Play@YSDC

(innsmouth) Your eyes snap open from a strange dream of crawling and tunnels. Your head hurts and you raise your right arm, your fingers questing over your forehead. The presence of something sticky hints at a wound, the congealed blood on the left side of your face suggesting that the wound was drying and not immediately life threatening. Darkness clouds your vision but other senses make up for it.
From all sides come sounds, you are not alone. Breathing and gurgling noises point to the presence of other people. A squeaking, whining sound makes you think of a spinning wheel while other metallic noises awaken memories of vehicle engines cooling down. Your nostrils are assailed by a mixture of the pungent odour of gasoline and a sweet cloying smell of freshly turned earth. Yet overriding this combination is another stronger, intangible scent whose sweetness instantly sets your heart pounding like a drum struck by some mad musician to an irregular beat – Fear you mind groggily identifies the smell as that of fear!
Your vision, though hampered by darkness and the presence of blood from your forehead wound, attempts to identify the things around you. The familiar shape of a steering wheel, dashboard and dark impenetrable windshield to your front would suggest you are seated in the driving seat of a vehicle of some sort, the feeling of size would suggest a van. To your right the shadowy form of a female (Mr. Handy) slumps, supported by a seat belt. A series of wracking breaths give you reason to think her alive, if unconscious.
Twisting your head, an action which causes your forehead to burn with the pain of activity, you make out the shapes of another four persons, each showing signs of having been subjected to a sudden force, as if thrown forward by some kind of impact. Behind them you can just make out a collection of technical gear, TV screens, recording equipment etc. Stuff that feels familiar, but you have no idea why.

OOC:   At the moment only innsmouth’s character has awoken so only he is able to take action.

(innsmouth) Carefully, for each movement seems to rock the vehicle slightly, you manage to open the door, release the woman’s seat belt and half pull half slide her out of the van. Aware as you do so of movement from the other occupants.
Outside of the van it is slightly lighter although still dark. The van, a dark coloured Ford, is resting at a nose down angle halfway down a grassed slope, a ditch in which a thin trickle of water oozes its course.
As you lower the unconscious female to the grass she gives a cough, takes a large stuttering breath and opens her eyes.

(Mr Handy) The sensation of being dragged through a never ending pipe suddenly ends. Your eyelids flutter open as a cool draught of air brushes cobweb gentle against your eyelashes. With a start you find yourself in the dark of night, lying on the grass while a middle aged coloured man with a nasty looking cut above his left eye looks down at you. You lift an arm, defensively. It hurts, but seems undamaged merely bruised and sore.

(evil_scientist) You wake suddenly. You have no idea who you are or where you are, There are others near you, but you are not familiar with them, although you feel you should be. A sharp pain makes you gasp, you feel as though your ribs are on fire (-1 HP)
(Wruter) You wake suddenly. You have no idea who you are or where you are, There are others near you, but you are not familiar with them, although you feel you should be. Other than an overall soreness you quickly ascertain that you have suffered no damage.
(Mr Ginge) You wake suddenly. You have no idea who you are or where you are, There are others near you, but you are not familiar with them, although you feel you should be. Other than an overall soreness you quickly ascertain that you have suffered no damage.
(Hank Hankins) You wake suddenly. You have no idea who you are or where you are, There are others near you, but you are not familiar with them, although you feel you should be. Your nose hurts like blazes and it seems to have bled copiously although the bleeding seems to have stopped now and dried to a crust (-1 HP)

OOC:   You are all now free to act.

"Ma'am, you okay? We been in some kind of smash. There's some other folks in there ..."

OOC:   Does it look like the van is in danger of sliding or going or fire?

I pull a silk handkerchief out of my pocket and I attempt to delicately wipe my nose. Using the van's rearview mirror, I check that the blood has been wiped off, and I make sure my beard isn't scruffy. For good measure, I also lick my hand and comb back what's left of my hair.

"Who the hell are you people? And... who am I?" I ask.

I search through my pockets, hoping to find a wallet with some ID.

"I ... I have no idea. I can't ... remember anything."

I peer in confusion at the collection of technical gear and equipment.

In a daze I fumble for my seatbelt and my cellphone.

"Hey! What happened? Are you guys ok?"

The young woman stirs. "I...I think so..." she mutters, trying to regain her feet. "What happened? Oh! You're hurt!"

Not only this situation, but my body feels alien to me. This aching, broken body. I glance into the mirror, to see my own face: it's vaguely familiar. Now I know who I am, at least what I look like. But who are these other people?

I lean forward to the driver's seat and look for a switch to turn on the car's headlight's. The darkness is frightening me.

I'm attempting to unbuckle and get carefully out of the vehicle - maybe phone for help (if I find my phone).

Gradually, and with some difficulty, you all manage to extricate yourselves from the van. Although there is a heart stopping moment when one of the passengers, a young man (evil_scientist), leans across the front seat and pushes one of the buttons on the dashboard. Possibly attempting to turn on the headlights all that happens is the sudden movement causes the vehicle to lurch forward and plunge a few more feet before coming to a halt. The jolt is painful, making previous injuries and general soreness burn, but causes no real hurt.

Taking stock of the situation it seems you all suffer from a total lack of memory, who you are, what you are doing here, wherever here is, and who your companions are is a total mystery.

Each of you seems to be in a similar state, filthy dirty with torn clothing and matted hair caked in dried earth. Everywhere exposed skin smeared with dirt, while fingernails, some broken almost to the quick, are packed with dark brown earth, evidence of digging, clawing perhaps. Your entire bodies ache and joints are sore, faces and exposed skin are covered in tiny scratches. Your throats are sore, as if from yelling, you all have pounding headaches and upset stomachs. Whatever you have been up to and where you may have been up to it are a total blank.

Quickly you are able to find wallets containing names and addresses, although none of these have any relevance to you, Yet driver ID pictures show that they belong to you, as do any pictures on cell phones many of which you do not recognise but some seem to show the others that you are with.

According to your phones, or watches, it is September 17th 2016 at 8.24pm, Those with access to GPS can see that their current location is a couple of miles outside the small city of Clio, Michigan. The map shows Clio as being situated between the larger cities of Flint and Saginaw, somewhat close to where the thumb and the rest of the “mitten” of Michigan’s Lower Peninsula meet.

Also found within your pockets, or purse, are several sets of keys (House, locker/desks) and a single key on a plastic keychain. A little blue diamond of plastic reads “The Coach & Lantern Motel, 12705 W. Vienna St, Clio, MI” on one side, and has a room number. Each of you is in possession of one of these motel keys, the room numbers are 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 9 (It doesn’t matter which number you have)

Looking around you there is little to see, even if it were daylight, just endless fields of corn, However, about a mile down the road in the direction the van had been traveling you can see the lights of a building

OOC:   Okay, with the information you have accessed from you phones, wallets etc, you can now give you character names. However what you do and what you are doing here in the middle of nowhere is yet to be uncovered. The equipment in the van is still unfamiliar, though you still have a feeling somewhere that you should know what it is. Maybe time will tell

Todd Guzman glances back at the stricken vehicle. "Must have been some kind of accident. I guess we shouldn't try to move any of that equipment in case the van falls even more." He walks a little way along the road near the site, scanning the ground for any marks which might give an indication of what happened.

The photo looks like him, but the name Simon Quispe doesn't ring a bell. But it's still better than being nameless... "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he quickly says, when the van abruptly hinges forward. "I... I don't know what happened to me! I'm 'Simon'", he says, the quotation marks almost tangible around his name.

Afraid to touch anything else inside the van, he climbs out to the road.

"There's a building there," he points to the distance. "Maybe we can get some help there."

"I don't remember ... I don't remember nothin''" he answers.

An examination of personal possessions tells him that his name is is George Carter - at least that's what it says on the driving licence. Everything else though points to him being known as or going under the name Hippo.

Tod Guzman (wruter), looking at the road it would seem that the van had been trying to take a bend too fast. Although the bend looks quite innocuous, the tell-tale skid marks, easily visible in the gloom of night are an easy give away. There is no sign of any other vehicle being involved, it seems that the van simply was going too fast. But why?

Rutiger Paddington

"Worst driver ever." I mutter, wondering who crashed the van.

"We should head to the building over there and see if we can get our wounds treated, as well as a hot bath and some new clothes. I look terrible."

"I'm Gracie Gunn, apparently," says Gracie. "Let's see if we can call for help. That might be better than walking a mile." She checks her phone to see if she can get a signal.

Hippo

"They call me Hippo" he says shuffling through photographs. "Must be 'cos I look like a god damn hippo."

The van looks well stuck, it isn’t coming out of that ditch without a tow truck.

There seems to be no signal for the cell phones here.

The building looks to be best part of a mile away, but easy to get to along the road. It might be a shorter walk across the fields, but the thick corn doesn’t look too inviting, especially given the fact that you all feel as though you had just gone twelve rounds. Also it is getting darker as the night progresses and too top it all it has now started to rain. That cold September rain that we all love., and if things couldn’t get any worse the sky behind you is suddenly lit by flickering lightning. A storm is coming and although still several miles off, makes getting out of the rain even more urgent.

Rutiger Paddington

"What was it again we need to do in case of a big storm? Blast this amnesia... I can't even remember that... Should we shelter ourselves with a large piece of sheet metal, and run for cover under the tallest tree we can find? ... No, that wasn't it."

I'll rummage through our possessions and see if there's a flashlight or anything else that could provide us with light. If there's an umbrella, a hat, or hood, or whatever could protect me from the rain, I'll also grab it.

"Not a whole lot of cover out here, buddy," Todd remarks, looking askance at the stretching cornfields. "Best we get indoors as soon as possible. I wonder..." He quickly inputs the address of the motel on their keys into the GPS on his phone to see if it's anywhere close.

Karl Anderson

"Hey guys, don't know about you but I don't want to get caught in a freaking storm."

He examines the van for any sign of it's origins or what it was used for. "Maybe we should head for those lights. Couldn't be any worse than being stuck out here?!?"

Karl Anderson, From an examination of the van it appears full of various pices of technical equipment, TV screens, recording equipment, audio equipment and so on. To your eyes none of it seems familiar, but you seem to feel that it should. There are several flyers advertising some sort of reality TV show, something called ‘The Supernatural Files. Although the name or programe details mean nothing to you the flyer shows two smiling faces, one female and the other the gentleman with the halfmoon spectacles currently rummaging through the van.

Rutger Paddington, There seems to be nothing of use in the van, no coats or hats, which feels strange as you feel sure you have a hat. Digging around in the rear compartment amongst the various technical equipment you notice the blonde haired, bookish, looking man peering at a coloured piece of paper, he seems to be taking alternative looks at the paper and at yourself.

Tod Guzman, from the map on your phone it would appear that you are currently several miles north-east of Clio while the motel is situated on the western edge of the city about a mile east of interstate 75. The full address, written on the key found in your pocket, is ‘The Coach & Lantern Motel, 12705 W Vienna St, Clio, MI'. Your room number on the key is 4

"Well, there's no signal out here," says Gracie. "Guess we'd better head for that building with the lights before the storm hits. I think we're better off sticking to the road."

innsmouth wrote:

OOC:   Does it look like we were travelling towards the building or away from it when we crashed?

OOC:   Priest, any info on this?

Todd Guzman

"Looks like we have a way to go to make it to this motel. I agree with Gracie, better to stick to the road and get to that building where hopefully someone can help us." He glances over at the others still searching the van.

Hippo

"Let's go people. Storm's a comin' in."

Karl Anderson

"Hey mister", Karl says, handing one of the flyers to Rutiger. "Do you know anything about this? Who's the woman?"

Karl also keeps an eye on the cornfields. He feels like he must into horror films, but isn't sure..

Rutiger Paddington

"Strange. I have no recollection of this." I say, gazing at the flyer. Does the woman seem familiar?

"Also, I was pretty sure I had a hat."

Simon Quispe

Simon hears the others discussing something, and goes back to the van to take a look at it.

Then, if his phone has a camera, takes a few snapshots of the inside of the van.

"Yeah, let's go to the motel..."

Rutger Paddington, No you have no idea who she is or what the flyer is all about.

The walk from the van to the lights of the building takes you about twenty minutes. It is, for some, a nightmare journey as sore muscles and bruised limbs are forced to move forward. All the time the threat of the approaching storm drives you on, and after a few yards the cold September rain has begun to seep through your clothing, which even without the rips and tears would have seemed inadequate for the time of year. The slightest noise in the roadside cornfields has you jumping with alarm, even though you try to dismiss childish fears you can’t help but feel something bad is dogging your footsteps.
By the time you arrive at the lighted building, a farm, the first drops of what will be a downpour has begun to fall, its force kicking up dirt from the road. There is a doorbell next to the front door above which the name ‘Baker’ advertises the owners of the property. Luckily a covered porch allows you some respite from the elements.
Ringing the bell, although a flurry of barking from within shows your arrival has not gone unnoticed, brings a tall, bearded man whose workwear clothing screams farmer. He looks you up and down, a hint of suspicion evident in his eyes as he takes in your condition, “Yeah, how can I help y’all?”

OOC:   Here is a map of Clio and the aera around it. X marks the crash site and Y the motel. The Bakers farm is slightly below the site to the south-west

Hippo

"Mister, our van's been in a smash not far out of here and we need to get transportation back to our motel over by Clio. Some of us are a bit shook up. Can you help us?"

Rutiger Paddington

"A warm meal, clothes and a warm bath sure would be nice.", I say with a nod.

"Maybe we could use your phone?" asks Gracie.

Karl Anderson

"Any help would be appreciated Sir. Could I please use your bathroom?"

The householder looks at you for a few moment as if judging any potential threat you may represent, “Crash you say near here? Any one hurt badly?” Without waiting for an answer he opens the door wide, exposing a comfortable looking hall, “Y’all come on in, I’ll get Martha to fix coffee”

Inside the comfortable farm house with coffee duly supplied by the farmer’s wife Martha, the farmer, Dave Baker as he introduces himself, continues his questions, “How’d y’all manage to crash on this road it aint exactly dangerous and we don’t get much traffic through here?”

As he speaks you notice that he keeps glancing at Rutger Paddington as if he recognises him.

“I can see if’n I can get a tow truck out of Dave’s garage to maybe haul your van out” He takes a moment to again look you all over, “Likewise I can call the cops or an ambulance if’n you need them”

Rutiger Paddington

"Have we met, sir?" I ask.

"Thank you," says Gracie, looking at the others. "I don't think any of us are hurt bad enough to need an ambulance, but our van could sure use that tow."

Todd Guzman

"We're not sure how the crash happened. Looked like we were going too fast, is all. Seems like we all have a touch of amnesia, too. Do you mind if I use your bathroom to get cleaned up?"

Rutiger Paddington

"Run a bath for me while you're in that bathroom." I ask. "I want to be clean and look good."

Simon Quispe

Simon takes a chair and sips his coffee. The initial shock is gone, and the weirdness of the situation starts to really sink in.

The man named Rutiger Paddington really seems to be the center of attention - maybe he is the leader of some sort of a team they all belong to?

Karl Anderson

"Excuse me Mr Baker, but do you know this guy?", Karl says, pointing towards Rutiger.

Slowly sipping the hot coffee you all begin to relax. Talk turns to the crash but there is nothing that you can tell Baker about the details to clarify the situation, and you can tell from the guarded looks he gives each of you that he is slightly suspicious. Yet he makes nothing to indicate any ill intentions towards you, simply shows you to the bathroom where you can ‘clean up a mite’ and answers your questions. In answer to the questions about Rutiger Paddington he spends a long moment gazing at him. “Sure I recognize him from somewhere...hey Martha, does this look like that guy from the TV?” Martha Baker turns from the stove and looks Rutiger over, “Yeah, he does a mite. The guy that used to be on that TV news programme...Can’t remember the programmes name...He quit a while back for some other series”. She moves closer, “Paddington, Rutiger Paddington”. Before she can say anthing else Todd Guzman starts choking and spluttering over his coffee...

Todd Guzman,As the coffee hits the back of your throat a sudden series of involuntary gulps make you choke badly. For a brief moment you feel as though your throat has closed totally and your airway has collapsed. In that moment it feels like death is about to claim you, Then as quickly as it came, the feeling is gone and you are able to breathe easily although the convulsions continue for a few more seconds...

"Are you all right?" Gracie asks Todd, concern on her face. He couldn't be choking on anything solid, though, not from drinking coffee.

Todd Guzman

"Ugh, yeah, Gracie, I'm okay, I think. Maybe just a little nausea. Must've been more shook up by the accident than I thought." He fights down that momentary, inexplicable terror and forces himself to take another swallow of the coffee.

Rutiger Paddington

"The Supernatural Files!" I shout, remembering the flyer. "Is that the show I was on? So I'm a big shot on TV, huh? Forgive us, Baker, the crash has been tough on us. We're barely coming back to our senses here."

Baker stares at Rutiger, examining him closely, “Sure, you’re that guy from that spook programme. Go around so called investigating haunted houses” He shakes his head, “Gee Martha a real life celebrity in our kitchen who’d have thought it, So why you hereabouts and where’s the good looking woman you appear with... I forget her name...Hey Martha what’s the woman’s name?”
Martha considers for a moment or two, “Um... Cartwright, Lyn Cartwrigth”...

Todd Guzman,Your throat feels raw as if the coffee you had swallowed had been red hot. Even now you can feel it burning progress down your intestines.

Todd Guzman

Todd sets the coffee cup down with a grimace. "Think I'll stick to water," he mutters. He goes over to the window to check on the storm's progress and try to calm his sudden nerves.

Rutiger Paddington

"You don't happen to have that show on dvd, do you? I just love seeing myself on TV. Do you remember what house we were investigating last?
I bet you do. That one sure was a riot."

When Gracie heard Baker mention a good-looking female co-host, she had been hoping it was her, but his wife's answer quickly dispelled that illusion. Still, she knows she must be involved with the TV show in some way, hopefully in front of the camera and not just behind it.

Hippo

"Ain't nothin' but trash on TV these days and that's the truth."

Hippo sips his coffee.

Baker shrugs at Rutiger’s question, “Nah, we don’t get much time for watching TV, and what little we do is mostly news..” Martha butts in “Or sport. I think I seen a couple of episodes of that programme over at the Kennedys and that’s where I recall the name from. But we don’t have any recordings here” She turns away towards the sink, noticing a brief hint of disappointment in Gracie’s expression. “Anyways, what're y’all doing here in Clio, surely theres nothing heareabouts of interest?”
Baker nods at his wifes question, "Yea, why where you on this road and why were you driving so fast? That reminds me, do ya want me to call Daves and get your van pulled out?"

Todd Guzman

"I'm sure we'd all appreciate it if you could," he replies to the farmer's latter question. "There's a motel on the other side of town where we may have been headed." He pauses, looking at the others uncertainly. "Or maybe we'd better go to the hospital first and get ourselves checked over."

Rutiger Paddington

"In any case we probably shouldn't call the cops right now, we don't have any donuts around." I say, checking myself in the bathroom mirror, making myself look as good as I possibly can.

Of course, I'm really thinking we should find out what happened to us before we get the law involved, for who knows what we actually got ourselves into? Have we possibly committed a crime? But I don't want to tell the Bakers about it all, so I'm hoping they'll buy the donut excuse.

"The Kennedys, huh? Are they big fans? Since we're in the area, maybe they might like to take a selfie with me or something, maybe we should pay them a visit later on."

"Yes, that would be nice," says Gracie. "They'd probably get a kick out of it. Though maybe we should go to the hospital first. We're not too badly hurt, but it would still be a good idea."

Karl Anderson

Karl wonders where Lyn Cartwright is. It seemed odd that no-one had the key for room 6 at the motel. Could that be hers? He feels that that they should find her as soon possible.

Also, either they've all lost their memory or the rest of them are trying to pull a fast one on him. The Supernatural Files? Is this for real? He needs to shake this paranoia off...

"If anyone needs to go the hospital, I'm ok with that. But I think it would be a good idea to recover the van and see if there are any recent recordings", he says, guessing it was filming equipment in the van. ""Maybe Lyn is back at the motel?"

It takes about an hour, but with the tow truck from Dave’s Garage making light work of it the van is easily pulled from the ditch and other than a little bodywork damage, some new paint scratches, and several pieces of vegetation ornamenting the front grill, seems fine. It starts easily and after a quick look over the mechanic, Pete, pronounces it fit for the road, adding with a broad wink “That is ifn you can keep it on the road”...

OOC:   The van is now yours to use to go wherever you think fit. If there are no further questions to put to the Bakers, or Pete the mechanic, I will create the next chapter when you are ready.

"I guess we should go back to the motel and see if Lyn's there," says Gracie. "None of us are too badly hurt, but we can drop off at the hospital anyone who wants to go. I've only got a few scratches and bruises myself, so I'm fine."

Todd Guzman
"I guess you guys are right," Todd agrees. "Hopefully we'll get some answers at the motel."

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