"There is a house," begins Dudley Davenport, taking a swig from the generous glass of scotch he holds. "A house I recently bought at auction with the intention of redecorating and renting out for a considerable profit. I bought it cheaply, and with little caution." He swigs again from the glass, nearly draining it. He pauses again and eyes each of you in turn. He looks comfortable behind his desk, firmly ensconced in an office lined with all the evidence of a life spent accumulating money and good standing in the local community of Arkham. Framed certificates of charitable giving signed by the Mayor. A photograph of Davenport shaking hands with a state senator at the opening of the recently built Derleth wing of the Miskatonic University. Well-dusted paintings of the bucolic countryside around Arkham. A bristling moustache furnishes his upper lip, and his clothes speak plainly of his wealth and respectable taste.
"Haste which I now regret. There were certain ... occurrences ... with the previous tenants of which I was unaware when I made the purchase. These occurrences have made renting the property out difficult, to say the least. Impossible, in fact. The old Corbitt House on Carter Street has been empty for six months and it's reputation has put a hole in my finances I do not care to see grow any deeper. The previous tenants, the Macarios, went mad after some nonsense or other, and have been committed. I'm sure you know what such things can give rise to. All it takes is the merest hint of hysteria and wild tales of strange goings on and suddenly gossip-mongerers are telling tall tales about ghosts and honest, hard-working folk like myself are out of pocket."
He leans over his desk. "I mean to see these damnable rumours put to rest, and the house occupied and profitable with two weeks. And that is why I've asked you all here today. You don't know each other, but you, as a group, will be able to proclaim my house clear of any hint of the superstitious nonsense that has plagued it."
"Dr. Goodman here is a woman of learning, and, though a woman, her word will carry weight with reasonable men when she confirms the house is entirely safe. Mr MacPhail is an acquaintance of mine who will be able to deal with any vagrants who have taken the opportunity to occupy the house while it has been left unattended. George here will take care of any handyman work that needs doing around the house before renting it out, and check that these rumours didn't start with squeaky pipes or some other perfectly natural noises. Chet is there to persuade any reluctant authorities to approve any permits for the work George needs to perform and to keep a cool eye on proceedings." He pauses before moving on to the last of your odd group. "Young Cecil is currently working for me here, learning about the world of business as a favour to his father. He will accompany you and learn some of the practicalities of business, something which so far I have not been able to drum into him here. Jisandra is a woman with some standing in certain circles I myself do not frequent. My wife, however, has seen fit to purchase her services as an astrologer and fortune teller, and I am given to understand that her awarding a clean bill of health, as it were, will help as much as Dr Goodman's more rational good word."
He drains his glass. He has made no move to offer any of you a drink, and has kept you standing while he sits behind his desk. "I pay $20 a day, split between you however you wish, with a bonus of $100 when you confirm the house's lack of supernatural occupation." He snorts in derision at the very idea of the haunting.
"I advise you to get to the bottom of the rumours by talking to the Macarios, if you can get any sense out of them. Stories have reached my ears of other occurences years ago, but I suspect these to be idle gossip, nothing less. If not, I am sure a library or the Arkham Observer will contain pertinent records. Any questions?"
Quick rules found
here.
Characters are on The Keep, under the username PATheHaunting, except for
Jimmy McPhail
All dice rolls should be made on Invisible Castle, using PA The Haunting as the campaign name. Please cut and paste that, so I can keep track.
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and the gengars who are guiding me" -- W.S. Merwin
"As for the age of the house, I am not sure. The deeds do not mention the exact date the house was built, but I believe it was before the Civil War."
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And what a motley crew he had assembled for his task. He said he'd be calling in specialists, but this bordered on the ridiculous. Cecil sighed, it'd be better for him not to ask any questions at this point. Let those professionals handle it. What did he know about old houses anyway?
Looking at the rest of the group she wondered what they might have in common, thinking it was very little. Hopefully this task would not take very long.
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"I don't spook easy. We check out the house, and get paid."
and the gengars who are guiding me" -- W.S. Merwin
It's still sunny, but the air feels colder in this part of town for some reason. The old Corbitt House stands well back from the street, fronted by a generous but overgrown lawn. It nestles between office buildings that rise several storeys higher on both sides, and seems to hunker down there in the looming shadows. A small upper storey stops the house, but behind every window you can see drawn curtains.
There appears to be no one on the street itself, save what might be an old man behind a cigar and newspaper stand at the other end of the street. From inside the offices you can hear some bustle and work, but it seems subdued, as if the noise does not carry well to the old Corbitt House. The key to the house seems heavy in your pocket.
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"Ayuh, there's bin a whole lotta strange goings on about the old Corbitt House. Ain't a year since the fella livin' there ran out covered in blood. Screaming 'bout a fella stabbed him. Only weren't nobody in the house but him and his family. Went insane, so they say, bin locked up now since then. Wife went plum crazy too, so I hear. Then there wuz that family lived here after the war, didn't last too long. Moved out after jus' two weeks, talking' 'bout crazy noises at night and such. And what wuz that other thing, made a big fuss at the time?" He drifts off in memory for a while, and provides nothing further. You think he might know more, but without knowing what you're looking for it will be nigh on impossible to get more out of him.
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It's very quiet. The noise from the offices seems to be muffled by some withering trees on either side of the house, but no birdsong issues from their branches. No crickets chirp and no one except your companions seems to be on the street. Your companions, you notice, have stayed several paces behind you as you unlock the door.
Your give the door a shove, but it seems jammed, or blocked, as though something heavy were pushing back against it. Almost certainly this is the heat expanding the wood and cracking it's boards to fill the doorway. You shove harder, and suddenly the resistance is gone, and you stumble forward into the house.
It's very dark inside, and the wan sunlight from the doorway does little but illuminate falling dust disturbed by your entry. There are doorways immediately to your right and left, and the hallway extends to what you think is the other side of the house. Two further doorways on the left and one on the right are indistinct. There might be stairs at the end of the hallway, but without any light you won't be able to tell unless you get closer.
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"The fella at the end of the street doesn't seem to know much" he says, addressing nobody in particular as he took in the interior of the house. "First tenant got shivved, the folk that moved in afterwards ended up in the nuthouse, load of hooey about strange noises and such."
"I'd lay money there's a couple of hobos using the place as a den. Need to figure out if there's a way in or out that isn't the front door. Anybody stop off for those lanterns?"
"Old man Dudley should've left us some flashlights, but he's been known to screw up. Maybe that old geezer can direct us to a tools store."
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I mean, aside from
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rC5aGCOT6bs
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The living room contains little other than conventional furniture: a radio, a couch, two stuffed chairs, some shelves lined with books and gewgaws. A picture of Christ hangs next to the door. One of the Virgin hangs on the wall opposite, under which dangles a rosary. You notice several shelves hold other, smaller, portraits of religious figures. Crucifixes also seem to be in abundance.
The windows to your right and ahead of you have tightly drawn curtains.
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and the gengars who are guiding me" -- W.S. Merwin
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Leaving the living room and returning to the hallway, you push open the door you ignored earlier. It appears to be a storage room of some kind. Old and broken furniture little the place. A large writing desk is shoved up against the far wall.
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Flicking rapidly through the book you quickly realise it is a diary written over the course of the middle decades of the last century, and detail the life of William Corbitt, the occupant during those years. His writing is archaic and the phrasing odd, but from what fragments you are able to read in this poor light it seems Mr. Corbitt lived a strange life indeed. Odd occurences and experiments are mentioned and curious names abound throughout the pages. You think it likely that Corbitt was not entirely in his right mind. It will require further study to understand these diaries in full, and must be done somewhere quiet and well-lit.
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You know they weren't here for very long, so clearing out a long-ignored room of junk may have been a task to which they had not yet attended.
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Is there anything else in the junk room?
You feel that understanding the diaries fully will take two days of dedicated study.
The book also contains a spell that will take 2D6 weeks to learn (Summon/Bind Dimensional Shambler, hence the mentions of the 'shambler' above), but we will leave that for now as it's unlikely you'll be able to learn it before the adventure ends.
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