River Of Shadows (1895)

by Tsukiyumi » Fri Oct 07, 2011 4:41 pm
“What happened, sir, is that this man came at Mister Bell with yonder shovel, and I and the Lady Brewster put him down. The peculiar thing is that he was almost certainly dead before we shot him. I have seen men hanged, and no one survives a neck broken like that.” Willem walked out next to Charles with his pistol still drawn. He prodded the corpse with the toe of his boot before crouching next to the detective.

“A hand, good sir?” he asked, lifting the huge body by the shoulders and dragging it up the steps. Charles grabbed the legs, and they hauled what was left up onto the porch. It was quite clear that the man’s neck had been hanging at an obscure angle before the shooting, among other impossible damage.

“Mrs. Brewster, will you please go and wake Doctor Zelman, and make Doctor May aware that we just shot an ambulatory dead man on his front lawn?”

by Lighthawk » Fri Oct 07, 2011 5:34 pm
"Begging your pardon," Claude said, in a tone of forced politeness. "But well...well come on man, are you listening to what you're saying? A walking dead man? I've never heard anything so...so..."

"Fascinating," Silvia supplied, who was too transfixed by the body to give noticed to the resigned and aggrieved expression that came over Claude's features.

by Tsukiyumi » Tue Oct 11, 2011 12:21 am
“Fascinating indeed.” Doctor May said from the doorway. Ibrahim stood next to him, cradling a very large double-barreled shotgun in his arms.

“Ibrahim, help us bring this man inside for a more proper examination. Bring him into my office.” Ibrahim appeared shocked at this request, but nodded, tight-lipped, and gathered the man’s feet after handing the cannon to Doctor May. Others grabbed the man’s arms, and they carried him past the den, down the hallway to May’s office door. May removed a silver key from a chain around his neck, and unlocked the heavy door. Inside, May lit a number of lanterns as the huge corpse was placed onto the operating table in the center of the room. A large walnut desk occupied the south wall, and a small bathroom was nestled in the northeast corner. The entire west wall was covered by a large tarpaulin.

“Ibrahim, head down to the basement, and see about restoring electricity; Doctor Zelman and I will need the overhead light to do a proper autopsy.” At this, Ibrahim bowed, and turned to leave the room.

by Mikey » Tue Oct 18, 2011 10:28 am
As the group manhandled the corpse onto the operating table, Charles lingered to inspect it once again. Immediately, he wished he hadn't. He shuddered as he looked over the nearly-severed head, the battered torso, and the compound leg fracture that should have made walking impossible... inasmuch as it would have been possible for someone who'd already assumed room temperature. He shuddered, despite his experience with gruesome scenes, and was glad of the distraction of Dr. Zelman finally entering the room.

Zelman was clad in shirtsleeves and vest, without collar, tie, or jacket, and clutched his medical case under one arm. He looked around in some confusion until he saw the huge specimen on the table. His jaw set firmly, he marched over and set down his bag. His expression changed to one of annoyance quickly, though, and he spoke to the assembled group generally. "Du lieber Gott, exactly who needed me to determine the cause of death for a man's whose head's been cut nearly off his body?"

Klein stepped forward. "There's the problem, doctor. He was dead prior to any of us ever seeing him... unfortunately, he was still walking toward the house."

"I see my attention is needed more than I thought."

"I assure you, doctor," Klein replied quietly, "that I am as sober and clear-headed as a judge. This man was walking - or rather, shambling - up the path and menacing the house with his head hanging at an angle that I had thought indicated a break from hanging."

"Let us suppose," Zelman continued after a pause, "that this is somehow both possible and true." He turned back to the body, and began to produce instruments from his bag to examine the corpse. After a few moments he turned back to the assembled watchers with a surprisingly businesslike expression. "I apologize," he said, with a slight nod toward Klein. "This man has been dead for at least twelve hours. The head has been nearly severed, up to the cervical vertebrae, with a blunt blade... a spade or somesuch, perhaps. The upper torso has been subjected to widespread trauma or pressure, with several ribs cracked, and there is a compound femoral fracture indicating considerable pressure as well... both instances appearing to be concurrent with the killing blow to the neck."

He turned back to his grisly work as Charles again faced the rest of the room, his gaze finally landing briefly on Klein. "He was a laborer, judging by the work clothes and boots... I'd like to hear your ideas; my guess is he was a a longshoreman or worked for a shipwright or carpenter. That dark mud all over him indicates a wet area, and the pine tar means he was pitching some sort of woodwork. Or, of course," Charles laughed ruefully, "he was buried right after his neck got opened, and he just clawed out of a cheap box and shallow grave." His voice trailed off as his attempt at humor fizzled into eeriness.

"Robert?" Zelman's quick query made everyone look sharply at the operating table. The doctor was still bent over the specimen, but was holding up one of its arms and indicating the intricate tattooing all over it. Rows of stylized pictures seemed to be enscribed all over the man's skin. "This is some sort of runic or pictographic writing, but I'm at sea with it. You have experience with cuneiform and heiroglyphs, yes?"

Robert, who had come into the theater after Zelman and had obviously not dressed for bed - instead just discarding his vest and tie and unbuttoning his collar - crept forward and studied the gruesome corpse dispassionately. He leaned in for a closer gaze at the tattoos, and finally straightened as Zelman busied himself with swabbing and peering at some blood from the corpse's neck wound. "It's no form I recognize... not heiroglyphs per se, nor is it Asiatic pictogrammatical writing."

"Hmm," Zelman grunted as he produced a syringe and began to extract vials of blood from the opposite arm of the dead man. "Dr. May," he said, straightening, "do you have laboratory facilities? There is something askew in this... creature's blood which bears further analysis."

by Lighthawk » Thu Oct 27, 2011 8:05 pm
Silvia had fallen back a bit as the body was moved, and did not try to push back along side it as Dr. Zelman made his investigation, letting him have space to work. Instead she took the time to take in the entire picture of the dead man, muttering softly to herself. Once the Doctor pointed out the tattoos however, she couldn't help but move closer to look.

"Runic symbols for sure," she spoke softly. "But I'm not familiar with these. Does anyone have any writing material on hand?"

Claude meanwhile stepped up to the corpse, and gingerly ran a finger through the very dark mud that was splattered on the body. Without a word he strode out of the room.

by Tsukiyumi » Wed Nov 02, 2011 2:06 pm

September 22, 1895, 12:27 AM EST

As Ibrahim descended the stairs from the basement level into the subbasement below, he felt a presence in the storeroom behind him. He smiled thinly as he continued down the stairs; he knew the passageways down here better than Doctor May, and even he would have a difficult time finding his way in the pitch blackness. He hoped whoever it was would wisely return upstairs before the light of his torch was gone completely.

*** ***

September 22, 1895, 12:38 AM EST

“Anyone who is interested, please follow me down to the laboratory in the basement to assist in the blood analysis.” May stated, taking the samples in their small test tubes, and heading for the door, “The rest of you are welcome to browse through the library upstairs, or the one adjacent to the lab in the basement, though I must ask everyone to leave the office while I am not present; some of my work is sensitive, and while I do not doubt the honesty of those I’ve invited here, I do not wish to provide unneeded temptation either.”

After ushering everyone from the office and locking the door, May and the group working on the blood headed into the workshop, and down a spiral stone staircase under a large metal hatch. The others went various places; at Sandy’s suggestion, Willem and Maude took up watch positions on the second floor. Robert, Sylvia and Sandy headed for the upstairs library to continue going through Wentworth May’s notes for clues about the runes covering the corpse. Cookie sat alone in the den, sipping a bottle of whiskey; eventually, he headed upstairs to retire for the evening.

Power was restored just before the last of May’s group left the staircase; a pair of overhead bulbs flickered to life, revealing the large storeroom they had entered. The room was filled with equipment of varying types, and dusty, wooden shelves fully stocked with parts. At the south end of the room, two passages led off to the east and west; these were still completely dark until May threw a large switch on the wall. Another staircase near the east wall led even further down; a dim light issued from the stone maw of the stairwell, and the sound of machinery churning away in the depths could be faintly heard.

“This way, folks; the lab is just down this hall. I found this soon after I began moving my belongings into the house; my father conducted most of his experiments down here.” May led them down the east passage, along a narrow-gauge rail, into a convergence of hallways. To the south was a small room with large openings, and the terminus of the dumbwaiter that had been blocked off in the house above. At its location next to a branch of the tracks, it had obviously been used to help bring down supplies and building materials for the construction of the house’s infrastructure. Further past it was another passage running east-west, and what appeared to be a large wooden door to the south. Heading past this, the group passed another branch of the tracks leading to another passage to the east, and a large metal door.

The fairly large laboratory was just north of this, and the group was astonished at its modernity after May threw another large switch and activated the series of overhead lights. The lights themselves were astounding; they were nearly six feet in length, and gave off a strangely cold white glare, quite dissimilar to the incandescent bulbs in the rest of the house. The lab was stocked with all manner of modern equipment and supplies, including a number of light microscopes and centrifuges; May headed for one of the latter with the samples.

“Here we are, my esteemed guests. The library through that hall,” He pointed to a narrow passage in the north wall of the lab, “is full of scientific texts related to my father’s work; some are redundant copies of books in the upstairs library, but not many. I’m unsure how useful they might be, but they may help. Feel free to look around.”

by Tsukiyumi » Tue Feb 05, 2013 11:52 pm

September 22, 1895, 1:17 AM EST

In the distance, a barrage of pale green lightning engulfed the horizon as the monumental rainstorm continued to pound the port city of Kingsport. Most of her residents were fearfully huddled around candles, or restlessly sleeping atop straw mattresses moved away from windows for fear of flying glass. The storm would be remembered for years afterward, spoken of in awe and muted terror by the citizens who experienced it. Literal sheets of rain, driven at impossible angles by the incredible winds, tore through thatch roofs and drenched horses and livestock under wooden cover. Six people in a single family were killed when a furious gust ripped their window into lethal slivers and the corpse of their father (who had picked that unfortunate time to secure the shutters) fell atop the oil lantern they had huddled around for security. They had no chance to escape as the inferno engulfed the home within minutes. In all, thirteen people died from storm damage and sheer fright, and numerous livestock were lost to flying debris or exposure after being drenched in the unforgiving cold wind.

At May Manor, the electric candles burned well into the night, as many of the new inhabitants, unnerved by the events earlier in the evening, forswore sleep in favor of understanding. Doctor Bertram Zelman slaved away in the basement laboratory, intent on using Doctor Alexander May's extensive arsenal of modern scientific instruments to unravel the mystery of the substance he had managed to discover in the blood of the apparition they had encountered earlier in the evening. Doctor May himself, sipping away at a cup of strong South American coffee, assisted the intensely focused Zelman, guiding him through the use of any equipment he was unfamiliar with.

Professor Robert Wessex sat in the upstairs library intently searching through the mountain of dusty tomes, cross-referencing with the manuscripts left by the late Wentworth May, along with the two antiquarians: the keenly sharp-witted Sylvia Stanley and the bookish and somewhat awkward Sandy Walton Dobson. They had spent the last hour poring through various books on the occult and the ancient writings referenced in the senior May's notes, looking for any references to the elaborate tattoos scrawled across the corpse of their seemingly supernatural attacker.

Willem Klein, the private investigator and ex-Pinkerton agent, also sat upstairs, one keen eye watching at a safe distance from the large window for any sign of additional trouble. He had assisted in dispatching the entity that had shambled up the walkway earlier the previous night, and was still on edge, waiting for another chance to unleash the fury of his Peacemaker. He hadn’t had this much excitement since his stint in Africa, years earlier; at a point not too long prior, he had thought the days of doing anything useful or interesting were behind him, and he had settled into a banal existence, solving mundane cases for mediocre wages. He was exchanging stories with Detective Charles Wessex to help pass the time, the two of them having similar professional careers and interests.

Maude Brewster sat alone on the south side of the second floor, her attention even more intently focused on the Manor grounds than Willem and Charles’ after the attack earlier. She cradled her .30 caliber rifle in her lap as the thunder boomed, and she waited, as she had so many times before on her homestead, for a follow-up attack.

The man his friends knew as Cookie sat by himself in the sprawling den of the mansion, pouring drink after drink to calm his shattered nerves after the impossible thing he’d seen earlier. The fact that they’d brought the dammed thing into the house afterwards had pushed him one step too far. As the strange green lightning flashed outside, he muttered his favorite recipes to himself in a frantic liturgy, sipping, and then gulping down brandy, rum, schnapps, and anything still left on the cart the servant Ibrahim had brought earlier.

The rest of the guests were either fast asleep, having missed the excitement of the late evening, or were skulking about, trying to find their own answers to the mysteries of May Manor. Most of them slept soundly, but one at least, had begun a terrifying journey into a landscape as real and surreal as the waking reality of the mansion.

Outside, the storm showed no sign of relenting, as a fresh gale blew through the clearing around the Manor, and the lightning flashed its pale emerald fury in staccato bursts that lit the countryside for miles.

by Mikey » Wed Feb 06, 2013 1:29 pm
"Aha!" exclaimed Dr. Zelman huskily, straightening from his position bent over a microscope and pushing aside a rack full of test tubes filled with liquids of varying shades of violet. Dr. May looked up from his own work, but Zelman just muttered to himself as he grabbed a notebook and pencil from the work table and began jotting something down. Finally, he turned to May and said, "Quite a bit of stuff in here that one wouldn't expect in corpse-blood. Some strange herbs, hemp, quinine - I daresay the fellow wasn't exploring the Dark Continent or the pampas of Argentina recently - and free hydroxyl in the blood; good thing the fellow was already dead when he walked up here, or he mightn't have been doing too well at all." He began to chuckle at his own attempt at ironic humor, but the eeriness of the subject killed his laughter soon after it started.

"You're as funny as a toothache," said Robert Wessex dryly from the doorway of the lab. He looked red-eyed and tired, having buttoned his collar but not having bothered to retrieve his vest, jacket, or tie; but there was a slight flush to his face and light in his eye which Zelman knew was that of frustrated scholarly research. At the doctor's appraising stare, Wessex added, "I excused myself from the ladies, we were going 'round in circles. What's the news down here?"

"Come, come, mein freunde," replied Zelman, with an air of excitement completely at odds with the gore on the table. The doctor bustled toward the lab's library, waving for Wessex to follow. "Perhaps your talents can help me determine the origins of the... ah, less than usual contents of our subject's blood." Zelman held up the small notebook for Wessex to see and recounted what he had found.

"Hmm," grunted Wessex. "Odd, if I understand your doctor-speak correctly. Perhaps the very queerness of that... concoction could help an investigation?" As he followed Zelman into the small reading room, he stopped at the speaking tube hanging by the door jamb. "Charlie? Could you come to the laboratory? We might have something for you," he called.

Meanwhile, Sean O'Neill watched silently from just beyond the lab's doorway. He didn't understand the doctor's pronouncements, and he was pretty sure that he didn't care to. He recovered the lantern which he had surreptitiously removed from the wall by May's office upstairs, and went back westward toward where the curious tracks converged with several other corridors by the end of the dumbwaiter shaft.

On the second-floor landing of the house, Charles Wessex started in annoyance at the blare from the speaking tube. "It's Charles, Uncle Robert," he said slightly petulantly, and then brightened at the prospect of some useful work. "I'll be down in a moment." He stood, found his notebook in his jacket, inclined his head enigmatically at Willem, and headed for the stairs.

by Tsukiyumi » Wed Feb 13, 2013 5:09 pm
Sandy Walton Dobson shook his head, and squeezed the bridge of his nose. The blur of fatigue would not leave, and the words of obscure text before him in the pile of books seemed to blend together into a grey soup he could not decipher. He turned to Silvia Stanley, rose, and bowed slightly.

"I'm afraid that's all I can muster for the evening, milady. My notes are on the parchment there, if you wish to continue."

Silvia stretched, stifling a yawn, and nodded at him, "I think we've discovered all that we can here tonight; perhaps on the morrow, we can check whatever libraries are in town to see if there is any more information on those tattoos. Would you care to join me?"

Sandy shrugged, "If I wake up. I believe it IS the morrow, milady."

She smirked and rose, and the two of them headed to their respective rooms.

by Mikey » Wed Feb 13, 2013 5:32 pm
"Bertie, come here," said Robert Wessex curtly, gesturing in the doctor's general direction without bothering to look up from the journals he was studying. "I can read the late professor's notes, but I don't recognize some of the references. I've written down some transliterations... let's see if that penchant for the outre of yours pays off."

Dr. Zelman passed a hand over his bald pate and stooped until he was reading over Wessex' shoulder. He frowned at Robert's transcription for a moment, then muttered, "Ja, ja... some fringe cults and shadow organizations... reportedly powerful and manipulative groups... Professor May seems to have attempted to retain some of them to assist with this search of which he was so frantic yet still..."

"Still unsatisfied, according to the notes I have here," Robert finished for Zelman. An odd pensive cast came over Professor Wessex' features for a moment, then he looked up at the doctor and added, "The object of the quest, aside from the materials, seems always to have been referred to as 'she' or 'her.' What did Charlie say at dinner about..."

Zelman grinned wryly. "I believe it was, 'He seems very attached to a half-sister of whom he had no notion for 99% of his life.' You don't think..."

"I suppose we shall see. I also suppose I'll see if that young Dr. Hodges has any insight into the matter." Robert pinched the bridge of his nose and went on, "But I further suppose that all of this will wait until tomorrow. I feel like I've been back at sea for two weeks. We can still get a few solid hours of sleep before breakfast."

*************************************************************************************************************

Detective Wessex scooped up a couple of the leatherbound journals and day-books from the pile of notes he'd been studying; while Silvia and Sandy had seemed to barely notice his presence in the upstairs library, he nonetheless bowed his head as he prepared to leave and said, "Excuse me, please. If I may, sometimes a pause for rest may make the work more fruitful later on. Good evening." With that, he left and went down the stairs only to find Klein still sitting at his adopted post on the landing. Charles began to fish for his watch in its vest pocket while saying, "Seems that our late Professor May had some dealings with a local curator called 'Aaron Hart.' It bears checking... have you heard of the name?"

Willem nods, "I know Aaron Hart is the curator of the Kingsport Historical Society Museum, over in the part of town called The Hollow. I daresay, this seems as solid a lead as we've seen so far. If you plan to venture there tomorrow, I would be glad to accompany you. As to the hour -" Willem checked the timepiece in his coat pocket - "It IS tomorrow; 1:38 AM to be precise. I believe I shall retire for the evening. There has been no activity outside, excepting this dreadful storm. Good evening, Detective."

"I'd be glad of the company. I'll just check with my uncle to see if there's a wider base in these notes with which to approach this Hart. Good night." As Klein rose to head upstairs, Wessex continued down through the foyer and into the basement. "Uncle," he called as he strode towards the lab, "I'd appreciate it if you could possibly take a look at some odd notations for me... briefly; and then I think it's high time to call it a night."

O'Neill, still unseen as he returned from the southern basement room, decided that it was time for him to follow the detective's advice as well. Carefully stowing the purloined lantern out of sight under the dumbwaiter at the corridor junction, he crept up the stairs while the Wessex men were talking in the lab's library.

by Uzume » Sat Feb 16, 2013 1:06 pm
Cookie finally drank enough liquor to make his way upstairs to his room. On the way, he couldn't help but wonder if Dr. Zelman had found out anything of interest about the monstrosity that had frightened him so. He was already dead! he thought to himself, before they kilt 'im, he was already dead!
He pulled off his boots, and was out like a light as soon as he plopped into the plush bedding.




Maude also decided to tuck-in for the night. For she had many things to do in town before venturing any farther in Dr. May's endeavors. Once in her room she fiddled with the dials on the speaking tube, "Ibrahim, Ibrahim?"
To her surprise, he responded promptly, "Yes, Mrs. Brewster."
"Yes Sir, Is it possible to receive a wake up call, say... 5 a.m.?" She inquired.
"Of course Ma'am" He replied.
With that taken care of Maude fell into bed as she was. After this evenings events she wanted to be ready for anything.




Newt tossed and turned feverishly in his sleep...

by Tsukiyumi » Wed Feb 27, 2013 1:47 pm

September 22, 1895, 6:00 AM EST

Ibrahim’s muffled voice floated softly from the speaking tube to Willem’s left. He groaned, rubbed his eyes and rolled over in the comfortable bed. Thumbing the tube’s activation switch, he mumbled, “What was that, lad? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said, it is six of the clock, sir. You requested that I wake you at this time.” Came the response; in the background, Willem could hear the sound of something sizzling, and a brisk chopping noise. Breakfast, perhaps. Willem rolled upright, stretched broadly, and winced at the sound of his vertebrae popping.

“Thank you, Ibrahim. Will breakfast be served this morning?” he asked, his stomach growling. He pulled his nightshirt over his head, and pulled on his trousers.

“Of course, sir. Seven of the clock, in the dining room. Do you have any requests, sir?” Ibrahim’s terse response came through the tube. He sounded busy.

“Nothing in particular, other than a map of the town.” Willem retrieved a simple cotton shirt from his valise, and strapped his shoulder holster in place, pausing to check the cylinder of his Peacemaker; it was fully loaded.

“Very good sir. I shall have that for you at breakfast, sir.” With that, the muffled sounds of the kitchen ceased, and the tube was silent. Willem pulled on his coat jacket, and grabbed his hat and cane. As he began to hobble out the door, he noted something odd out his bedroom window, and made his way to the large windows along the south wall. Outside, the day was dim and overcast, but mild. The only sign of the previous night’s tempest were the multitudes of tree limbs littering the wide lawn.

by Tsukiyumi » Wed Mar 06, 2013 12:32 am

September 22, 1895, 6:32 AM EST

“It’s all yours, my dear.” Isabel said, stepping from the indoor water closet to allow Fiorina access. The beautiful young dancer smiled demurely as she gracefully edged past Isabel.

For her part, Isabel had enjoyed the use of such modern facilities perhaps a bit more than she should. As enthralling as the indoor plumbing was, she had been told of a much more fascinating occurrence the previous evening: the walking dead man. She was tempted to just grab a few bacon strips out of the skillet and head down into the basement to examine the apparition at once, but she had Doctor Zelman’s notes, and needed to get them back to him after breakfast. Head in the pages, she walked directly into doctor May’s broad chest.

“Beg pardon, sir. Ambulatory corpses! Occult alchemy! This is quite compelling. I must see this thing for myself.” She rambled, edging past the bemused Doctor May on her way to the staircase as she tugged absently at her long braid.

******************************

September 22, 1895, 7:03 AM EST

The assembled group sat around the dining room table again, with three notable absences; Newt, Cookie and Nathan had all failed to wake for breakfast. The group continued on regardless; having been apprised of the previous night’s events, many were still incredulous.

“I am inclined to believe men of such high repute, but this is almost too much to accept.” Fiorina said between bites of her meal. The table before them was arrayed with piles of sizzling bacon, mounds of scrambled eggs, veritable pyramids of sausages, massive stacks of Johnny cakes with hot molasses, heaping bowls of baked beans and a mountain of fish cakes almost a foot tall.

Others nodded as Fiorina voiced their concerns, but Isabel coughed loudly before shoveling a forkful of eggs into her mouth and waving the notes overhead, “I went down there before breakfast. The Doctors are correct in their diagnosis that the man in the cellar died of a broken neck. He was subsequently shot last night by two of our comrades, and I am inclined to believe that they did not dig the poor man up and shoot him for our benefit. What in the Lord’s name would this gain in some ruse?”

Several of the assembled guests made the sign of the Lord’s cross at her statement, but most seemed to agree. May took the opportunity to interject, “You are all welcome to come and go as you please, but Ibrahim can only take one group of you at a time into town. Of course, we have four carriages, each seating six, and twenty horses, so you can split up as you see fit. Ibrahim has brought a map of the town, which I have marked with places that may be of use in your investigation.”

At this, Ibrahim rolled in a large board covered with a large map. A number of notations filled the bottom margin, with arrows pointing to their relative locations.



(See 'reference materials' for details)

by Tsukiyumi » Mon Apr 01, 2013 11:00 pm
Isabel cleared her throat, "I believe I would like to visit the public library, and perhaps the newspaper offices as well; perhaps they will have more information about the tattoos, or provide some insight into who might be orchestrating these bizarre events. I'll drag Nathan along, if he'll ever get out of bed."

Fiorina nodded, "I will attempt some discrete inquiry at the yacht club; perhaps my renown will be of use loosening tongues."