An Amy's Alone Against the Flames IC

[zingbobco000]

For reference this is taken from Alone Against the Flames written by Mike Mason, Paul Fricker, and Gavin Inglis, thank you!

Do You Hear the Call of Cthulhu?
“The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.”
—H. P. Lovecraft, The Call of Cthulhu

Welcome to Call of Cthulhu, a Horror/Investigative roleplaying game of mystery wherein you, an ordinary person, shall encounter and confront the terrifying alien forces of the Cthulhu mythos. Now, to begin is quite simple, and this first introduction shall operate similar to a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure story (this is done in order to help with an easy transition between the investigation-heavy Call of Cthulhu, and most other RPGs). Nevertheless, it is time to begin... welcome, to Alone Against the Flames.

----
Unknown New England Town, 2:44 PM, September 1st, 1921.

The sun is high in the sky, a merciless ball of heat. You feel scorched by the time you reach the bus halt in front of Osborn’s Drug Store. It’s a relief to put down your heavy cases and take off your hat for a moment. You fan your face. It has been a long summer here, in your hometown, and yet a curiously empty one.
You look across the street at the grubby butcher’s shop, the grocers with its faded awning, and the shabby tobacconist. Mistrustful faces glare at you as they pass, eyeing your clothes and luggage. It was your parents’ choice to live here, not yours. You were happy down south as a child, among Providence’s white-walled houses and leafy churchyards. Perhaps this new job in Arkham will supply the change you need.
Yet everybody you know in the world lives here. You know nobody in Arkham, not one soul. You ask yourself one last
time if you are doing the right thing.
The answer is here. None of your supposed friends have come to see you off. You are alone. Whatever challenges lie in Arkham, it will be a new life, and a brave one.
A small gray motor coach approaches and rattles to a stop. You put your hat back on and pick up your cases.

Two young men with sullen expressions alight from the coach. One looks you up and down before heading away. The driver also steps down, glancing at you before crossing the road to visit the tobacconist. When he returns, he is rolling a cigarette between his yellowed fingers. He gives it a final twist and examines you as he reaches for his matchbox. He is a thin man in his fifties, dressed in a stained shirt with the bus company emblem. Yet his eyes are sharp in their dark sockets.
“Where to?”
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You show him your ticket for Ossipee. From there you will connect to Rochester and Portsmouth, before the coastal line to Newburyport and, finally, Arkham. You should be able to afford a rail ticket for at least some of the way; otherwise this will be the first of many long bus trips.
“Mmm-hm.” The driver scratches the match and lights his cigarette. The end flares as he takes a draw. Then he exhales and gestures to the back of the coach. “Luggage rack’s up there.”

----
In Call of Cthulhu (somewhat like most other RPGs) there are eight characteristics Strength, Dexterity, Constitution, Appearance, Size, Power, Education, and Intelligence

Strength: This is a measure of the physical prowess of your investigator
Dexterity: This is a measure of the agility and speed of your investigator
Constitution: This is a measure of the physical toughness and stamina of your investigator
Appearance: This is a measure of the physical appeal of your investigator
Size: This is a combined measure of your investigator's height and weight, also used in determining their force behind their attacks and health
Power: This is a measure of your investigator's mental stability, force of will, or spirit
Intelligence: This is a measure of the logic and cunning of your investigator
Education: This is a measure of your investigator's tutelage, be it from formal education or the "school of hard knocks"

For the very early image you have of your character, please rank these characteristics in whatever order you choose. No need for anything other than this right now. Also, yes, I understand that this is not really your standard introduction to an In-Character Thread, but let's roll with it!

[An Amy]

Strength: This is a measure of the physical prowess of your investigator
Dexterity: This is a measure of the agility and speed of your investigator
Constitution: This is a measure of the physical toughness and stamina of your investigator
Appearance: This is a measure of the physical appeal of your investigator
Size: This is a combined measure of your investigator's height and weight, also used in determining their force behind their attacks and health
Power: This is a measure of your investigator's mental stability, force of will, or spirit
Intelligence: This is a measure of the logic and cunning of your investigator
Education: This is a measure of your investigator's tutelage, be it from formal education or the "school of hard knocks"




Intelligence: Cunning required to navigate the traps of the world
Power: Mental fortitude to survive the state of things
Appearance: Part vanity, part acknowledging the advantage it can give, part genetics
Education: hard fought when found
Dexterity: more time spent with smaller things than heavy things
Constitution: less focus on internal bodily mechanisms than the external
Strength: slight builds are more appreciated afterall
Size: Blessedly on the bottom of the list for vanity's sake

[zingbobco000]

Intelligence: Cunning required to navigate the traps of the world
Power: Mental fortitude to survive the state of things
Appearance: Part vanity, part acknowledging the advantage it can give, part genetics
Education: hard fought when found
Dexterity: more time spent with smaller things than heavy things
Constitution: less focus on internal bodily mechanisms than the external
Strength: slight builds are more appreciated afterall
Size: Blessedly on the bottom of the list for vanity's sake


Splendid! And I really enjoy the actual commentary of why such things would be for your character. It helps me visualize them even more :smallbiggrin:
----

The driver smokes and watches as you drag your cases to the back of the motor coach. The rack is set inconveniently high on the vehicle. You get a grip on the heavier case.

You struggle for a few seconds before the driver comes up beside you and lends a hand, still puffing on his cigarette. “Heavy bags for a small ‘un,” he remarks. You judge it best to respond with a simple mutter of thanks.

The driver flicks his cigarette into the gutter and steps into the motor coach. Its engine coughs into life. You board, grateful that you will be the only passenger for the initial part of your trip at least. With mixed emotions, you watch from the window as the tired avenues of your old home slip behind you, receding into the distance. For a few minutes, you can still see the church spire over the brow of a low hill. Then the road dips and it, too, is gone.
Arkham is your new home. You will travel there, and make a new start.
----

Note that you have a sanity score that is based on your power, throughout the game this sanity score will most likely fluctuate wildly. In addition, you have a number of Magic Points also based on said power. This will deplete and over time eventually return back to its original score. However, in all likelihood, magic points shall rarely be used by an investigator early on in their career, but it is important to note that they do exist.
----

The coach putters through the countryside. At first, the interior is stifling and your stomach lurches with every bend in the road. However, the driver opens his window, and by switching seats you find a spot where the breeze hits your face. You soon relax into the journey, observing the quaint little hamlets that the coach serves. A heavy-set woman boards at one settlement and gives you a polite nod. She gets off at the next one.
----

You have a certain amount of hit points based on both your Constitution and Size. Your current may fluctuate, but it is unlikely to ever exceed its maximum.
You also have something called a "Luck score." This is used to represent when circumstances external to your investigator are in question, and also when determining the fickle hand of fate. Please give me 3d6 to assist in generating your beginning luck.

[An Amy]

I'm grateful for the driver helping out, usually something that I might expect out of someone in the south, but people up here seem to want to keep to their own and expect everyone else to be just as self-sufficient. I politely give him thanks, but not too much... it also seems that being too friendly is met with suspicion. I forgo any other formalities and merely get in and find a seat all while keeping my clothes as quiet as possible.

And I'm almost grateful for the emptiness of the not-so-homey town I've had to adapt to. The apathy at this moment is, in a way, welcome. The last thing I can appreciate. Oh, had some showed up to wish me off, I would have bid them a fond farewell. But if the truth of it is no one really cared at all, I'd much rather not have anyone pandering to themselves over it either.

With some luck, I'll have little need to interact with anyone, though I am truly hoping Arkham isn't going to be the same. I do long for some meaningful connection...

[roll0]

[zingbobco000]

The road rises a little, passing cornfields and orchards. The leaves are turning and the trees are alive with glorious reds and golds. You have just begun to doze when the driver takes a tight bend at speed.
----

Please now give me a Dexterity roll. What this means is that you'll be rolling a d100 and comparing it to your Dexterity. For now, I hold your stats (mwahahahah), but eventually, I'll hand the character over to you once I feel like you've got a good handle on the mechanics (presumably at the end of the adventure)! So in the meantime, just give me a d100 roll.

[An Amy]

The falls in New England are a thing to behold. The great forests of the southern US are spectacular, with visits up to the alpine piedmont and the lower end of the Appalachian, but the brilliant colors up north are a spectacle wrapped up in a chilly breeze that's soothing. But a sudden turn keeps me from fully closing my eyes...

Dexterity [roll0]

[zingbobco000]

You rolled above your dexterity, which means that you have failed your role. Interestingly, in Call of Cthulhu, your stats are what actually determine the difficulty of your attempt as opposed to a set DC like in D&D.
----

A desperate yell shakes you out of your reverie of the beautiful view. You feel yourself slide from the seat as the driver spins the wheel and the motor-coach plunges off the road. Too late, you reach for the seat in front. You fall into the aisle and your ribs crash against the edge of the seat opposite. Breath rushes out of you. The coach stops with a thump.
Your driver leaps from his seat into the road. As you sprawl, dizzy, in the aisle, you hear a string of incendiary curses.
The driver climbs back into the cab and sees you on the floor. He looks concerned and assists you back into your seat. You see what has happened now. A Fordson tractor has stopped in the road and he had to swerve to avoid this steel obstacle.
“Sorry,” he says. “All them fields and he has to pick the road to park. You all right?”
You don’t think anything’s broken. But you’ll have a colorful bruise for the next few days. The throbbing pain itself should hopefully end with a good night's rest. The driver then backs the coach up a little and threads it around the tractor, glaring at the farmer.
----

You have sadly lost 1 hit point in this accident. Eventually you will heal back up to your maximum, but note that if you sustain a massive amount of hit-point loss, or if you fall to 0 hit points, you will fall unconscious or even die.
----

You resume your journey. The driver takes the curves with more caution than before. He glances over his shoulder at you a couple of times.
“Sorry about before,” he says. “That fella was dumber than a hog. I’m Silas. What’s your name?”

https://s3.amazonaws.com/files.d20.io/images/89720335/8XsBuZsHXsIItvnU1QLyaw/med.png?1566315175

The accident was at least as much Silas’s fault as the farmer’s. But it doesn’t seem shrewd to antagonize the man while he is driving you through the middle of nowhere.
----

Make up a name for your character and I'll mark it down. You may add your age; for the purposes of this adventure your character should probably be aged between 23 and 36.

[An Amy]

"It's just fine, but best be wary of more hogs who aren't used to sharing." Hog doesn't need to be too smart if it owns the road. Best not try and correct my own driver.

"I'm Helen, Helen Vandiver," I respond to him while still trying to work a pleasant expression across my features. My side is sore where I struck the other seat and I feel I may have bent a nail a bit too far trying to push my skirt down so quickly. I seem more concerned with that enamel than the bruise. One is hidden from view, afterall. My long brown hair is still in a bun and I return my hat to the seat next to me where it too was tossed into the aisle. A freshly-minted thirty-year old woman should not be without her hat. I shudder to think what this has done to my powder... I should never have worn the stuff.

Helen Vandiver, age 30, born Aug 28th, 1891

[zingbobco000]

The coach turns onto a narrower road, which weaves uphill through woodland. Silas becomes chatty.
“Ah, going to Arkham then, Helen? Can’t say I ever heard of the place. Went to Boston once. Didn’t like it. Too much hustle and bustle. You got family there? A special someone waiting?”
The afternoon is wearing on. You see no harm in confiding in Silas about your new life.
“A job, eh? What’s your line?”

----
Now it's time for your character to choose an occupation. In Call of Cthulhu an occupation provides you with several occupation skills. It's comparable to a class, but the main distinction is that it's not representative of all your characters abilities, and it does not really affect advancement.
Some common occupations for investigators include:

Antiquarian
Doctor of Medicine
Journalist
Private Investigator
Professor
Something Else... (we can discuss)?

[An Amy]

"I've heard of it, but never really visited Arkham before. My aunt lives out there... lived out there." I correct, though maybe I should have kept it known I was going to be with someone even if it weren't true. Aunt Roselle died almost ten years ago and my cousin, whom I've never been introduced to nor remember his name, lived in the house until recently. Been vacant for a couple years or so. It's better than Dunstable, a bit closer to Boston if not too. "Meeting a friend out there. I work... for a general store looking to open a second location, third, rather if we want to be technical about it. I gather it's a good a place as any and at least worth some suit's time in thinking of putting a dimer out there."

[zingbobco000]

Silas gives a pleasant nod as Helen recounts her tale and plans for the future. It's not extremely obvious, but the gruff exterior has been lessened slightly. You cannot help but feel that he approves of a more rural job like managing a store, even if Helen is a woman (shakes fists at the 1920s). Nevertheless, he does not contribute too much else to the conversation, content to keeping his eyes on the long winding road ahead of him.
----

You gain the following occupational skills: Accounting, Electrical Repair, Listen, Mechanical Repair, Psychology, Spot Hidden. In addition, please choose two interpersonal skills that you would use to run your business from the following four:
Charm - physical attraction, seduction, flattery, or simply warmth of personality.
Fast Talk - specifically limited to verbal trickery, deception, and misdirection, such as bamboozling a bouncer to let you inside a club, getting someone to sign a form they haven't read, making a policeman look the other way, and so on.
Intimidate - browbeating or making verbal threats to get your way.
Persuade - convince a person of a particular idea, concept, or belief through reasoned argument, debate, and discussion (although this does not necessarily have to employ the truth).

[An Amy]

A touch of sympathy can go a long way, and not calling someone out can as well. There is the fine line between showing complicity in what they do and simply showing some compassion. I let the silence manifest once more, reaching over and touching my side while giving a slight wince at my clumsy examination. I'll just wait until I'm alone in a room where I can properly examine what it is. Perhaps a few shades of violet.

Charm and Persuade.

[zingbobco000]

You soon realize Silas hasn’t made a stop since the incident with the tractor. The motor coach winds its way uphill. However, your thoughts are interrupted as the road crests a ridge and you are treated to a magnificent view of the vista below.
A creek snakes through the valley, breaking the rich autumn palette of the tree line. In the distance the White Mountains rise into hazy cloud. There is no settlement, not even a cabin, as far as the eye can see. Birds drift through the treetops, and you can just make out what might be two white-tailed deer lingering by the water.
Perhaps you are making a mistake by moving to the city. Could you maybe survive on your own in this lush wilderness?
----

I'm just going to note that just because a skill is not from your occupation or personal interest, you can always attempt it. That's not to say that you'll have a large chance of success but there is almost always a chance. Now, speaking of personal interest skills, please choose four more skills that are not from your occupation (Accounting, Electrical Repair, Mechanical Repair, Charm, Persuade, Psychology, Listen, and Spot Hidden) that are your personal interests.

[zingbobco000]

Now that you've chosen your occupation and your personal interest skills, please rank your occupational skills just like you did with your characteristics - from best to worst. For reference, your occupational skills are: Accounting, Electrical Repair, Mechanical Repair, Psychology, Charm, Persuade, Spot Hidden, and Listen.

[An Amy]

Persuade
Listen
Accounting
Psychology
Charm
Spot Hidden
Mechanical Repair
Electrical Repair

[zingbobco000]

The motor coach rattles on through the hills and Silas lapses into silence. The sky darkens behind you, pinks tinting the clouds as the sun descends. Finally a welcome sight comes into view: a settlement on the crest of a hill. This doesn’t look like the pictures you’ve seen of Ossipee. But perhaps you can persuade Silas to stop while you stretch your legs.
Minutes later, a harsh stuttering from the engine interrupts your reverie. Silas frowns and rattles the gear stick. The motor coach falters in its ascent. Silas utters a curse you don’t recognize and grinds his teeth, struggling at the wheel. You seem to inch up the hill until you reach the first buildings, low dwellings constructed from a rough red stone. Silas wrestles the coach into a small bay off the road. He scrambles from his seat and makes for the engine compartment.
----

Now it is time to make our first skill check! However, I'm going to offer you the choice between two, but you could arguably think of doing something else and I'll rule what it would be for now. If you want to try both at the same time, you can try, but it would be much harder (inform me if you want to do this and I will detail what you would have to do). Do you think your character would go out and check on the car, if so, please give me a Drive Auto roll (a d100 which I will compare to your drive auto skill [you consider yourself an amateur in this field]), or does this all seem strangely convenient - breaking down right as you enter a village - and you'd like to guage Silas's reactions, if so, please give me a hard Psychology roll (a d100 which I will compare to half your Psychology skill [you consider yourself a professional in this field]). Either way, roll a d100 and tell me which one you'd rather compare it to.

[An Amy]

While I might help take a look under the hood of an automobile, I'm not about to without being asked. I doubt Silas will. Likely he knows what's going on and what it'll take to fix it... I wonder what Silas thinks of breaking down here. Small little village area just as we got to it. Though there was a bit of a hill, and that's something that could cause a vehicle to sputter.

Psychology: [roll0]

[zingbobco000]

In all honesty, the way he's moving, his intonation, and everything is rather different from those who you've met before. Not incredibly different, but compared to the urban-folk you're used to dealing with, this driver is almost impossible to actually get a read on. Either way, coincidences happen, and to be honest, it's lucky you ended up next to a town instead of miles away from one.

Silas opens the engine compartment open and sticks his head inside. The hot metal pops and sizzles. He pokes at various components, then withdraws and wipes his brow, smearing it with dark grease.
“I ain’t sure what’s wrong. Might be the oil pressure. Might be something knocked off kilter when we took that spill. Can’t do much until the engine cools neither. And with the light failing… I reckon we’ll be here through the night.” He wipes his hands on a rag.
The shadows from your surroundings are already long, and the air is chilly. You feel stiff from the journey and a night in the rickety coach sounds unappealing. Silas sees your dismay.
“This here’s Emberhead. Miles from anyplace. I only come through twice a week. But the folks here are good people. May Ledbetter keeps a spare room. She’ll look after you. Up that alley, turn right, first house on the left.”
He scratches his cheek, looks again into the engine compartment, and spits on the ground.
“Meet me back here at eight in the morning and we’ll see how’s we stand.”
----

Now we're entering the more freeform part of the adventure. Nevertheless, given that this is still an introductory scenario. I'll be providing little prompts at the bottom of example things your character could attempt so that you can formulate a post in-line with general Call of Cthulhu ideas. In this instance, I have three possibilities.
1. Head out and look for this May Ledbetter's house
2. Ask Silas where he's going to stay the night
3. Challenge Silas about the breakdown

[An Amy]

A sense of suspicion washes over me from somewhere, but for the time being I'm determined to weather though this and just pray the 'get over it' isn't going to be too difficult.

"Only twice a week? That's practically a resident. I'll see to May Ledbetter. Can you help me get the smaller luggage from the top? That one with the floral pattern on it? Where will you be staying?"

Rolls as necessary for determining reaction to works and such. 3d100 Messed up roll formatting...

[zingbobco000]

No roll required for now. If rolls are required, don't worry, I'll mention it.
----

Silas nods, recalling how he himself loaded them up in the first place. As he's lifting them off the rack, you ask about Silas’ plans. He gives the engine a sour glance before answering.
“I’ve got acquaintances here in the village. Reckon one of ‘em owes me a favor. Enough for bed and breakfast, in any case.” He stares at his grubby hands. “Probably won’t stretch to a hot bath.”
You don’t seem to have a lot of options. Silas hands your luggage over. The last thing you need is for all your worldly possessions to disappear into some stranger’s hovel overnight.

You drag your cases between the sullen buildings. You feel surprisingly weary, considering you have spent all day sitting down. Silas’ directions lead you to a modest dwelling with a slate roof. A nameplate reads LEDBETTER, and underneath, a sign in neat copperplate reads, LODGING ROOM. The lane around you is gloomy, but a lamp flickers in the window.
A breeze chills your face. You’re not about to begin your new life by sleeping in the street. You rap on the weatherbeaten door.

After a moment, you hear footsteps inside the house. A bolt is drawn back and the wooden door swings open. A figure with loose curls and a rough-looking housedress peers at you. Her gaze takes in your traveling suit and your cases. Her voice has a slight Irish lilt.
“Hello. Should I take it as you’re looking for a room for the night?”
You enquire as to her rates, suppressing a grimace. As far as you’ve seen, the village does not offer you many alternatives.
“Oh, you’ll find them very reasonable,” she says. “You look tired. I’m May. Come inside and we’ll talk over a cup of tea.”
The Ledbetter house feels cramped, with a low ceiling and simple fittings. But it is well kept and a cheerful fire crackles in the grate. The aroma of the tea is soothing and the cup warms your fingers.
“Have you come to Emberhead for the festival?” asks May.

----
Again, just simple prompting, you do not have to follow these ideas at all.
1. Do you want to explain what happened with Silas and his coach?
2. Would you rather ask about what this festival is?

[An Amy]

"Good luck," I tell the man as I take my worldly possessions down the path along the said route. I mouth May a few times, feeling uncomfortable. I've never met a May that I liked.

Still, the quaint nature of the abode along with the generally cheery attitude is enough to calm me for the time being. Just get through this repeats in my mind over and over, allowing me to forgive shortcomings and inconveniences such as this for the time being.

"Oh, I'm afraid not," I answer the woman while staring down at the tea, enjoying the warmth of the cup a little. I'm not keen on drinking hot tea and often don't mind it cooling off completely. "I'm passing through with a coach driver, Silas. The automobile came under some troubles, and he's having to attend to them. I'm on my way to Arkham, just north of Boston. What and when is this festival?"

[zingbobco000]

Emberhead, 7:35 PM, September 1st, 1921

As you mention Silas, May shakes her head and you glimpse a moment of deep-seated anger in her green eyes.
“He always drives too fast. Thinks the road is made for him and him alone. He hit a mare some years back, that was a terrible thing. You should have seen the state of the coach. You’d be surprised at the damage done.”
She sips her tea and gazes past you, into the corner of the room.
“With living here, though, we can’t afford to antagonize the man. He’s about the only link we have to the world at large. And he’s not a bad soul at heart. I suppose that going the same route for fifteen years makes a man careless. You have to forgive him.”
May goes silent for a long moment. Then her eyes flick back to you.
“I'm sure you didn’t come here to listen to me blather, and you must be hungry. I can rustle you up a bit of stew. How would that be?”

As one of you sips tea and eats a hearty stew in front of the fire, it crackles and you can't help but feel warm to the bone, maybe it's because you've been in a motor coach all day, or maybe it's because of how poorly insulated this home is, but either way, the fire is truly soothing. As you soon ask about the festival, May continues. “Well now, I suppose the Festival is about the only reason folks come to Emberhead. I thought you had maybe come to study it or take photographs. Well, it’s not tomorrow night but the night after. I suppose it looks very strange to a passerby.”
May tops up her tea. The spout chinks against her cup.
“We’ve got the Beacon, you see. One night every year there’s a torch-lit procession and we light the Beacon on the cliffs. You’ve never seen the like of it. They say it keeps the spirit of the village alive for another year. It’s a celebration. A celebration...”
She trails off for a moment, and blinks.

Emberhead, 8:33 PM, September 1st, 1921

In the silence, you view it as the prime time to ask again about her rates, and May names a price so low you accept it without hesitation. The room is small but comfortable, and the stew dark and hearty. After dinner, you have a little while before your usual bedtime. What would you like to do?
----

So, some provided ideas would include things like talking to May some more, investigating the town during the nighttime, or just heading off to bed, as it was a long day of travel.

[An Amy]

I listen to the local woman, May, speak about the festival. It seems something rather... local, once more. There's little more I can think regarding it. Keeping the spirits away. Seems all baked in some older traditions, though I'm a bit surprised by that given how prevalent Protestant Christianity is. Yet there are still a few other holidays with various appropriated mascots, why not a lit tower to frighten away the demons or whatnot.

With remarkably good rates aside, I simply settle into the room and hope my stay here is nothing but a fun footnote in my eventual autobiography.

[zingbobco000]

May talks about life in Emberhead. “In her letters my sister always asks if I’m not bored, living in such a small place. She lives in New York. Then she writes about how frightened she is to walk home at night! I ask you.”
You mention your hopes for a new business in Arkham. May doesn’t seem to hear you.
“It’s a small place here, yes, but that means we have real community. Everybody’s face is known. Everybody works together. Nobody is excluded. Except those who choose to exclude themselves, of course. I couldn’t live anywhere else now.”
----

Please give me a Charm roll (you consider yourself a professional in this field).

[An Amy]

"It does seem the perfect place to retire to," I comment without trying to make it sound like she's old or old fashioned. Despite the old fashioned mentality, typical of those against the booming industrial power that is the US after the Great War, there are still plenty of rural areas that would just be content as farming communities. There's nothing wrong with that...

Char roll: [roll0]

[zingbobco000]

As the hour wears on, you are amused to hear May transform into a sort of tired tourist guide.
“Of course the views from here are spectacular on a good day. A clear view all the way round. If you’re a painter you’ll be right at home. If your tastes run more to the artisan, there are workshops on Silbury Street. Just at the end here and turn right. They’re not set up for visitors, you understand? But you’ll see the real craftsmen at work. The genuine article. Now, if you’re looking for freshly baked bread...”
It seems a shame to point out that you intend to be on the road again shortly. You let May continue until she begins to yawn.
“Would you listen to me yapping? Time to turn in. When would you like your breakfast?”

[An Amy]

"I'm supposed to meet back with Silas at eight in the morning," I reply, feeling the need to turn down. "Something light if anything at all. I appreciate it and the company, but I should settle in for the night. Despite a day of sitting, a coach is not entirely restful. I have a day more of it tomorrow as well."

[zingbobco000]

As May stands, you hear a clunk behind you. You look over your shoulder, but all you can see is a wooden door, securely closed.
May tuts. “The young lady of the house. She’ll have been listening to us. Ruth! Come and greet our guest.”
There is a short pause, then the door creaks open. Two wide eyes peer at you from the gap, between tousled hair and a rough nightgown.
“What do you say?”
The eyes blink. “Pleased to meet you.”
“Now get back to bed.”
The door closes again.
“My daughter Ruth. Ten years this summer. She’s a delight and a torment all in one. Don’t worry, she sleeps in with me. She’ll not disturb you. Good night now.”
You retire to your room. It is a little chilly, but you are too tired to worry about lighting the fire. The sheets are clean and the bed soon warms up. The silence outside is strange after living in a town for so long, but you soon drop off.

You dream of fire in the grate; coruscating colors shimmering through the dancing tongues of flame. At first they are tiny, almost microscopic, but they grow, and grow, until a kaleidoscopic inferno spills from the fireplace, spreading across the floor, up the sheets…
You wake with a start. Daylight glints through the curtains. You get up and examine the grate, blinking the sleep from your eyes. It is quite cold. If you have taken any damage, you may heal 1 hit point back for your night’s sleep.
----

Yes, that's right, Long Rests heal 1 hit point. Let's just say that taking damage is of much more consequence in this game than most.
----

May seems to have no running water, but has supplied some in a ceramic jug. You freshen up at the washstand and go in. She cooks a hearty breakfast and leaves you in peace to eat. At about seven-thirty, you are paid up, packed, and ready to go. You bid May goodbye and she wishes you the best for your new career in Arkham.

You are already tired of your heavy bags. Hopefully, Silas has repaired the motor coach and you can resume your long journey. A sourpuss he might be, but the old driver seemed to understand his vehicle well enough. You pause to check your watch—still twenty minutes early—and round the final corner.
The motor coach is gone.
You put your bags down and search the area, trekking up and down slopes and around corners. At the edge of the village, you trace the long road back as it winds across the hills. Eight o’clock comes and goes. There is no coach to be seen.
A passing villager notices your bags.
“Looking for the bus? I heard him take off at first light. He’s due back in three or four days. If you need a place to stay, May Ledbetter rents a room.” The man raises his hat to you and strolls on into the village.
You curse Silas under your breath. Perhaps he went for parts. But you wonder if the old goat has stranded you here on purpose.

May is doing laundry, and looks surprised to see you again. “Forgot something?” When you explain the situation, she offers to store your bags while you try to arrange alternative transport. You are grateful to relinquish the load.
“Nobody here has anything like a car.” She strokes her chin and narrows her eyes. “Maybe you could find somebody with a horse and a cart for your bags. I could ask around later. Try Mr. Winters at the village hall, he’ll know if anyone will. Or ask among the artisans. Their workshops are first left on Silbury Street.” She reaches over and squeezes your wrist. “Don’t worry, I won’t see you sleeping in the street, money or no money.”
You thank May, and turn to face the village.

You wander the streets of Emberhead without any particular destination in mind. The village is built on a relatively flat upland with splendid views. To the north, the hazy tips of the White Mountains reach for the heavens; to the south, the sparkling waters of Lake Winnipesaukee touch the horizon.
The village itself takes less than five minutes to cross from edge to edge. However, it is literally edge to edge, as with the exception of the two roads out of town, all that's there is a massive drop-off. You arrived on the winding road to the west. The only other road leaves to the south, following a lower ridge of land as it turns east. In the northernmost part of town, you see the courtyard mentioned by May home to several artisans. Next to that is the town's largest building (which isn't saying too much) - presumably the village hall. Meanwhile, in the southwest of the village, an open grassy space borders a ruined church, its graveyard cresting the cliffs. To the northeast, the three main thoroughfares, with a general store being one of the only real businesses open, meet at a raised black metal structure. It looms, stark against the blue sky.

https://s3.amazonaws.com/files.d20.io/images/89719975/HaOSBF1K2QsfOompXQJAJw/med.png?1566314827
----

Oh boy, that was long, I hope you got all of that, but basically... where do you want to head now to find transport out of here? Some places of interest that I listed were: The lower ridge of land that heads eastward, the artisan's courtyard, the village hall, the church, the general store, or the raised black metal structure?

[An Amy]

I'm grateful for at least the food earlier and the hospitality May offered upon my unfortunate return. This village won't be a mere blip on the timeline, it seems. Silas has abandoned me, and I fear it was on purpose. The too-eerie feeling creeping up in my bones won't subside with logic and reasoning. There's no need to... no, there's some odd evidence of things. No cars in the village. The road doesn't seem to go any further to the east... and, is that lake Winnipesaukee? To the south still? We haven't actually gone that far then. Strange indeed...

I muster up enough reasoning to press on and continue calling this whole thing an unfortunate event or misunderstanding. The benefit of the doubt in Silas's hands. Perhaps some other emergency came up. An injury that only could be managed by a better facility elsewhere. Perhaps he was robbed? Someone from this town desperate to get out. That's a chilling reason to explain the man's innocence. I turn and head to the artisan's in hopes of finding some solution to getting me on my way.

[zingbobco000]

No cars in the village. The road doesn't seem to go any further to the east... and, is that lake Winnipesaukee? To the south? Weren't we in Massachusetts but a day ago? Arkham is just north of Boston, what am I doing this far north in New Hampshire? Strange indeed...

For reference, I believe you start off in Plymouth, New Hampshire and you're heading Westward towards Ossipee. I think this (https://www.google.com/maps/place/Ossipee,+NH/@43.7034746,-71.5048408,10.9z/data=!4m5!3m4!1s0x4cb3186183b2e693:0x6c9a0104ba621 bc!8m2!3d43.6853516!4d-71.1166556) might be a good idea as to what was planned.
----

Not far from the Ledbetter house, on the north side of Silbury Street, there is an open courtyard. The rhythmic tattoo of a hammer seems to announce your approach.
The courtyard is the busiest location you have yet seen in Emberhead. It is bordered by a ring of workshops. Some are brick buildings, some only rough huts. A blacksmith ceases to hammer, thrusting something red and glowing into a bucket of cold water. A weaver looks up from his loom, blinking at you for a moment before returning to his shuttle.
A potter, engraver, and carpenter each work in their own space, exchanging friendly banter.
You move among the artisans, chatting about their work.
Eventually you bring up the question of export. Some of them send occasional packages with Silas. Some restrict their custom entirely to villagers. You receive no suggestions about alternative transport.
----

Please give me a Psychology roll (you consider yourself a professional in this field) as you walk amongst the artisans.

[An Amy]

Psychology [roll0]

I walk among the artisans and propose my questions, asking about where they send their wares. Seems little makes it out of the town... hopefully that doesn't apply to abandoned passengers. With Silas supposedly visiting the town every couple days, I'll probably be stuck here for a little bit. I might as well position myself as friendly. This seems the largest crowd I've seen thus far...

[zingbobco000]

You've succeeded in a Psychology skill roll, which means that you may be able to improve it after this scenario!
----

One of the workshops is shut up. When you stray close to it, the repartee between the craftspeople becomes awkward—almost forced. Interesting.

Emberhead, 9:12 AM, September 2nd, 1921

You are beginning to get your bearings in Emberhead. Would you like to explore some more?
----

Some places of interest that I listed were: The lower ridge of land that heads eastward, the artisan's courtyard, the village hall, the church, the general store, or the raised black metal structure?

[An Amy]

Being among the artisans makes me uncomfortable. They seem to banter in a way that isn't genuine. As if they're playing up something. Perhaps it's just the fact that I'm a visitor, but the way May sounded, visitors were quite welcome. Perhaps that's not the case for everyone else who doesn't make money off someone having a wayward coach abandon them. I don't interact in any way beyond just glancing about and asking my few questions regarding potential travel off the heights.

Helen will walk down the street toward the Hall, glancing at it in passing before heading to the odd structure at the end of town. She intends to continue from there to the general store if something doesn't grab her attention first.

[zingbobco000]

You pass by the village hall, but there really doesn't seem to be too much activity there. Nevertheless, you look away and press on towards the large metal structure.
Silbury Street points directly at the odd metal structure. As you emerge from the shade of the nearby buildings, you are greeted by a magnificent panorama spread from the north to the southeast. The last colors of fall tint the hills in a sleepy gold.
The structure, by contrast, is made from uncompromising iron, singed black. It supports an immense curved platform at the level of your head. Further struts snake up to a central point. It looks like they may have been some kind of sculpture at one time, but are now twisted and melted beyond recognition.
An older gentleman passes, looking up at you with rheumy eyes. “Are you here for the Festival?” he asks. “That’s the Beacon. When they light it, night after next, you’ll be able to see it ten miles away.” He gives a little nod of satisfaction, then moves on, leaning on his walking stick.
Now you notice bundles of wood, tied and stacked against the buildings nearby. Perhaps this Festival would be an interesting diversion. But you really must head to Arkham as soon as possible.
----

As you're looking around please give me a Spot Hidden roll.

[An Amy]

"I just might be here for the festival," I answer the man. Whether I like it or not... I offer a wan smile as I look more closely around this beacon...

Spot Hidden! [roll0]

[zingbobco000]

As you walk away from the iron structure, you notice something strange about the construction of the village. All the wooden dwellings are concentrated in the west and southwest. To the east and northeast, closest to the Beacon, the buildings are formed from dark brick and clay. Does this mean the settlement began at the Beacon, and spread west?
----

I will note that you've succeeded in the Spot Hidden skill, which means that you'll have the opportunity to improve it later on.
----

Emberhead, 9:55 AM, September 2nd, 1921

You're quite sure that you've at least understood the general thoroughfares of the town at this point.
----

Some places of interest that I listed were: The lower ridge of land that heads eastward, the artisan's courtyard, the village hall, the church, the general store, or the raised black metal structure?

[An Amy]

I note that the village seems to have an easy to discern growth, originating form this... beacon thing. I'm not sure what to think of that, other than the fact that it was somehow key to the foundation of the village. It's appearance is unsightly, so there must be some sentimental significance.

I make my way around to the general store, idly checking my purse to make sure I have it with me on the chance I find something I want to purchase. I'm always interested in seeing how other proprietors run their establishments.

[zingbobco000]

The general store is on a corner beside the main road, just before it plunges to the south. The shopkeeper is a brisk, immense lady with a starched apron and strong shoulders. She looks hard at your unfamiliar face.
“Transport? There’s a motor coach comes through twice a week. Missed it? Hmm. Truck brings in my supplies every second Tuesday, but he’s not due until next week.” She shrugs.
It seems Emberhead is content to keep its distance from the outside world.
----

You have enough cash on you to buy one or two inexpensive everyday items here. Remember the year is 1921! The shop stocks no weapons except a dusty hunting knife, which you may purchase if you want.

[An Amy]

I peruse the general store but don't look for anything in particular. Nothing stands out as something I need. Though, if I'm going to be here for a few days, I should purchase something for common hygiene amenities, which I had considered purchasing once I reached Arkham. That's not going to happen anytime in the next couple days, therefore I do look around for things that I lack out of my own personal luggage. Some more expensive soaps and such are fine to use if I have to, but I'd rather not while simply trying to survive until my aunt's place. If I find them at the general store, things like soaps and perhaps an abrasive, fluoride toothpaste.

After that and the brief observation of how the store is run - given how else Emberhead is run I'm not keen on duplicating any of their processes - I make my way back to May's perhaps for a bite to eat and to sit to rest with a book... biding my time until Silas returns. Hopefully soon.

[zingbobco000]

For reference, you're not feeling too hungry as of right now, you could probably explore one more locale before heading back, but is that what you'd like to do?
----

Emberhead, 10:42 AM, September 2nd, 1921

The streets of Emberhead are beginning to feel constricting as you leave the general store. The overall manner in which it operates is most certainly not something which you wish you replicate. Would you like to continue to look around, or are you most certainly over this town?
----

Just in case you would, some places of interest that I listed were: The lower ridge of land that heads eastward, the artisan's courtyard, the village hall, the church, the general store, or the raised black metal structure?

[An Amy]

I'm over exploring this town. It's time to just get back to May's and accept the fact that I'll be spending a few days with the same few books. I was looking forward to my aunt's library... assuming it is still intact after my cousin acquired the estate. He saw little value in such things, but hopefully also little value in doing anything with it. He couldn't sell the property so... well, that's for tomorrow-Helen to be concerned with. Even more so, next week-Helen to deal with. I will return to May's and just tolerate this small hamlet from the quiet of a chair.

[zingbobco000]

Your morning exertions have left you hungry. You roam the streets of Emberhead looking for sustenance. There is nothing resembling the busy cafés of your hometown, or anything that might be called a restaurant.
It is beginning to look like you will have to get supplies from the general store when May Ledbetter comes down the street with a girl trailing in her wake. This must be Ruth. As she notices you, she races past her mother and approaches you with a smile. This is a different Ruth from the shy creature of last night.
As she reaches you, she stops and stretches her arms up in celebration. She looks up into your eyes. Abruptly the smile drops from her face and she looks several years older.
“Get out before the festival,” she hisses. “Get out!” She blinks hard, then scuttles back towards her mother.
May approaches, wrapping an arm around her daughter’s shoulders. She smiles. “How are you getting on? Have you found transport?”
Startled, you explain the frustrations of the situation.
“I’d try Mr. Winters in the village hall. He’s always in of an afternoon. You’ll be hungry by now? Help yourself to any food in the house. The door’s not locked.”
You glance at Ruth where she has squirreled herself behind her mother’s leg. Her eyes implore you to silence.
----

Would you like to ask Ruth about what she said? Ask May about what Ruth said? Or just... stay silent and continue towards the household.

[An Amy]

My heart stop as the face of the girl seemingly melts for a moment, the uncharacteristic jovial nature flashes away to reveal a dark warning that vanishes in the span of a heartbeat... but lingers in my mind, replaced by May's words that I have little context.

"Uh, yes... I'm a bit hungry despite the lovely breakfast, a bit tired too. I think I'll go rest a bit."

The girl's eyes... her gaze. The cold sensation crawling across my skin reminds me of moments reading one of those Melbourne mysteries or French murder novels that have become all the rage as of late. Looking all around as I depart the two, I get a sense of... fear rising up within. A warning to get out spoken from the eyes and face and lips of a trapped woman? No. My mind is playing tricks on me? I've never been one to succumb to such foolishness before. So, without a history of fanciful flights should I take this as a fabrication? It does not make sense. It could not have actually happened that way. Yet... I look back. An empty street. Nothing.

Get out before the festival.

I've been trying to get out by the same means I entered. I get the shuddering speculative fiction in my mind of running on my own feet down the road away from a mob. Away from the festival. All sorts of horrid speculations jump in my head. But I push them back. They must be the fanciful creations of a bored and tired mind. So much else seems out of place with this village that these other wild thoughts might seem to have a foothold. Anywhere else, I would have truly dismissed such as foolishness. But... well, anywhere else I might not have had such.

I hurry back to May's and Ruth's house, all while trying to convince myself that I wasn't going to peek around at all.

[zingbobco000]

Emberhead, 12:02 PM, September 2nd, 1921

You take your leave of the Ledbetters and head towards their house. The door opens easily. In the low kitchen you make a meal from stodgy bread and leftover stew. A little window offers a view to the mountains.
If you learned one thing this morning, it was that Emberhead’s streets hold little to occupy the visitor from out of town. But there are still about five to six hours of daylight remaining. You could take some provisions and the bare essentials from your luggage, and set out in the hope of reaching another settlement before dark. Or you could ask advice from this Mr. Winters. Alternatively, you guess that you could just do nothing...

[An Amy]

All the while in the kitchen and about the home, I'm struggling with my encounter with Ruth. Was it real? Of course it was. But what about her words? How could they mean anything? Sure, Emberhead is small and boring and disconnected from the world... and strange in its construction and such... and something does seem a bit off with those craftsmen I saw earlier, and the general store seemed so out of place that it was like it didn't really exist at all except to say that Emberhead had a general store... and then Ruth... How does that mean anything? It could all just be a bunch of nothing. Or it could be something incredibly horrifying. I feel I need to talk to Ruth. At least once more. But I'm not sure how. Tonight? Oh, when is that festival again? Leave before the festival. That structure of metal seemed deformed, defaced... melted. My imagination is running too wild with this.

There's the mounting idea of at least taking a stroll. It's noon. I've walked about the town. Maybe I want to walk about down the hill a little out of town. In the forested areas below? Just a walk. Just to see what else is out there... right? In case Silas returns. Yeah, I could just wait at the bottom of the hill so he doesn't have to come all the way up the hill, knowing how much his coach struggled.

That's what I'll do. Pack up a few things to eat, nothing like I'm skipping out on town. Just going for an extended walk. Bringing some food in case I get hungry. I'm... I'm too tempted to bring a knife or blade along with me. Never know if I need to cut some of my clothing for a bandage or what not. A wolf? Ha... if I came across any courageous wildlife, I don't think a knife is going to help me much. But there's safety in it. A small one then... wrapped up in some of that food. I'm already in clothes meant for traveling. Study boots. I gather a hat against the sun and plan to set out in the way I arrived into the town, just a stroll... not bringing my luggage along with me. I'm simply satisfying my urge to both leave by going on the walk and satisfying my denial against these senseless fears by leaving my luggage behind as proof that I'm not actually running... not giving in to my imagination.

Yet Ruth's words and face don't leave me even as I step from the home...

[zingbobco000]

For reference, we can say that you purchased the hunting knife at the general store, as that makes sense.

Emberhead, 1:12 PM, September 2nd, 1921

The sky is flecked with cloud but shows no sign of imminent rain.
A couple of villagers watch as you descend on the northern road and follow it around to the west. The black metal structure looms on the promontory above. You shiver as you pass the lower huts and head out of Emberhead.
After the miserable, enclosed streets of Emberhead, you are refreshed by the open air and sense of progress. An hour later, however, the empty road ceases to be a novelty. You have just entered the first patch of woodland when you hear an eerie, lilting howl from the north.
----

Please give me a Natural World (you consider yourself a neophyte in this field) roll.

[An Amy]

"Lovely stroll I've talked myself into," I murmur as I take in the sights. Looking for some confirmation that there'll be civilization around the next turn... that all starts to sour as the utter lack of civilization surrounds me.

[roll0]

[zingbobco000]

You hesitate. You have grown up in the familiar landscape of the town. Wild animals are a little outside your experience. Is it unwise to head on into the unknown by yourself?
----

Shall you press on...?

[An Amy]

Not having really prepared myself for a longer journey, the unsettling nature of... nature itself prompts me to return to the village. A chilling decision. There's the unknown and the utterly unknown, and I have fear of both of them. I just... don't know what the village itself poses for me. I know what the wilderness would do to me. Or, at least, I can fathom. Ruth's words make every step back to Emberhead a chore. I tire... but the only comfort I can think of is in my belongings, a roof and a bed.

[zingbobco000]

Emberhead, 2:45 PM, September 2nd, 1921

A second call answers the first. You imagine yourself cornered by wolves in the forest, torn and bleeding on the ground as the leader stands over you, saliva dripping from between its glistening, pointed teeth. That merciless mouth flashes towards your neck.
The return walk to town seems longer than the outward leg. You try not to keep looking behind you. As you ascend, the sun has dipped in the sky. You still have enough time to try the village hall, and you don't feel utterly exhausted. Also, who knows, maybe Mr. Winters will have some coffee or a place to sit

The village hall overlooks the lower north ridge of the village. You walk along Silbury Street to find it, conscious of the oppressive black metal structure framed at the end of the road. The shutters of the hall are open and some windows left ajar. There is no knocker, but a little bell over the entrance tinkles as you push the front door.
Inside, a sturdy door to your right is marked PRIVATE. To your left, an opening leads through to a bright room. You take a few steps inside. Benches line the walls and there are two noticeboards mounted between the windows.
----

Would you like to simply knock on the door or examine the noticeboards first?

[An Amy]

"Is anyone here?" I ask as I step into the structure, still waiting for my breath to catch up. I'm not about to faint on the streets. I should find somewhere to sit. "Hello?"

As I call out I look about the area. A private door. Another room. Some benches. I take to the benches while glancing in the direction of a noticeboard, curious as to what the people of Emberhead could do to fill one of those things.

Get out! The words return to me and I feel uneasy sitting even.

"I... I tried..." I murmur softly to myself as if someone behind me was awaiting a response.

[zingbobco000]

The door opens as you call out. The middle-aged gentleman behind it adjusts his spectacles. You soon introduce yourself. He steadies himself and peers at you.
“I see. I’m Clyde Winters. Just visiting, you say? And you’ve come to see me? Hmm! Care for some coffee? I usually take a cup around this time of the afternoon.”
His invitation seems genuine enough and a good opportunity to ask any questions that are on your mind.

You step through the door marked PRIVATE. The other side of the village hall is in marked contrast to the public space. The room is compact, lined with shelves of books and file alcoves. One corner is reserved for a tiny pantry and what is presumably a water closet.
You study Mr. Winters as he fills the percolator. Although thin on top, his hair is oiled and neatly swept back. His suit is a sober affair, and well-tailored even if the cut is a little old-fashioned. A lesser man working alone might have loosened his bow tie for comfort.
On the desk against the opposite wall, you notice what looks like a telegraph set.
----

Would you like to make small talk with Mr. Winters first? Or would you like to immediately ask about the telegraph?

[An Amy]

"Thanks, but I'll pass for the time being," I tell him as I look around while standing in the door to the private room. The chills won't leave, but I am feeling more like I have no reason to have them. Nothing else points toward anything egregious.

"Is there anyone on the other end of the telegraph?" I ask him pointing to it.

[zingbobco000]

“The telegraph? Mmm. Much as we value our isolation, we do need the link sometimes… you were hoping to send a message? I must apologize. The line has been down for two weeks. I reported the fault, but of course, they’re not so speedy when the problem lies in a rural area. I’m expecting a repair the day after next. I do appreciate how frustrating this must be. The coach is due, in what, three days? But I think he’s going west. Perhaps you might engage a wagon? One of the farmers might...”
You explain that you have asked a few of the residents already, but to no avail.
“I tell you what.” Winters pours himself a steaming cup of coffee. The dark liquid smells rich and strong. “When the repair crew arrive I’ll ask them to take you back with them. How would that be? They might want a dollar or two to grease the wheels...”
The day after tomorrow? It’s less than ideal. But it’s the first real opportunity you’ve had.
----

Would you like to thank him and go? Or make some small talk in the meantime, as he seems amiable enough.

[An Amy]

"I'll be sure they're appropriately compensated for their troubles," I tell him with a nod and gracious smile. I bid the man farewell for the time being and depart from the room. I glance by the notice board... just to see if anything catches my eyes on the way out but otherwise head back to May's.

[zingbobco000]

The floorboards creak beneath you as you cross the room. You feel a slight spring in your step. Perhaps this room is used as a gymnasium for the village children.
One noticeboard appears to be for the adults of the community, and one for the children. The former looks neglected, featuring handwritten advertisements for household items and a yellowed note about telegraph pricing. There is nothing about the festival.
The children’s noticeboard has a schedule for weekly crèche services, and a number of paintings obviously done by the children themselves. Most are incoherent, though colorful. As best you can tell, they depict fireworks, or perhaps the tale of Joseph from the Book of Genesis. One has lost a pin and hangs upside down. It shows a giant bird attacking Emberhead. Or it might simply be that the artist has not yet mastered the subtleties of scale.
----

Please give me a Spot Hidden (you consider yourself a professional in this field) roll.

[An Amy]

I narrow my eyes...

[roll0]

[zingbobco000]

As the afternoon sun hits the floor you notice something curious. The boards under the windows are newer than the boards in the center of the floor. The frames also show signs of having been replaced in the recent past. Perhaps rain leaked in and rotted the wood. Nevertheless, you depart from the Village Hall and return to the Ledbetter household.

Emberhead, 5:32 PM, September 2nd, 1921

As the light fades, you return to the Ledbetter house and eat a light supper. May is unusually taciturn. Ruth’s eyes flick to yours several times during the meal. There is an urgency there you cannot quite interpret. Afterwards, May ushers the girl into their room.
You have been in Emberhead for barely one whole day and you already feel confined by it, both geographically and socially. The evening seems to offer little.
----

Would you maybe like to do some stargazing? Or you could try and get Ruth alone and talk to her about what she might know?

[An Amy]

I try my best to indicate to Ruth my willingness to speak and my want to do so. Her words... her face... they trouble me more than my entire tribulation regarding Emberhead and being abandoned here. The festival... I expected more from a town on the verge of some celebration. There's nothing that indicates something grand is about to happen. If it weren't for the words of others, I'd know nothing about it. Still, I want to know more from Ruth.

Damn you, Silas... what on God's green earth gave you the idea of leaving so suddenly?

[zingbobco000]

You try to indicate this to Ruth, but she simply shakes her head, as her mother is closeby. After May ushers the girl into their joint room, you realize you will need to get May to leave for a short while. In time, May returns to the kitchen and busies herself clearing
up. You help with the dishes and try to think of some ruse. In time, an idea comes and you ask about Silas and his friends in the village.
May narrows her eyes. “He knows Troy on the other side of town,” she says. “Not sure I’d call them friends. More like an old feuding couple. But he probably spent last night at Troy’s place.”
You ask May if she could visit Troy and ask if Silas mentioned any plans to return. May looks dubious. “Right now?” she asks.
----

Consider how you're going to convince her, are you going to try and appeal to her emotions? Are you going to use rationalism and explain how a further delay threatens your career; or are you trying to rush her into compliance? Consider that when you make your IC post and make a roll at the bottom of it.

[An Amy]

"As much as I appreciate the hospitality of you and the others here," I begin telling her, thinking this could be the only way to speak with Ruth... but even regardless of the girl, this could also be a way to get something on Silas, "I do need to be on my way. Everyone in town knows each other, and I'm the outsider. You'd have a much better chance of convincing Troy to be, well, helpful. If Silas really isn't returning soon, I need to really start exhausting other options. If the man is to return in not too long a time, I could just hold out. But my business suffers with further delays and I'm anxious about arriving in time to meet with my cousin before he leaves. There's no telling if he hasn't already..."

For the win...[roll0]
...fml...

[zingbobco000]

"As much as I appreciate the hospitality of you and the others here," I begin telling her, thinking this could be the only way to speak with Ruth... but even regardless of the girl, this could also be a way to get something on Silas, "I do need to be on my way. Everyone in town knows each other, and I'm the outsider. You'd have a much better chance of convincing Troy to be, well, helpful. If Silas really isn't returning soon, I need to really start exhausting other options. If the man is to return in not too long a time, I could just hold out. But my business suffers with further delays and I'm anxious about arriving in time to meet with my cousin before he leaves. There's no telling if he hasn't already..."

For the win...[roll0]
...fml...

Wow, that was intense. I'm actually going to give a Bonus Die for the awesome roleplaying! We'll count this as Persuade, and I got a 2, so that's a 27.
----

“Well… I suppose it will only take a few minutes.” May fetches a coat and heads out into the night. You give her time to get clear, then rap on the bedroom door. Nothing comes but silence. Then feet pad across the floor and the door opens a few inches. Ruth’s eyes stare through the gap, glancing from left to right. You explain her mother has left the house and ask what has been bothering her. Those eyes flick up to stare at you. “It’s tomorrow,” she whispers. “Same as every year. They took my da. They’ll take you, if you let them.”
The conviction in her eyes is chilling. You press her. Who is she talking about?
“All of them. Every one. They’ve been watching since you got here. You’re marked. Not even she is safe.” Her voice is hollow. “One year, when I’m older… they’ll take me.”
You hear footsteps approaching from outside. Ruth’s eyes flash and the bedroom door slams. You turn back to drying the dishes. May enters and removes her coat.
“That man is a waste of time,” she hisses, and heads through to the bedroom.
----

You've succeeded on a Persuasion check. You may have the opportunity to improve this later on!
----

The familiar surroundings of your guest room are becoming constrictive. The neat bed, small wardrobe, and dressing mirror have the feel of a prison cell about them. What are you still doing here in Emberhead? Your new life is elsewhere.
You lie on the bed and stare at a small crack in the ceiling. You turn over the day’s events, thinking through the little details you spotted. You are certainly weary from the elevation and the fresh air. But do you still feel safe here?
----

Do you feel safe and you'd like to let yourself fall asleep? Or are you uncertain about this whole place and you'd like to stay awake, at least for a while?

[An Amy]

"Take me?" I question the girl, "take me where? What do you..."

I'm cut off by the gasp of the girl the sudden closing of the door. I rush away from the bedroom in time to see May storming away muttering about how fruitless her quest was. I'm grateful the woman does not suspect anything... not from me being near the bedroom but from how frazzled I likely look. Take me? Tomorrow? They've all been watching me? There always was something off about the whole town. And laying in bed now I can't bring myself to sleep. I hear the sounds of wildlife... not in my room but in my head. The idea of just running again in the middle of the night. Taking anything I can, the minimum of my belongings to get by and making a run for it. Emberhead is likely too far from anything to make the trek even worth it.

And I'm being watched...

"Blessed be..." I murmur, panting while staring up at the cracked ceiling, truly incapable of finding rest. Uncertain of what to do...

[zingbobco000]

Just realized that "That man is a waste of time." is miscolored. My bad.
----

Sleep presses down on you. You blink it back and sit up, trying to think through your situation. Everything in Emberhead seems to be working to stop you leaving. Perhaps the answer is to strike out at first light, to walk as far and as fast as you can. You can always return for your possessions, and if you lose them, you have nothing so precious that it could not be replaced.
A tiny creak draws your attention to the other side of the room.
Slowly, almost silently, the doorknob is turning.
----

Would you like to grab it and wrench the door open? Or lie down and simply pretend to be asleep...

[An Amy]

I sit up slowly, and move across the room to the door almost grateful that something is happening that gets my blood flowing once more. I'm not entirely sure why I'm doing it, moving across the room to face whoever it is at my door. One hope is that it is Ruth come with further explanations. My mind has been concocting all sorts of horrible ideas. If it isn't Ruth... it's May. I can handle her. If it's someone else... well, then lying in my bed won't stop them. It's frightening to think of, but I'm tired yet suddenly wide awake.

Taking hold of the doorknob, I gently pull the door open to face whoever... whatever is on the other side.

Steel my nerves [roll0]

[zingbobco000]

We'll treat that as a Power roll (mental stability, fortitude, and whatnot), which you succeeded on.
----

You grit your teeth and ready yourself. You're prepared to take on whatever is beyond the do- oh... May stands on the other side, wrapped in her bed jacket.
She steps back in alarm.
“You seemed… not yourself,” she stammers. “I wanted to check up on you.”
You assure May you are in fine health and watch as she returns to her own bedroom. Once the door has closed, you borrow a kitchen chair to wedge under your door handle. Perhaps this piece of fortification will permit you a few hours of restful sleep.

Emberhead, 8:39 AM, September 3rd, 1921

You awaken to the sound of feet in the street outside. Your night’s rest has brought a new determination. Today, you will meet Emberhead on your own terms.
----

You would restore 1 hit point if you lost any, but you're good.
----

The Ledbetter kitchen is empty, although bread and eggs have been laid out for your breakfast. There is a note from May explaining that she has taken Ruth out for a few hours.

You make a quiet circuit of the village, pausing in unobtrusive places to watch the villagers. It is rather busy for this time in the morning. Yawning locals stream back and forward along the roads, carrying bundles of split logs to the site of what you’ve heard referred to as the Beacon. You see two figures already up in its superstructure, arranging the wood. The Festival bonfire will be most impressive. But do you intend to stay to see it? You suspect by now that something is amiss here.
While the villagers are distracted, you may do some illicit investigation. Or you may simply leave town without looking back.
----

Here are some examples of illicit activities: Searching May Ledbetter's bedroom while she's out, going alone to the seemingly unoccupied Village Hall, taking a closer look at the Artisan's Courtyard (specifically that boarded-up building), or spying on activity at The Beacon. Alternatively you can just try to get the heck out of here...

[An Amy]

The town is strangely busy, and May being gone with Ruth... I hope nothing horrible has happened. What are they building in the town? I get the creepy sense that this is some sort of pyre for burning a witch or something. And am I the witch? I shudder that thought and flee back to the Ledbetter home despite the fact that it feels just as cold and uninviting regardless of the number of nights I've slept there. Though... with the two of them out, I guess this would be the best time to pack up, take some provisions and be on my way. Still, the knowledge that out there on the road, in the wilderness, I would most certainly meet my doom. Here? Well, insofar it's just been my imagination. Supported by Ruth's cryptic words, but nothing else... well, other than the feeling of some forthcoming doom and the odd behaviors of the entire town.

I begin looking around the home, May's room, hoping not to be caught but also hoping to settle my indecisiveness. Some sign... something solid to go on. Should I run and chance with the wilds when there is most certainly a demise awaiting me here in the town? I must find... something!

Helen searches the Ledbetter home, May's room for clues. Whatever is needed [roll0]

[zingbobco000]

Despite her hospitality, you do not trust May Ledbetter. You return to her house quite openly. Where else would you go?
Inside, the dwelling is still empty. You rap on the bedroom door and wait. Silence. You ease it open.
The Ledbetter bedroom is in marked contrast to your own, neat space. Dirty clothes are piled about the floor. On a rough quilt lie schoolbooks and cheap novels. You notice a raggedy old doll discarded down the side of the bed.
----

I'm using the 6 you rolled for your Spot Hidden roll.
----

You notice scrapes on the floorboards corresponding to the legs of the bed. With effort, you slide the bed away. There is a rug spread beneath it, and beneath the rug, a trapdoor. You ease it open. The dark space beneath is some kind of cellar.

The daylight barely offers enough illumination to see, but a hot lantern during daytime would be very suspicious. You squeeze beneath the floor and glance around.
Your first impression is that May keeps her junk here, for there are many boxes of different sizes piled in untidy heaps. It takes a few seconds before you realize they are all traveling trunks, or suitcases. There are about twenty of them.
The implication hits you hard. Yet you maintain enough control to check the luggage tags. You count eight or nine different names before you stop. Scrambling back up to the bedroom, you close the trapdoor with trembling fingers, returning the bed to its place.

Emberhead, 9:48 AM, September 3rd, 1921

You feel a deepening unease about Emberhead and this day in particular.
----

Repeating examples of illicit activities: Searching May Ledbetter's bedroom while she's out, going alone to the seemingly unoccupied Village Hall, taking a closer look at the Artisan's Courtyard (specifically that boarded-up building), or spying on activity at The Beacon. Alternatively you can just try to get the heck out of here...
Emberhead, 9:48 AM, September 3rd, 1921

You get out of the house, scrambling as you do. Hidden trapdoors, strange occurences... maybe it was just a cellar? Nevertheless, you feel a deepening unease about Emberhead and this day in particular.
----

Repeating examples of illicit activities: Searching May Ledbetter's bedroom while she's out, going alone to the seemingly unoccupied Village Hall, taking a closer look at the Artisan's Courtyard (specifically that boarded-up building), or spying on activity at The Beacon. Alternatively you can just try to get the heck out of here...

[An Amy]

I emerge from the crawls space beneath May's bed with a sense of dread. I know what is going on. I can see it... there's no festival that's part of a routine, it's just what happens whenever Silas drops of an unsuspecting victim, giving them the same broken down coach story. Why? For what purpose? My mind goes to those novels that I read, but none of them are as dark or twisted. Nothing gives me any sort of insight or preparation. But I know, as assuredly as I know the sun will rise, that those people are not alive anymore. And that if I remain, I too will perish. But what to do? This place is so remote and the wilderness so impossible. Besides... if I stay on the roads I'm likely to be found again and dragged back. Oh my god... my hand rushes to my mouth as I stumble against the wall of the corridor outside the bedroom. What... what is that bonfire for? WHO is it for?

...me...?

They don't know... do they? I'm being watched, but how closely. My every move? Are they just keeping tabs on me? There's more that doesn't make sense, but the sense of dread is, again, overwhelming. I look for provisions in May's house, to see if there's even enough for me to carry and survive. I don't know how long it was on the road since the last town, or how long I'd have to go without food. Kitchen knife? I imagine wolves rushing at me like rabid dogs. My hands shake... I hold them back but my breath can't be calmed. I'll leave everything. I don't care. Nothing I have with me is worth dying over. Burning over. But I must be calm. They don't know. If they did know I saw the other suitcases, I'd be stopped now. But they don't. It's still morning. The bonfire thing and festival aren't going to happen until tonight, right? I have some time.

After squirreling away what I can find, hiding it elsewhere in the home that isn't in the room I have been given, I'll head out for a walk, just to see who is about, who might be watching me... and I'll make my way over to the artisan's area. They were busy with something yesterday. Maybe that'll hold some clues. This town has to have transport of some sort beyond Silas victim delivery service. I don't see enough farmland around. They wouldn't leave themselves entirely cut off, would they? Let's see if there's some tool that'll be useful for me. God, I wish I knew more about them to pick something practical instead of something I think might work like a bat...

[zingbobco000]

You take a look around, many of the villagers appear to be concerned with the construction of the beacon; and yet, every now and then you notice a quick glance from a laborer out towards the center of town... towards you. You look around for farmland and you do see it, but it's all the way down the cliff, and the only real way to access it would be to head out one of the two exits (unless you want to get there as a bloody pulp having fallen off a mountain).

You look around for something, anything that might serve as a quick form of protection, and you recall that May does have a kitchen, maybe... you scramble around and pick up a large cooking knife, it won't be perfect, but it might just save your life. Holding the knife carefully so as not to arouse too much suspicion, you surreptitiously make your way over towards the artisan's courtyard. You approach around the back of the buildings in Emberhead’s northwestern corner. By this time in the morning, you would expect activity in the artisans’ courtyard, but the benches and anvils sit deserted. Your footsteps echo off the surrounding walls, finding it all but abandoned except for that same boarded-up workshop... Looking around to make sure that nobody has noticed your presence, you hurry up to it and look it over. It has been shut up and padlocked. You peek through the joints, but you can see nothing inside.
----

You might be able to try and crack the padlock, or maybe break into the workshop with your strength. Or do you want to simply head off so as to not attract too much attention.

[An Amy]

Didn't I get the hunting knife? I just remembered. That
Also effort to notice further details about the boarded up shop: [roll0]

~~~

Okay... Helen, don't act so paranoid... I try and calm myself as I move about to the artisan's area. I specifically try and appear disappointed to see no one there. And then genuinely curious if the artisans are just in workshops or the like while muttering very quietly to myself about how curious it is no one is around and if they're just 'indoors' and whatever that means. I peep through the boards but can't see anything in that locked up space, but wonder if the place has even been entered. Does that padlock ever come undone? Or does it look like Francine's pantry she goes on and on about saying how fully stocked it always is only to find out it's been fully stocked since the American Revolution. Are there any loose boards... what do loose boards even look like? Well, I know I can spot dust on and around a jar of Pomade and tell when the last time that item had been picked up. But outside, I'm not sure the same clues are available.

[zingbobco000]

You do possess the hunting knife, which could be utilized in either endeavor.
----

You look closer at the padlock. It is old and not particularly secure. You're unsure about when it comes undone (given that you sadly failed that Spot Hidden roll). There are plenty of metal shavings around that could work as improvised picks along with your knife. Meanwhile the boards themselves are well constructed, but the wood has been weakened by years of sun and rain. You may be able to break it open with one fierce charge. You had better make it good, though. You can’t afford to attract attention with repeated tries.

[An Amy]

I'm not keen on giving up about this place. It's locked up for a reason and not to keep people from stealing things. Such a small town... they only have secrets to keep me from seeing them. Whatever is in here must be... important enough to keep me from getting access to. I'm going to try this lock, move it a little, see if I can find something to open it... suddenly thanking my husband for all the times he lost keys and forced me to get creative. So, it's time to get creative again.


~~~~~

Find improvised lock picks: [roll0]
Open lock? [roll1]
Coast is clear...? [roll2]

[zingbobco000]

For this time (and this time only) your Locksmith skill is doubled, which means the 33 is a Success (because the lock is old and not particularly secure).
----

You manage to scrounge around for some picks. Using your knife and then in tandem, the lock clicks open, falling to the floor. You don't notice anyone around you so you push aside the door and step inside the workshop. The air is cool against your face, and you see light glinting through the eaves. The center of the room features a raised slab with a slight slope. An indentation beneath it suggests something sits there. A basin perhaps? Prone shapes are racked against the far wall, covered with red cloth. They look… human…
----

Would you like to investigate further, or have you seen enough?

[An Amy]

I'm... afraid of proceeding further. But this town still holds some illusion of hope that it's not a crazy murderous place and that only May is perhaps... well, I can't fathom right now why she has so many suitcases. All I know is that they do exist. That people have come here before time and again and that they never leave. Ruth says that they would take her too but she's too young. They'll come for me next, and it seems that this festival is fast approaching. But this... somehow... I don't know what it is. Was the lock meant to keep me out... or keep something in.

Slowly, I proceed more into the room, making sure the door shuts but that I hold the lock in my hand. The last thing i want is for something to come around and seal me inside.

[zingbobco000]

You approach the red-shrouded figures, expecting them at any moment to leap up and grab at you. Gripping the lock in your hands you see there are three. Each has a label hanging from its toes:

Benjamin Cramer, 1/19/1921
Abraham Hollingsworth, 4/22/1921
Marian Phipps, 8/6/1921

You lift one corner of the shroud. Underneath, wrapped in tight bandages, is a thin but unmistakably human form. You are looking at three dead bodies. Embalmed dead bodies.
----

Please give me a Sanity roll as you see this sudden horrifying sight.

[An Amy]

Dead... dead people. Of course, what did I expect to find under cloths that looked human. Dead! Oh, this was meant to be hidden from me. All hope of some misunderstanding is shattered and I have to apply all my willpower to keep from screaming...

~~~

Sanity! [roll0]

Edit: bahahaha... waahhh...

[zingbobco000]

Whatever force of willpower you had within you is gone as the full crashing realization of your situation comes to you.
You scream as you clutch your sides, backing away from the bodies in fright.
----

You have Fumbled your Sanity roll, which means you lose the maximum amount of Sanity possible. Luckily it was only 2, but still...
----

A voice cuts through your screams. “So! I thought you looked like a snoop. Like what you found, did you?”
A burly villager fills the doorway, blocking out much of the daylight. You can make out a dark apron, and a thick beard. He steps forward, fist raised.
----

Are you going to go easily, or put up a fight, clutching your knife as you do?

[An Amy]

Realization as to what is going to happen to me, what the plans are for me... these people... they're crazy! They've killed them! They'll kill me too... I scream as the horror hits me so solidly. But the voice behind me causes me to stumble back against the far wall... a large man. A butcher. Come to cut me up and feed me to the townsfolk as part of their festival. I shriek again but cannot manage to open my clenched jaw as well as my hands which grip the single knife I hold forward. I'm shaking so badly I fear I'm going to fall over. What is going on? Why?

"Stay away from me!" I cry out with words that too stumble over themselves. This... this can't be. No!

[zingbobco000]

You brandish the knife. "The hard way then." The man's fists come out of the darkness like hammers.
----

We are going to be entering Combat at this point. Please read the OOC for more information. You have a higher Dexterity than the artisan does, so you shall be going first. Please give me your initial strike, your defensive action, and the accompanying rolls.

[An Amy]

I- I-... I don't know what to do. I'm so scared... Is he going to actually attack me?

~~~

Attack action: none
Defense action: dodge [roll0]


Edit: :eek:

[zingbobco000]

A moment of confusion falls on the artisan's face, is she seriously not going to strike at me? Then recognition falls upon his features. "Hah! You don' have a clue how to use that then, do ya' snoop? Makes it easier to get ya'..." Thus his meaty hands come barreling forth. He begins to press further into the room, trying to corner you.
----

Luckily I rolled a 57, so that means I miss as well. Back to your turn.

[An Amy]

How to use a knife? I know how to use one in the kitchen... but pot roasts aren't trying to come after me with open hands and they most certainly aren't bearded denizens of some wacko village that murders its visitors and offers their bodies up as some sort of insane sacrifice! That's a pretty big difference in how to properly apply a blade! I manage to get out of the way of his hands once, but I feel lucky, definitely lucky. I didn't want to hit him... to kill... but there's a sinking survival instinct telling me that it's going to be his death or my death. I'd rather it not be mine!

Still, I don't know what I'm doing. How to even... use this to hurt him other than stab.

~~~~~

Attack action: None
Defense action: Fight back [roll0] [roll1]

[zingbobco000]

He stares at you as you continue to fight defensively, malice clouding his eyes. "C'mon ya' wimp!" Once more he presses forward. At this point he's almost fully down the stairwell, and malice is clearly in his eyes. However, your knife work, although unskilled seems to be able to protect your small frame quite aptly.
----

Sadly the 29 is a failure, but luckily dice are not on my side and I rolled an 87.

[An Amy]

I keep up whatever seems to be working, trying my best to use this blade gripped tightly in my hands to deter him further. Perhaps he'll give up and run off. But to what? To get help? To alert the whole village that she knows?

...I can't let that happen... But...

"Stay away from met! Get back!" I try with threatening words, though my trembling voice surely doesn't add any weight to them.

~~~

Attack action: non
Defense action: fight back! [roll0] [roll1]

[zingbobco000]

The artisan is at this point getting rather upset. Thus, he rushes at you, trying to pin you against the table with the bodies. However, as he does you flail the knife, eyes closed from fright. When you open them though, he’s standing staring at his hands, which hold blood stemming from a cut in his side. “You cut me... ya’ actually cut me!” This only serves to make him even more mad though. However, you notice something... he’s moved away from the staircase so you might be able to escape...
——

I rolled a 12 which would normally be a hard success, but your 3 is an extreme success which beats mine. However, this next turn you may attempt a Dodge roll to try and escape the artisan’s clutches.

[An Amy]

I don't know how I did that, but the man is coming for me once more. But my actions have only served to anger him further... and now where he might have been careless in approaching me, he's less likely to do so. I... I don't know what to do still. He's moved away from the stairs and I want to flee. I just don't know how. I really can't make my legs move fast and I'm barely able to keep the distance between us the same...

~~~~

Attack action: none
Defense action: fight back [roll0] [roll1]

[zingbobco000]

This time your eyes are open. Are you becoming accustomed to this horrid procedure? You subconsciously shudder at the thought. The man's fists come once more, but his large strides and heavy fists are surprisingly easy to predict... almost like falling objects in the shop, you think to yourself. This time, when he strikes your blade comes up again, there's no force behind the attack, but there's a strange finesse there that you're not really used to. Blood once more comes spurting out as the artisan begins breathing heavily, deciding to give no comment and focus more on catching the wiry woman. However you can't help but wonder if one more good strike with the knife might be able to at least slow him down a bit, then again... his fists are quite large compared to your body.
----

I rolled a 73, this guy is having really bad luck apparently. Anyway, you're up again, the way out is still open, or you can continue to fight him.

[An Amy]

A few cold facts enter my mind as I consider the man still in front of me. One, he will try to kill me or hurt me or do something that will lead to my death. Two, if I run, which now sees like an option, he will alert the others. The whole town will be upon me. Three, I've never killed a human being before in my life... but I feel I'm backed into a corner. Almost literally. There may be a way out of this room, but there seems little way out of this town.

Four, this man has to die.

It's a horrifying feeling and I'm almost feeling... drunk or dizzy thinking about it. Dead bodies. Some dark satanic cult sacrifice being setup right now. A history of so many people being left here and catered to by May and the others...

I must take my chances. I have no choice.

~~

Attack action: Attack! [roll0] [roll1]
Defense action: fight back! [roll2] [roll3]

[zingbobco000]

The man, seeing your slash laughs out loud. "So you got some fight in you after all, wimp!" And right as you think the slash will find its mark, the artisan's fist comes barreling through instead. Knocking your arm aside brutally.
----

Your 45 was sadly a miss, whereas I rolled a 32 for my Fight Back which is a hit dealing 2 points of damage (really unlucky on the damage roll [or very lucky for you depending on your perspective]).
----

However, right as he winds up for the second attack, he winds up a bit too much and you use the opportunity to cut into him again!
----

Now this time I rolled an 81, whereas your 13 is a hit.
----

He yells out in pain, this strike being more severe than the previous two. "I'll..." He trails off, apparently he figures that it would be better to simply concentrate on actually fighting you. Nevertheless, this guy is looking seriously wounded. One more good strike could knock him out or even kill him...

[An Amy]

There's a frightening determination within me. I'm shaking so much, I'm surprised I can even hold this blade. I tighten my fingers around it like it's the last thing I'll ever hold. There's a good chance that's true. Going down without a fight isn't even something I ever considered my life would come to. So now that it has... well, it will be known that I did fight. That I did swing and thrash and struggle. If this is to be my last few breaths, I only pray that my brother alerts someone, that the franchise owner alerts someone. That somehow my death won't just result in yet another set of luggage cast beneath May's floorboards but be the last. If only I felt that were true, I could perhaps go gracefully...

But I've always pushed that boundary a little and dared to do things unexpected.

~~

Attack action: Freedom! [roll0] [roll1]
Defense Action: ...Freedom? [roll2] [roll3]

[zingbobco000]

Right as you think that, the man's fists come and give you a sudden punch to your shoulder as you cry out in pain the injury throbs along with the previous one, and you cannot help but wonder if you'll make it out. It most certainly hurts, but most of the pain seems to come from surprise, as he wasn't able to fully land the attack.
----

I got a 33 for my Fighting Back roll, which is a Success dealing 3 damage.
----

You're bleeding a bit now, you highly doubt you could take a solid punch from the man. Luckily it seems he's only been dealing glancing blows to you. However, right as the fist is about to slam into your chest, you do all that you can, everything in your power to cut, as slash his wrists. His legs buckle from the pain, and he slams to the floor. Blood drips down his apron. His eyes flutter...
----

I got a 64 for my attack, which is beaten by your 7, which means that you deal 2 damage, which is just enough! He's currently barely alive, but he still has a little bit left in him (although clearly not enough to continue the fight). Would you like figure out what the heck is up with those bodies or just get out of here?

[An Amy]

The strikes to my body are painful and I'm feeling both out of breath and at the end of my ropes. All of them. I've no ropes left. No ladder. And the ground is still so far away, but when the big guy falls with my last strike, I feel... well, a sudden rush of victory, euphoria, excitement, darkness... did I just kill him?

"Hey... not yet, you don't. How do I get out of here? Horse? Wagon? What? What happens at the festival?"

[zingbobco000]

The artisan sniffs, trying to clear his nose of blood. He seems to slip in and out of consciousness. You loom over him, threatening further violence unless he talks about what's going on.
“Heh... you'll never... escape." It just barely comes out. When you ask about the festival, he seeme to misintepret your question and looks towards the bodies. "Just… villagers,” he rasps. “Died… natural. We save them for… the Festival.”
His eyes close and his head lolls to the side. You can close him up in the workshop while you think about your next move.

Emberhead, 11:02 AM, September 1st, 1921

Nothing is right in this town, and everything seems to be conspiring against your escape...
----

Repeating examples of illicit activities: Searching May Ledbetter's bedroom while she's out, going alone to the seemingly unoccupied Village Hall, taking a closer look at the Artisan's Courtyard (specifically that boarded-up building), or spying on activity at The Beacon. Alternatively you can just try to get the heck out of here...

[An Amy]

So many terrible thoughts go through my mind. I'm... struggling with them. The man is out cold but he's still breathing. Just barely so... I'm not sure if he'll ever wake up again, but even so, it won't be for a long while. I have the lock. I could lock him in here... not that it would keep very well. He could likely knock out the windows or at least get someone's attention. And if that happened, the whole town would give up its ruse and swarm over me.

But if I kill him? I almost vomit considering it. My hand trembling. I know some where, some pragmatic side of me tells me to do just that. To finish him off. He's another human. These people would kill me. I... I don't have proof of that. He said these were villagers that died naturally. I don't know their names or the names of the people's luggage to match. He could be lying. But he said I'll never get away... and get away is what I must do. Can... can I kill for my own life? If I had been even just one bit more or less with the blade, he could be dead. I was defending myself. But now... he's helpless. He's unconscious. Helen! What am I going to do?

I raise the knife somehow over the man. I close my eyes, telling myself that I can do it. I can end him. I can remove this threat and the future threats he poses. With that I can make it out alive. I can survive. I can run away and get help. But I can't if the town gets me first. If this man wakes up and alerts them. But... but can I kill? Can I murder? My hand is trembling. My body is trembling. I'm not a killer... I'm a shop keeper. I'm a widow. I'm not a killer. I'm definitely not...

I feel the knife lower into the man's chest. I gasp as I release the handle of it and scatter across the floor backwards. I- I- I can't breathe... I just- just killed him? No, I didn't. I wasn't going to. I- I-

I leave quietly and calmly despite how my heart is making transatlantic voyages in my chest. I have to force my breathing to be calm and steady. I get the lock and put it back on the door. As if no one was ever here. I look down at my hands... and I'm still holding the bloody blade. I drop it but reach down quickly to pick it back up thinking, oddly enough, that leaving it around would be bad if someone found it and wondered whose blood it was and decided to investigate the locked shed. But what to do now?

I'll go back to May's. I'll pack some things and then leave. Wolves or forest be damned... I'll keep my eyes out though in case I see someone watching, following. If they see me, it'll be too late. Might as well run. If no one does... well, all the better. I just have to get out.

[zingbobco000]

Welp, that's most certainly a Sanity roll for killing someone.
----

As you approach the southern road that descends to the lower ridge, you see four villagers blocking the route, with farm tools and clubs. You veer off and head towards the west road. Your heart sinks as you see exactly the same scene at the only other exit from the village. You are trapped.
----

Would you like to try and quickly talk your way past the guard group? Maybe find some sort of disguise? Or do you want to try something else?

[An Amy]

Yeah, that does make total sense... I'll correct if she fails. It would likely change what she ended up being able to do afterward. [roll0]

[zingbobco000]

That's a Success so Helen loses 1 Sanity (you can still lose sanity on a failure). However, you're still in full control of your actions, rationalizing that there was no other way (whether or not this is the correct assumption).

[An Amy]

The roads are blocked... they know I could leave. Why now though? Was it me leaving earlier that they decided to keep me from doing that again? Are they just getting close and want to make sure I stay? Do... do they suspect I know something and would want to leave? And what's the point of keeping me here if I'm free to roam about? I would think it would be more convenient for them to just find me, tie me up somewhere and keep me secure until whenever I'm needed. I don't know what anything has to do with anything else. Truly... if they wanted to kill me eventually, there shouldn't be any use to any sort of deception and hiding true intentions. If they are going to be revealed anyway...

If that's not the case then... well, are they going to kill me? And... did I just kill a man thinking that... No. I can't back away from that here. This town will end up the death of me if I don't do something. I don't know why they're acting and going about the way they are, but I need to find out something else. How to get out... how to get those men off the road. I wonder... I wonder if the guy in the village hall, what's his name's office. Is something there? Is that telegraph really down? Is there something useful there? There are so many other houses here, it's a marvel the place functions as well as it does on this hill. They have to go get food sometime. I'll bet Winters, if that was his names, knows something and it could be down in a book or schedule.

I round from the west road back to Mays and then behind the artisans... keeping my pace quick and light as I pass the abandoned hut of death and murder... and head to the village hall hoping that it's all empty.

[zingbobco000]

Thus you approach the village hall from the rear. It is close to the Beacon and you will not be able to use the door unobserved. You check the windows. The one on the east side, facing the Beacon, is bricked up.
A shutter is loose on the westernmost window and you are able to ease it open and slide inside, closing the shutter behind you. You drop into the village meeting room and pad through, passing through dim shafts of light and listening to the excited chatter of the locals from outside. The door opposite reads PRIVATE. Hearing nothing from the other side, you turn the handle.

The room is lined with books. In the corner is a small water closet and pantry. A quick survey of the rest of the room reveals little, the telegraph is, in fact, down, so you turn to the bookcase. The dim light makes it difficult to read the spines. Is there anything useful here?
----

Please give me a Spot Hidden roll.

[An Amy]

Reveal your secrets, room! [roll0]

[zingbobco000]

Tucked between two books, you find a detailed map of the area around Emberhead (see the OOC (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=24140542&postcount=27)). It shows woodland, contours, and the two roads, east and west. Although no other settlements are marked, this may prove useful if you do decide to leave today.
The clatter of activity around the Beacon seems to be building and you flinch at every conversation that gets too close to the building’s door. It feels like the right time to retrace your steps and slip away through the window.
----

Would you like to head out, or are you planning on just hiding out here?

[An Amy]

I don't want to be trapped in the town hall. But I don't know where else to go at the moment. Does it really matter? If I stay here or if I go somewhere else in the town, I'm still in the town. They can get to me anywhere. I could hide... but... I don't know where to do that. How to do that. And eventually I would be found. It would just be a matter of a few days and I'd starve or go thirsty. Unless I can get through those men on the road, I have no way of getting out. Unless I'm somehow impossible or unreasonable for them to tolerate, but I'm just a woman. Sure I've... killed a man. But I contribute that to luck more than anything. Cold hard survivalist luck. I can't possibly pose enough of a threat for the town to just let me go.

Though I imagine that if I killed enough people they'd be frightened of me. At that point, I'd be frightened of me too.

I could also escape the town's fate for me by killing just one person. Myself...

I shudder at such dark thoughts and just wish I could have found something useful. But the voices are getting too close. Even if it's an eventuality that I'm taken or discovered, I don't want it to be yet. I need to hold onto hope, somehow.

I leave the village hall with only but a map to show me what I already knew. There's nothing here for me. No way out...

[zingbobco000]

Right as you walk out of the village hall you see one villager, a bald man with a damaged ear, watching you intently. Some instinct makes you walk in the other direction. Then you see the others, ahead, and to your sides: a wary teenager, an evil-eyed matron, and a man hefting a club. They are not staring as obviously as the first, but they keep you under watch. And they are closing in. You cannot hope to overcome four of them at once.
----

Are you going to try and lose them among the buildings? Or is your plan just to make a run for it?

[An Amy]

I try and move as strategically as I can so that I might lose them among the village's houses and such. I know I can't take them on... hells, I don't think I can take on one person right now. Memory of that man in the basement of the shed is still haunting me. I'm still too hurt from that. Even though I... won? Well, even though I got away, at least. If I can manage to break line of sight, I'll try and dart off... but to where? I'm not sure. I just need to get away from them. I have no other clue what to do.

[zingbobco000]

You dart down an alley, then turn and head in a completely different direction. Running feet sound behind you. For the first time you feel Emberhead’s cramped, chaotic streets work in your favor. You try to circle round towards the southern road.
----

Please give me a Stealth roll with a Bonus Die due to the fact that you have a map of the village.

[An Amy]

Not sure what a bonus die is...
Stealth [roll0]
Bonus? [roll1]

[zingbobco000]

Oh! I'm so sorry I thought I'd explained Bonus Dice. Essentially you roll another 1d10 and you may use that instead of the ten's place if it's lower (conversely a Penalty Die is the opposite). Anyway, I'm afraid that such a roll would not pass.
----

You turn a corner and walk straight into the formidable woman with the malevolent stare. She grabs your shoulders and bears down on you. As you struggle, the man with the club runs up with the teenager. You are quickly overcome.

The fading light from a narrow window tells you afternoon is giving way to evening. Your hands are shackled behind your back so you cannot even lie down on the rough bed. A woman you have not seen before comes in. Her face is wrinkled and her eyes dull. They do not meet yours, but she puts a cup to your lips.
----

Do you accept or reject this drink?

[An Amy]

I accept the drink only well enough to spit it back at her as I lunge as upwards as possible to knock the cup from her hands or knock her from her feet, continually spitting whatever they were trying to force upon me. My heart hasn't stopped pounding even as they gathered me and brought me here.

[zingbobco000]

You start to drink as she smiles, is that... relief washing over her fa-. Suddenly it transforms into fright as the cup is dashed and the liquid spills across the floor. The woman backs away, giving a half-shrug and turns to leave the room. You shout after her, but she gives no reaction.
You soon become thirsty.

As the light fades outside, your little prison becomes dark. You can hear much activity around the building. Occasionally an orange glow passes the window. The only comfortable position in the shackles seems to be to sit against the end of the bed with your arms hanging behind you.
You need to concentrate and come up with a plan. There is clearly no escape from your bonds. You do not know exactly what your captors want from you, but you cannot ignore the fact that they have spent the entire day constructing a massive bonfire.

The door scrapes, wrenching you back into the moment. Orange light spills into the house from blazing torches held at the threshold. Two large villagers step in and grab you. At least, you assume they are villagers. They wear heavy black cloaks, and their faces and hands are painted entirely black, save only for a red triangle centered on their left eye.
You try to drag your legs, but they reach under your arms and lift you bodily from the bed. Outside, it seems that the whole village has congregated to see you. Every single one has a blackened face with the red triangle motif. Torches sputter and spill fire.
You struggle, but you can see physical resistance is hopeless. You are marched to the central street and turned to face the Beacon.

https://s3.amazonaws.com/files.d20.io/images/89720049/L3DvTjcxLrld25ihsdRf4Q/max.png?1566314911

The procession down The Approach is slow and formal, save when you sense weakness and yank at your captors. A chill touches you when you see three human shapes carried ahead of you, draped in red cloth. The Beacon looms larger and larger, its dreadful silhouette a black triangle pointing to the stars. A low drone begins among the cloaked figures—unbidden, the word mourners comes to mind. Smoke from their torches makes you cough. You feel heat on your face.
As you reach the cleared area around the Beacon, three dancers break from the pack: young girls swinging balls of fire in spectacular arcs, drawing circles in the night air. One by one, they draw close to you and touch your forehead with sooty fingers. Each kisses you three times: on the left cheek, right cheek, then forehead. Then they whisper in your ear. The smell of kerosene fills your nostrils.
----

Please give me an Appearance roll.

[An Amy]

(I'm hesitant to read poor helen's death, but ^_^)
Appearance [roll0]

The fear within her in almost insurmountable.

"Let me go! What are you all doing? Let me go!" I shout and struggle, but it's useless. I cannot remove the bindings, I cannot break from the grip of these men. "This is insane!"

[zingbobco000]

They do not respond to you.

“Through your sacrifice the village will be reborn,” says the first dancer.
“You pass from earth to air for all our sakes,” says the second.
“I’ve weakened the chains,” says the third. “Don’t try to escape until the flames are high enough to hide you.”
You stare at the third dancer. In that inky visage you clearly discern the frightened features of Ruth Ledbetter.
Their dance weaves off and disappears behind the buildings.

As you arrive beneath the beacon, ten villagers close in on you. Working with surprising coordination, they immobilize you and lift you up the blackened iron stairs to the raised platform. You cannot help but shiver at the sight of the central framework, twisted from past blazes, and what you can now clearly see to be fastening points for chain. None of the eyes meet yours as they lash you to the metal.
The village sings now, something rhythmic and ancient, carved from odd syllables. A second group ascends to the Beacon, carrying the three red-draped bodies. With reverence, they arrange their burdens in a triangle around your feet. Then they withdraw, leaving you alone with the dead, shin-deep in a sea of kindling.

It seems the entire village is gathered around the Beacon to watch you burn. Behind the face paint, you recognize May Ledbetter, and—yes, that is Silas the coach driver standing at her side. The audacity and scale of the deception staggers you. A man steps up on a dais and raises his hands with quiet authority. The frame of his spectacles obscures the red triangle on his face.
“So we draw here together again on this night, as we do each year, and we give thanks to the one who will preserve the village against the fire of the void. You will be taken by the Ones From Above in our stead. Your death will bring life to our streets and bounty to our fields. It will safeguard our children and our elders alike for another year. We salute you.” He bows his head.
All around the Beacon, bearers step forward and lift their torches to the edge of the raised platform. A ring of tiny flames flicker up around the perimeter. As they wink, the singing of the villagers drops into an unearthly rhythm. They stare at you, and you stare back, watching as you are held clearly in their vision.
----

Would you like to throw all of your remaining strength against the bonds right now or wait for a moment and see what happens?

[An Amy]

I have no way of thinking of what is happening. Silas, May... I only have regrets that I turned around when I had the chance the first time I walked from the village. That I didn't charge one of the four on the road to get by. Why can't I now fight with my teeth, my nails, my bones if I must. My only clinging hope is that somehow Ruth is right... that she weakened the chains. Until the flames hide me? From where can I go then? Through flames tall enough to hide me? Or will something else happen... But all the while I weep, I wail, tears running down my neck and inaudible gibberish falling from my lips as I can't even form pleas, I can't even beg.

I wait... the only thing that can save me is to put faith in this young girl. I may have doubts but I also have no other options. I just can't believe my life has come to this...

[zingbobco000]

The flames snake across the kindling, catching and rising. Smoke rises and it becomes difficult to see the villagers. The three bodies surrounding you catch fire, blazing with sooty red flames. You begin to cough as the smoke enters your lungs, and fight down the urge to panic.

Flames lick at your legs. Your eyes water. You are shrouded in smoke. It might be your imagination, but you think you can feel a slight give in the chains. You throw yourself against them, giving no thought to how they bite into your wrists.
----

You take 3 damage as you're currently burning up. Please give me a Strength roll with a Bonus Die because you waited.

[An Amy]

It's all I can do to keep from passing out from the lack of air. The smoke... oh, it would be a mercy to just go out black and not have the pain of burning. I hold on though, feeling the heat of the flames, keeping myself going only because I feel it is the only way to actually survive this. I haven't the faintest idea what I'm going to do if I break free. The entire village is there. I can't possibly out run all of them. Even Silas is here. Wait... he's here! So would be his coach! If he ever left at all! Oh by the blessed... there is a way out!

~~~

Strength [roll0]
Bonus [roll1]

[zingbobco000]

Desperation lends you strength and you yank at what you guess to be the weak point in the chain. It breaks! You throw the chain off, stumbling across one of the red-shrouded corpses, heading away from the watching villagers. You cough. Your hair and eyebrows smolder.
----

You take 2 more damage as you run across literal fire (for reference you now have 1 left, jeez... it's a good thing that Artisan didn't hit any harder).
----

You leap from the conflagration on the far side of the Beacon. Your heart lurches momentarily at the sight of the sheer drop beneath you, but you land a few inches short of the edge. You roll to extinguish your burning clothes. Your lungs feel singed. Everything hurts. The chant of the villagers gathers in intensity. You peer around the Beacon. They don’t seem to have noticed your absence amidst the billowing smoke. Most of them are staring into the sky.
You crawl as rapidly as you can for the cover of the nearest building.

With the villagers assembled at the Beacon, the streets are empty and you are able to pad away from the blaze. You must get out of town before they finish.
The chanting seems to accelerate as you round the corner of the southern road. Silas' motor coach is nowhere to be seen, but here, parked against the side of the general store, you have your first piece of luck since reaching Emberhead. A bicycle! You learned to ride one of these in Providence.
You settle into the saddle. Your burned flesh protests at the contact.
----

Do you wish to wait for just a bit to observe the goings-on at the beacon? Or would you rather simply get the heck out of dodge?

[An Amy]

"Thank you, Ruth..." I mutter to myself as I grasp the handlebars of the bike. I take one look back toward the billowing smoke that is the beacon with no courage to remain there any longer. I'm not going to waste a precious second given to me. "I'm sorry I can't take you with me."

I mount the bike and head away.

[zingbobco000]

It takes a moment to recapture the skill of riding the bicycle, but after the first turn to the east, there is a long downhill out of Emberhead. You hear screams and crackles above you, but concentrate on balancing and working the pedals in your weakened state. You’ve had too many hopes dashed in this abomination of a village. You keep your head down and ride away. Every now and then you rest and glance back, seeing nothing but flames.
Twenty minutes later, with no signs of pursuit, you stop for a breather having walked your bike to the top of a hill. You can see Emberhead rise in the distance. The entire village appears to be ablaze. The dark column of smoke above it will be visible for many miles—but if the village is as isolated as it seems, help is unlikely to arrive in time.
You watch the place burn for five minutes. Then you mount the bicycle again and ride towards civilization, and dawn.
----

Congratulations! You have survived this adventure. You may keep your investigator sheet and use it in another Call of Cthulhu scenario. You will have a chance to improve some skills through experience as I'll describe in the OOC.
The End.