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Post by vladtaltos on Nov 9, 2014 11:41:48 GMT -5
Quickly, you begin to pour over the remaining, mad passages in the journal, perhaps sickened at times at the depictions of violence. Most of the pages from the book have been ripped out, and discarded to the floor, but still some are left.
Reading through these you look for any indication where the killer may hold his captives and discover...
Roll a d6.
Also, if you decide to drink the contents of the vial, roll a second d6.
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julie
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Post by julie on Nov 10, 2014 9:51:03 GMT -5
Knowing time was important, Dahlia hoped to find something in the journal...
09:38, Today: Black Dahlia rolled 5 using 1d6. Search through journal.
She then drank half of the contents of vial B, and fed the remains to Dog.
09:39, Today: Black Dahlia rolled 1 using 1d6. Ut-Oh.
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Post by vladtaltos on Nov 10, 2014 11:22:33 GMT -5
...a phrase that seems out of place even for the insanity contained in this book.
The barred pit under the water.
Wondering what this may mean, you put the book aside and return to the front of the cabin, drinking half of the contents of vial B. There’s a mildly unpleasant odor with this potion, and it takes a few encouraging words to coax Dog into ingesting a few treats marinated in the brew.
Outside, the rain still comes down, and there’s no sign of the Man-in-Gray, or the resident of the cabin. Perhaps they’re one-and-the-same. Or perhaps not.
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julie
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Post by julie on Nov 11, 2014 11:10:25 GMT -5
Dahlia gathered some of the clothes that were in the front room, and held them out for Dog. She then began to communicate to him, hoping the potion was as useful as the last. Here, get his scent. I need you to track down the wearer of these clothes. Find him. Go!
Dahlia believed the Man-in-Gray and the occupant of this cabin weren’t the same person. She had her own beliefs as to his identity, but right now that wasn’t her focus.
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Post by vladtaltos on Nov 13, 2014 10:57:43 GMT -5
Dog leads you into the rain, sniffing at the ground. His communications come intermittently. Hard to follow... Too much water...Where is it? He wanders in circles, losing and picking up the scent only after expressing much confusion. Slowly, he ambles toward the tree line. The headache comes swiftly, without warning, with a pain so intense that it’s nearly blinding. You close your eyes, putting a hand to your forehead. Images flash in your mind. You’re knee-high, pushing through the forest, past trees, weeds and scratching branches. You realize you’re seeing what Dog sees when your eyes are closed. Andreas’ potion has had unexpected side effects---the headache, the vision. When you open your eyes, you see clearly, but when closed, you see through Dog’s eyes. The rain continues to fall, penetrating the canopy of branches overhead, soaking Dog as he strides through the forest. When he comes to a break in the dense undergrowth, the Man-in-Gray sits astride a horse at a crosspath in the woods. An arrow as long as a spear is nocked in a bow meant for a giant. And when he climbs down from his horse, you see that's what the Man-in-Gray is, a giant some twelve feet tall. _____________ OOC... Dahlia gathered some of the clothes that were in the front room, and held them out for Dog. She then began to communicate to him, hoping the potion was as useful as the last. Here, get his scent. I need you to track down the wearer of these clothes. Find him. Go!Nice. As a GM it's great to see what players do with the props. Very clever. |
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julie
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Post by julie on Nov 14, 2014 10:07:35 GMT -5
A headache. She hated headaches. And the pain of this one wasn’t natural. This was an effect of Andreas’ prototype potion. All ready she regretted taking it.
She opened her eyes, and ran through the woods, taking the path followed by Dog. As she did she nocked an arrow, and when she came to the breach in the wood...
she’d quickly size-up the situation. If there was any threatening action or movement taken by the MIG toward her or Dog, she’d fire the arrow.
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Post by vladtaltos on Nov 16, 2014 11:04:44 GMT -5
Arrow nocked in a massive bow, the Man-in-Gray stands beside his horse at the crosspath, his long, loose cloak flapping in a wind that doesn’t blow. The folds of the cloak whirl and spread around him and his steed, and in an instant they are gone, appearing again ten feet to your left.
He looses the arrow. It flies like a bolt of lightning ahead of you, down the path to your right, taking down three, four, five trees. The felled trees form a new path, and it is down that path the Man-in-Gray points. A moment later, he is gone.
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julie
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Post by julie on Nov 17, 2014 10:51:49 GMT -5
When she started breathing again, the breaths came in rapid, painful bursts. Dog, she projected, I really didn’t want to fight him. I’m glad he’s gone.
Strange as this trip had been, and the dangers everywhere, it appeared her follower, the Man-in-Gray, was there to assist her.
She looked down the new path created by the MIG’s arrow, and with a pat of Dog’s head lead the way deeper into the woods. She kept it top of mind... the barred pit under the water.
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Post by vladtaltos on Nov 18, 2014 11:28:23 GMT -5
This new path is thick and overrun with vegetation. The smell of grass and freshly cut timber pervades the air. The rain falls down hard enough to break through the barriers overhead, and douse Dog and you in its persistent fall.
You walk a slow twenty yards through the scrub when the path ahead becomes clogged with greenery. Should you remove your sword or dagger and cut through? Where, exactly, was the Man-in-Gray pointing? The path ends here.
As you consider your next step...
Roll 3d6.
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julie
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Post by julie on Nov 19, 2014 10:30:48 GMT -5
Why did she think the choice to make would be obvious? Nothing had been obvious to this point, so why would this be any different?
She surveyed the area. Dog, can you detect his scent? Do you know where he could be?
10:27, Today: Black Dahlia rolled 13 using 3d6 with rolls of 4,4,5.
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Post by vladtaltos on Nov 21, 2014 9:44:21 GMT -5
A twitching of Dog’s ears verifies he heard your words, but his eyes are cast to your extreme left where, through the curtain of vines and branches, three black locust trees stand as one, their trunks intertwined. At the base of the anomaly the rain water pools, whirling counterclockwise.
To your right, through further dense brush, is a wall of tree-roots spiraling to a height of twenty feet. So strange is this sight of roots reaching toward the sky that you can’t help but stare. There! Dog informs you, indicating the wall. He’s there!
But it is to your left you hear the cries. Children’s cries.
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julie
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Post by julie on Nov 23, 2014 10:39:09 GMT -5
The decision to make was easy, but how to go about it wasn’t. The cries of the children took precedent over the hiding place of the one responsible for the missing and murdered children, but how to get to them?
She glanced toward the pool of water, and projected to Dog, Watch that wall of roots. If you see anyone or any movement, let me know.
Arriving at the pool, she gives it a closer examination, and listens for further sounds. She also gives the three black locust trees conjoined at their trunks an inspection. Are the cries coming from beneath the pool of water, or someplace else? When Dahlia could determine this, she would take her next action, realizing that time was critical.
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Post by vladtaltos on Nov 24, 2014 9:45:01 GMT -5
Standing at the pool’s edge now, the rainfall begins to slacken, and you notice the water swirls around, slowly draining into what is beneath it, a large circular pit. Wooden poles crisscross the top of the pit. Far below, you hear the cries of several children.
Dog remains silent. Apparently, nothing has presented itself from beyond the wall of roots. You test the bars and find them flimsy, but strong enough to prevent you from simply ripping them from the ground.
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julie
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Post by julie on Nov 24, 2014 10:46:18 GMT -5
Finding the bars too strong for her to pull free, Dahlia retrieved her saw, the bloody saw used to sever the heads of her marks to prove she’d fulfilled contracts, and began to drag it back and forth across the bars. As she did this, she closed her eyes, to see if she could still see through Dog’s eyes.
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Post by vladtaltos on Nov 26, 2014 10:37:06 GMT -5
Kneeling down in the slowly draining natural pool, the flimsy wooden poles give easily to the saw. As you destroy the bars, you close your eyes, seeing through Dog’s eyes. ...
He concentrates on the wall of roots, his gaze scanning its height and width. Nothing stirs near it. ...
You open your eyes and complete the job of removing the bars. The pit is roughly twenty feet deep. The sides are earthen and lack any visible means of descent. At the bottom, standing in ankle-deep rainwater are four children--two boys and two girls, roughly 10-14 years of age. They don’t know what to make of your presence, some scream in fright, others plead for rescue.
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