Play@YSDC

After a quick stop at the hotel, you head outside Savannah towards the Henslowe mansion. It's around 4 P.M. and the sky is getting dark with clouds and promises of rain. A strong wind has started blowing while you were inside the Sanatorium, and suddenly you feel its bite on the skin, every bit as uncomfortable as the permeating humidity you experienced before. You drive following the road for about fifteen minutes before getting to an intersection. The pavement continues south, but you press on to the east, where the road turns to packed clay. At the fork, beneath a rusted street sign, a brown dog with mange lies sprawled on the ground, watching you move without showing any reaction. The red dirt road goes on for another kilometer or so, then you stop in front of the rusted iron gate leading to the grounds of the Henslowe mansion.

Ian,You're watching the scenery as the car speeds out of Savannah, thinking back on what you've heard at the sanatorium. Then you hear a voice. Your voice. Wheezing out words in a language you can't understand. But it's not coming from your own mouth. Your shirt shifts at your belly, as if being pushed from within. It dampens, more and more. Trembling, you tear your shirt away to discover a wide mouth, tongue probing, cut across your stomach like a gash, oozing pus and blood. It yells out alien words in your voice, and when you try to call for help you find your own mouth shrinking away to nothing, closing around your tongue, swallowing your teeth with flesh. You cannot exhale, you cannot breathe. And as you suffocate... you awaken. The car is just pulling out in front of the gate to the mansion.

Standing proud amidst the greenery and mud, the Henslowe mansion is a classic plantation house with tall windows and towering columns ringing porches and balconies. From the distance, the house looked shining white, but up close you notice streaks of mud and moss stains, giving it a greenish tint. A tall wall encloses the grounds on three sides; on the fourth, the terrain slowly gives way to a swamp. The song of bugs carries out from there, and you can see alligators floating in the water. A pillar emerges from the surface, suggesting that this area is slowly sinking in. Halfway in between the mansion and the swamp, you see a small cemetery, consisting of perhaps twenty tombstones. Some are modest old things, some are tall crosses, one is a weeping angel. A few abandoned sheds stand rotting in the muck. These were used for storage, but now they hold forgotten garden tools and huge garden spiders.

You can see no one from your position, but the front door of the mansion itself is open.

"The open door probably means someone's home," says Holly, "but we still need to be invited before we can go in. Let's go up to the front porch and call out to see if anyone answers." She takes out Henslowe's letter of introduction to have it ready at hand.

OOC,A weeping angel? Don't blink! ;) That's a wink. Winking is okay.

Christopher Fontana

"Indeed, we can't just barge in." Christopher steps forward onto the wooden porch, which creeks ominously under his feet as he marches up to the partly open door. Rapping smartly on the door frame he knocks and calls out "Hello... hello... is anyone at home?" he calls out in a loud voice.

Holly approaches alongside Christopher, letter in hand.

Ian wakes up terrified, out of breath, a drop of sweat running down his forehead. He reaches for his mouth and belly. It's all OK. He looks at his companions, but nobody seems to have noticed he was scared, which is a good thing. He doesn't want to look like he was too impressed by Edgar Job. In a way, he feels like a fish out of water in this. Dr. Chastain, Fontana and Fr. Flanagan are people used to deal with crazy fellas, but not him.

He looks outside and the car has stopped in front of a tall, white house. He tries to recompose himself taking a deep breath and get out of the car.

Clarence switches of the engine and stands by the car. A lit cigarette in hand. He looks to Ian who seems slightly shaken. "Are you all right?", Clarence asks Ian.

"Yeah, sure." He says, a little too quickly. He too lights a cigarette and asks Clarence: "So, should we all go inside?"

OOC:   How do we proceed? Everyone inside, like Job's Interview? I think it worked OK.

An old man emerges from the door to the mansion. He looks to be in his seventies, but still strong and solid. His gray hair is a mess and his long beard is only slightly more presentable. In his right hand there's a shotgun and, while he's not pointing it at you, it still looks threatening, especially considering that the man doesn't look particularly friendly. "Who are you folks? What do you want?" He speaks with an heavy southern accent.

"Yes, let's all go in. I hope the doorman is accommodating now we have a letter of introduction.", replied Clarence to Ian.

"Good afternoon," says Holly with a smile, holding out the letter. "I'm Dr. Holly Chastain, and my associates and I would like to visit Mrs. Henslowe. We've just spoken with her son earlier today, and he wrote this letter for me to give to the groundskeeper."

Christopher Fontana

Christpher can't help but take a step back as the armed man suddenly appears. Dr Chastain makes her introduction, "Yes, hello, Fontana... Professor Fontana, from Boston..." He says somewhat taken aback.

While talking to Clarence, Ian sees the old man with the shotgun coming out of the house and can't help choking with the cigarette smoke. He then sees Holly showing the man a letter, standing still, with a smile in her face, while Fontana takes a step back. He momentarily disconnects himself from from the scene, thinking about Fr. Flanagan not feeling so well at the Joy Grove and his own nightmare just a minute ago, in the car. He suddenly realizes how calm Holly is, dealing with all this crazy fellas talking about cults and demons, and even facing a shotgun. He's pretty sure he never met a woman like her before.

The man takes the note and reads it, then hands it back to Holly. "Well, way I figure it, if Mr. Henslowe says you're all right, then you're all right. Come in." He gestures towards the inside. "I'm Currothers, by the way", he adds before going back in. He briefly shows you around the ground floor. Inside, the building is not quite as big as it seemed from outside. There's a parlor, a main hall with a stairwell, a kitchen, a dining hall, a servant's stairwell and a small room filled with animal heads hung on the wall, layered with dust. The kitchen smells of garbage, bread lies molding on the counter. "Upstairs there's Mr. Henslowe's study and a couple of bedrooms. Mother Henslowe is in her room there, but try not to disturb her. If you need me, you'll find me in my cottage." He walks a couple of steps away, then stops as if remembering something. "Beware the alligators after dark. They get aggressive."

"Thank you," says Holly, entering the house after wiping her shoes on the doormat. Though she appears fearless outwardly, she isn't immune to fear. The sudden attack at Joy Grove had frightened her. The man with the shotgun not so much, as he had been sane and reasonable, and she had been confident that the letter would satisfy him. However, the mention of aggressive alligators is more than a little scary. The sedative won't work on them, as she'd never be able to inject them, though Carruthers and his shotgun might be effective. Still, she doesn't show her fear. She controls her emotions; they don't control her. "Do you know where we can find Frank Hickering? Mr. Henslowe said he could help us find his journal."

"It's only me and Mother Henslowe here", Currothers says. He scratches his head."You sure you got the name right? I don't remember any Franck Hickering living here in the last... well... 50 years. And I don't think I know anyone with that name."

Christopher Fontana

"Perhaps if we shouldn't disturb Ms. Henslowe we could start by checking Douglas'.. Mr Hennslowe's study, a logical place to find a journal.... hmm? Fontana asks.

"You can ask, but she'll tell you the same thing I've told you. No Franck Hickering around here", Currothers says in a stubborn tone of voice. "Don't tire her out, she's very old".

"That's the name Mr. Henslowe gave me," says Holly to Carrothers, scratching her head. "Maybe he was talking about someone who doesn't live here." She nods to Christopher. "My thoughts exactly. We should look in the study first."

OOC,I'd like to use Assess Honesty on [b]Carrothers[/b].