The Saldoss Home

[Gorgondantess]

Whether it's the Crash or just an air you don't know, but there can be no denying your nerves aren't what they once were. Blasphemous dreams fleeing with the brilliance of wake leave you shaken and sweating every morn, and dark visions fleeting at the precipice of your peripherals are enough to make every night a terror. While you try to remain staid and sane in your discourses, there can be no denying that your whole body quakes with every movement, making even lifting your pin to your lips an ordeal. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Afmc6G6CmSU)

When the letter arrives from the elderly Saldoss, it's a relief against the bleakness of your state; while it seems queer that he would have you all the way to his estate in far off Switzerland, a spell in the country should do you some good, and you gratefully reply with scrawled, jerking hand, taking a charter and train immediately.

Dismay is there to greet you; the countryside is marred by a dark, oppressive cloudcover stewing overhead. The night brings even more discomfit, and his ancestral villa is no better, being a looming, massive affair of gray oak and crumbling shingles.
You are greeted at the threshold by a spry young butler, who by his muteness you can surmise is either mute or quite monolingual. He takes you through several equally oppressive, dusty halls to finally a better maintained portion of the manse: inside is a crackling, new fire and a cozy, if cobwebbed library, and the grimly smiling Saldoss, who stands fully erect despite his advanced years. His features are hale and hoary, with white stubble covering his chin, and deep blotches stain his eyes; nevertheless, he manages to contain more composure than most anyone you've known.
The butler nods, and leaves you to him.

He smiles genially, pulling out his pocketwatch and giving Riley a wink, he shews an energy that belies his age. Once you are all assembled, he speaks, as liquid begins to drip into the chimney, crackling in the fire- though through the thick mansion walls, you can't even hear its patter outside

"You are probably wondering why I have called you here. While I wish it would be under happy circumstances, suffice it to say, I am sorely disappointed. I would not turn to you three but that I have no remaining family, no men I trust but you. And while in my dispassion I know that I must tell you these things, it pains me to thrust my failures upon good, young men. I have lived a full life- true, I have made many mistakes, and if I could do it all again... no, I would simply do the same, or worse. Ignorance may be bliss, but I did not pursue the life I have because it was easy.
I would implore you to turn around and walk away, to not heed my words, but I know that human nature would be against me- after all this buildup, it would be useless.
Still, I'll give you that chance. If you walk away now, I cannot promise you a happy life, but I can promise you the bliss of a beetle who does not comprehend the doom of the shoe descending down upon it."

As he says this, you realize you know next to nothing about the man.

[AtS]

Greg looks around at his slightly uncomfortable companions and decides to take the initiative.
"Prof. It's been forever since the last time I sent you a letter. But, uh, still. What could have happened in... what, has it been a month? God, I don't know, I barely look at my calendar these days. Awh, forgeddit. You know I'm not one to turn my back on a friend who really needs it. It's nice to see you again, Prof. Care to explain a bit more in detail as to what's been eatin' you?"

He peers at the copious amounts of armchairs and loveseats that line the walls.
"Mind if we pull a couple of chairs up around the fire? It's a mite cold in here, and I can tell we're about to get a lot of talking done. No reason to all stand around like we're strangers, or something."
Greg chuckles grimly at the bitter irony in his statement, but nonetheless takes a step towards a battered chair sitting in the corner, next to a bookshelf lined with shelf upon shelf of books and tomes.

[Savannah]

Riley is not sure why he accepted the invitation. He hadn't seen Saldoss in years, although he remembered the case fondly. He and Clara have been happy, but after that case with Smith sisters, he's been unsatisfied with his job, feeling like there's no point. Maybe this trip will shake him out of his blue mood. Once in Switzerland, however, he mood worstened with the foul weather.

After hearing Saldoss' statement, Riley shakes his head, "Oh, come now, sir, surely it is not that bad. And even if it is, then you need help more than ever. Besides," he says with a smile, "I'm curious now."

[AngelOmnipotent]

"If you see me as a good man then you must be more jaded than I ever gave you credit, but all are entitled to their opinion, naive as it may be." Thomas sits down, pulls a tumbler and a bottle of scotch out of his case and pours himself a drink; the weather outside suits his mood, and the gentle burning of the whiskey soothes his lingering dislike of travel. He seems to ignore the other people in the room. He hadn't had the pleasure of meeting them before, and he wanted to know whether he had to before he spent the effort for a greeting.
"However you seem to be sitting there rambling on like a bemused old fool with more self-pity than I, which I can tell you is no mere trifle, so something must be bothering you. You gave me a sliver of hope that I was still a decent member of society once, so I can surely find myself sitting here as council to you should you need it."

[AtS]

From his comfortable spot by the fire, Greg rubs his hands together, then looks up. "So," he says "it seems that we're all acquainted with the good professor, but perhaps a little less ambiguity shared amongst ourselves would be a good thing. My name's Gregory McMilan, but you can call me Greg. Or Mac, if you'd like, I don't really care either way. Whatever piques your fancy. How might I address you two fine gentlemen?"

Greg leans forward in his chair, an expectant look in his eye.

[Savannah]

Riley also takes a seat, before answering Greg. "I am Riley Moore, please call my Riley." He extends his hand to shake, smiling.

[AtS]

Greg reaches over and shakes Riley's hand with a firm grip. "Well met, son." he says. He pauses, and then lets out a chuckle. "If you're as smart as you look, you've probably guessed that I once studied under good ol' Saldoss. Might I ask how you're acquainted with the esteemed professor?"

[Savannah]

"Of course. I am a detective and for my very first case I was sent to investigate the theft of Mr. Saldoss' heirloom watch. He was in a hurry to get it back, and I had a hunch that the thieves would be trying to sell it off, so I staked out the pawnshops and caught them later that very day! It's the fastest solved theft in the whole department."

[AngelOmnipotent]

"I am..." he pauses for a moment, realising this opportunity to start over fresh in a different country. Nothing said he had to return back to America when all this was over, after all. "Lexington. Lexington Steele." A suitable name for a suitably experienced, greying man. "I'm a Doctor. Specialising in field surgery and trauma."

He would have to get used to calling himself Lexington. Doctor Steele. Doctor Lexington. Or just simply, Lex. A respectable Doctor who has saved many lives, and prides himself on his quality of work. The persona was a far-cry from the ex-military dog Thomas Cobb, who had killed with a bullet as many as he had saved with his medicine, so he wouldn't find it too difficult.

[Gorgondantess]

Saldoss looks ominously at Riley. "Yes, that's what I'm worried about."
You congregate near the fire, he standing right before it. It casts ghastly, blasphemous images across the room, his shadow a warped ghoul of the man you see. The sizzling in the fire increases with the liquid pouring down into it. This close to the fire you can smell that it lets out a fine, smoky scent, like a grill, like a stove; thoughts of food and good meat, ham, porkchops, swim through your brain. You wonder what kind of wood he's burning.
"My troubles began many, many years ago... well before the turn of the century- several years after you graduated, Gregory."

He turns his back to you, taking out his pocketwatch and stares down at it intensely. "I became interested in my genealogy, when I found that apparently my uncle fought in the American Civil war- a good friend of Robert E. Lee, in fact. I was a young man at the time, and still in college, with no care for my extended family, but when I heard about this, I came to America to retrieve his diary."
He lifts a glass of liquor to his lips, quivering, then sets it down on a nearby counter. He's procrastinating.
"...Well, he was executed- hanged, in fact. And... you'll think it's just some fluke, some mistake, perhaps a joke, hell, I was skeptical too, at first, but...
My uncle Brandon Saldoss was executed on January 6th, 1864. His diary continues with regular entries until March 19th, 1872."
He looks at you, almost glaring and losing his composure. "Yes, of course, there was a clerical error, he wasn't really executed, there must be some mistake, but I assure you, I have good reason to believe my uncle was indeed executed, hung until death, on January 6th 1864, and continued to write in his diary until March 19th, 1872."

[Gorgondantess]

Saldoss pauses a moment to fill his pipe, and light it. He puffs on it a moment, then speaks. "I've done some terrible things in my time."
The rain increases, water splashing down into the fireplace at a steadily increasing rate, as he fondles his pocketwatch. The liquid falls into the fireplace, faster and faster, until you realize that there's either a monsoon going on out there, or there's more than just rain falling into the fireplace. And looking closer, you can see that the liquid is much too dark to be water.
As soon as you begin to realize the ramifications of this, Saldoss' watch flies open, and begins ticking at a loud, frantic rate. It ticks faster and faster, irregular, and he looks down on it, resolute, when a large mass drops into the fireplace from the chimney, plunging you into darkness.
You can see shapes moving in front of you, and a scuffle, but can only make out vague silhouettes.

[Savannah]

Riley, who had been too stunned to move by Saldoss' appearant madness, recovers and springs from his chair. "Someone get the lights!" he orders, as he attempts to break up the scuffle in front of him.

[AtS]

Jumping up out of his chair, Greg starts to fumble his way through the darkness. "Crap!" he exclaims. "Where the hell was that goddamn light?"

He makes his best attempt to feel his way through the darkness back to the room's entrance. Logically speaking, it's the most likely place for a lightswitch to be - and the safest, if turning tail ends up being the best strategy for this situation.

[AtS]

Greg quickly realizes his folly. "There's no damn lights in this place, is there?" he exclaims. "Saldoss, just what in God's name is going on here?"

He steps away from the wall, edging his way out the doorway.

[Gorgondantess]

As Riley rushes blindly into the scuffle before him, he reaches out to stop... whatever... when his hand is bitten by a long mouth. It feels like a dog's bite, but sharper, cleaner, and in in a way, inexorable- it bites down almost slowly, slicing through flesh and bone, and doesn't jerk around like a dog would. It just sits there, jaw clamped firmly onto his hand for a moment, before pushing him back with an unwavering strength, pushing him aside and running past Greg, sending him reeling, before slamming through the door at the exit of the study and sprinting out with uncanny speed.
The hallway is unlit, and no sounds can be heard except some murmuring, which can quickly be attributed to the good doctor, who is apparently quite in shock.
Meanwhile, there's no light to be found, but two things:
First, Riley recalls that there were some oil lamps along the wall of the hallway. Perhaps they could be lit... though it would be hard to do so with his wounded hand.
Second, the fireplace still glows, but there are no flames. All that can be seen within is a jumbled silhouette.

[AtS]

Standing up from his fall, Greg takes a step forward into the study and calls out, "Hey, are we all still in one piece?

It's too dark for him to see much else besides the dimly glowing fireplace and the mysterious silhouette it houses - but Greg averts his gaze. He doesn't want to know what's going on in there.

"Why the hell did I even get out of bed today?" he muses to himself.

[Savannah]

Riley holds his injured hand as he replies, "Not exactly in one piece; something bit my hand pretty badly. We need light. There were some lamps in the hallway but I don't think I can light one with my hand like this. Can you light one?"

[AtS]

"Reily... did you see where that thing flew off to? ... I'm not going out there - at least, not alone." Greg puts his hands on his hips and blocks the doorway. "I'm no hero, like you. Now, you gonna come with this washed-up old has-been, or not? I can sit here all day, if you'd like." Greg chuckles.

[Savannah]

Riley finishes up his makeshift bandage, then pulls out his pistol with his left hand. "Let me go first. I'm armed," he says, walking towards the door.

[AtS]

"Ah, see," Greg laments, "I didn't think to bring my good old .45. Thought this was supposed to be a relaxin' visit; spend some time shootin' the breeze and all that. Well, after you, Riley." He stands aside and waits until Riley steps into the hallway before following behind him.

[Savannah]

Riley listens at the door, trying to determine if the creature is still outside.

If he doesn't hear anything, he carefully walks into the hallway, alert for signs of trouble.

[Gorgondantess]

Cutting to the chase, after much fumbling about you manage to light the oil lamps out in the hallway: the area is well enough illumed, though the library still remains rather dark. You do not, in fact, meet any nocturnal creatures who go "bump".

[Savannah]

Riley takes a deep breath. "We have to go back in there. See if Mr. Saldoss and Lexington are alright. Will you carry the lamp? My hand's a mess...maybe Lexington can do something for it." He seems to be trying to stay calm, but he twitches at every sound.

[AtS]

"Sure, sure, give'er'here, Riley," Greg says, reaching out his hand to take the lamp. "Well, we'd better go assess the damage."

Greg turns and heads back into the library, cautiously peering into room, dimly lit by his handheld lantern.

[Savannah]

Riley, too, peers inside the room, looking for any signs of movement.

[Gorgondantess]

Bleah. Sorry. ADD moment.
As you enter the room, you are greeted by a sight most blasphemous. Peripheral to the fireplace, a few of the bookshelves on the far side of the room seem torn to shreds, the majority of the books lying on the floor, pages torn to shreds. One of the bookshelves has a rather large hole in it, revealing only blackness beyond.
Near the fireplace, it only gets worse. Blood is smeared across the walls and books, table and chairs dismembered, and there even seems to be a bit on the ceiling. Scraps of Saldoss' robe are littered across the floor, as well as various pieces of bone or innard- the floor where he was standing is quite drenched.
Inside the fireplace, it only gets worse. For a moment, you can't see what's obstructing the fire as it flickers and glows, until you can make out a shoe, attached to an ankle, attached to a torn garment: it is a pile of mangled, bloody, unrecognizable corpses.
Roll for 1d8/1 sanity.