Kesnit
2011-05-09, 06:18 PM
Here are the OOC thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=10956145#post10956145) and, again, the Dice Roll thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=197553)
Dr. Pingree's will had stated that all beneficiaries should be fed prior to the reading off the will. So rather than having the reading at his office, Dr. Pingree's attorney chose to have the reading at his house one evening. This also made it easier to seat all involved, as the library was available, rather than squeezing everyone into his small, cluttered office.
"Please sit down, everyone. I know everyone was devastated to hear about Gregory Pingree's death. But life does go on. As you all know, you have each been named in the doctor's will. The bequests are long and complex, so I have taken the liberty of writing out a letter for all of you, detailing what you receive. If anyone questions what is in the letter, please let me know." He hands out sealed envelopes to each of you with your name written on the outside. "However, Gregory did leave one condition in his will. In order to inherit, you must fulfill one request for him." The attorney holds up another sealed envelope. "Gregory left this letter for me about six months ago with orders not to read it until after his death. So I do not know what this final request is."
He breaks the seal and pulls out several type-written pages, then takes a moment to scan them. "Hmm... This is most odd. If I did not know Dr. Pingree was of sound mind, this letter would convince me he is not! But this was his final wish, so..." He begins to read.
My dear friends,
I am sure you are surprised by this final twist in my existance, but this is a matter of significant importance. In order to assure it is carried out, I am tying your inheratance to the completion.
Many years ago, when I was studying at Arkham University, I was involved with a group of, well, I guess you would call them mystics. It was quite the thing to do in those days, and I could not resist falling in with the crowd. The group I ran with was led by a fellow named Alexander Moody. Also in the group was my best friend, Andrew Jurs, his half-sister, Lucielle Ponte, her best friend, Rebekah Gleason. For a while, I treated it as a joke. Alexander would find a new ritual he wanted to try, we'd get together to do it, and it would fail. But Alexander was never convinced it was all rubbish. He was sure we were just doing things wrong; if we ever did a rital perfectly, something wondrous would happen.
As you can imagine, to my shock, Alexander was correct. One night, we succeeded, but what happened was not wondrous at all. Sometimes I still wake up screaming at the memories of what appeared in that circle. We all ran, convinced the thing was about to destroy us all. Several days later, Andrew and Bradley got the courage to return to the cellar where we carried out our rituals, expecting to find the creature gone. To their shock (and horror), it was still there, inside the circle. We boarded up the room where the circle was and swore never to play with mysticism again.
Alexander continued his researches into the occult and believes he knows why the creature remained in place. The ritual required blood from all the participants, which Alexander believes means it is tied to our lives. So long as all of us live, the circle remains.
As you no doubt have determined, I am the last of the group alive. Alexander was found dead in his rooms about 5 years later with a look of abject horror on his face. (I suspect he went back on his vow to never use the occult.) Andrew was killed in the Great War. Lucille was run over by a automobile. Rebekah died in childbirth. Bradley died after a long illness.
You no doubt believe I am insane. Please believe me when I say I am 100% sane. I know what I saw. But whether or not you believe me, I have taken the steps I have to ensure you all follow through on my request.
The cellar where we carried out our ritual in the the basement of a building owned at the time by Andrew's father. I do not know if it has been sold. To my shame, I did not keep records of that time. Perhaps the other were more diligent; you may be able to contact their heirs for such information.
Best of luck to you all. May you succeed where I was too afraid to tread.
Yours,
Gregory Pingree,
Doctor of Psychology
Dr. Pingree's will had stated that all beneficiaries should be fed prior to the reading off the will. So rather than having the reading at his office, Dr. Pingree's attorney chose to have the reading at his house one evening. This also made it easier to seat all involved, as the library was available, rather than squeezing everyone into his small, cluttered office.
"Please sit down, everyone. I know everyone was devastated to hear about Gregory Pingree's death. But life does go on. As you all know, you have each been named in the doctor's will. The bequests are long and complex, so I have taken the liberty of writing out a letter for all of you, detailing what you receive. If anyone questions what is in the letter, please let me know." He hands out sealed envelopes to each of you with your name written on the outside. "However, Gregory did leave one condition in his will. In order to inherit, you must fulfill one request for him." The attorney holds up another sealed envelope. "Gregory left this letter for me about six months ago with orders not to read it until after his death. So I do not know what this final request is."
He breaks the seal and pulls out several type-written pages, then takes a moment to scan them. "Hmm... This is most odd. If I did not know Dr. Pingree was of sound mind, this letter would convince me he is not! But this was his final wish, so..." He begins to read.
My dear friends,
I am sure you are surprised by this final twist in my existance, but this is a matter of significant importance. In order to assure it is carried out, I am tying your inheratance to the completion.
Many years ago, when I was studying at Arkham University, I was involved with a group of, well, I guess you would call them mystics. It was quite the thing to do in those days, and I could not resist falling in with the crowd. The group I ran with was led by a fellow named Alexander Moody. Also in the group was my best friend, Andrew Jurs, his half-sister, Lucielle Ponte, her best friend, Rebekah Gleason. For a while, I treated it as a joke. Alexander would find a new ritual he wanted to try, we'd get together to do it, and it would fail. But Alexander was never convinced it was all rubbish. He was sure we were just doing things wrong; if we ever did a rital perfectly, something wondrous would happen.
As you can imagine, to my shock, Alexander was correct. One night, we succeeded, but what happened was not wondrous at all. Sometimes I still wake up screaming at the memories of what appeared in that circle. We all ran, convinced the thing was about to destroy us all. Several days later, Andrew and Bradley got the courage to return to the cellar where we carried out our rituals, expecting to find the creature gone. To their shock (and horror), it was still there, inside the circle. We boarded up the room where the circle was and swore never to play with mysticism again.
Alexander continued his researches into the occult and believes he knows why the creature remained in place. The ritual required blood from all the participants, which Alexander believes means it is tied to our lives. So long as all of us live, the circle remains.
As you no doubt have determined, I am the last of the group alive. Alexander was found dead in his rooms about 5 years later with a look of abject horror on his face. (I suspect he went back on his vow to never use the occult.) Andrew was killed in the Great War. Lucille was run over by a automobile. Rebekah died in childbirth. Bradley died after a long illness.
You no doubt believe I am insane. Please believe me when I say I am 100% sane. I know what I saw. But whether or not you believe me, I have taken the steps I have to ensure you all follow through on my request.
The cellar where we carried out our ritual in the the basement of a building owned at the time by Andrew's father. I do not know if it has been sold. To my shame, I did not keep records of that time. Perhaps the other were more diligent; you may be able to contact their heirs for such information.
Best of luck to you all. May you succeed where I was too afraid to tread.
Yours,
Gregory Pingree,
Doctor of Psychology