and I experienced... certain things, on one occasion. Things..." The bartender passes by with a broom... "...that should not be discussed here. ...Would you be willing to meet me... elsewhere... to discuss them? I can choose the place, or it may be a place of your choosing. The thing that concerns me more is time. I would prefer to speak to you of these things sooner than later."

Harry grunts a reply. "Know th' lay of th' land, should be able t' find anywhere ye care t' meet. Beach road is close. Lookout Point, private. Gazebo, bit of both. Gotta preference?"

"...What if, this evening, you might join me at Seaview-- er, I have an informal little study set up at a house called Seaview... You know the fork in the path right before one goes to the Old House? If one takes it to the left instead of to the right, it goes past Eagle Hill Cemetery, and then onward to a house on the edge of the family property, called Seaview. For a time, it was where they were storing all the furnishings they were eventually going to install into Collinwood... but now that they have, I've been using the peace and quiet out there for some... thought experiments of my own..."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:01, Fri 23 July 2021.

Harry simply nods. "Aye, know it. Out at the end of the north trail. What time?"

"Around sunset, perhaps...?"

Harry rises from her seat, nodding. "Sunset 'tis. I've business, will see ye then."

Harry leaves the tavern and heads to the general store. "Where might a man purchase a musket and a brace of pistols?" she asks the shopkeeper. "Meanin' t' practice me marksmanship, now I'm a lubber."

(The shopkeeper can supply Harry with the weapons, ammo, and powder she wants... roll CHR to discuss the price...)

11:51, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 3 using 1d20.  Check Vs. CHA 13.

The shopkeeper seems to suspect that Harry wants the weapons for a good reason, and doesn't ask for more than she can afford.

Harry pays and thanks the shopkeeper, then departs with her purchases. She then heads of to find Constable Patterson, figuring he would know who in Collinsport was responsible for militia training.

"...MacLeod. Any news?"

Harry shakes her head. "Search parties ain't back yet. Professor, Doctor, Gallow, th' redhead... list just keeps on growin'. Gallow ever talk about her? Redhead, I mean. Regina. That new Collins, Gerard, knew her well enough t' get angry when I asked him about her. Professor knew her too, but not by name. Leastwise not before th' night Gallow spoke with her. Never spoke much with either. Whatever Gallow learnt may have a bearing on matters I been asked t' look inta by Isaac Collins, though. Oh, and by th' by, what all can ye tell me 'bout Daniel Collins?"

"...I've seen that redhead around town... hard to miss 'er. You sure she's officially missin', though? Where's she even live...?"





"Daniel Collins? He's all right, I guess. Less irritating than most Collins... Got some odd ideas, though, I've heard... Never heard anything criminal about 'im, though..."

Harry shrugs. "Far as I know, Regina's another newcomer. Maybe came from Martinique same as Gerard, or she fled th' nasty business in France." She idly scratches her cheek. "Only saw her that one time, why I hoped Gallow spoke t' ye about her. Have t' ask around, reckon."

"Reckon so. Hope nothing's happened to 'er." He frowns slightly. "...You think th' new, French Collins is mixed up in this...? This... Gerard?"

Harry grunts. "Always a Collins mixed up in it, ain't that th' nature of things? Maybe 'tis a ghostie, feelin' tetchy at someone from th' beyond." She crosses herself immediately.

"It always seems to be around here, if one looks deep enough... You didn't hear that from me, though."



"...I don't get paid to arrest ghosts, though. ...Also... If that was the case... wouldn't seem like it would target people who aren't locals. None of the missing people seem to have anything to do with each other, nor with Collinsport. ...'Less y' count old Abigail. And I've got an excuse not to suspect murder in that case, what with the storm and 'er age and all. ...Plus, she isn't missing-- died at home in her own bed. So I reckon she's not connected to these disappearances..." He sighs. "Mebbe the disappearances are just people who suddenly decided that Collinsport was too rich for their blood, and they each left. Wouldn't be th' first time. ...I've sent word over to Bangor, to all the hotels and inns, about the folks' 'at're missing... That's where people usually run when they suddenly feel a need for a bit more civilization than they can get here... Nothin' so far..."

Harry bobs her head. "Traveled from Logansport with th' Doctor and Professor, ain't sure they know Maine well enough t' head fer Bangor. Maybe they hired that tramp who was livin' up by th' cemetery as a local guide, seein' as I was off at sea most of th' time 'til recently. He's missin' too, by th' way. " She jerks her thumb in the direction of the docks. "Anyone ask if they booked passage? Mighta gone t' Boston if they wanted themselves a big helpin' o' civilization. Both seemed t' be takin' well enough t' life in Collinsport, though."

"Tramp? First I heard about a tramp..."



"T'ain't booked passage on anything fer as I can tell. Hard to tell for sure some times, but no sign of that so far..."

Harry bobs her head again. "Met him up on Eagle Hill ere Miss Abigail's death. Gave him candles, food, and a bible. Reckon he was shelterin' in one of th' mausoleums. Seems th' Professor had given him food a few days earlier. Scotsman by his accent. Macintyre, said his name was."

"Those mausoleums up on Eagle Hill Cemetery 're supposed to be locked. And the caretaker wouldn't stand for that... You sayin' you think one of th' Collins was sheltering his Macintyre...?" He pauses. "...Or that Professor Willoughby was responsible...?"

Harry shrugs. "Reckon it were th' Professor what did so, but Macintyre did know th' Collins family name. Eagle Hill Cemetery have a Collins mausoleum? Wonder if they plan t' lay Miss Abigail there."

"Around here, everyone knows it anyway... But even if one'd never been to Collinsport before, everybody spending three minutes in that cemetery knows the Collins family name... "



"They do. At least one. One big one, in particular..."



"I couldn't tell you about that. The Collins would know, or the old cemetery caretaker..."

Harry excuses herself and begins to canvas the town looking for information about Regina. She enquires at the inn, the general store, and the local seamstresses, in the hopes of learning where Regina lives and whether she has been seen since Sunday's storm.

---

16:21, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 6 using 1d20.  Information Gathering. — For once I did not roll a 20, what do you know. Might actually learn something!

No one knows where Regina lives.

Two people say that they've seen her walking in or out of the road leading north out of town-- usually at night.

...Huh.

There shouldn't be anything within walking distance of town to the north but some farms.

Finally, just when she's about ready to pack it up, someone at a seamstress shop says: "That beautiful redhead? She's in town to visit her sister, that poor girl who was beaten by that madman..."

Harry ask whether anyone knows where the poor girl lives, and thanks all involved for their assistance. North of town... Eagle Hill, Seaview, half a dozen farms. Collinwood and the Old House a bit east of there. Curiouser and curiouser.

The sister, named Mary, currently resides in a cheap sort of boarding house on the south side of town...

A very faded sign barely can be read: THE SEA GRAPE INN

Harry knocks on the boarding-house door and enquires after Mary and Regina.

The old-lady proprietress sneers at the mention of one of those names (Regina's, maybe?). "What about them?" she asks.

"A number of people from town are believed missin'," Harry replies, "and we're tryin' t' account for everyone's whereabouts." She shrugs once. "'Tis one of th' locations Mary and Regina were recently seen together. Gotta follow up on every lead 'til they're found.."

"I ain't seen that sister'a Mary's for a couple-more days now, an' I don't know where she's got to." The old woman pales a bit. "Oh... you mean, she ain't come'n seen her sister'n... 'cause y'think somethin's happened to 'er...?"

Harry shrugs again. "Most of th' missin' are newcomers, folk arrived in th' past month or so," she simply declares. "Strange business goin' on, say some. Dark times ahead, say others. Disturbin', doncha think?"

"Ye-- yes... very..."

Harry grunts in response. "No one else seems t' know where her sister's stayin', figured Mary herself might recall. She recovered enough from her ordeal t' speak with me? Understand if not."

"She can talk. And she's maybe awake-- the pain makes her keep odd hours. I hope we either find one of our doctors, or else get a new one soon..."

The old woman sighs. "...Does the constable know you're here? He gets a little anxious about men talkin' t' Mary, with the man that beat her still out there somewhere..."

Harry nods. "Told him I'd be followin' up on Gallow's work, Gallow bein' amongst th' missin' folk. Too damn many folk missin' on th' cusp of Miss Abigail's death. Peculiar business. Worrisome, even."

The old woman frets. "...You'll have no objection t'me comin' in with you... at least at first...?"

Harry assures the old woman, "None whatsoever. Mary's safety and comfort are paramount."

The old woman leads you to a darkened room. "...Mary...? Got another visitor for you... A new one..."

The form on the bed rouses... "...Hold a candle up, please...?"

The old woman has one lit, and holds it up in front of Harry's face.

The form on the bed relaxes. "All right. Thank you. Did the Constable send you...?"

Harry bobs her head. "Am followin' up on Mr. Gallow's investigation, he ne'er provided th' Constable a full report. D'ye feel up t' answerin' some questions? Shan't trouble ye long, either way."

"Yes, all right..."

The old woman leaves... As she leaves, though, Harry notices that in her off-hand, the old woman has a bright pair of scissors... she was prepared to cut Harry if Harry turned out to be the man who beat Mary... Well... good, one supposes...

Harry asks Mary to recount her activities leading up to the attack, any details she recalls of the attack itself, and confirms the description of her attacker. She then asks, "When was th' last time ye saw yer sister? Need t' follow up with her as well, and no one recalls seein' her recently. She stayin' at th' inn, or elsewhere in town?"

"I don't know... I don't really know for sure what day it is. It's been... a few days, I think... I don't... I don't know where she's staying... I suppose she must be at the inn, since she wouldn't know anyone here..."

Harry bobs her head. "She seems to know a Gerard Collins, recently arrived from Martinique. Alleged they had words th' other eve. Will look int' it. Thank ye for yer time, Miss. Godspeed on yer recovery." She speaks with the old woman before departing. "Recollect what day Regina last came a-callin'? Mary was unsure."

"Oh, maybe 2 or 3 days ago. Well, nights. She always comes at night. So I guess 2 and a half days maybe?"

Harry thanks the old woman with a nod. "Since th' storm, then, or thereabouts. Good t' know. Thank ye for lookin' after Mary." She passes the old woman a few coins. "World needs more good Samaritans." Harry takes her leave, and returns to The Blue Whale. She orders and eats a hearty lunch, then heads to the inn to scrutinize its register of current guests. Even if no Regina, might yet find a Rumson or Trask.

There's no one named Regina listed, and never has been.

There's also currently no Rumson staying at the inn.

Trask was staying here, then he wasn't, now he is again. Perhaps Abigail got him an invitation to stay at Collinwood, which got revoked after her death...?

Harry fetches the musket, pistols, ammunition, and powder she just acquired, as well as a lantern and provisions. She heads out to get in several hours of shooting practice before finally venturing out to Seaview. She consumes her small meal of jerky, fruit, and cheese en route, polishing it off with a bottle of hard cider.

Harry passes Collinwood once again... passes the location of the cemetery, off to the right... but stays to her left, and soon comes to a house not as big as the Old House, but still on the largish side.

Basically, the coastline comes north to the Collinsport harbor, cuts east toward Widow's Hill, and then at some point past the cemetery curves back around again, roughly following the shape of the very large hill that the Collins estate is built upon, and then curves back to run north, and so this house does indeed have an ocean view. Its isolation makes it a little spooky, though... lonely.

Harry sees the face of Daniel Collins in a window, watching.

Once she steps up onto the house's porch, Daniel opens the door for her. "Ah, excellent!" says Daniel. "I began to fear you wouldn't make it."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:50, Tue 10 Aug 2021.

Harry leans her musket against the jamb inside the door, and hangs her baldric with the two pistols from it. Each is loaded but uncocked. A little paranoia now and then is a healthy thing, she silently reminds herself. "'Tis only a a few miles' walk from town, she tells Daniel in reply, "and I'm th' sort who likes long walks on th' beach. Like bein' close t' th' sea."

"Ah, yes... the ocean is more ancient than the mountains, and freighted with the memories and the dreams of Time itself..." He shakes himself out of his reveries with only a little effort-- "--But come, come and see the I Ching wands...!"

The house is empty-- except for furniture stored with sheets over it... and a table and two chairs that have been uncovered.

On the table is a lit signal-lantern, mostly shuttered... and a set of I Ching wands.

https://darkshadowseveryday.fi...tokes-cast-wands.jpg

Harry steps to the table and scrutinizes the wands laying on it. "Professor Willoughby give those t' ye, or they been in th' family awhile?"

"Oh, no, neither. While these are a relatively recent acquisition of mine, their purchase does rather predate Professor Willoughby's coming to work as young Leo's tutor... I've had them for, oh, perhaps a year or so now. It's my understanding that an antiquities dealer picked them up in Macao, or bought them off a sailor who docked there..."

Harry grunts. "Chinaman who sold 'em must've been an opium addict. About th' only thing that'd part a chinaman from his sticks. Originally a Portugeuse institution, th' opium trade, but th' Brits took it up from 'em and mastered it as only th' Brits can."

"Ah! So you are familiar with them...!" Daniel is pleased, though he has a bit of a twinkle in his eyes like you've been holding out on me, you naughty thing!

Harry shrugs. "'Tis th' chinaman's way of castin' lots. Was called 'sortilege' in ancient Rome. Sailors in th' Book Of Jonah cast lots t' learn who'd brought th' storm 'pon them. Flung ol' Jonah overboard t' be swallowed by a whale, they did. Plenty still cast lots t' this very day, whether stones, bones, dice, or shells."

"Yes, it is the oldest known form of divination and mysticism – written of in China long before the time of Confucius. But the practice of I Ching is also one of the most powerful forms of personal spiritual exploration. Practitioners of I Ching can reach a higher state of being through the use of these six wands... Each wand, as you can see, is colored black with a white dividing line painted on the opposing side. The caster takes the wands in hand, shakes them up, and throws them upon a smooth surface, as if rolling a pair of dice. The placement of the wands determines the type of divination that can be called upon. Once the configuration of the wands is established, the subject enters a period of intense concentration. In their mind's eye, they picture a doorway that can lead into new worlds of experience. The subject's subconscious mind, or astral self, leaves their body, and travels through the doorway. Only the caster knows whatever secrets lie beyond the doorway..." He looks up from contemplating the wands. "Disruption of an I Ching ritual can have very problematic consequences upon the caster, which is why I've been practicing in such isolation... but with someone here to, ah, stand guard, I feel better about not being interrupted, I invited Professor Willoughby to this one evening, and we each experienced... certain things..."

Harry simply grunts. "Certain things... seem t' be goin' around. Downright nervous, folk are of late. Wonderin' if more frights like that which claimed yer aunt are t' come. 'Bout how long after this did th' Professor go missin'?"

OOC: It has been six days since the full moon on the 16th, and four since the storm and Abigail's death on the 18th. Professor Willoughby and Doctor McKenzie seem to have disappeared during or just after the storm. An estimate is all I am after: less than a week ago, about a week ago, between a week and a fortnight ago, about a fortnight ago.

Daniel thinks carefully. "...We didn't realize it at first, but I don't think anyone has seen the professor since after Abigail died. He was definitely one of the people out in the hall in the general commotion when her death was discovered, but I have found no one who saw him the next morning, nor since."

Harry bobs her head. "That's consistent with all I've uncovered thus far," she says. "But how long before that did ye and th' Professor conduct yer experiments with th' sticks here, and what was th' result?"

"A couple of days, I think," says Daniel, not interested in the exact amount of time. "But you are quite right to ask about the results of our experimentation.

"I went first, so as to demonstrate. I rolled the 49th co-hexagram – the Hexagram of Change... I have never before rolled such a powerful result.  I saw a door, with the 49th co-hexagram on it... the Hexagram of Change... I willed the door to open... I wished to see what might be on the other side... And I saw... the drawing room at Collinwood... And people are gathered around a table... There was a storm... Yes, I could see through the windows, a violent storm with lightning... but since there was no storm that night, I immediately wondered if I was seeing the future... The lights were dim... but I could just make out that the clothing everyone was wearing was very strange... so, likely, very far in the future... I realized that it was a séance...!"

Daniel interrupts himself. "...Shall I presume that you, one who is aware of the I Ching, are also familiar with such a comparatively common ritual...?"

Harry shrugs. "I know what a séance is, roughly, and how one is conducted."

"In any event, Professor Willoughby was there... There were five at the table... The Professor, and a young blond man, and another man, well-dressed... and a strange young woman... she was speaking, and I think she must have been the medium..." Daniel looks at Harry carefully. "And there was someone who looked very much like you."

The well-dressed man was probably Doctor McKenzie. Harry herself was likely the young blond man, as blond-haired Macintyre was not present for the séance. Harry maintains a deadpan expression. "Oh, aye? Interestin'. What'd th' Professor think 'bout yer dream or vision or whatever 'twas?"

"...Let's see... I told him that I saw an old woman, not at the table, but sitting over at the side... she looked afraid... The rest of the people were not speaking, but they looked alarmed... I could almost hear a pounding at the doors-- they were closed... I felt they must have been locked... And then... A clap of lightning, and thunder, and three of them were gone. The one who looked like you was gone, and the professor... both men, in fact... only the women remained... I underwent a mighty shudder, and nearly fell out of my chair. The professor put out a hand to help me-- I grabbed at it. I told the professor that I felt that there was something very dangerous about that... There was a strange malevolence in that room, with those people... I felt that for me to watch and witness any longer would be to court my own destruction... as if the experience, the vision, was not meant for me... It took all my willpower to wrench my consciousness back to this place and time... The professor seemed... evasive. He said that my vision meant 'many things,' though he agreed that it was, indeed, a glimpse into the future. He suggested that I try to throw the wands again, but I felt I should rest before trying again... I encouraged him to go next..." Daniel glances at Harry, in case Harry has some response...

Harry slowly bobs her head. "Can ye describe this malevolence, how it make ye feel? Seem at all familiar? Curious 'bout th' lookalikes. Old woman remind ye of anyone? Hear any sounds beside th' poundin' and th' thunderclap?"

Daniel thinks about it. "...Once, when I was quite young, walking on the cliffs, almost lost in thought, I nearly put my foot on a loose rock, but managed to spot that it might not be a good idea, and stepped almost a foot to the left just in time. In the next instant, the movement of my footfall caused the rock to roll off down the cliff. Had I put my foot there, it might have been me, as well. The sense of foreboding that I had, of imminent, lethal danger, is the closest thing to which I can liken the feeling that I experienced in my vision."



Daniel frowns. "N... no." He almost had something, there, but then he lost it. Maybe if you ask him the same question some other day...?



"No, not clearly enough. I'd dearly have like to hear what any of them were saying..."

Harry considers Daniel's words for a moment before replying. "Ne'er wise t' go courtin' yer own destruction. Only folk with a death wish do that. Good ye had th' sense t' not go o'er either precipice." She then asks Daniel, "Did th' Professor take ye up on throwin' th' wands, or did he beg off?"

"No, he did. But I'm afraid that I can tell you even less of use about his experiences, for he was quite closed-mouthed about them. His first attempt was the eighth co-hexagram: Uniting. Holding Together, or Uniting, is something that plays out in the way we pursue and are pursued by others, but also how we find a sense of Union within... He concentrated... he saw the door in his mind... he willed it to open... and... the mental or spiritual jolt he then felt was so jarring that he actually convulsed suddenly, and fell backward in his chair.

The chair didn't quite break, and he wasn't hurt by the fall itself, but he was clearly slightly shaken..."

All he said was that he'd seen a man... An imposing gentleman in gray clothes and a dark, wide-brimmed hat. And that then he'd seen a pale, delicate woman. She had crimson hair, long, reaching her waist. He asked if I knew anyone with such an exquisite appearance..."

"I said that I did not... But that whoever they may be... the eighth co-hexagram suggested that they may have had some connection to one another..."

Harry nods again. "Professor did meet a woman fittin' that description, 'bout a week ago. Full moon that night, I recollect. Man could be that Reverend Trask fella. Imposing voice at th' very least. Seemed to' take an interest in th' Professor." Harry privately suspects the man was not Trask, however, knowing that Regina and Gerard were well-acquainted. Mention of Gerard might steer Daniel back on the path toward his own destruction. Best to lie for now.

---

OOC: Was Gerard dressed in grey that first time Harry encountered him, arguing with Regina near the boarding house? If so, the description could fit Gerard and Trask equally. Most folks dress in blacks, greys, and browns in Colonial America, after all. Hell, the man could even be Reuben.

"Mm, Mr. Trask does indeed often wear a wide-brimmed hat, but I don't believe I've ever seen him wear anything but the darkest black clothing..."





(Gerard, that night = more dark browns, really.)

 

(...Is that a question...?)

OOC: Reuben's clothes were self-described as being dark and matte, which means he too fits the general colonial color scheme. But hey, if he wears grey and is imposing then we have a third potential mystery figure. Of course, me chasing abandoned PCs you may be trying to completely write out of the storyline by having them disappear mysteriously is the very definition of high hilarity. Going off on such a tangent is only slightly less ridiculous than shipping out to Martinique to verify Gerard's backstory first-hand. LOL

Harry shrugs. "Perhaps the Constable or one of his deputies, then. Or the Reverend after a trek up a dusty road. Reckon the imposing is more important than the color of his clothing. Anyone fit that bill, to your mind?"

(Hey, in other games, when a player disappears, I prefer to pretend their character was never here in the first place. In THIS game, it's just one more awesome mysterious disappearance.)




(Er, yes, well, indeed, let's not do that.)




Daniel shrugs and appears to be at a loss about this... really, he just appears eager to get back to finishing his recounting of his evening with the Professor...

Harry prompts Daniel accordingly. "Plenty of time fer that later. Anything more ye recall from that night?"

"Yes. The Professor threw the wands a second time... and got the tenth co-hexagram: Proceeding Cautiously... 'Watch Your Step,' 'Proceed at Your Own Risk,' and other such axioms. Proceeding Cautiously suggests the idea of one treading on the tail of a tiger, which does not bite him. There can be progress and success... but with a certain amount of risk... I asked him if he wished to proceed in concentrating on the hexagram in question... On one hand, I told him, I would not blame him if he stopped at that point. On the other hand, there were reasons to proceed. For one thing, to cast the wands and not proceed, I have found, makes a subsequent attempt at doing so more risky, in and of itself. Another factor is that Proceeding Cautiously is, after all, supposed to be successful and rewarding, in spite of the risk... it is, to put it another way, about an allegorical tiger not ending up biting oneself..."

"But what he did was thoroughly unexpected by me-- he gathered the wands up-- I thought he meant to stop-- and he cast them again. I wish he'd announced his intention to do so beforehand, for I would have tried to stop him! When one re-rolls, it makes it harder to continue, at least at first..."

"It was the thirty-second co-hexagram: Commitment. Commitment is the force of attraction that brings all things back to one... Some texts call it Endurance... Endurance is cultivated when determination is coupled with flexibility. Or Consistency... The Symbol of Constancy, The Long Enduring, Persevering, Standing Fast, Holding Firm... 'Consistency means successful progress without error through firm correctness. Movement in any direction is advantageous.' And, ah... 'Success. No blame. Perseverance furthers. It furthers one to have somewhere to go.' Well, you get the idea... I admitted that it could be useful to him to proceed with that one... But I guaranteed him, it would be hard going... I tried to abjure him to tell me, if he would, what his goal might be...? What he wished for-- Money? Power? Secrets? Something else? It told him it would be best to focus on what he wanted from this... if he ever wanted to plumb the secrets of the I Ching again... Warning him, of course, whatever he might do, to please not re-roll the wands again...!"

Daniel pauses, to make sure he's not losing Harry...

Harry frowns somewhat. "Seems th' risk he chose to take was throwing th' wands anew, with a successful and rewarding outcome by whatever metrics one judges these things. Or have I missed somethin' here?"

"Eh? I'm... not sure I understand your question."

(OOC: GM: Eh? I'm... not sure I understand your question.)

Harry dismissively waves. "Just sayin' like as not he knew th' risk of throwin' th' wands twice in succession, and chanced it because th' first throw was a promisin' one. Kinda like doublin' down on a wager... ye keep at a thin' even more doggedly than before. And lest I'm missin' somethin', seems the wager paid off fer him. Th' second throw promised a greater success... one fer which he'd be held blameless. Which, if he wished someone dead, would mean him bein' th' last person suspected or th' person with th' most irrefutable alibi."

"Ohhh... Oh! Oh dear! You're suggesting, I think, that, unbeknownst to me... perhaps even unbeknownst to the Professor... he... Well, there is a certain type of man who is particularly well-disposed, by nature, to be prone to addiction to, specifically, the risks and rewards of gambling. My goodness... I had not factored the possibility of such a personality trait into my suggestion that he engage in practicing the I Ching... but I do see what you mean... It may indeed have been a factor..."




"...Oh, my. Well the I Ching should, normally, merely involve clairvoyance in regard to the past, present, or future... but... I admit that more than the usual rules of things might be possible with this particular set of wands... Perhaps I should continue my recounting...

After I belatedly warned The Professor of such actions as the one he'd already taken, he did admit that although the wands seemed simple at first, they 'garner a great occult power,' as he put it. He admitted that my warning was well-taken, and that he did indeed need to concentrate, 'and not just let the waves of fate roll over my consciousness,' he said. 'How can I direct the wands?' he asked. 'Is it possible to pose a question in my mind, and then cast the wands?'

I replied that it is possible... but it only helps a little. The arrangement of the wands seems to be more important than what the one working with them wants to know... but focusing can help. I told him that he did not have to tell me what it is he wanted from the experience, but if he wanted to continue working with the I Ching ever again, I implored him to focus carefully-- not to merely walk away, unless he wished to wash his hands of the entire enterprise forever... and not to re-roll the wands again, not until he worked with the co-hexagram currently on the table before him!

So... he took a deep breath... clearly concentrating...

And he saw something... I know not what. Again, he was violently thrown out of his vision, though this time no one fell to the floor...

He sat there in silence for a while, ruminating... then he stood.

"Mr. Collins, this has been a most enlightening experience," he said. "I thank you for introducing me to this method. We should get together soon again, so that I can reciprocate, by teaching you about certain aspects of the mystical arts I am interested in. For now, I must leave. The wands have taken their toll on me. So long, and until next time!"

And... that was the last we spoke of the experience. He said nothing about the content of that final vision-- my tale of that night ends here. I am quite convinced, however, that he did have some sort of question in mind that he wanted answered, and that he saw something that was, in some way, relevant. What, sadly, I cannot say."

Harry frowns again. "He ever return t' teach ye 'bout certain aspects of th' mystical arts as promised, or did events of th' past week... includin' his own disappearance... prevent?"

Daniel sort of taps his finger on nothing, as if to point out invisible concepts still wafting on the air between Harry and himself. "The second thing you have indicated."

Harry prompts the young man further. "Just thinkin' aloud. Pardon th' interruption."

"No no, that's all. What's past is prologue, perhaps...? Would you care to throw the wands yourself...?" Daniel's tone is quite hopeful.

Harry ponders Daniel's offer for a time before replying. "Instruct me in their proper use. What rites are involved, if any? Need I invoke particular gods or saints?"

"No, no, nothing like that. Just roll the wands, first, and then when we see the result, I will then guide you on concentration."

(I'll roll for you, or you may roll 1d64 for yourself if you wish...)
This message was last edited by the player at 16:56, Wed 15 Sept 2021.

Harry gathers the wands in both hands and solemnly speaks her own invocation. "I ask Our Lady, Stella Maris, whom the Chinamen name Ma-Tsu and Tin Hau, to shield her child from misfortune." She then gently spreads her hands and lets the wands clatter to the tabletop.

---

13:36, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 42 using 1d64.  Consulting The I-Ching

"Ah!" says Daniel. "The forty-second co-hexagram: Increase... Augmentation... The Symbol of Addition, Gain, Help from Above, Benefit, Advantage, Profit, Expansion... Auspicious!

Substantial progress and increasing prosperity are exhilarating and good—- as long as you keep the interests of others in mind. Like a river’s white-water rapids, periods of increase can be of short duration. It furthers one to ride the rapids now while the waves of opportunity are high.

Leadership in times of increasing opportunity involves commitment to the needs of others... By remembering that to lead is to serve, a leader strengthens his or her ability--" Daniel slows down for just an instant and glances at Harry's face and eyes-- "--to bring about a lasting increase in prosperity. In a time of general increase, those who contribute most directly to the common good will achieve the greatest and most long-lasting rewards.

When opportunities for increase arise, very good fortune comes to those who act swiftly and boldly without falling into the trap of letting their actions be merely self-serving. If you aspire to a position of prominence, the most enduring strategy is to work to raise the tide of your entire community, rather than setting out to swim upstream on your own.

When the times favor prosperity, and when leadership is in the hands of the broadminded, supreme good fortune is the result.

I see a new role developing for you-- one in which you are a leader, a protector-- whether others realize that about you or not.

Here, sit down, sit down... Are you prepared to concentrate on the lines...?"

Harry takes the proffered seat, rests her hands on the near edge of the table, and nods once. "Saint Brendan the Navigator, show me the course. Saint Brendan the Voyager, steer my keel true."

"Now then... concentrate on the lines... Look within yourself... picture, in your mind's eye, a door... Do you see a door...?"

You do, actually. In a misty void, you see a door before you, and on it is the forty-second co-hexagram: Increase.

"I see it," you say.

"Good, good... Now... using your force of will... will it to open... not like you're pushing nor pulling on it... but like you're willing it to open itself... and to show you what there is to be seen on the other side..."

You do so... and indeed, the door opens... And on its other side, you see...

(Wisdom check, please...)

15:38, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 13 using 1d20.  Check Vs. WIS 14.

"Good, good... Now... using your force of will... will it to open... not like you're pushing nor pulling on it... but like you're willing it to open itself... and to show you what there is to be seen on the other side..."

You do so... and indeed, the door opens... And on its other side...

You see... a graveyard. It might be the Eagle Hill Cemetery, but you can't be sure... it's very foggy.

There, you see Silas Rumson, walking amongst the graves... looking for something...

But... you see... something else... something following him...

Something small... low to the ground...

Some sort of... little...

Well, it has a head, and a torso, and two arms and two legs, and a face... but it's between one and two feet tall-- closer to one. It's not a child... the skin is ash gray and it has a long, pointed tail, and two little horns on its head, and the legs are twisted...

The eyes glow faintly red with a malevolent intelligence...

...as they turn to you. "Naughty naughty," it whispers, seemingly looking right at you. "No fair sneaking up on one who sneaks up on others..." Its eyes flash--

(Since Harry made her Wis check, she is unharmed.)

The vision is abruptly over...
This message was last edited by the player at 18:28, Mon 20 Sept 2021.

Harry raises her eyes to Daniel. "Seems I've some huntin' t' do. May be too late fer th' man in my vision. Any way t' know whether 'tis past, present, or future?" She tries to recollect where the town's various historic graveyards are located, but cannot recall any apart from Eagle Hill.

---

20:00, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 18 using 1d20.  Check Vs. INT 13.

"No, not that I'm aware of, not if details like clothing or other landmarks give no clues..."

Daniel pretty clearly is dying to know what Harry saw, but his good manners and natural sense of hospitably respecting the privacy of a guest are restraining him...




Harry recalls that there is at least one other graveyard in the area, but the location escapes her at this time.

Harry fixes Daniel with her gaze. "Saw th' critter what frightened yer Aunt t' death, followin' a gent through a foggy graveyard all stealthy-like. Met th' fella before, allegedly in town on business. Half-tempted t' throw th' wands again and double down like th' Professor did."

"What?! What?! An... an animal...?"




"Oh, you may, you certainly may! The professor's error was rolling a result and then rolling again --without...ah, looking into the first result! Now that you've, ah, gazed into Increase... you should be fine to roll again...!" Seriously, Daniel very much approves of continued experimentation in this direction...

Harry repeats the story to which she and the Collins patriarch agreed. "Large monkey of some sort, likely brought aboard a ship as a mascot. Mighta even arrived on th' same ship as yer cousin Gerard." She gathers up the wands once more and lets them clatter to the table anew.

---

15:27, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 30 using 1d64.  Consulting The I-Ching Again.

"Oh, my...! So... is the animal dangerous, in and of itself, do you think...? Diseased-- rabid, or something...?"



"Ah ha... Number 30, Clarity. Enlightenment, serving clarity of purpose. It involves stepping outside of one's normal routine, to observe nature. Brightness, but also clinging to something, as fire clings to that which it burns...

What is dark clings to what is light, and so enhances the brightness of the latter.

Thus the sun and moon cling to heaven, and grain, grass, and trees cling to the earth. So too the twofold clarity of the dedicated man clings to what is right and thereby can shape the world..."

(To concentrate on the new hexagram, roll Wis again...)

14:03, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 3 using 1d20.  Check Vs. WIS 14.

When the new door opens, Harry sees...

...Reuben.

He's walking down a road... With that redhead. Regina. Well, well.

Reuben spots something: a bit of sign:

ST

He walks over, pulls some ivy off it:

STOCKBRI

The rest has rotted away.

Reuben examines the area around the sign more carefully. There's a high, black, iron fence... and over here, an large iron gate. And... there appears to be a mansion way back there, not-quite hidden behind the scattered trees... in this light, Reuben could've walked right past the whole place, if his eye hadn't been caught by the sign...

Reuben walks forward, keeping an eye out for his surroundings. Regina lets him take the lead...

The large black iron gate is not locked. This is clear, because it's actually already open just an inch, or a hair less...


Reuben opens the gate.

CRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK...!

This is the first sound Harry has heard, and it startles her about as much as it startles Reuben... In fact, it startles her out of her vision... Although she feels certain that Reuben (and perhaps Regina?) were about to head on though the gate...

Harry grabs the table edge with both hands to prevent herself from toppling from her chair. "A half-rotted sign — Stock-something... -briar or -bridge or -bridle, perhaps. I feel I should know this — and an overgrown gate leading to a mansion."

---

23:29, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 17 using 1d20.  Special Knowledge (Check Vs. INT+3).

(...So did you make the roll, or not. Feels like... you did? Or...?)

Missed it by two. She is thinking aloud, but nothing has clicked.

Fortunately, Daniel is on the spot with facts. "A half-rotted sign? Stockbridge? The Stockbridge name was a very old one in this town-- as old as that of Collins. They fell on hard times... their mansion, out on the southwest side of town, is now derelict as far as I know..."

Harry grunts. "Huh. They have a graveyard of their own, or are they buried in Eagle Hill too?" She mulls the wands on the table for a time before she speaks again. "Nothing 'bout th' Professor or Doctor. May have found their way back to... Logansport."

"The Stockbridges were all buried in Eagle Hill cemetery, yes, as far as I know... I think they have a crypt there... The caretaker there could tell you more..."

Harry considers Daniel's words for a moment. "Any Stockbridges still livin' in Collinsport, or has th' entire line died out? Any folk distantly related t' them by marriage?"

"Hmmmm. What an interesting question. I... think there are no more Stockbridges here in Collinsport... There may be some still living in Boston, I believe... That's the sort of thing my mother would know more about... Local geneology is slightly more her field than mine..." Then, unable to restrain himself-- "...Did-- did you see someone approaching the old mansion...?"

Harry shakes her head. "No, I saw someone discover th' sign and th' gate. They opened th' gate and I saw th' mansion through th' trees." She connects the manse's location to its counterpart in 1966. Stockbridge Manor Apartments, she realizes. Never knew the origin of the name until now.

"Hmm... And this was door number 30, Enlightenment... --Did you see who it was that opened the gate? Or no? --Or you could, but it was no one you recognized...?"

Harry rubs her face with one hand. "Gallow. Reuben Gallow. Worked fer th' Constable as a deputy, huntin' down th' fella what attacked some woman and beat her somethin' savage. Caught th' fella eventually, but somehow he managed t' escape. Gallow's among th' folk gone missin'."

"...Do you think he went to the Stockbridge mansion...? ...Do you--" Daniel pauses. "Were the two of you... friends...?"

Harry shakes her head again. "Barely knew th' fella. Maybe spoke twice. Might've gone t' th' mansion in pursuit of a lead. Seems a place someone runnin' from th' law might hole up."

"Well, had you been close, I wouldn't have wanted to suggest this, but... Might Mr. Gallow... still be at the Stockbridge mansion...?" Daniel raises one eyebrow in a way that means if you see what I mean...?

Harry nods once. "My thought exactly. Might've run afoul of his prey, or fallen through a weak floorboard. Proper search'll have t' wait until daylight, though."

"Mm, yes, that's sensible... If something... unpleasant happened there... one wouldn't want something similar to happen to anyone else, as well..."

Harry grunts and frowns. "Enjoy a good mystery as much as th' next man but could do with fewer unpleasantries, myself." She gestures to the wands. "Seem t' recall East and West agree that three's a lucky number. Should I give 'em one last throw?"

"By all means, please do!"

Daniel's just pleased to have more data for his I Ching research...

Harry gathers the wands once more, and casts them on the tabletop with a clatter.

---

10:44, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 49 using 1d64.  Consulting The I-Ching Yet Again.

"Hm, number 49: Revolution. A time in the cycle of human affairs when things are stirring up and the hint of dramatic change is in the air. The strength of the forces of change will always be in proportion to the urgency of the need being championed.

Revolutionary change ushers in a period when chaos arises from order. Although not all order is good, and not all chaos bad. Chaos is often an integral part of the way things change and develop... and this sign is about the courage to radically change and renew ourselves. If engaging in a negotiation, one should attempt to change the rules; if composing a piece of music, one should add the unexpected; if courting a woman, one should dare to be unconventional.

Combat between forces of dark and light are cyclical; as such, one can become aware of these cycles and master them through preparation. In periods of drought, even wild storms are preferable to just another sunny day."

10:55, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 10 using 1d20.  Check Vs. WIS 14.

The door opens...

And Harry sees...

...The drawing room at Collinwood.

And in that drawing room... she sees the telephone.

A perfectly normal, natural black telephone, just like one might find anywhere in 1966.

Harry feels like... this is it-- that this 49th hexagram is could take her back to her own time, if she wanted... Like, if she just tried to move forward, into the room...

...But... what about the Professor?

...And Macintyre?

Should she really leave a werewolf running around loose in history...?

Harry is conflicted. Could care less about the Professor, Macintyre, and those native to this time, she thinks, save for one person: Isabella. There are monsters at large in Collinsport, and leaving would doom the girl to whatever ill end Fate had in store for her. Her concern for the girl — and a Collins, no less — surprises Harry. Could just kill her myself and be done with it, she thinks. Kill them all and go home. Why so sentimental all of a sudden? I've no desire to lead or protect anyone.

As Harry watches... Charity Collins walks in the room.

She's different, though. She's wearing her hair up, and looks more severe, somehow.

She walks to the telephone, and dials it. "...Yes, this is Charity Trask, of Trask Manor... Is this the Traskport Inn? Yes, well, I'm calling to--"

She turned, to look out the window, and stopped.

Her eyes have caught sight of Harry.

"...I'll call you back," she says, and hangs up.

Charity squints. "...Ms. MacLeod? Are... are you back? What happened during the séance? Where is Mr. Macintyre and the professor?" And then, with a note of pure greed in her voice that Harry had never heard from the old woman before: "...Did you learn the location of the wreck...?"

This is very wrong. Every bone in Harry's body says that yes, this IS the same 1966 she left... And yet, it's not. Maybe sending a werewolf back to 1795 has messed-up time more than one might have thought...

The old woman's words anger Harry. The souls of all Collinses rot as they mature, the voice had said. Harry gives Charity a derisive snort. Trasks too, it would seem. Damn the lot of them to Hell. She withdraws from the scene in the drawing room. Not giving you the satisfaction of answers. Not that I have any yet, but I will, and I'll bring back enough to teach you to be careful what you wish for. I'm no one's pawn, Charity Collins. No one's sacrificial lamb. I'll give both you and the voice cause to regret my involvement. Consider that a promise...

Harry comes out of the vision. She's back in 1795...

...But... for a moment... she wasn't.

...This could work again, with the right luck. Hexagram 49, the hexagram of change and revolution...

Daniel, meanwhile, looks delighted. "Do you know, you actually grew transparent for a few moments? I wondered if you were going to disappear completely-- to go somewhere else... or somewhen else...? The Professor didn't mention anything like that happening to me when I rolled this hexagram...!"

Harry gasps aloud as if she had been holding her breath. Can't let the boy know he's onto something. She grasps the table edge and pretends to steady herself. "Was wadin' just offshore at twilight. Undertow pulled my feet out from beneath me. Water over my head. Swallowed a lungful. Started t' drown. Felt th' world fadin' all around me, like I'd cease t' exist if I stopped fightin' my way t'ward air. Harry coughs repeatedly for emphasis. "Everythin' was goin' black but a piece of driftwood brushed me fingers, so I grabbed it and hauled on it fer dear life." She thumps the table legs against the floor. "Was this. Here. No idea how. You said it felt like bein' yer doom t' stay, that's what I'd have been. Doomed. Swept from dry land, never t' be seen again!"

---

17:16, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 7 using 1d20.  Check Vs. CHA 13 to lie convincingly.

"How traumatic!" Daniel is still excited to learn more about what can happen when one uses the I Ching wands, but also he is now very sympathetic and kind. "How old were you? Is this something that happened to you once, a past memory? Or do you think it was from a past life-- or something else...?"

Harry shakes her head. "No sense of my age or whether 'twas past or future," she replies. "DIdn't feel like another life. No sense of panic, just dread that to remain meant being lost, forever forgotten."

Daniel nods. "Well! A sad note upon which to end the evening's experimentation, but I think it is for the best. Time, now, to reflect on what we have learned..." He pauses. "...Do you feel that you learned anything of value...? Er, overall...?"

Harry grunts. "Given me food fer thought, at the very least. Ain't sure I'm cut out t' lead, but s'pose I can protect. Dark times ahead, folk might need that." She also plots, her face impassive. May need t' steal these damn wands if I'm t' get back to 1966. But will it be the right 1966? Does what I do here create a new, parallel time?

"Certainly, certainly!"
This message was last updated by the player at 17:56, Mon 11 Oct 2021.

Harry pumps the young Collins' hand in parting. "Interestin' evenin', t' be sure. Have t' do it again soon."  Stepping to the door, she gathers up her musket, pistols, powder horn, and lantern. "Stayin' here overnight, or walkin' back t' Collinwood? Got a lantern if th' latter, I presume. If not, I can walk with ye."

"I have a lantern..." At the door, a wolf howl can be heard in the far distance (but not so far that it's out of earshot). "...Why don't we walk back toward Collinwood together...?"

Harry dons the baldric with her pistols and powder horn  and slings her musket over her shoulder. "Works fer me. Fog's in by now, like as not, and two are less likely t' stray than one." The pistols are loaded but the musket is not.

Nothing unusual happens on the way to Collinwood, save that the wolf's howl is heard once more. It sounds like it's to the south... Still not very near, though...

There are still quite a few lights on inside Collinwood.

"So... shall we part ways...? Should I arrange for you to borrow a carriage... or a horse...?"

Harry shakes her head. "South track through th' woods is faster. Prefer t' walk anyway. Thank ye fer th' offer, though." She parts ways with Daniel and sets off down the familiar southern woodland track toward town.

...Adam hears someone coming.

...They're on foot... coming from Collinwood... headed toward town.

...Sounds like just one person...

Holding his shovel like a spear he waited until the other person was within sight and throw it across the road into a tree. The point is that the long handle should make a bar, more physical than mental. He will then step out into the road where the other person can see him.

Harry halts as the shovel embeds itself in the tree just ahead of her. Hooking her lantern on the shoulder strap of her musket, she draws one of her pistols. She glares at the large, shadowy figure barring her passage and spits to one side. "Nice throw. Arm like that, ye should be hurlin' harpoons on a whalin' ship."

Adam moved to his shovel, speaking to her inconsequentially. "You are not Cyrus Collins. I have no fight with you. You may leave." He is not shy about being in the lantern light, but he isn't jumping into it either. If she wanted a better look at the Monster he would not stop her. "I do not like boats," he said in a matter of fact way. "I get sea sick easily. Or I did..." Pulling his shovel from the tree he began moving back to his former spot.

Harry is not sure what to make of the hulking figure before her. "Yer all kinds of messed up, ain't ye," she remarks somewhat rudely. "Catch a faceful of grapeshot durin' th' war?" She keeps her pistol at the ready, albeit uncocked. "Cyrus Collins, hm? Never heard of him. What's he to ye?"

---

15:00, Today: Harriet MacLeod (aka 'Harry') rolled 14 using 1d20.  Teratology (Check Vs. INT+1). — Missed by 1.

Adam does not turn back to her, but does continue the conversation. "I did not participate in the war. I was otherwise occupied."

Finally back at his post he turned to face her. "You must not even be a Collins. Cyrus did this to me, and I aim to return the favor."

"Can't fault a person who wants revenge for wrongs done'em by a Collins," Harry replies with a grunt. "Th' whole lot... 'cept maybe th' young-uns... would toss just 'bout anyone under a cart if it suited them." She slowly returns the pistol to her baldric. "Happy huntin'. Ain't no Cyrus hereabouts, though. Maybe ask at Collinwood."

Adam clenched his jaw. He hated himself for needing it, but without help he had no hope of surviving. Thus he is forced to ask, "Most people run from me. You are not soft headed so you must be uncommonly brave. Since you do not fear speaking with me...I wish to ask your aid. I have nowhere to go. I can pay for food and lodging but...I am a monster. No one will have me. At this point I would live in stables if they were warm and dry. I only ask because as I said this is the first real conversation I've had in some time."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:07, Tue 19 Oct 2021.

Harry snorts. "Brave? More like bull-headed and just plain ornery. Truth is, we're all monsters in our way." She considers the man for a long moment. "Know a lot of places hereabouts where even a fella yer size could hide," she eventually states, "but few are warm or dry, and most are neither. Sea caves and fishin' shanties in need of repair. And a hidden chamber in the Collins mausoleum where folk have been known t' shelter."

Adam sighed. "None of those sound better than where I am now." There is a weighty sadness in his voice. "Thank you, for talking to me."

Harry shrugs. "I get a line on somewhere warm and dry, I'll let ye know. Will leave a note in th' notch yer shovel made in this here tree, assumin' ye can read. If not, I'll just keep an eye out fer ye. I'm Harry, by the way. Harry MacLeod." She adds a note of caution. "Folk are a mite jumpy at th' moment. Recent death in th' Collins family, and a few people missin'. I'd steer clear of most folk, I were ye."

Adam replied without malice or exasperation, "Yes, Ms. MacLeod, I can read and write as well.  I am Adam DeLacey, and I am in your debt." There was a rumble of laughter, "I threw a rock through one of the front windows to get their attention. They allowed me to leave without firing on me."

He stroked his chin, "They mentioned disappearances, can you tell me more?"

Harry replies in a low voice. "Folk hereabouts think I'm a man, seein' as I dress and have worked as a sailor. Prefer t' keep it that way, leaves me my freedom, so keep that 'Ms.' stuff t' yerself. Harry will do." She then outlines what passes for current affairs as she understands them. "Town's new doctor, a visiting scholar, a recently-deputized lawman, a local woman's sister, and a recently-arrived vagabond all went missing on or shortly after th' night of Abigail Collins' death. Miss Abigail's heart gave out after some creature seekin' shelter from th' storm that night frightened her." She gestures vaguely. "Based on th' description, was either a monkey or an imp from Hell. Ain't good t' get th' locals riled up more than necessary, so we're callin' it a monkey fer th' time bein'. Lastly got us an escaped criminal at large, attacked th' local woman whose sister is among th' missin'. Busy month."

Adam listen, keeping his strange eyes on the woman who was disguised as a man. He was thoughtful for several breaths before speaking. "Is there some way I might be of assistance?"

Harry considers the man's offer for a time. "Hrm, good question. Only just learnt where a pair of our missin' folk might've gone. Planned t' look int' that come daylight, old mansion formerly owned by 'nother well-heeled family what fell on hard times." She points to the southwest. "Crossroads at th' base of th' hill where th' road from town meets th' road from Collinwood. Continues inland, south and west. Meet me there just after first light and we can go explorin'. Will bring as much food and drink as I can carry."

Adam nodded and reached into his pocket. He took five pence out and held it out for her. "Here, use this to buy my share." He then moved out onto the road and began walking in the direction she wanted. When he found the spot he looked around for trees or underbrush he could hide in.

Harry pockets the coins, continues into town, and purchases what she hopes is an adequate amount of food and drink suitable for two on a daylong excursion. She then retires for the night, and rises when the church bells ring Lauds. She acquires some fresh meat from Widow Morgan's larder, leaves some coin along with a note, and sets off for the crossroad.

OOC: Shall we commence a Chapter Eight, this being a good transition point?