Play@YSDC

Bereft of any particular plans, Ivy opts to do a little shopping for essentials. If she really is being followed, perhaps the fellow will slip up and show himself?

In readiness for this eventuality, she brings her nightstick to the top of her bag, ready to be whipped out.

Tuesday March 18th, 1930 3.30am.
The home of Ivy Ripley, Arkham, Mass.

Ivy had finished her shopping although she was on edge, frustrated by her lack of progress and unable to shake the feeling that she was being watched. She was relieved to get home and close the curtains against the outside world, and she ate her evening meal with the radiogram playing as the sound of silence was unnerving.

Fortified with a brandy, she had taken herself off to bed and slept a fitful sleep, until a faint noise in the still of the night abruptly woke her up. She lay in bed, blinking in the darkness, her senses straining to work out if she had actually heard something or whether she had dreamt it, when she realised there was a tall, dark, man-shaped shadow at the foot of her bed... ...

Momentarily disoriented, Ivy gasps in alarm and pulls her bedclothes up to her chin.

Then, chastising herself for acting like a nervous old maid, she tries to get a grip on herself.

“I thought at least you’d have the good manners to knock,” she blurts out, reaching for the bedside lamp switch.

“Well? What have you to say you for yourself, hm?”

The light switch clicked but no illumination was forthcoming.

”Why are you interested in Ponki-makazas?” came a deep voice from the shadow at the foot of her bed.

Considering her rather helpless position, Ivy decides that telling the truth is the best policy.

"Squatters Lake? I was investigating two brothers by the name of Brophy, who owned a lodge on it's shores. I believe they murdered anyone unfortunate to stay there. My colleagues supposedly killed the Brophys, but I have been seeing visions of one of them. My colleagues have since dissapeared; hence my investigations."

"May I ask your name sir? What is your interest in this?.

”My ancestors do not sleep, for the place is cursed. This Brophy of whom you speak has poisoned the land that was once ours, was stolen from us, but will belong to us again,” came the shadow’s reply.

Ivy relaxes ever-so-slightly, sensing a possible, if mysterious, ally.

“It seems we share a common goal in defeating Brophy. Wouldn’t you say”

Again, the shadow chose not to answer Ivy’s question.

”What happened to your colleagues?” he asked. ”Where are they now?”

Ivy shrugs.

“Disappeared. I think Brophy somehow possessed someone and made them conjure up some kind of... doorway? Portal? Brophy jumped through it and my colleagues followed.”

OOC,So reading through the threads, my theory is that this guy is the Yig cult leader. If I’m correct, would the guys have mentioned him to Ivy?

The shadow seemed to consider this information for a moment, then there was a movement that could have been a shrug.

”The lake stills bears the taint of evil that he brought with him. It must be purged.”

“Will you bring your colleagues back?”

OOC, I don’t think that part of their adventures was mentioned to Ivy.

“I would if I knew how, if only to put paid to whatever Brophy is scheming,” replies Ivy.

“Will you rid your lake of his taint?” she asks, trying to turn the tables somewhat.

”My ancestors demand it,” came the sonorous reply. ”It must be purged so they can rest again.”

“And how do you intend to do that, hmm? You have sought me out for a reason; do you propose that I, or my colleagues have a role to play?”

”I do not know,” replied the shadowy figure. ”But you were trying to find out about the lake and something called to me.”

There was a long pause. ”The blight on the lake must be dispelled. That will require a sacrifice.”

Mention of ‘sacrifice’ causes Ivy to tense up.

“I see... sacrificing a life?”

”The man, Brophy bespoiled the lake. His will be the sacrifice,” came the reply.

There was a long pause, then, ”The ancestors tell me that his body has died but his spirit still lives. Bring him to the lake and he will atone for all that he has done.”

“Hmm... I don’t know how to do that... I see visions of him sometimes - some kind of haunting I suppose - but could I capture the spirit, if that’s what it is? I haven’t the foggiest.”

There was another pregnant pause before the figure at the end of the bed stepped forward, so that the shadows fell away and Ivy could see her visitor more clearly. He was a Native American with a strong, ageless appearance, with the sides of his dark hair shaved to the skin.

”Bring the Tsi-noo to Ponki-makazas and it will be the end for him and his wretched curse! You will find a way!” he said forcefully, in a tone that brooked no argument.