Unaware of the minor meltdown the academics are having behind him, Jake moves into the far room and mounts the stairs. He douses his electric torch as he does so, peeking under the door to see if he can see any light from beyond.

As quietly as he can he will step up to the door and listen for sounds beyond. This he figures must be the main entrance to the house above.

Mounting the stairs, Jake notices that another pair of caskets within the cellar room are open. Like the one he first spied, they contain green and clear glass bottles that have the appearance of bottles of wine.

Jake eases the door at the top of the stairs open enough for him to peer into the room beyond.

The detective finds himself looking into a kitchen that is immaculately clean, its sanitized surfaces more reminiscent of a hospital rather than an area where food is prepared. To the right, Jake sees a pair of sinks, a stove, and a section of counter which holds a cutting board. On the wall adjacent to the board is a rack which holds a collection of meat cleavers and butcher knives.

On the left are three doors. The first, which is open, leads into a small bathroom. The second, a heavy steel door, is the entrance to what Jake guesses to be a walk in freezer. The door beyond that, fashioned from polished dark wood, is closed.

Directly across from the door the detective is looking through is an archway that leads into what appears to be a formal dining room.

The area is quiet, the only illumination from a single light fixture above the twin sinks.

Into the bag went the dagger, chalice, and the stoppered bottle, though he left the other implements as it were. The candlesticks would be too large, and the bowl's contents too messy. He carried it as they moved along. These would do nicely in a museum after he had the chance to study them. A museum in another city, probably. And they would hopefully hinder Bishop in his next steps. He left the rest undisturbed.

Jake closes the door at the top of the stairs and looks to see if there is a way to bolt it from the lower side.

He retreats down into the basement where he smiles at Professor Wells busy stealing everything he can fit in his sack. A man after his own heart.

"Looks like we've hit the jackpot," he speaks softly but loud enough for all of his companions to hear him. "These stairs lead up to the main house. And this basement makes it pretty clear this guy is into some pretty weird hoodoo.

"And we've got evidence down there," he waves his crowbar at the iron door beyond which the zombies prowl, "that should convince even a judge -- if we can catch and hold one of 'em.

"Or we can just go on up, find Bishop, and put him to the question.

"What say you, gentlemen? Wrestle a zombie or kill a wizard?"

"Well. I mean...you mean, 'Talk to a wizard' surely," says Sully, mindful of the ramifications of "premeditated" in any legal proceedings that might portend.

"I'd certainly rather talk to Bishop than wrestle walking corpses."

As he speaks, he replaces the spent shell in his shotgun with a fresh one, dropping the empty casing into his pants pocket.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 17:41, Wed 19 Oct 2022.

"Talking to Bishop sounds like the plan...right, Professor?"

He almost stumbled out of the room with the pictures, and found himself patting away sweat from his forehead.

"Yes, I am inclined to have a conversation with the old chap."

Venturing through the cellar room filled with the caskets full of wine bottles, the investigators climb the stairs up to the door that enters the first floor of the Bishop residence. Peering inside again, Jake Morris finds the kitchen still vacant. The detective does not hear any noises, save for the steady humming of the refrigerator and the walk in freezer.

On a hunch, Jake will open and look inside the big freezer.

The door to the freezer proves resistant to easy opening. Jake has to give it a couple of strong tugs before it swings free.

A haze of chill air greets the detective as he peers inside. On the right side of the small room stand a set of steel shelves, each one holding several packages neatly wrapped in butcher paper, presumably parcels of meat. A number of crates are stacked against the left wall, their wood timed with frost.

At the back of the freezer stands a lone figure, a man dressed in a dark suit that identifies him as a servant in the home, likely a butler. He is motionless, his clothing, pale skin, and thin gray hair all touched with frost. His eyes are closed. By appearance, Jake would estimate his age as around sixty. As best Jake can tell, there is nothing holding him in his upright position. He is not leaning against the wall.

"Yikes!" cries Jake in a strangled whisper. "There's a stiff in the freezer. He looks ready to serve you a cocktail or chill it down."

The detective closes the door firmly on the dead man and looks for a way to wedge it shut. He's seen too many lifeless bodies get agitated recently to trust this one to stay in place all on its own.

Next, he will move to the heavy wooden door and try to open it quietly - just enough to peek through at first.

"Dear God in Heaven," breathes Sully, catching a glimpse of the frozen butler.

As Jake starts to close the freezer door, Sully says, "Do you think we should open one of those crates? I mean, what would be in a wooden crate that needs to be frozen? I’ll keep the butler covered.” He swings the muzzle of his shotgun to point at the figure’s chest.

Jake shrugs and wields his crowbar to pry the top off the closets crate.

Arthur watches the back of the group, un-fired shotgun in hand. He tries not to notice the frozen butler, a course of action which seems rational to him.

With a single quick push on his crowbar, Jake loosens the lid on the topmost crate. Pulling it up, the detective and Sully can see that the container holds half a dozen jars filled with a dark, murky liquid.

Lingering near the entrance to the freezer, both Professor Wells and Arthur notice the frozen butler’s eyes suddenly snap open. Sully, his weapon trained on the frozen servant, immediately perceives the movement as well.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:31, Mon 24 Oct 2022.

"Don't move! I'll shoot!" Sully shouts, finger tightening on his triggers. His eyes are wide, the whites showing all around.

A sneer forms on the butler’s frost rimed features. Seemingly unfazed by Sully’s warning, he draws a silver bladed knife from beneath his jacket with surprising speed.

OOC: Jake and Sully, you both have the opportunity to act before the servant does. The butler’s DEX is higher than Sully’s, but the reporter had the man covered in the event he awoke and was hostile.

Everyone, including Arthur and Professor Wells, are close enough to use melee attacks rather than shooting, should they elect to do so.

When the butler produces his knife, Sully triggers both barrels.

Sullivan (Sully) Quinn rolled 64,2 using 1d100,1d10 with rolls of 64,2 for Shotgun 25 with bonus die.
So that’s a 24-Hit! And 13 damage

The report of the twin shotgun barrels is deafening within the confines of the freezer, the noise shattering the quiet of the residence as it echoes through its shadow draped halls.

The servant is thrown backward by the blast, slamming into the steel wall behind him and slumping to the floor in a seated position. Jake and Sully both feel the sting of ricocheting bits of buckshot, much of it embedded in the back wall of the freezer, where it has left a sizable, blackened dent. Although fragments of desiccated tissue have been spread about the room, pieces torn free from the horrific wound in the butler’s chest, there is no blood. Not a single drop is visible anywhere.

As the acrid scent of gunpowder burns the investigators’ noses and eyes, the servant’s eyes open again and he begins to struggle to stand.

OOC: All of the other investigators have the opportunity to act.

Arthur rushes out of the freezer, urging his fellows to come out with him. He had his hands on the door, and he was ready to close that frozen thing in--you could say he was desperate in fact.

"Come on, quickly! Quickly!"

"Jumping Jehosephat!" Jake cries -- somewhat at the massive detonation right next to his ear, but also in response to the fact that the double barrel blast does not seem to have destroyed the undead thing.

He needs little urging from Arthur to scramble back out of the freezer, and he's ready to slam and wedge the door shut as soon as Sully is out as well.

"Guess they know we're here now," he grins at the feisty reporter.

Jake and Sully manage to scramble out of the cold confines of the freezer, Arthur pushing the door closed before the butler has regained his feet. Jake snags a nearby chair, wedging it beneath the steel door’s handle.

After a moment, the metal door begins to rattle as the cold storage’s inhabitant tries to exit the freezer.

From somewhere within the house, the loud clap of a door being thrown open is heard.

More out of a misguided perception that one should crouch in a situation like this than out of good judgment or habit, Arthur crouched down a little and went to a wall when he heard the door come open.

He put a hand over his mouth, since he was trying to control his own breathing by any means possible.

Sully backs quickly out of the freezer and clear of the door. Ears ringing, he grins sheepishly at his companions as he digs the spent shells from the breech and drops them in his pants pocket. He puts two fresh loads in the gun and snaps it shut.

Why would you keep a thing like that around the house? he asks, a bit too loudly. He doesn’t hear the commotion from upstairs.

"My guess is he doesn't have to pay him too much," shrugs Jake, "and he can probably chill a Martini just by holding it in his hands."

He checks the security of the makeshift wedge. If it seems to be holding, he turns his attention to the wooden door that leads into the rest of the house.

"They know for certain we're here," he speaks almost absently as if mulling over the options as he reviews them.

"If he's clever, he just calls for the cops and turns us over. But that may cause too much of a stink down below -- especially if we make the cops come down and get us.

"His next bet is to send more of his zombie pals down to deal with us. We've been lucky so far.

"But my guess is he's going to call for the fellow in the top hat -- the real killer on the team. He may already be in the house after our visit last night.

"The shotgun pushed Mr. Frosty back, but it didn't stop him. Any ideas from those books you were reading earlier, gents? Any way to undo this hoodoo?"

As he talks, Jake checks his pistol and hefts his crowbar, ready for a rumble.