George dreams vaguely about the things his grandfather would sometimes bring up under the plough, and of coming down to the shore - which was his Kingsport shoreline, but simultaneously Greenland - to see the tupilaq said to haunt the waste behind the whaling camp eating fish like an otter under the midnight sun. Eyes of carved bone, bleached grave-stealings showing through its canvas skin: white flecks in water among the reeds that faded as the abandoned assassin-golem swam down and down to some dark place and left the surface glassy.

[[Aw.]]

In reply to George Mogrey (msg # 27):

posted by Keeper

Thomas sits by the faintly glowing fire, listening to an occasional rustle in the surrounding darkness, nothing so heavy or aggressive to occasion fear, though he does realize he has no firearm and fetches the camp axe. He watches the eastern sky turn pink above the trees, then lavender. He hears the birds begin to greet the dawn with their song, tentative at first, then increasingly bold. The eastern sky goes blue as a golden disk gleams through the canopy, then the trunks. He realizes how many red and yellow leaves have fallen in the nighttime breeze.

He hears quiet voices from the Theakers' tent as they awake and a rasping cough that is probably George from the one he shares with Frank. From his own tent he Dr. Bliant's snore turns into a snort.

Soon everyone is awake, as Thomas stirs the embers of the fire and adds a few sticks, then a good-sized log. He greets his companions as the emerge.

"All quiet."

Bee emerges first, softly huffing a quiet 'good morning' to Thomas, doing a quick scan of the immediate landscape for rabbits and sniffing all about the camp to see if anything interesting's been around while she was asleep.

She's ambled off to go, perhaps, where the proverbial bear has been, by the time George has finished his morning coughing and started on the dressing and eventually the turning out on deck. "Good t'hear," he responds, and takes the big can for water.

Bee's back and keen for breakfast by the time he returns and sets to toasting up and otherwise making coffee, using a little of the warmed water to make up a savoury porridge of oats and beef fat for Bee. The hound is licking her bowl across the ground by the time the coffee's good to go.

Saturday, 4 September 1926, Morning,  The Miskatonic Camp
"You learned to run from what you feel, and that's why you have nightmares. To deny is to invite madness. To accept is to control." Megan Chance, The Spiritualist

    Theaker quietly gets up and walks out of the  tent he and Christine share.
    He then heads to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup.  He states, "What a nightmare i have had, or a premonition.  I must get to a phone as soon as I can.  My mother may need my help."

"Good mornin, Professor, and I'd think you'd want to ask in the village there - shop or Sheriff'll have such devices for sure." George warms his hands on his mug, thinking of the tupilaq swimming under the still tidal shallows of his dream with no need for breath. How it had looked up among the waving weeds with Abbie's face.

Did they dump you in the sea? he wonders at the image of her, and sips coffee. It would be better than the easy thing, the Cartwrights dwelling nigh a pig farm with a pit midden.

Christine emerges from the tent a short while later, pulling on a battered leather jacket, evidently once James' and better suited to his physique than her own, helping herself to a coffee.

"Morning everyone." She begins, and after a few sips of coffee, strong enough to fly her to the moon, she continues, now in a better place to engage everyone a little more socially at any rate. "What are we focusing on?" She asks, and at James' announcement she turns to him. "What? Is she OK?" Hoping that she's well, but the events surrounding the Rhodes' has her on edge, anything could happen to anyone it seemed, although the mention of his Mother specifically sends a shiver down her spine. "No more mention of mothers..." she wishes silently to herself. "The obsessional one here is quite enough."

posted by the Keeper

"Nope. There's no wires of any kind running into the village. I noticed when we drove in yesterday. No electricity, no telephone, not even telegraph. We wouldn't be here, I guess, if Professor Roades could have contacted Professor McTavish that easily.

"But why are you so concerned. James? Has your mother been ill?" He tries out using his mentor's Christian name for probably the first time. The casualness of camp seems to warrant it.

Bliant emerges from his tent, digging in his ears, muttering about headache and sinuses and the lack of walls and windows.

posted by the Keeper

"Good morning, everyone," says Frank as he goes to the fire and gets a cup of coffee, quietly singing.: "...folks up North will see me no more..." He sips at his cup and stands, stretching with a groan.

"When are we getting on the road, Doc? I'd like to be in Arkham before night."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:20, Fri 03 July 2020.

In reply to Keeper of the Dark Woods (msg # 34):

Saturday, 4 September 1926, Morning,  The Miskatonic Camp
"No man is poor who has a Godly mother." Abraham Lincoln

    Theaker is silent for a few moments then responds, "It's probably due my occult readings.  I feel sure that I must telephone or see my mother.
    I feel like she is in trouble or needs me.

    I'm going to take the car back to the first place where a phone is.  I'll leave in a few minutes."  Theaker goes back into the tent and does a quick clean up.

"Huh. Fair point," George agrees with the student, though he's not seen the village in daylight himself. He looks a bit puzzled at Theaker.

"Well, hey, if she's in Arkham why not have Doc'n Frank look in on her, since they're goin anyway?" He frowns into his mug a moment, thinking. Bee brings her bowl back and shows Christine since she's nearest, tail vaguely wagging since everyone's up.

The nearest phone is probably Dunwich. George is pretty sure the lines went up that way along the road. Theaker can probably be back by noon.

In reply to Frank Smith (msg # 36):

"Well, we must secure our specimens from the creek. If Mr. Mogrey will be so kind as to help, I imagine it will only take an hour or so. That is, after all, the point in our going."

posted by the Keeper

"I'll ride along with you, James, if you like.

"Or I can help Dr, Bliant and George."

Saturday, 4 September 1926, Morning,  The Miskatonic Camp
"My mom smiled at me. Her smile kind of hugged me." R.J. Palacio, Wonder

    Theaker says, "I'll be back by noon.  If I am not back by then, I've gone back to Arkham.  My mother will have needed me.  I'll be back as soon as is possible.
    Go ahead and get the samples, those are crucial.  Christine join me if you want too."  Theaker waits for Christine's decision then gets into the Duesenberg and drives off.

George nods. "Won't take but forty minutes, I'd say, but...well, who wants pickles with breakfast? We ought to use that jar an' on a string to be touching the water as little as possible. Theaker, you want to take beans with ye? No?" he shrugs and puts the can down.

He has a thought about dying dogs and their urge to den up, almost like going home, and poisoned water and Gerwig nested in his abandoned house, but it's nebulous and none of it good, so he doesn't speak it. Hope they found her, is all he can think on that. He reaches out to indicate that Bee can get ruffled and scratched some if she comes over.

Christine ruffles the fur between Bee's ears. "I don't have anything." She says to the dog.

"I'll stay and help George with the water, and see the town myself in daylight. Although do give her my best, I'll visit as soon as we make our return." she sees James off, as he takes out the Dusenberg. "Drive safe." She calls as the vehicle shudders to life, filling the air with the strong scent of gasoline.

Soon, George and the doctor and Thomas are down at the creek. They soon realize that dipping the pickle jar isn't a very efficient way of seining for critters. Bliant sends Thomas back to camp for the empty bean can. They punch some holes in the bottom and mange to catch about six samples that they put in the jar with a quantity of creek water.

Back at camp, Frank packs his and Bliant's things on The Beast and then frets about how late it's getting. Desperate for occupation, Christine skims the books she found, but is soon dozing in the late-morning sun.


Finally, the scientific party returns with their catch. Bliant and Frank get aboard The Beast and George and Thomas get it cranked up. Frank gets it out onto the logging road and they're away for Arkham.

It's about ten-thirty.

Saturday, 4 September 1926, around Noon,  The Miskatonic Camp
"And now you'll be telling stories of my coming back
and they won't be false, and they won't be true
but they'll be real" Mary Oliver, A Thousand Mornings

    Theaker drives the Duesenberg back carefully to the camp site, parks and gets out.

   When he finds Christine, he gives her a big hug. He says, "I phoned mom from a store.  She is fine, my worries were over nothing, just a bad dream.  Sometimes a nightmare is just a nightmare.  She will call McTavish  to update him and expect the specimens.  I told her that it looked like some foul play had happened to the Roades'.  I'm so glad to be back here with you!"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:58, Sun 05 July 2020.

As lunch is consumed, the reduced group discusses their plans for the afternoon.

"Goin by local geography, I put the source somewhere up about here," George says, indicating on the unhelpfully large-scale road map set on his knee.

"Found what Henry was blowin up though - in his daybook he mentioned clearin' rubble from a cave sealt up in revenge on the natives for some Quaker boy's death. He didn't make mention of how it was revenge, whether there was Injuns holed up in there or some important thing like idols, or both. That said, I have never heard of a Quaker killin' a man, save themselves when they'd not raise arms against trouble. Could be the ore up there that's poisin'd the water."

Christine smiles, relieved at the news. "I'm pleased to hear it." She says. Books in hand, they really had sent her off to sleep, as interesting as the material is to some, it wasn't to Christine's tastes. She hands the books to James.

"Perhaps you and Mr. Mogrey can garner something a bit more than I did." she suggests. "Maybe some possible leads, but if there are, they're beyond me."

"Henry wrote that some local legend was proved true, one relatin' to this cave," George volunteers. "I would imagine it would put some detail to the dead son and how Cade's camp got to hostilities with the locals - did you come across anything of that sort, Missus Theaker?"

Edit: corrected "Cole" to "Cade" - Keeper
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:23, Mon 06 July 2020.

Saturday, 4 September 1926, after Noon,  The Miskatonic Camp
"You know,” he said, “I wish you could see this cave.”
“What’s it like?”
He paused. “It’s...beautiful, really.”
“Tell me.”
And so Po described to Katsa what hid in the blackness of the cave; and outside, the world awaited them." Kristin Cashore, Graceling

    Theaker takes the books that Christine hands him and does a quick examination of them.

    He responds to Mogrey, "Definitely sounds like we want to see that cave!  Perhaps it may help fill in the just what may have happened to the Roades'.  I suggest we get some torches and a kerosene lamp. I'll grab my backpack and also bring some road flares I've got in the Duesenberg.  Shall we go now?"