Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Starlequin on 21-03-2011, 03:46:09</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>21-03-2011, 03:46:09</strong>
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				March 7, 2011<br><br>Another of the workers has disappeared. That's the fourth one since January. The others have already walked out; the foreman says they won't set foot in the manor again until a priest is called. I can't say I blame them. I've never believed in magic or superstition in my life, but three hours in that house was long enough to make me a convert. The scratches still haven't healed completely. I decided to follow Sol's suggestion, and have taken the liberty of placing classifieds in seventeen newspapers across the country. And Craigslist, God help me. Who knows what sort of freaks I'll get from <strong>that</strong> one. Hiring psychics, heavens to Murgatroyd. My father would laugh his ass off at me. And my mother would whip me hide from hair for 'trucking with witchcraft,' as she always called it. But if anyone answers...if any of them can <span class="bbc_u">help</span>...well, obviously, it will be worth it.<br><br>Ms. Pike has proven to be especially efficient. When I hired her to pore through the local records to look for information regarding Harrowgate, I never dreamed she'd turn up so much. Not exactly a goldmine of knowledge, but certainly more than I'd hoped for. If this issue really is supernatural in nature (and let's face it, we left charted waters from the moment I signed my name to the deed), then there must be more to learn. I highly doubt even the skilled Ms. Pike will discover anything further of use in town; I've decided to send her to Europe, to investigate the Harrows' trail through France and Germany. With all the talk in the records of the brothers' newfound fortune after the war, it's almost certain they found something over there they should never have meddled with. Perhaps the key will be found in Europe.<br><br>I'll continue the investigation myself from this end. Hopefully, there will be enough to give...well, whoever answers the ads a solid starting point. Of course, who knows how 'pyschics' work. Maybe they already know all this already. Wouldn't that be a treat?<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;~From the journals of Caleb Hatcher~
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				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>21-03-2011, 03:56:21</strong>
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				March 14, 2011<br><br>It's only been a week, but I've already gotten quite a few replies to the ads. Remarkable. Or maybe not; $25,000 will certainly draw out the kooks. I've already vetted a few of them, the ones least likely to turn out to be scam artists. If the stories about their abilities are even close to true...well. 'More things in heaven and earth,' as they say. Perhaps these people really can help.<br><br>Regretfully, I haven't found any new information in the last week. I suppose sending Ms. Pike away may prove unwise, but I still feel that the critical pieces to this puzzle are in Europe. And in Harrowgate, of course, but I... I simply can't go back in there again. I won't.<br><br>One of the missing workers was found last week, Jimmy Dorcett. His hair was turned snow white, his left eye was missing, and he appeared to have suffered a stroke. He's in the hospital now; the doctors say there's little hope of recovery.<br><br>What in hell is going on in that house?<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;~From the journals of Caleb Hatcher~
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				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>21-03-2011, 04:28:59</strong>
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				March 16, 2011<br><br>Finally. The first few have arrived. The psychics, I mean. I've arranged for a suite for each of them at one of my other hotels, in Memphis. There may yet be a couple more joining them later, I'm not sure. Doesn't matter. I think there's time. If there are any more coming, they should be here by Saturday. I'll start the...I think they always call it the 'debriefing', on television...we'll do that on Saturday. A chartered bus has already been arranged to take them to Cypress Falls.<br><br>I confess, part of me wonders if I might not be making such efforts to make them comfortable because I could well be sending these people to their deaths. Is this really worth it? I don't have the answer to that question. I think that may disturb me more than anything else. Even the house.<br><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;~From the journals of Caleb Hatcher~<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Acid Lips</strong> on <strong>21-03-2011, 04:37:02</strong>
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				Kat finally arrived at the hotel she was reserved a spot in. She was told that she would spend the night there and a buss would take her to the mansion in the morning. Finally getting settled for a couple of hours after a long drive she took a quick shower and dressing in a skirt with a suit. She wanted to look presentable at least (She is dressed exactly like in the picture). She sighed and Jumped into the bed looking up to the ceiling.<br><br>She sighed as she looked up, her eyes looking at the hotel she had given a room in. It was quite expensive and looked that the owner of the manor went hands down on everything in the presentation. Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes and fell into a deep slumber, her dreams began to appear about her past and what she went through with her powers.<br><br>Waking up a couple of minutes later she got off the bed and grabbed her stuff walking out to the main lobby. She never was one that slept much because of the nightmares. As she got to the lobby she placed the backpack in a corner as she sat on a couch and took out a book starting to read what she brought.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>21-03-2011, 11:32:02</strong>
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				<strong>Caleb Hatcher -- Hurry Up and Wait</strong><br><br>The ice rattled in the bottom of the glass as Mr. Hatcher rolled it between his thumb and middle finger. Feeling the cold against his palm helped to distract him from the cold that these days seemed permanently coiled around his heart, but only a little. One Italian-loafered foot tapped a steady rythym on the plush carpet, instinctively keeping time with the generic melody the pianist was tickling out in the lobby. With a lifted eyebrow and a charming smile that he didn't feel, he caught the attentions of one of the hotel restaurant's waitresses, a pretty little slip of a thing with long red hair and breasts guaranteed to make a man tip twice the price of any entree on the menu. He raised his glass wordlessly, and in an equally silent exchange she brought him a refill. His drink of choice was old fashioned iced tea; today, he was drinking Johnny Walker Black.<br><br>Hatcher sipped his drink and pushed his coat sleeve up, checking his watch; quarter past noon. His...guests weren't due until perhaps one o'clock or so, but at this stage there was really nothing else to be done, and sitting in his suite held about as much appeal as sitting in traffic. At least in the restaurant he could pretend he wasn't as nervous as a sack of cats in a kennel. And hell, maybe one of them would show up early.<br><br>A thick sheaf of envelopes and manila folders sat on the table in front of him. Hatcher set the glass down and picked up the first folder, opened it to its first page. He already knew its contents; the permits and records from the original construction of Harrowgate Manor, lists of names of workers and suppliers involved, bank account records, preliminary blueprints and architectural sketches. Nothing out of the ordinary at all. Except...a bill of lading for an unspecified cargo from an unknown shipping company. Ms. Pike, his personal investigator, found no records of the company either in the U.S. or overseas, and the company's logo turned up no matches. According to all available reports, the company never existed.<br><br>Two brothers with a mysterious fortune, recieving mysterious cargo, from a mysterious freight company. It might have been nothing, a collection of European art the Harrows acquired during their military service, maybe even the gold bullion or whatever served as the foundation of their wealth. Or it might have been something a lot worse.<br><br>Hatcher checked his watch again: half past. Another glance at the door confirmed his suspicion that he'd be waiting the full hour--<br><br>Wait. There, at the front desk. Hatcher plucked an envelope from the bottom of the pile and tipped its contents onto the table, rifling through a series of summarised dossiers. Each file contained a brief public-record biography of each of his expected guests, along with a copy of their DMV photos and a general description of their professed abilities. He scanned the photos, and...yes. Yes, that was definitely one of the pyschics he was expecting. As he stood, waving from his table to attract their attention, he noticed another one entering the revolving front entrance.<br><br>He supposed they must have been anxious to get started. The poor fools clearly had no idea what they would soon be facing...
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				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ArabellaT</strong> on <strong>21-03-2011, 17:50:20</strong>
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				Victoria nervously sat in the back of the taxi heading to the hotel she was to meet Mr. Hatcher at. Her long black hair in a pony tail to keep it from getting to messy, her bangs tucked behind her ear as she moved her thumbs around each nervously. She kept her luggage with her in the seat and watched as the buildings rolled by, or technically as she rolled by the buildings. <br><br>The driver stopped, and told her that they had made it, and she smiled politely and gave him his fare, telling him to keep the change as a tip. She rolled her luggage behind her into the hotel. She wore long black slacks, and a white button up shirt that accented her curves a little, however she still looked professional, which was what she wanted since it was almost a business type meeting, just a different kind of business.<br><br>She looked around the hotel lobby for a second before making her way to the desk, not knowing if she was supposed to check in or not.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Fulgrim</strong> on <strong>22-03-2011, 01:12:02</strong>
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				Owen leaned against the wall next to the hotel’s big entrance. He inhaled the smoke of his cigarette with relish and blew it out of his nostrils.<br>“You know, Bobby”, he told the liveried porter “you could go to fuckin’ hell for treating a priest like that. And Bobby, I’m not one of your indifferent Puritan ministers. I’m Catholic. You might have heard of us Bobby. We are those guys that molest children and burn witches and such. And goddammit, Bobby, we are vengeful. Vengeful, you hear me? Can you name one single reason why I shouldn’t ask the big guy above to send you straight to hell? He does that for us, you know?”<br>The porter glanced at Owen with disparaging countenance. He looked a little bit like one of those little monkeys you see on fairs every now and then. Owen’s attention faded as the man began to speak. For this kind of conversation the priest didn’t need somebody who replied. Actually not even somebody who listened.<br>“Sir as I have told you before, smoking isn’t allowed in our house. And stop calling me Bobby if you please, that’s not my… ”<br>The priest’s coughing bout disrupted the man whose name wasn’t Bobby.<br>Noisy Owen spat on the ground hardly missing the carpet leading to the entrance.<br>“You know Bobby, smoking is a bad habit. You should quit.” he snarled in his sarcastic manner. <br>“I do not smoke sir and my name…”<br>“You know what? We’ll do it together, you and me. Yep, last cigarette. Ever!”<br>Owen flicked the remains of his butt on the street trying to hit a cab.<br>“Well, I’d like to keep company a little longer Bobby, but some Mr. Hatcher is waiting for me in there. Maybe she is Mr. Hatcher…”<br>The priests nodded towards the rather curvy woman that had just entered the hotel with her luggage in tow. “Oh god, I hope she is Mr. Hatcher.<br><br>Hands in his pockets and accompanied by not-Bobby’s contemptuous head-shaking the priest entered the hotel lobby. It was warm and clean and Owen would have had chosen every dirty bar or sleazy strip club over this place at any time.<br>Doing his black Italian suit - that would have suited him even better if he had been in Vegas and not a priest – he looked around for the lady from a moment ago.<br>Before he could locate her his eyes met the lobby’s bar. <br>“What do you say, the Irish embassy”, he mumbled smiling. <br>One of his hands shot out of his pocket and into the inner pocket of his coat yanking out the old pocket watch of uncle Padraig. He already was late. What’s the difference!<br>Whistling a little tune by the name of Flanagan's Ball he ambled to the bar.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>22-03-2011, 06:35:54</strong>
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				<strong>Malcolm Wade -- First Meetings</strong><br><br>Winter was finally fading out, and with it went Malcolm's best excuse for wearing his favorite heavy coat. The old trench provided such nice protection from the biting December winds, but come spring time it lost a good deal of its practicality. Its only saving grace was that it looked like shit no matter what season, so Mal never had to worry about appearing fashionable. And as long as the air conditioner was still spitting snowballs, at least he could wear it in comfort in his car. He squinted through the bug-spattered windshield of the Oldsmobile and pulled into the parking lot of the Memphis Regency.<br><br>He gave his pockets a quick pat-down and ensured he was still properly equipped; the familiar bulges from his cards and digital recorder gave him a little sense of reassurance. Then he grabbed his backpack with a couple changes of clothes from the backseat and strolled into the hotel lobby. The muffled strains of smooth jazz escaped from the earpiece he wore on his left ear, while Cathy's chatter filled his right like white noise from a dead radio station. He was gratified to see he wasn't drawing nearly as many odd stares as he used to; it took a long time, but he was finally getting over the urge to signal or reply to Cathy in public. A few people still gave him the eye, of course, but he figured that was more to do with class and his lack of it than any particular behavior on his part.<br><br>A quick check at the front desk told Mal exactly nothing, but the sight of a man in a well-cut suit waving for his attention was considerably more promising. He walked into the off-side restaurant and made a bee-line for the man's table. A closer look told him this was the man he was looking for, Caleb Hatcher. Malcolm had made it a point to dig up a little info on his potential employer, and had learned that besides being a prominent wine connisseur and an avid fan of both cello music and the Knicks, Hatcher was above all a man with a problem and lots of money to throw at it. Exactly the kind of client Malcolm Wade loved, and until today thought he'd never meet.<br><br>As he approached Hatcher's table, Mal had the sense that he was being watched. Not by spirits or ghosts, or anything so unearthly; as tiresome as she could be, his spirit partner Cathy was a hell of a threat detection system, but she was still chattering about a soap opera she watched back in the 80s, so Malcolm felt reasonably safe. The hairs on the back of his neck were still standing at attention, though, so there was definitely more than one set of eyes on him. Hatcher finally stopped waving and made a universal 'join me, won't you' gesture as Mal reached the table, and the two men shook hands.<br><br>"Mr. Hatcher. I'm Malcolm Wade. I understand you may have a job for me?" <br><br>Hatcher nodded, and they both sat at the table. For a few moments, neither one said anything, instead taking the brief opportunity to size each other up. Mal didn't bring his abilities to bear on Hatcher; he usually didn't in these first meetings with clients. He preferred to see what he could discern with just the usual five senses and simple reasoning before he started 'cheating', as he thought of it. From the look of things, Caleb Hatcher was a very unsettled man. Dark circles under his eyes said he probably hadn't been sleeping well, and he gave a noticeable twitch when a dish platter crashed to the floor in the kitchen. In short, it was the sort of look Malcolm usually saw on skeptics who've recently had close encounters with the supernatural. Mr. Hatcher was definitely a new believer.<br><br>Mal drummed his fingers on the table and took a moment to turn down the volume on his mp3 player. He noticed Hatcher's questioning gaze at his earbud and pre-emptively explained. "Sorry. A little music helps me drown out the noise, lets me keep my focus so I don't get overwhelmed by all the, uh...activity," he said with an apologetic grin and a sidelong glance at the ethereal Cathy, who hovered over Hatcher's shoulder. Hatcher's expression was only mildly incredulous, so Mal decided to steer the conversation toward a more immediate subject.<br><br>"So, about the job. Can you-" Malcolm began, but Hatcher cut him off with a raised palm.<br><br>"Actually, Mr. Wade, I wonder if you would be kind enough to hold your questions a few more minutes? I don't mean to disparage your...talents, but I expect some of your colleagues will be joining us soon, and I'd just as soon not answer the same questions twice," Mr. Hatcher said, taking a sip from his glass. Mal nodded and leaned back in his seat, considering the news. Colleagues, huh? So, the man felt this job was big enough to warrant a crew. That probably meant either something extremely personal was on the line, or something extremely profitable. Hatcher didn't strike Mal as the sentimental type. No wonder the guy was shelling out top coin. "In the meantime, would you like a drink?" He asked, motioning to a nearby waitress.<br><br>Malcolm shrugged and nodded. The waitress slithered up to the table and produced a pen and pad with the flourish of a Vegas magician, and Mal turned to look up at her. "Sure, why not? Just a glass of bourbon, please...cheapest label you've got, I guess." Turning back to Hatcher as she disappeared toward the bar, he said, "It must be a pretty intense situation, if you felt the need for more than one exorcist. Has there been that much activity?"<br><br>"Oh, I think you'll find there's been a great deal of activity, Mr. Wade. I promise, when the others get here I'll answer all of your questions." Mal could only nod again; no sense in pushing for more now. He could wait. If three years as an investigator had taught him anything, it was how to wait.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Acid Lips</strong> on <strong>22-03-2011, 06:47:51</strong>
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				Kat finally heard talking about the job, she heard the conversation carefully but without taking her eyes off the book. With a smile she was convinced that he was the person who she was told to contact, standing up she approached him and bowed her head a bit, "I guess I will be one of your companions". She groaned feeling the presence of a ghost already, she could not really believe it but looks like the other companion had a ghost near him.<br><br>She extended her hand for Mr.Hatcher to shake, "My name is Kathleen, I am here about the job as well". She looked very young, maybe on her late teens or early twenties. Smiling she looked at the man and nodded at him, "Hello.... both of you.....". She let out a smile as she looked back at Mr.Hatcher, "I read the article on the news, I contacted you via Email sir".<br><br>She smiled looking at them and figuring the rest had not arrived yet, she did heard the man talking about others. She was a smart one she never approached somebody like that, she liked to study people and she heard more than what she needed. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ArabellaT</strong> on <strong>22-03-2011, 06:55:28</strong>
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				Victoria walked through the lobby and to the front desk, wondering if she had to check in. The person looked at her and smiled while she started to explain what was going on. Sadly, the lady at the desk had no clue where Mr. Hatcher was at right then, however she said she could leave a message for him. Tori decided that she would leave a message if she didn't find him around soon.<br><br>Tori's eyes searched the room for a moment before they got caught on three people. One she seemingly recognized, and figured she had a moment to take a closer look. She noticed they where in the restaurant area, so it maybe the man she was looking for. Tori brushed her bangs back and moved over to the table, adjusting her shirt and pants before they saw her, she did want to look professional at the very least.<br><br>Her red luggage bag that rolled probably gave her away first, since it was roll-able and somewhat loud when it did roll. She smiled at the two men and the lady and moved up to the table. "Victoria Tate." She told them, recognizing Mr. Hatcher fairly easily. She looked the other man up and down and wondered who he was and why he was there. Maybe he was with Mr. Hatcher, or maybe he was a psychic like she was. Either way she decided to be polite to the other man too. Her eyes then turned to the lady and she smiled, at least there would be another girl there. She could tell she was a bit younger, maybe college, or just out of college. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>22-03-2011, 09:40:18</strong>
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				<strong>Malcolm Wade -- An Argument for Temperance</strong><br><br>The waitress hadn't even returned with Mal's drink when not one, but two attractive young ladies walked up and introduced themselves one after another. Both Mal and Mr. Hatcher rose from their seats and extended their hands in welcome. From the somewhat relieved expression on Hatcher's face, Mal gathered these must have been some of the other psychics he was expecting. Malcolm returned a nod to each of the women and introduced himself.<br><br>"Pleasure to meet you, Kathleen, Miss Tate. I'm Malcolm Wade." He considered introducing Cathy, but decided to hold off; he was curious to see if they noticed her on their own, and if they did, whether they mentioned her. Besides, he thought Hatcher might not take the thought of being in the company of a spirit very well, especially if he'd already met a few malicious ones.<br><br>As the four stood introducing themselves, the waitress reappeared with Mal's drink in a wide-mouthed glass, perhaps 3/4s full with dark amber-hued nectar. When she was within four steps of the group, Malcolm had about a quarter second to wish he hadn't ordered a drink after all. Her left foot caught on a pulled-out chair's leg as she weaved around the occupied tables, and the poor girl came sprawling toward Malcolm with an expression of puzzlement that instantly gave way to abject panic. The glass flew from her serving tray and its contents splashed over Miss Tate's already attractive chest, soaking the poor woman's shirt. <br><br>The waitress's landing, meanwhile, held far more impact, as she slammed bodily against Malcolm and the two fell back onto the table. Mal's head gave a solid *THumP* against the tableclothed cherry oak, dimly aware of Cathy's hysterical laughter in the background. The waitress mumbled something that might have been an apology infused with the extraordinary twin qualities of insincerity and apathy, while simultaneously glaring at Malcolm with the sort of anger usually reserved for attempted muggers or telemarketers. Mal attempted to help the girl off of him, only to finally realize he had been holding onto her breasts the entire time.<br><br>As the waitress staggered back to her feet and stormed off, the last shreds of her dignity trailing behind her, Mal managed to sit up and slide off the table himself. He shook his head a couple times and gave a little wave to the other diners, who were watching with the kind of rapt attention often paid to traffic accidents. Wiping himself off, he finally noticed the fate of his drink -- and Miss Tate -- and a quiet whimper of disappointment escaped him; if he hadn't needed a drink earlier, he certainly did now. He pulled out a clean red handkerchief from his back pocket and offered it to the woman with a weakly apologetic smile.<br><br>"So, um...where were we?"
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				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ArabellaT</strong> on <strong>22-03-2011, 17:26:18</strong>
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				Victoria smiled at the two men as they stood up. They were polite, which meant they would get along fairly well. She shook their hands and listened to them introduce themselves. However, she did notice a fairly interesting character with them at the moment. However, the spirit seemed good, and she was positive that three out of the four people at the table already knew the spirit was here anyways. <br><br>"It's good to meet you two, Mr. Hatcher and Mr. Wade." She told them, her voice showed that fact that she was slightly nervous. She wasn't used to doing new things. "You can call me Victoria, or Tori, honestly." She told Malcolm, Miss. Tate was what her students called her. She was surprised he got the Miss part. Most of her students called her Mrs, even though there was no guy in her life, it was just the way they were taught.<br><br>As she noticed Malcolms look of regret, and his stare right behind them, Tori had enough time to turn and look to see what he was looking at. She noticed the Waitress, and the drink that now managed to hit her chest. She couldn't help but start blushing as she grabbed a napkin and started to dry the shirt. However, that wouldn't be enough for the amber stain and the fact that the shirt was now mostly see-through and clinging to her chest now. <br><br>Tori smiled at the look that Malcolm gave her, then she started to laugh a little. Certain things where better if you jut laughed them off instead of getting mad or frustrated. Her luggage was here, having not checked into a room or anything, so honestly there was no worry when she already had a shirt she could change in.&nbsp; She knew by the look on his face, that the drink that spilled was Malcolm's drink, and she gave an apologetic look back to him. "Sorry about your drink, Mr. Wade."<br><br>She made a note in her head to get Mr. Wade a new drink, as she sighed. Should she go change now, or was Mr. Hatcher going to start the meeting with her in a see-through stained shirt. She looked at the others a bit to see their reaction, and noticed the look from some guys across the room. Oh yeah, she definitely wanted to change her shirt.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Fulgrim</strong> on <strong>22-03-2011, 18:29:30</strong>
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				Leaned against the bar backwards Owen's attention was caught by a clumsy waitress had caused amidst the lobby's tables.&nbsp; <br>She crashed into a man, flooring him. The drink for that now someone had to wait a little longer was spilled over…Hopefully-Mr-Hatcher’s nice rack?<br>&nbsp;There she was sitting around a table with a young girl, the fella who crawled back on his seat and a pretty dedicated looking man in a noble suit.<br>If somebody offered you 25 grand for a job and waited for you in a hotel lobby he definitely would look like that - the barkeeper confirmed his assumption with a small nod. <br><br>Owen emptied his whiskey smashing the glass back on the bar. <br>“It’s on him” the priest grinned pointing towards the real Mr. Hatcher. The barkeeper just shrugged his shoulders. Nice guy, silent but almost as cynic as himself. Owen would ask Mr. Hatcher to tip him generously. <br>He rummaged his pockets for his clerical collar. Every now and then it was kind of funny to pull off the devout priest act. It was a nice way to figure out how people ticked also it reminded Owen of the days he actually were a devout priest. Good times.<br><br>The priest wiped his grin of his face and tried to look stern and gracefully. His hands folded he strode towards the four people. <br>He had almost reached them when a voice, cold, grieving and reverberating, boomed in his head. <br>Owen knew ‘the dirge’ as he called it for over sixteen years now so it didn't do more than causing a small shiver. ‘The dirge’ was the reason for what Owen was – voices of the deceased that warned him of danger he was about to face. As he was younger the dead talked to him rarely, but since he worked as exorcist he had to face their cryptic gibberish every other day. <br>This time it wasn’t very cryptic, though. <br><br><div align="center"><em>"You think we die alone, in this case you are right<br>No friends by your side or family in sight<br>There'll be no talking your way out this time<br>So don't count the cash cause you leave it behind"</em></div><br>his Uncle Padraig forecast Owens early dead.<br>The priest ignored the warnings and continued his way to the table.<br><br>“Excuse me for interupting! Are you by any chance Mr. Caleb Hatcher?” he asked in a calm, dulcet voice addressing Hatcher.<br>“I am Father Graham.” Owen nodded to everyone around the table and smiled. Not-Mr-Hatcher's shirt was was soaked and didn't hide a lot anymore. Owen's smile got a little bigger before he pulled himself together again.<br>“I was sent by His Holiness in Rome to help the troubled facing…extraordinary problems.”<br>‘And it seems I’m not the only one around her’ he added in his thoughts, grinning inwardly. <br><br> <br><br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Acid Lips</strong> on <strong>22-03-2011, 20:19:31</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				She smiled as she sat with them on a chair across the way from Mr.Hatcher. The chair was not very comfortable but at least was better than nothing. Feeling the spirit of that hanged around one of them sudden outburst of energy and the events that happened later made her shrug. Taking off her jacket she gave it to the woman who had just received the splash of a drink all over her shirt with her bra exposing herself a bit, “There, cover yourself with this, you can give it back later”. She nodded looking at the man with the ghost and shrugging, she looked at him indicating that she knew more or less what happened.<br><br>The two men and the girl in front of her gave her the creeps, first there was a man with a constant presence near him all the time, the presence seemed to had made something for the little event to happen and now Kat felt that the ghost was laughing and happy. Next was the woman who received the unfortunate spill of the drink and now her bra was showing,&nbsp; she could not put her fingers on her but she knew that she was different from the others. Then was the man who brought them there, he was hiding something, nervous about something. His facial expression gave him up during the time she was near him but she decided not to ask, it was his problem anyways.<br><br>A man who was a apparent priest came back, the religious part of ghost solving. She never was one for those kind of people but she never insulted them either, if they thought that they could manage the job with their ways then she would like to see that. And then there was herself, the rather young woman who apparently nobody was taking seriously or at least on her mind. She knew from the first time she met them that one of them was carrying a burden to him, a ghost. <br><br>The hotel chosen for this reunion was nothing more than beautiful, the man intended them to talk there. However she could not wait to go to the mansion, to see what was the problem exactly. The email that she received allowed her to search for some information about Mr.Wade and the place he was talking about, apparently the mist of a great tragedy. Something occurred there that would leave obvious ghosts lingering around the castle. She remained quiet after giving the coat to the woman, she wanted for them to talk first then she would talk and tell what she thought of the entire situation.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>24-03-2011, 09:14:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Caleb Hatcher -- A Minor Delay</strong><br><br>Mr. Wade's introduction seemed to touch off a cascade of arrivals. Shortly after he took his seat, Ms. McGlone appeared out of nowhere, extending her hand while stuffing a book into her bag. Both he and Mr. Wade rose and shook her hand, and before they could be re-seated a second woman arrived, Ms. Tate. <br><br>"Ah, Ms. McGlone, Ms. Tate, thank you both for coming. I was very pleased to have received your replies to my ad; the reports I've read concerning your abilities were quite impressive. I'm glad to have you both involved in this job."<br><br>As he was speaking, he was distracted by the clatter of glass on plastic. One of the waitresses practically tackled Mr. Wade onto their table, and a glass of whiskey was sent flying all over Ms. Tate's shirt. Mr. Hatcher watched, wide-eyed, as the full spectacle unraveled in front of him. Mr. Wade soon stumbled back onto his feet, and in a rather ungentlemanly display immediately turned to stare at Ms. Tate's soaked-through shirt. Fortunately the man corrected himself before Hatcher decided to do it for him, and offered the poor girl a handkerchief from his pocket. He was about to offer the woman his own jacket, but the young Ms. McGlone beat him to it.<br><br>He was about to suggest that they all adjourn to their rooms for a moment to allow Ms. Tate the opportunity to change into a clean outfit, when his thoughts were interrupted by yet another introduction. Another man, perhaps the same age as Mr. Wade or a little older, approached their table and introduced himself in a rather soothing voice.<br><br>"Oh! Welcome, Father. I wasn't aware my trouble had attracted the Vatican's attention, but I'm certainly grateful you came. I <em>am</em> right to assume you're here to assist with, er...well, with the exorcism?" Hatcher asked, his voice lowered slightly, having visible trouble with hinting at the nature of his problem. After the priest's reply, he held up a hand.<br><br>"Well, I was planning to offer you all a meal before we began discussing the job, but I don't think it will hurt anything if we all take a little while and head up to our rooms, freshen up and all that before dinner. You've all already been checked in, and your keys are at the front desk if you haven't collected them yet. Why don't we meet back here in, say half an hour?" He said, offering Ms. Tate a conspiratorial wink.<br><br>Of course, he had no intention of returning to his suite, but it wouldn't harm anything to postpone the discussion a bit. He'd been waiting for nearly a year now; thirty minutes wouldn't hurt.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ArabellaT</strong> on <strong>24-03-2011, 17:37:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Victoria looked at the Priest as he came over and blushed. The best way to meet people was to have your shirt see through so everyone can see your chest. She noticed him give a look to her, which she mistook for him not approving, and sighed when Kathleen gave her a jacket to wear till she could change. "Thank you very much Kathleen." Realizing she didn't get a last name to call her Ms. with. She pulled it on quickly and closed it so no one could see through her shirt anymore. She would have to repay the younger lady for her nice act later.<br><br>She tried to not laugh as she noticed Mr. Hatcher was a little embarrassed by his problem, although she could understand. At first she wouldn't tell anyone about hers, and still she rarely ever does other than the people she helps. She wondered just how bad it could be if he is so embarrassed, but put out adds for this kind of thing. She avoided a sigh wondering what they all got themselves into. <br><br>Tori's green eyes sparkled a little when he offered them a break. She knew it was for her and usually she would feel embarrassed, but the shirt beat it to in embarrassing things that could happen in one night. She did sigh, realizing what these people must think of her at the point, and felt herself start to blush.<br><br>"Thank you Mr. Hatcher!" She told him, quietly as she stood up and grabbed her luggage, wanting to change as fast as she can she just about ran out of the room. Of course she didn't because she still had her pride to think about. Her students would probably be laughing and rolling on the floor if they had saw her like this, luckily they were no where around her. <br><br>She quickly made it to the front desk to retrieve her keys. The lady giving her a weird look as she noticed the jacket didnt match her outfit so well. She just shrugged a little, and took the key that was handed to her then made her way to the elevator. She wanted out of the shirt as soon as possible. She'd made sure she made a note in her head to apologize to Mr. Wade and Mr. Hatcher, and to Thank Kathleen later about the jacket. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Acid Lips</strong> on <strong>24-03-2011, 20:30:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				It was all too weird, the ghost was praying pranks and focusing on the other woman, of course she was much more sexier than Kat but that was beyond the point. Once the woman thanked Kat she just nodded and smiled, “No worries, one of the reasons why I wear black mostly”. Looking back at the father who approached she smiled and nodded her head, in greeting. She did not fought for what others believed , to each their own but she did not think the religion methods were correct although they seemed to work sometime for demons, but ghosts were a different matter.<br><br>She shrugged as she was addressed but she just shrugged it off, once they were told to get a break Kat did not waited, she needed to relax since the ghost was buzzing all over her from the guy who had her hovering all over. Walking to the bar she payed the bartender and nodded, “Martini, dry”. The bartender nodded and began to do the drink, a couple of seconds later he handed her the drink and she payed him cash before taking a sip out of her martini. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Fulgrim</strong> on <strong>25-03-2011, 05:48:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br>It didn’t took the priest very long to realize that this people were open about religious believes more or less. An attitude that nowadays only few people shared - sadly. On the other hand that pretty much took the fun from pretending to be a devout man. Time to drop the act.<br>“I’m afraid the Vatican, Mr. Hatcher doesn’t care”, Owen said with a heinous grin.<br>He slouched on a chair crossing his legs. The clerical collar he struggled to do a few minutes ago was thrown on the table.<br>“The Vatican doesn’t care at all.”<br>With some disappointment Owen watched the big-boobed woman taking the cute girl’s offer and covered her more or less exposed breasts with the jacket. <br>“But the Vatican trains people who do care – or at least people who aren’t well-paid enough to not care. Owen MacDermott at your service.”<br><br>The priest desultorily listened to Hatcher’s little speech. He waited till the two women had left the table and only Hatcher, the other guy and himself remained.<br>As a waitress came by, he ordered a drink. He wouldn’t pass on the opportunity to put this Mr. Hatcher through his paces.<br>And he was glad that he could do it without the two women present. He didn’t doubt their skills - he had seen capable exorcists and necromancers that had seemed a lot more harmless - but they also didn’t seem to be used to the disappointments of this job. <br>On the other hand a cute face and a nice pair of breasts could distract a man from drawing conclusions. <br>This strange guy on the contrary seemed to be more than aware of the downsides.<br><br>Owen leaned towards Mr. Hatcher.<br>“You know Mr. Hatcher, I’ve ran down some ghost and demon in my days as exorcist. Some of them were as real as something unreal like that can only be, others were mere pipe dreams.<br>In fact, most of the ghost-in-the-attic cases are more like squirrel-in-the-attic. And most of the time it’s an ol’ confused gramps or an overly concerned mother who has a thing on horror stories. I think my distraught friend whose name I don’t know yet may confirm that.” He flimsily smiled at the man across the table.<br>“If someone offers 25 grand for a job - 100 grand if you don’t plan on playing us of against each other – I start to listen attentively.&nbsp; Tell me Mr. Hatcher: Is this a joke? Or are you really in the shit that deep?”<br>Owen leaned back and took a sip of his drink that had just arrived.<br>“For your sake I hope it’s neither.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>25-03-2011, 10:00:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Malcolm Wade -- All Things to Those Who Wait</strong><br><br>Well, no one was screaming and he hadn't been slapped yet. That could only be good news. Except that the back of his head was pounding and he'd probably just blown his shot at $25,000. Still, Mr. Hatcher didn't seem overly incensed, so maybe the whole thing wouldn't be held against him after all. Besides, it wasn't like he'd pulled the chair out or made the waitress trip, right? Right. Totally not his fault. And Cathy...well, she probably -- no, almost certainly -- didn't have anything to do with it, either. Sure, she laughed about it, but she laughed about almost everything that happened to him. Easily amused, that's all she was.<br><br>"Sorry about your drink, Mr. Wade," the woman said, as though it were somehow her own fault. "No ma'am, never mind about the drink. I'm the one oughtta be apologizing, ruining your shirt and all," Mal said, carefully keeping his eyes above her neckline despite temptation. As she patted herself dry with the napkins and wrapped herself in the younger woman's coat, another new face arrived at the table.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=101356.msg4407503#msg4407503">Quote from: Fulgrim on 22-03-2011, 18:29:30</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"Excuse me for interupting! Are you by any chance Mr. Caleb Hatcher?" he asked in a calm, dulcet voice addressing Hatcher. "I am Father Graham." Owen nodded to everyone around the table and smiled. Not-Mr-Hatcher's shirt was was soaked and didn't hide a lot anymore. Owen's smile got a little bigger before he pulled himself together again. "I was sent by His Holiness in Rome to help the troubled facing...extraordinary problems."</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Almost the moment the newcomer identified himself as a priest, Mal felt Cathy move a little closer toward him. Priests usually had that effect on her; Malcolm suspected it was because they had a tendency to exorcise first and ask questions a week or two later. Without even realizing, Mal adopted a slightly more protective stance towards her. Still, he wasn't too worried about her; his companion had already proven she could hold her own against even the most devout exorcists. He just hoped this one wasn't the trigger-happy type.<br><br><em>'Shouldn't be much to worry about, though; with the smell of whiskey that strong on his breath and the look in his eyes when he caught Ms. Tate's, er...wardrobe malfunction, I don't exactly think this guy's a paragon of righteousness. Hell, we might even get along.'</em><br><br>Malcolm's thoughts were derailed by Hatcher's enthusiastic welcome to the Father, as well as his apparent hesitation to talk about what had obviously brought them all there. However, it was the clergyman's response that really threw him for a loop. Not that it particularly shocked Mal to learn that the Vatican and the Holy See didn't actually give a damn for a haunted house or something, but the message's coldly amused delivery was definitely enough to dismiss any thoughts that this fellow was on any kind of Church PR campaign.<br><br><em>'Father Graham? Owen McDermott? Huh. Must be a Catholic thing. But what do we call him?'</em> Mal thought absently as the ladies left the table. The priest with two names caught another waitress and ordered a stiff one, and Malcolm decided to risk his luck again. He requested another bourbon while McDermott ran through what sounded almost like a practiced spiel, alternating between humorous and threatening.<br><br><div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=101356.msg4418780#msg4418780">Quote from: Fulgrim on 25-03-2011, 05:48:38</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">"You know Mr. Hatcher, I've ran down some ghosts and demons in my days as exorcist. Some of them were as real as only something unreal like that can be, others were mere pipe dreams. In fact, most of the ghost-in-the-attic cases are more like squirrel-in-the-attic. And most of the time it's an ol' confused gramps or an overly concerned mother who has a thing on horror stories. I think my distraught friend whose name I don't know yet may confirm that." He flimsily smiled at the man across the table. "If someone offers 25 grand for a job - 100 grand if you don't plan on playing us of against each other - I start to listen attentively.&nbsp; Tell me Mr. Hatcher: Is this a joke? Or are you really in the shit that deep?" Owen leaned back and took a sip of his drink that had just arrived. "For your sake I hope it's neither."</blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Thankful that his second drink was delivered without incident, Mal relished a long sip and nodded in agreement, though he bristled a bit at being labeled 'distraught'. He didn't think this was some kind of scam, though; quite the opposite. He strongly suspected Mr. Hatcher was indeed as deeply 'in the shit' as he could get without a shovel. Before Hatcher could respond, Mal stole the chance to extend a hand and introduce himself to McDermott.<br><br>"I'm Malcolm Wade, by the way. Good to know you."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ArabellaT</strong> on <strong>25-03-2011, 18:27:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Victoria quickly made her way into the elevator, some of the people looking at her weird in the Lobby. She sighed and went up the the floor her room was on. She tapped her foot a bit and stood there with her luggage till the door opened.&nbsp; She moved down the hallway and into her room for a second. 30 minutes would give her enough time to rinse off so she didn't feel like she smelled like an alcoholic.<br><br>Tori took off her clothing and hopped into a shower for a few minutes, cleaning off the alcohol until she felt like she didnt smell like alcohol. She then dried off and looked in her luggage. Actually, she picked the first things on top of her luggage and changed into a knee length skirt, all black, and a green button up top. She had less business type clothing, but that was for when she was working and not talking about work, and money.<br><br>She slipped her shoes back on after she dressed and headed back down stairs. It only took her 15 or so minutes, giving her time to get a drink also, well unless they where all sitting there waiting for her. All the time she spent getting ready she was thinking about what she was doing here. Firstly, the man is offering a lot of money to a lot of people, unless its an interview type situation where he picks the best one. If not, he has to have a serious problem. Tori looked at her luggage, and in her purse. She didn't have enough supplies to stop a really big problem. She should have thought about that. <br><br>Secondly, she never worked with other people who had the same abilities. That scared her a little more than wha the issue was. She had no clue what kind of people they where, or how they dealt with the issue at hand. However, she was determined to make it work out, in some way at least.<br><br>Her third and final passing thought before she made it down into the lobby was why there weren't any more single guys with jobs and money. Then she could find a guy and wouldn't be in stupid situations like this because her school job doesn't pay enough for the house she is living in by herself. She shook that thought out of her head as she walked out of the elevator and into the lobby. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Acid Lips</strong> on <strong>25-03-2011, 20:20:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				She looked at the bartender and ordered another drink, she needed to think about what was going to happen. She did not even knew there was other people with abilities, she knew that the church used faith and religion to get demons out by exorcism. Humming to herself she started drinking the new drink given, her mind full of thoughts. She researched the damn castle she was going through but the history was so dark and deep she did not even found much to anything. The drink was a little bit different, they put in a little bit more alcohol than she was used to but she drank it without complaining.<br><br>Finally after the second drink she walked back to the lobby where the rest sat and sat on a couch closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. She could sense another ghost at least near one of the guys, the ghost never left him, she guessed it was maybe because it was someone related to him. She looked at the priest and the guy talking and did not wanted to bother them, she sighed closing her eyes and waiting for the girl to arrive from cleaning herself as she guessed that she had to take a bath in order to take the smell off her.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>26-03-2011, 04:52:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Caleb Hatcher -- Bloody Remembrances</strong><br><br>The ladies took Hatcher up on his offer for a brief adjournment, but it seemed the gentlemen intended to wait downstairs with him. Well, that was fine too; Caleb had about as much interest in being alone these days as he had in free elective dental surgery. Mr. McDermott's painfully blunt rebuttal of the notion of papal involvement was disappointing, but honestly not surprising. He'd partly suspected that genuine attention from the Vatican would be expecting too much for a mere haunting in Tennessee, even one as prolific and dangerous as this one had proven to be.<br><br>He also suspected that it wouldn't have killed the man to have been a bit kinder about disillusioning him. Although from the man's words, he was more mercenary than missionary, so perhaps he just wasn't the type for subtlety. McDermott's next words generally confirmed the opinion Hatcher was quickly forming of him.<br><br>As Owen finished, Hatcher tipped his own glass back and drained the last of his whiskey and sat quiet for a moment. So, they thought he was joking, did they? He sat the glass aside and dug through the stack of files in front of him, pulled out a particularly thick manila envelope and untied the string-catch at the lip.<br><br>"Gentlemen, let me tell you something. I've been to some pretty god-awful places in this world. I served three years in Iraq in the U.S. Army; I've hunted wild game in Africa. And I'm familiar with some of the worst horrors that man and beast can inflict upon humanity, and I have stood my ground against them. So believe me when I say that there is no creature that runs, flies, swims or crawls upon God's earth that frightens me. But whatever is in that house...it's <strong>not</strong> of God's earth. Allow me to assure you that this job is no joke, Mr. McDermott. It's not a scam, a con, a scheme or a prank. <strong>It. Is. Real.</strong> And if my assurances aren't enough for you, then perhaps you'd be so kind as to look over a few of these."<br><br>Hatcher tipped the envelope open and out spilled over two dozen records and photographs of various men and women, several in 'before and after' style. The first photos showed healthy looking, normal people; the second set displayed their remains. Many of them had been transformed into gruesome caricatures of humanity, their faces and forms mutilated in horrible ways. Some had words or pictographs carved into their flesh. Others appeared to have been mummified while still alive. A few had been reduced to nothing but chunks of charred meat or rotted bone, and a couple even looked like wax dolls that had been held too near an open flame, their features irreparably melted and blurred together.<br><br>As the two men rifled through the photos and records, Hatcher rattled off a few of the ones that stuck in his mind. "Jason Lambert, 37, with the original renovation crew. He vanished the first week in November; he turned up five weeks later with both of his eyes missing and the bones completely removed from his left arm. The doctors said he suffered some kind of cardiac anuerysm; he died just before Christmas. He had a nine-year-old son."<br><br>"Mary Beth Copeland, 26. Just a tourist passing through town on her way home in Alabama. She went missing in December. Her body was found January 14. Her skin had been flayed off and replaced -- inside out."<br><br>"Timothy Pendergrast, 45. A cop doing surveillance on the Manor with a state-wide task force; the cops finally got wise that something was going on in the house, but they were sure it was just some homeless psycho squatters or something. He and his partner were parked just outside the rear gate, his partner got out to go take a leak, he came back, no more partner. He still hasn't been found. As far as I know, the cops have actually given up on Harrowgate; they say there hasn't been any 'discernible activity in the area,' but they're still searching for Pendergrast's body."<br><br>"There are the others, too, but those aren't all. Those are just the recent ones that have been documented. There have been disappearances linked to Harrowgate since it was first built, back in the 20s. I also have the files on the Cypress Falls Seven, a few others. The place was burned down in '33, but there was still the odd disappearance through the decades. It's only really kicked up again the last couple years, though." As he spoke, one of the waitresses appeared with a refill of his glass and he downed fully half before continuing. <br><br>"As for the money, that's real, too. You'll each get $25,000 upon completion of the job. If...if you don't survive, it will be paid to the beneficiaries of your choice. Are you getting the picture yet, gentlemen? I caught the looks that my hesitation earned, earlier. I'm sure you probably think I'm embarrassed to be asking psychics for help, or ashamed to admit that I just don't have any rational explanation for these events. But I'm not embarrassed by this, far from it. There is <em>something</em> unearthly in that house, my friends. And whatever it is..." Hatcher paused and took another drink, setting the empty glass back on the table with a visible shudder.<br><br>"I'm afraid of it. I am very, <span class="bbc_u">very</span> afraid of it."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Acid Lips</strong> on <strong>26-03-2011, 05:07:26</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Kat was nearby hearing the entire thing, a bottle of water on her hands as she just heard him talking. Something did not sounded right in all this, first thing is that only very angry ghosts could make contact with living things, and those ghosts were often difficult to handle. The other thing was the shapes she heard the man talking, they were found nearly destroyed, it was impossible for a human to do such a thing. The third thing was that she simply did not trusted that the job could be done as easily as that, sure he brought the best paranormal investigators but most of them were the first time dealing with this kind of stuff. She looked over at him and sighed, "Those are not mere ghosts, normally a ghost will use the energies around itself to even be able to touch a human being, let alone kill them. I think you are dealing with a very powerful entity or entities, there might not only be ghosts in your place but demons as well, if there is demons then we will need a hell more of history of the castle itself". <br><br>She looked at the pictures and went through them like she had seen that stuff everyday, placing them back on the table she looked at him. "My abilities are simple, I can sense ghosts and talk to them, and very rarely I can banish a entity to where it deserves to be. However I do think it is demons you are dealing with here. I will try my best to help you out but I cannot guarantee anything of it". She sighed placing the photos back to the desk and leaning back to the sofa, "I think you did right in calling so many of us, one alone cannot do such a thing".
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>26-03-2011, 07:45:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Malcolm Wade -- From Bad to Worse and Back Again</strong><br><br>Mal tried not to, but he usually zoned out when clients started going on about how tough / wise / enlightened / open-minded / whatever they were, and this time was no exception. It was true he'd only been working as an investigator and ghost buster for three years, but in that time he'd learned quite a few lessons that had stuck with him. And one of the most important rules was that when dealing with the paranormal, one could almost always disregard prior experience with the living. The same rules and protocols simply did not apply, and it was always hard for someone to come to grips with that for the first time.<br><br>The victim files, on the other hand, definitely made Mal sit up and take notice. Some of them were downright stomach-turning. The girl sitting nearby scanned through some of the photos with nary a change in her expression, which was to Mal a bad sign. Either she had yet to come to grips with her own mortality, one of the many symptoms of youthful arrogance -- which could easily prove lethal in this line of work -- or she was some kind of sociopath, or else just plain dumb, both of which could also prove fatal but with the added downside of potentially taking others down with her. <br><br>She didn't seem to know as much as she thought she did, either; Malcolm had run across plenty of rageful poltergeists and avenging revenants that had worked physical violence on their victims comparable to those in the photographs, and he was quite certain McDermott had seen his share as well. But there was a difference there: in cases like that, the violence was almost always targeted at specific individuals, and usually once he dug deep enough there was an obvious (though sometimes convoluted) motive involved. These poor souls seemed to have nothing in common with either each other or Harrowgate Manor itself, aside from simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Still, she wasn't wrong about one thing.<br><br>"The kid's right, Hatcher. There's no way this is the work of ordinary spooks. There's almost certainly a demon pulling the strings, perhaps even more than one. It's possible the demon, or demons, are either feeding on the spirits for their strength, or enslaving them to their will." He stopped for a moment as a particularly horrible thought sprouted up, and he shared a rather queasy look with the priest. "Hell, they might even be serving an Outsider, from Beneath the Deeps."<br><br>Malcolm shook his head and leaned on the table. "If we go in there, the four of us might be able to lay down the ghosts and drive out the demons. But if there's an Outsider...I think the smartest thing you could do, Mr. Hatcher, is just burn the whole place down. Salt the earth, lay cement over every square inch, and put up a high-voltage electric fence. And maybe bury some nuclear waste to make sure no one has any reason to go there, ever again."<br><br><em>'soafterCarlahadjustfoundoutthathertwinstepsister<br>RamonahadstolenheridentityinordertobecomeDaniel<br>andMariassurrogatebecauseshewasplanningtosteal<br>thebabyandholditforransombutwaitaminutewhatare<br>youtalkingaboutOutsidersohcomeonMalcolm<br>Outsidersarentthatbadtheyrenothingmorethanelder<br>demonswhodescendedbelowtheDarkUnknownandfed<br>oneachothertogrowtheirpowerduringthetimebefore<br>theFirstAgeandbesidesitsnotlikenooneseverfought<br>thembackbeforetherehavebeenplentyofpsychicsand<br>holywarriorswhovepushedOutsidersbackBeneaththe<br>DeepsandwedontevenknowifthereisanOutsider<br>involvedyetthisseemsmoreliketheworkofGoethic<br>demonslikethatonewefoughtinMissouriohheywhy<br>dontwegobacktoMissourisometimetheyhadthatreally<br>greatcheeseburgerrememberyouloveditsomuchandI<br>gottowatchyoueatfourofthemareyouhungrynowdidnt<br>MrHatchersayhewasgoingtobuyyoudinnerwhatareyou<br>goingtohaveIthinkIminthemoodtowatchyoueatsteak<br>doyouthinkyoumightlike-'</em><br><br>Malcolm's eyes glazed over and he lost his train of thought as Cathy's chatter burst in on his conversation. As she talked, Mal forgot himself for a moment and reached out with his thumb and first two fingers and made a severe pinching-shut motion over her spectral lips. This act had exactly zero effect on Cathy, but probably served to cement the others' opinion that he was a lunatic just waiting for a full moon. While she droned on, he took another drink and looked squarely at Hatcher.<br><br>"Then again, maybe it's not so bad. I admit, I might be getting a little ahead of myself here. There is every possibility that this is just an average demonic infestation, and we won't actually know for sure until we go and scope out the site. Right?" Mal said, giving both the girl and the priest a look in turn. Yep, positive attitude, that was Malcolm Wade.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Fulgrim</strong> on <strong>27-03-2011, 04:35:56</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Owen smiled weary towards the man named Malcolm Wade and raised his glass to him. <br>Names…the first step on the road to the place where you grieve for people once they’re dead.<br>“Nice to meet you, Wade”, he replied shortly before he focused on Mr. Hatcher again. <br>The priest listened until the man had finished talking. He watched the man carefully as he spoke and he watched him as he showed he photos around. He watched the little shiver of his hands, the erratically flickering of his eyes.<br><br>“I’m certain sure Mr. Wade here is as deeply impressed by your stories about shoot some lions from a moving truck with a heavy-calibered gun as I am. You know, Mr. Hatcher, if words and pictures were enough to convince me I’d still sit in a nice little church in the middle of nowhere.”&nbsp; Owen took a sip of his whiskey. He closed his eyes, just for a second. He played with the glass in his hands, observing it attentively.<br>“I’ll be convinced when I see…that” he pointed on the pictures “and the thing that caused it.” <br>As he looked back at Mr. Hatcher he forced himself to smile. Fear had taken hold of him. Not for his life, or Mr. Hatcher’s beloved property …<br>Should – whatever haunted – Harrowgate Manor decided to go on a little journey…<br>Owen didn’t want to think about it.<br><br>As Wade and the young girl who had just returned to the table discussed about what or what not could do such harm shown in the photos, Sean pictured to himself who this demon would look.<br>The priest was sure that there was a demon. In his experience especially demons had a fancy for such kind of - artistic atrocity. Demons and humans…<br><br>Wade’s chatter about an Outsider brought him back to reality. Reality, a funny word when you’re sitting around a table, covered with distasteful pictures of disfigured corpses, talking about ghosts and demons.<br>“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait”, Owen wouldn’t let Wade chance from the Outsider subject that easily.<br>“You think that” he pointed to the pictures on the table again “could be the work of an elder demon? <br>C’mon, that’s biblical bullshit. I mean even most demons don’t believe in them.”<br>But what if the man was right? What if they did exist? There had been some cryptic reports on them in the archives of the Vatican – then again they had reports on a talking, burning bush.<br>The priest looked at the pictures again. Probable or not, they had to consider the presence of an elder demon.<br>“Then again if Mr. Wade is right about his Outlander…you’re really fucked, Mr. Hatcher.”<br><br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ArabellaT</strong> on <strong>27-03-2011, 08:19:38</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Victoria adjusted her skirt just before she headed into the restaurant. She wanted to make sure she looked somewhat okay, she was never focused on that however afterwards the incident with her shirt she thought he should make a good impression after that. She then walked into the room and over to the table noticing they seemed to be deep in conversation.<br><br>She couldn't help but wonder what they had talked about while she was gone. A small frown appeared before she shook her head and smiled, she wasn't surprised they talked while she was gone, she was gone for a while. She moved over to the table they were sitting in and took a seat between Mal and Hatcher, the only free seat at the table at the moment. She noticed some files on the table and picked them up looking inside.<br><br>She smiled at the others then looked at the photo's and newspaper clippings while the others talked. Each seeming to be terrible. She winced a little when she read about them dieing or getting hurt, and the pictures made her want to cry. What could do that to a person, and how did they all get themselves in this mess?<br><br>However, her thoughts drifted as she read the last one and looked at the others. She wanted to leave and not come back, however, they would stay and she knew they needed the help. She sighed and placed the last article down. Not only those that were there, but others who would come. If she could help stop it now that could save those in the future. <br><br>She looked at the man across from the table, Owen. She gave him a small uncertain smile as she thought some more. She hadn't talked much because it seemed like something like this needed deep thought. She didn't want to just jump in head first and get hurt. Her mind was swirling a little as she thought. She stood up and walked to the bar and asked for a water, needing something for her now dry throat. She then moved back to the table and quietly sat down before looking to Mr. Hatcher.<br><br>"Mr. Hatcher, what and who exactly owned this property before you?" She asked, that would be the biggest clue as to what they were facing.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>27-03-2011, 10:27:30</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Caleb Hatcher -- The Debriefing Continues</strong><br><br>Ms. McGlone's and Mr. Wade's words did little to assuage Hatcher's worries. Of course whatever was in Harrowgate was worse than mere ghosts; his own experience in the house assured him of that. The thought that it could be demons wasn't very surprising, either; naturally, it was something of a shock to learn that such things existed, but if ghosts could exist, why not demons? Mr. Hatcher was long past disbelieving.<br><br>Mr. Wade's warning of Outsiders, whatever those were, was what truly chilled him to the bone. He had no idea what the Deeps that Wade mentioned were, and chose to ignore it for now; they certainly seemed to know what they were talking about, at least, and that was enough for now. He didn't really know what an 'average demonic infestation' looked like, but he was pretty sure this wasn't one.<br><br>"As far as, er, 'scoping it out,' there will be a charter bus tomorrow morning to take you all to the Manor. In the meantime, I believe I owe you all a dinner. And I think there are still a couple more of your colleagues coming to join us, as well." Hatcher said, a little grateful to have something else to think about, even for a short while. As the others talked among themselves a moment, he motioned over another waitress who stood patiently until she'd jotted down his guests' orders.<br><br>Mr. McDermott's casual attitude, however, overshadowed his hope for a pleasant meal. He was beginning to see why the man had given up his collar; Hatcher would have bet the man's sermons made Heaven sound like a ghetto. On the bright side, though, he seemed to disagree with Mr. Wade's considerably pessimistic view, so. There was that.<br><br>"Mr. Hatcher, who exactly owned this property before you?" Ms. Tate asked, clearly disturbed by the images in the files in front of them.<br><br>"As a matter of fact, there were only three previous owners of the estate. Harrowgate Manor was built in 1920 by Edmond and William Harrow, two local men who returned from Europe at the end of World War I with an unexplained and mysterious fortune. They owned the house until about 1930 or so, when they completely vanished. It seems that right from the beginning, Harrowgate was plagued by disappearances and murder victims, and with the brothers gone the townspeople razed the manor completely to the ground. <br><br>(http://www.infomercantile.com/images/8/82/Two-gentlemen-seated-carte-de-visite-stavanger-norway.jpg)<br>(Edmond (left) and William (right) Harrow, 1921)<br><br>"In the late 60s, a man named Jeremiah Winston bought the property and tried to turn it into some sort of Americana museum, but apparently his financials fell through and he went broke before he could even start reconstruction. There were less than a dozen disappearances and missing persons cases in the area from around the 40s up until the late 90s, but my investigator couldn't tell if they were related to the Harrowgate haunting, or simply average murders and disappearances.<br><br>"My company bought the property in 2005, in a straight low-bid auction. I wasn't even aware we owned it until last year, when I started looking into building a new hotel resort in the area. It stayed vacant until last August, when reconstruction and renovations began," Hatcher replied. It was gratifying to see at least <em>one</em> person take an interest in investigation over speculation, anyway.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Devi</strong> on <strong>27-03-2011, 19:40:59</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<br>&nbsp; &nbsp;Lisa sits in her cab, making some last minute adjustments to her hair and makeup as the conversation progresses within the building, the cabbie standing impatiently next to her luggage outside. As she slides from the car, she flashes a winning smile, purring out "Thank you again SO much for your patience. I'm sorry to bother you again, but if you could film me for one moment, I'll be happy to make it worth your while." She waves another twenty, flashing her best smile as he fumbles with the camera, then holds it up. "My name is Lisa Morgan" she begins, smoothing her skirt down as she speaks. "And I am about to embark on one of the most dangerous investigations of my career, with some of the best psychics and paranormal investigators in the world. In just a few moments, I will be meeting with the owners of the famous Harrowgate Manor - one of the most renowned, and dangerous, haunted properties in the America's - if not the world." <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp;Lisa smiles and steps forward, taking the camera and shutting it off as she examines the cabbie over the top of her sunglasses, enjoying the slight uptick in his interest. "You some kind of ghost hunter?" he asks, incredulously, following with "I've never heard of Harrowgate Manor." Lisa laughs to herself, calling over her shoulder as she heads in "You'll have heard of it when I'm through with it." As she walked into the building she quickly spotted the gaggle of oddballs this sort of gig invariably attracts, as always experiencing a brief twinge at being associated with them - worse than usual, if anything. Almost a chill. Chill or no she needed the money, and her career needed something like this. Setting her shoulders and putting on her most mysterious smile, she cut across the floor towards them, her heels clicking on the floor. Dressed in a long, tight vinyl skirt, equally tight vinyl top and a pair of very expensive sunglasses and boots, she was pleased to see a few hotel patrons check her out en route. She was a lot less pleased to see a few other attractive women in the group - it would help get viewers, but it would also distract them from the real star of the show. Herself. She slowed as she arrived among them, grinning and pushing her glasses up her forehead. "Hello - Lisa Morgan" she says to the assembled group.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>28-03-2011, 06:13:58</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Malcolm Wade -- More Questions, and More Questions</strong><br><br>Malcolm nearly choked on his bourbon as he listened to McDermott's withering commentary on Hatcher's experience. Although he largely agreed with the man, he didn't expect him to blast their potential employer's story quite so openly. He had to admit, though, it was sort of refreshing to meet someone who had less tact than he did.<br><br>"I think it <em>could be</em> the work of an Outsider, sure," Mal said, a little defensively. "I admit it's not totally likely, though; like I said, we really should visit the house before we decide what's responsible for...that," he continued, pointing at the files. <br><br>As they talked, Mal noticed Ms. Tate's return to the restaurant and grinned inwardly when he realized the only open seat was next to him. He shifted a bit and offered a little 'welcome back' wave, then immediately regretted it when she sat down and started looking through the victims' photos. Still, it wasn't as if he could protect her from it; if she was here to do the job, she'd have to wade through the horror just like the rest of them. He stayed silent as she went to the bar to get herself a drink; he couldn't blame her for needing a little liquid courage to continue.<br><br>Her first question of the evening concerning the property's previous owners seemed to open Hatcher's flood gates a little more, and he held forth for several minutes on the house's history. Obviously whatever was involved here started with the Harrows, but what happened to them? And what happened to their money? There were still a few questions to be asked, and probably a lot of information to sift through. Fortunately from the look of the other envelopes in front of Hatcher, it seemed their host had already saved them the trouble of compiling and summarizing the relevant facts.<br><br>Malcolm was about to inquire about those other files when another woman approached the table. Decked out in dark, glossy vinyl and boots that showcased her already fantastic legs, the woman was a hair's breadth between 'trashy' and 'elegant'. In Mal's opinion, it was sexy as hell. She stopped at the table and introduced herself, and a dim lightbulb seemed to click on in his brain. <br><br><em>'Lisa Morgan. Why do I know that name? I know I've heard of her, somewhere.'</em> Mal's thoughts turned a mile a minute, trying to place her familiarity as he rose from his seat and offered a hand. "Malcolm Wade, Ms. Morgan. Good to meet you."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Grunt777</strong> on <strong>28-03-2011, 12:25:58</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Gavin, taking a cab.</strong><br><br>Gavin sat in the back seat, music blaring through his headphones, puffing away on his pipe in anger. Either his wake up call failed to wake him up, or he forgot to set one up at all.&nbsp; Sherlock, his trusty Ivory pipe was working overtime today, blasting smoke smoke out of the slit on the other side of his mouth.&nbsp; "Sir?" The cabby started.&nbsp; "Sir, this is no smoking taxi."&nbsp; <br><br>He was met without as much as a glance, just a spaced out stare out the window.&nbsp; The cabby diverted his gaze.&nbsp; Something about this man frightened him beyond all compare.&nbsp; Gavin continued his smoking, pondering the message.&nbsp; His inner monologue notated everything in an easy to understand manner.&nbsp; <br>"High Risk, High Reward.&nbsp; We're dealing with a company of some sort... Hiring people of varying backgrounds to operate as a team to deal with a paranormal disturbance.&nbsp; Chances are it's a number of angry entities.&nbsp; Probably some sort of hungry ghost with a power trip."&nbsp; His mind slammed from one corner of all the lore he read to the other, unearthing old tomes within his mind.&nbsp; "The Gaki... Horrid creatures, often mistaken for Demons or Vampires."&nbsp; His forehead broke out in a sweat.&nbsp; He wasn't equipped to deal with non-material entities.&nbsp; "Individuals...&nbsp; There will be someone else who can deal with the damn creatures then." <br><br>He closed his eyes, delving deeper into his mind for answers.&nbsp; Before he knew it, he was on Mars, walking through a giant library of all the Mythos and research he had done on the area once he had recieved the request.&nbsp; He reached up, pulling out a particularly dusty manuscript.&nbsp; He searched through it, sections of it being burned out where his memory was fuzzy on details.&nbsp; He finally came to the article in question.&nbsp; The article stated next to nothing about the incident in question.&nbsp; Brutalized corpses, hooded figures and symbols.&nbsp; He looked to see a poor quality picture.&nbsp; Barely visible was a single symbol.&nbsp; It was nothing that could be deciphered.&nbsp; The original picture was in bad shape, and his mind had done very little to preserve it's quality.&nbsp; He folded the paper up and put it in his pocket for later use.&nbsp; He reached up a little farther down the paper rack, pulling a much more current issue of the same paper out.&nbsp; The date was blurry, but he could make out the article.&nbsp; "Another missing worker at Harrowgate site."&nbsp; He failed to remember anymore details than that.<br><br>He had worked with missing persons, but it always seemed to be a dead end in terms of paranormal activity.&nbsp; Sure, he found the person in question, but he never came away with anything new, and any idiot with half a brain cell could figure out the regular things.&nbsp; He folded this article up too, stuffing it in his pocket. "Sir, we're here," he heard from across a book shelf.<br><br>"Excuse me?"&nbsp; came his bewildered reply.&nbsp; He wasn't used to visitors in his private library.&nbsp; Suddenly his brain snapped back to reality.&nbsp; He was in a cab.&nbsp; The driver reeked of Patchouli oil.&nbsp; His was listening to Lady Gaga on his head set.<br><br>"We're here sir."&nbsp; Came the shortened reply from the cabby, obviously losing patience quickly.&nbsp; Gavin paid the poor man, retrieving his gear quickly from the back, and heading toward reception.<br><br><strong>Gavin, entering the meeting room.</strong><br><br>A nice young man hurried Gavin into the room, stating that he was late, that he shouldn't keep Mr. Hatcher waiting, that he should do this and that and blah blah blah.&nbsp; All Gavin heard was the incessant droning, much like you would hear on Charlie Brown when an adult spoke.&nbsp; When they finally made it to the&nbsp; he absent mindedly thanked the young man, and entered.&nbsp; Inside was a motley crew of sorts, ranging the spectrum in people who dealt with the occult.&nbsp; A smile crept to Gavin's face as he studied each figure, wondering what made their magic tick.&nbsp; He shook his head, pipe still in hand.&nbsp; He stuffed it back into his jacket pocket.&nbsp; "Gavin Huxley, at your service, he said, dipping his head to Malcolm instead of Hatcher by mistake." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Fulgrim</strong> on <strong>28-03-2011, 19:06:09</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Owen sat back. It was certain sure that Hatcher wouldn't be much of a help.<br>He hadn't the slightest idea what was going on and how bad the situation might really be. <br>Calling a few exorcists and necromancers and hoping everything would be fine was like assuming that&nbsp; the friendly police officer would get rid of the entire Chinese Army that had just landed in your backyard.<br><br>Owen shook his head and smiled joyless as Hatcher told them that the original owners of the manor had "returned from Europe at the end of World War I with an unexplained and mysterious fortune."<br>Even a half-drunk redneck with his shotguns in his arms would have given you more information without being asked for every tiny bit.<br>If it wasn't for the 25.000 bucks Owen would have already left. Well, actually that wasn't the truth. Deep down inside him still was something left of a man who cared about others but pretending to be a bad guy felt a lot better in a world like this.<br>"Listen Wade, you don't look like a rookie to me. We most certainly should decide whose work this probably is. If you believe that this..." he pointed at the pictures "migth be the work of some demon, good ol' Lucifer himself calls "gramps" I shall be dammed to go in there without a little...preparation.“<br><br>In this moment two strangers appeared at the table.<br>The priest emptied his whiskey and ordered a new drink. <br>„Who do we have here? A pretty version of Lady Gaga and Sherlock fucking Holmes?“, he mumbled and introduce himself by grumbling his name.<br>Let's see what you have to add to our little group of freaks, Owen added in his thoughts...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Devi</strong> on <strong>28-03-2011, 21:40:01</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<b>Lisa Morgan</b><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp;Lisa smiled at Wade as she shook his hand, looking at those around her distractedly. As she was about to speak, an affected looking man with a pipe came up, bringing a brief sigh from her -&nbsp; everyone at these things has some kind of angle for grabbing the attention. Even as she is pondering a Sherlock Holmes reference, the fellow next to her beats her to it, but what he has to say about HER won't do at all. She fixes him with a cold glare, snapping back "If by that you mean I am a star, yes. If you mean I am likely to show up wearing a candelabra and bat wings, then no." She shrugs him off, frowning - she probably shouldn't have called herself a star, but it was a good retort, so suck it if they can't take a joke. She ease out of her frown and grins at everyone graciously, looking for the person in charge.<br><br>&nbsp; "Sorry, I wasn't expecting jokes at my expense straight off the bat." She flicks on her digital camera, panning over the assorted papers. "Apologies, I have a terrible memory - I find it helps me a lot to go back over everything on tape later. Pick up anything I miss." She scans over the pictures and papers for a moment, thrilling at the graphic images - someone is trying to spook them, and that always looks good on camera. She can film herself "introducing" herself later, for now she needs the setup and some footage of her co-paranormal investigators. "Sorry again if I missed anything important, I'd just like to hear the history of the place and what we are going up against real quick." She adds, holding the camera up.<br><br>&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>ArabellaT</strong> on <strong>29-03-2011, 00:04:17</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Victoria smiled at Mr. Hatcher as she listened tot he story, sadly, all she could think about was all the problems that could be going on there. Since there are no reports of violent death by something non-human, it might not be a ghost haunting. Thats not always a reason, most ghosts have a reason to stay, like checking on families. However, in Tori's opinion, the more violent the death the more violent the ghost is. <br><br>"Would it be a demon?" She asked, looking at Owen. She hated that he addressed Mal and not her about it, like she wasn't a part of the whole thing. She frowned as she sat there for a moment thinking about it. A demon did make the most sense. Nothing that used to be human could make that kind of damage, no matter how messed up the humans were.<br><br>She gave a small sad smile to the others in the group as she looked at them. However, when the two new people showed up she sighed, somewhat happy and somewhat wishing they had never shown up. With a demon they would need the help, but there was always a chance that they would all get hurt or killed.<br><br>"Victoria Tate." She introduced herself as she looked at the two. She wondered what the lady was, by the way she dressed she even wondered if she took it seriously or not.&nbsp; She tried not to giggle at Gavin's mistake, but she smiled at him as he was corrected on who was the real Hatcher.<br><br>She looked at the girl again, and frowned. A camera. Tori was never good with Camera's, and hated to be filmed. She moved to the side and hid behind Wade with her chair. There was no way she was going to be on camera.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>29-03-2011, 06:04:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Malcolm Wade -- Identities, Mistaken and Otherwise</strong><br><br>It wasn't often a guy like Malcolm was on the recieving end of such deference, and he couldn't help but grin a little as he offered the new guy a handshake. He actually considered letting the poor guy go on thinking he was Hatcher for a few more minutes, but figured he'd pissed off the genuine article enough already.<br><br>"Actually, the gentleman in the suit to your right is Mr. Hatcher. I'm Malcolm Wade; good to know you, Huxley." He turned to Hatcher and gave a shrug. "Say, just how many people were you planning to hire for this job? I mean, considering the apparent size of it I'm sure as hell not complaining, but if this keeps up you're gonna need a bigger hotel!"<br><br>McDermott drew his attention back to their conversation and Malcolm shook his head, leaning forward on the table. "Look, partner, I don't know about you, but I don't care if it's the ghost of J. Edgar Hoover or some kind of proto-god with a thousand consonants in its name. I'm not going in there <em>at all</em> without as much preparation and info as I can get my hands on first."<br><br>He was about to say more, but his train of thought was derailed when Ms. Morgan whipped out a digi-cam and started snapping away at the photos on the table like a crime-scene investigator on crack. The lightbulb finally brightened as he realized where he remembered her from. "Wait-wait-wait a minute. Lisa Morgan? From that reality show, what was it, er...<span class="bbc_u">Freaky Seekers</span>? <span class="bbc_u">Ghost Facers</span>? Something like that, right?" Mal asked, barely suppressing his laughter.<br><br>Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he could practically feel the others' disdainful gazes. Malcolm leaned back and looked around, a little nervous. "What? I, uh...I have a friend who likes that kinda stuff." He shot an accusatory glance at Cathy, who was at the moment hovering between Mr. Hatcher and Ms. Tate, chattering away. At the mention of Ms. Morgan's show, she quickly refocused her attention on the conversation.<br><br><em>'thattimeyounearlychokedonthecheddarpeppers<br>thatlookedsotastyandthatreallyoldguythatyousaidhad<br>horriblebodyodordidtheHeimlichmanueveronyouhey<br>LisaMorganIrememberherohwowicantbelievethisareal<br>celebrityactuallydoyouthinkshecountsasacelebrityif<br>shesonlybeenononefailedtvshowmaybenotheydoyou<br>thinkyoucouldgetherautographMalcolmdoyouthink<br>shesgoingtogowithusintoHarrowgateManorremember<br>Itoldyouthatyoushouldtryandgetamovieortvshow<br>madeaboutusthiscouldbeyourchanceitsortofmakes<br>mewishsomeonewouldinventacamerathatcould<br>actuallycaptureghostsonscreenIcouldbefamousthat<br>wouldbeinterestingandIwouldnthaveanyproblems<br>dodgingpaparrazibecauseIcouldjustfadethroughwalls<br>butmaybetheywouldbetoofreakedoutbythegaping<br>holeinmychest-'</em><br><br>Malcolm took another sip from his drink and rolled his eyes as she rambled, thankful that at least the others probably couldn't hear her. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Devi</strong> on <strong>30-03-2011, 10:05:46</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<b>Lisa Morgan</b><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp;Lisa frowned at the reference to her show, shrugging off the looks and suppressed laughter with only the barest hint of wounded pride. "Yea, yea - everyone hates tv shows until they get one of their own" she mutters as she continues to film, pointedly ignoring her coworkers and their sudden, subtle air of superiority. What did they know? Just a bunch of self important charlatans taking their con way to seriously - let's see what kind of paycheck they took home last year! At the end of the day, she'd be the one with the fans and cash, and they'd be the people who get to be asked what it was like working with the Famous Lisa Morgan. Meanwhile, it was just a matter of waiting and trying to get a good intro piece for the film.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Fulgrim</strong> on <strong>30-03-2011, 16:58:16</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				“That’s what you get for dressing up as a record, lassie”, Owen sneered in reply to Lisa’s snappy come-back.<br>“And don’t worry about the lacking candelabra – a star should shine bright enough.”<br><br><br>“And to your question, my dear” the priest looked straight into Victoria’s face. <br>“Yes, yes it would be a demon. But not the kind of demon you might have heard of. If you are familiar with the teachings of the church you probably know that demons-are-fallen-angles part, aye?<br>Let’s assume that there are such creatures as angels. And there are definitely demons out there. I have seen them.<br>Now let’s say that these demons are fallen angels. Degenerations! These ‘Outsiders’, elder demons or arch demons…they would rather be…an evil and corrupted evolution. <br>Compare them to the titans of Greek Mythology. If demons are a danger for God’s creation, elder demons might be a danger for god himself. <br>At least that’s what some ancient scrolls in the Vatican say. Well, it’s true that our theologians loved to ham up for as long as people started to listen to their claptrap, but even if they’ve got only little of the attributed powers it’s bad enough.<br>I don’t know you, and I don’t assume that you’re inferior to Wade or me when it comes to the job.”<br>For a moment the cynical undertone that usually resonated with Owen’s words was gone.<br>“But this ain’t gonna be some coffeehouse bullshit. The job is never safe but if there is such a thin as an elder demon chances are high that none of us will make it out alive. So if there is someone in your life worth dying for:&nbsp; you better leave this place in the dust and be with this person instead of throwing your life away in a heroic act of foolishness. ”<br><br>“And to you Mr. Hatcher”, Owen spat out the man’s name. “I know that it is everything else but easy to believe. But calling the bloody TV? Making this whole thing an entertainment show? <br>There’s not a second going by that your incompetence surprises me once more.<br>If your nuclear power plant explodes, would you also call the Myth Busters because you not normally see atoms flying around?”<br>The priest had to keep his temper, not to shout at Hatcher.<br>With such things going on everyone in his right senses wouldn’t consult people that not even pretend to be professionals. Not only would they endanger themselves but the success of the whole operation. <br>“I’ve had enough of this…I’ll be at the bar if somebody needs me.”<br>Cursing and grumbling Owen walked to the bar. <br>Maybe he had been too harsh. After all Hatcher had no idea what he might be dealing with and as most people he adhered to the things that were logical and real to him. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (Hatcher's Gathering)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>schnookums</strong> on <strong>31-03-2011, 00:26:00</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Alice was...late. And not even fashionably so, having never been the sort that paid much attention to social games. She was here because she "knew" she needed to be. But despite feeling a certain amount of destiny pulling her to this meeting, she still ended up late. Seems like traffic makes no allowances for fate. "I wonder who else they got?" she thinks to herself. 25 Grand would attract a lot of nutjobs, that's for certain...but they must have weeded out the worst of the lot. Unless, of course, this was all a publicity stunt....<br><br>Having already made it this far, the only thing left for her to do was to find the damn table the rest of the gathered were sitting it. She hated to ask anyone, wanting to figure it out herself...but she doubted it was a case of 'look for the table with all the weirdos'. She cast about the room, trying to find the one person she should be able to recognize, the host (and source of the money, should she survive...)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror at Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>31-03-2011, 04:42:57</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Caleb Hatcher -- We're in the Deep End Now, Kids</strong><br><br>There was of course more information, but before Hatcher could deliver it he was cut off by yet another arrival. He stifled a groan as best he could as a woman with an apparent vinyl fetish approached the table; Lisa Morgan, reality television ghoul. He could have sworn he told his staff to exclude her from this meeting, as he had little need of celebrity hounds and shutterbugs on a job like this. But here she was, and from the look in her eye it was clear she wasn't going to go away without a fight. Hatcher's shoulders slumped a little, and motioned to one of the servers for some extra chairs. If she insisted on joining the group, he may as well let her. Besides, if whatever was in the manor attacked them, maybe it would take her and give the others a chance to escape.<br><br>A spike of shame burned through his center as soon as he had the thought, and Hatcher shook it away, refusing to consider such horrible notions. As he rose from the table to welcome Ms. Morgan, he spotted Mr. Huxley entering the restaurant, escorted by hotel staff. Hatcher was about to offer the young man a handshake when he abruptly introduced himself to...Mr. Wade. Hatcher rolled his eyes in annoyance as the two men spoke, then simply gave an affirming nod to Huxley as Wade pointed him back in the right direction.<br><br>After welcoming the two newcomers, Hatcher turned back to McDermott, who was in the middle of a surprisingly vicious rant concerning his supposed incompetence. Before he could offer a rebuttal, the Irishman stormed off back to the bar, swearing a bluestreak behind him as he left. He looked around at the others and sat back, feeling somewhat defeated.<br><br>"What can I say? He's not wrong," Hatcher sighed. "Although I swear to you all, turning this thing into some sort of media circus or television program is the furthest thing from my intentions. I don't know what Ms. Morgan's plans are, but if she intends to join you...I don't know. Perhaps a video record of the events wouldn't be such a bad idea, at least." The man slouched back in his seat, feeling much older than his 36 years. It was a sensation he'd become depressingly familiar with in the last few months, ever since taking ownership of the Harrowgate property and all its ills.<br><br>Hatcher leaned forward and slammed his fist down onto the table, staring into the smooth white tablecloth. "I just want this over with, dammit! There's been enough death, enough loss connected with that infernal house. I don't know what else to do. If there was any way, if I only knew how, I would handle this myself. But I don't. I just don't know what to do. I know I don't have what it takes, and so I've reached out to you. Each of you," he said, the glimmer of a tear building in one eye. "I just know something has to be done. It can't be allowed to go on like this anymore." Images of his missing employees filled his thoughts, along with the anguish and the pain that their families were surely suffering.<br><br>Hatcher looked up again and saw his last guest arrive, the young miss Alice Bennet. His heart fell a little lower, if that were possible; she looked almost as young as Ms. McGlone, who had quietly excused herself earlier and not returned. There was a look in Ms. Bennet's eyes, however, that McGlone had not had, a steely resolve that bespoke possession of extensive -- and probably horrific -- experience. Rather than standing again, Hatcher simply raised a hand and waved the girl over; Wade was right. If anyone else showed up, he'd have to move this meeting to the hotel's auditorium.<br><br>"Miss Bennet, over here," he said loud enough to catch her attention. As she joined the table, Hatcher started pawing through the folders in front of him once again. After finding what he was looking for, he pulled out a particularly thick stack of files and began passing them around to those present, holding one back for the indisposed McDermott.<br><br>"Well, now that everyone is here that should be, you may as well each have a look at this. These are copies* of the report my personal investigator, Miss Pike, compiled for this meeting. Included is all the information we have obtained since the investigation first began, or a summary of it at least. You're all welcome to look them over tonight, and then I'd suggest you all get a night's rest. The bus is scheduled to pick us up tomorrow morning at 10 AM; I'll be joining you on the trip, but I will not be accompanying you inside. And now, I know I promised everyone a meal, but I confess I've lost my appetite for the night. If anyone is hungry, please feel free to enjoy whatever you like either here or from room service, on my tab. If you'll excuse me, I'll meet you all in the lobby in the morning. If anyone decides not to go...well, I can't say I won't understand."<br><br>Hatcher stood again after passing out the files, and gave a nod. "Thank you all for your time, ladies and gentlemen. A pleasant evening to you all," he said, before he turned and left the restaurant.<br><br><span class="bbc_u">**The Next Morning**</span><br><br>Hatcher and those who resolved to stay met in the lobby at 9:45 AM. "I'm glad to see you're still here. It's about a two-hour ride to Cypress Falls from Memphis; we should get there a little past noon. I've taken the liberty of supplying some extra provisions I thought might prove useful; there are enough two-way radios for everyone, along with fresh batteries, and a couple of small stocked first-aid kits. Sleeping bags and a few foil-sealed MREs are also available, in case this should turn into an overnight job. Like I said last night, I'll be going with you, but I won't be going inside. I'll wait on the bus with the driver just inside the front gate, in case anyone decides they aren't up to the job any longer and wants to leave. I can assure you, I certainly won't think any less of you for it."<br><br>The group boarded the bus and the next two hours passed in relative quiet, Hatcher's guests chatting quietly with each other. Their host simply sat silently and stared out the window, appreciating the beauty of Tennessee in early spring. The time seemed to fly by almost as quickly as the trees and fields that whipped past the bus, and at approximately 12:20 PM the team arrived at the southern edge of the Harrowgate Estate. Hatcher stepped off the bus, and as he unlatched the heavy wrought-iron gate he felt a bone-chilling shiver cross through him at the sight of the manor ahead. At the exact moment his fingers touched the bolt on the gate, a roaring clap of thunder erupted overhead, and the clear blue skies that had graced their morning evaporated under the force of an onrushing storm. Hatcher's stare moved from the quick-forming thunderheads above to the house at the end of the drive, and he said a silent prayer.<br><br><em>'Heavenly Father...I don't know if you can hear me here, in this place. I don't know if you're watching, or if you even care what happens here. But I have to believe that you can hear me, and that you can help these people to face whatever is in that house. Keep them safe, God. Please, keep them safe. Because if they can't stop the evil in that house...it might come for You next. Amen.'</em><br><br>The bus rolled on through and pulled up a few meters from the front door. Hatcher caught up to them and climbed back aboard. He walked to the back of the bus and hauled up a large crate from the rear-most seat, and began handing out the supplies he'd mentioned back at the hotel, then addressed the group one more time. "Alright, people. We're here. If anyone wants to turn back, now's the time. Otherwise...good luck, and godspeed."<br><br>(http://www.deviantart.com/download/76375582/Haunted_Mansion_Painting_by_yensidtlaw1969.jpg)<br>____________________________________________<br><br>*Will PM this information to each player
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>02-04-2011, 09:25:07</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Malcolm Wade -- Rake at the Gates of Hell</strong><br><br>Mal felt a little rotten about apparently hurting Miss Morgan's feelings, but she seemed to bounce back out of it rather quickly, so he didn't see much point in apologizing. It looked like she was having more fun sniping back at McDermott anyway, who afterward focused his attention on attempting to terrify Miss Tate out of her new outfit. And then, because Mal figured the man didn't want to stop at abusing just the women, McDermott unleashed a scathing condemnation on their would-be employer that alternately had Malcolm cringing at its cruelty and cramping with repressed laughter.<br><br>The pseudo-cleric rose in a huff and made for the bar. As he took his leave, Mr. Hatcher seemed to almost deflate in his seat. Mal sat back and watched the pain that had obviously been eating away at the man for some time now break free at last -- or part of it, at any rate. <br><br>"Well, I guess that settles that, then," Mal said. He raised his glass to Hatcher and offered what he hoped was a professional, reassuring smile. "To resolutions." With that, he turned up his glass and drained the last of his alcohol, then slammed it back down on the table. He had no idea if he'd really be able to make a difference in Harrowgate, but he knew for certain that now he had to try.<br><br>With thoughts of his no-doubt impending demise brought on by an insatiable hero complex brewing in his head, Mal almost didn't notice the last arrival. He only realized the newest member of their little troupe had joined them when Hatcher called her name and waved her over, and only just rose from his seat before she reached them. <br><br>Hatcher started passing out several folders to those present, gave them all the morning's schedule and retreated to his room. Mal caught the words 'room service' and decided he'd rather dine in solitude than downstairs, just in case his luck began to repeat itself on a wider scale. He grabbed his copy of Hatcher's files and left the table, but not before wishing the others a good night. <br><br>**<br><br><em>'Damn, this thing's more like a palace on wheels. It's nicer than the apartment,'</em> Mal thought as he sat in one of the middle seats. His fingers played over the smooth, cool velvet, absently tracing patterns in the plush as he looked out the driver's side window. He still wore the heavy trench, but the vehicle was so perfectly air conditioned he felt completely comfortable. Johnny Lee Hooker and Muddy Waters spilled faintly from his mp3 player, pleasantly nullifying Cathy, who hovered in a shapeless mist at his feet but still had no problem talking.<br><br>He used to wonder about the physics of ghosts, back when he first started. The longer he worked with Cathy, though, the more he realized such things were pointless. Ghosts did what ghosts did, and the laws of nature could go fuck themselves. As he listened to his music he started tapping his feet, and Cathy floated up to swirl around behind his head.<br><br>Within a couple hours, they reached the city limits of the little town of Cypress Falls. There was nothing ominous about the place that Malcolm could sense, and Cathy didn't set off any warning bells; it was just a sleepy little burg in a sleepy little county. The streets seemed clean, most of the houses and businesses seemed to be wearing reasonably new paint jobs, and while the cars on the streets weren't showroom new by any stretch, neither were they a bunch of grimy beaters.<br><br>The bus poked and weaved through light traffic until it turned down a side road and rolled up to a wide, ornate iron gate. The brown brick columns on either side were scratched and pock-marked, victims of seven decades of neglect and abuse by the elements. Hatcher stepped onto the cobbled driveway and unlatched the gate, and Mal heard a sudden rip of thunder. The sky, blue and sunny the whole morning, had turned as dark and foreboding as any August storm. <br><br>Malcolm looked ahead through the windshield and stared hard at the house in front of them. The long, curved drive snaked and turned up the hill and came to rest at the foot of the manor. Tall, once-white columns stood majestic and dilapidated around the entrance, and yard after yard of kudzu and creeper vines coiled over the steps and spacious porch. <em>'Holy shit. If I were a demon, I'd say this place was the damn Ritz!'</em> <br><br>He heard Hatcher rustling in the back and saw him drag up a heavy-looking crate from one of the back seats. He started handing out supplies and offered them all one last chance to back down, and for a few silent moments Mal considered accepting. The money was great, sure, and success would almost certainly mean no more lost lives. But what would failure bring? The thought of his little girl, Coraline, shone in his mind and hardened his resolve. Failure might let this thing go on slaughtering forever. Failure might let it find a way to leave the house and walk the earth, free. Failure might mean Coraline's life.<br><br>Fuck that. Whatever was in that house, Mal would <em>evict</em> its sorry ass. Permanently.<br><br>He and the others climbed off the bus and stood at the bottom step, the storm clouds threatening to unleash their torrential fury any second. He looked around at the others who stood with him, looked into their faces met their eyes. Then he faced forward and put one foot on the first vine-wrapped marble step.<br><br>"Alright, people. Let's go have us a house-warming."
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Devi</strong> on <strong>02-04-2011, 21:50:04</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<b>Lisa Morgan</b><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp;Lisa was sulking. She had been sulking most of the bus ride, sunglasses firmly pushed up her face, looking out the window and firmly sat as far from everyone as possible. What the hell makes a bunch of low rent psychic con artists and religious nuts think they can snicker and look down at her? At least she'd made something of herself! None of them looked like the damn Buddha, so what've they got against making some money on the side.<br><br>&nbsp; To be fair, only a couple had been obvious about it - but she'd spent enough time being laughed at in her life to know when she was the odd woman out, and it was pissing her off. The more she thought about it, the madder she got. Just because she'd been on TV! I guess it's easy to stand around and look mysterious when nobody has ever heard of you. She shrugged, discreetly filming anything interesting she saw out the window. She could narrate over it later. She'd have to play nice with the rest of the gang later, if only to set them up for the documentary... who knows, maybe a few of them won't be total wankers. Maybe she could even scare the pants off that jerk of a priest with some special effects later.<br><br>&nbsp; Arriving at the house, she waited for the others to unload so she could film herself walking out through the empty bus, telling the camera how excited she was for the upcoming adventure. She made sure to hide it before getting off though - she was feeling self conscious, oddly out of sorts. It only got worse as she looked at the house, some kind of instinctive dread welling up inside her. What if they just spent the whole time making fun of her? What if she didn't get any useable footage? What if this ruined her career?&nbsp; What if there was something (evil in there) wrong with the house, and she got hurt? Old mansions are dangerous... it certainly looked dangerous. Lisa fidgeted, feeling nervous, and finally pulled out her camera and held it in front of her, filming the place. She felt ridiculous, after all the talk of her TV past, but putting something between herself and the house felt right. She was going to get that money, and even if the film turned out a bust, it would be good press to say she had been there. She shivered, unconsciously, breathing heavily as she watched her new temporary home warily, ready to head inside. After someone else, of course, had shown it was safe.<br><br>&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Fulgrim</strong> on <strong>02-04-2011, 22:39:00</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Owen felt like shit. He hadn’t slept all night but drank. First at the hotel lounge’s bar, than in a little bar downtown and as he finally had arrived in the little parish church where he lodged as long as he was in town he had assaulted the altar wine.&nbsp; <br>Wasted and moody and unshaved he had entered the bus. <br><br>Most people seemed to keep a healthy distance to each other and so did he.&nbsp; Throwing his small bag on a seat he sat down. <br>Still angry at Hatcher, himself, god and almost everything except aspirin he leaned his weary hat to the window next to him.<br>He slept for almost all of the drive.<br>When he finally woke up he checked his little equipment. Again and again he put the three sacred bullets in and out of his old revolver, spun around the revolver’s cylinder and started to load and unload it again.<br>It had been a rookie mistake not to stock up ammunition when he last had visited Boston.<br>Now there were three bullets left and now way to get replenishment.<br>Of course he had other means available to get rid of ghosts and demons, but he wasn’t certain that it was enough for the creep that haunted this manor.<br><br>The priest looked around. He saw Wade, obviously impressed by the extravagance of the bus.<br>He saw Sherlock Holmes and Ms. Tate, doing nothing of interest, a strange young girl that he didn’t know yet and the TV lady.<br>Maybe he had been a bit harsh on her yesterday. She seemed a little sulky and there was a good chance that it was partly his fault (the other option was, that 1950s had called and wanted their records back which she obviously had turned into her clothes).<br>He thought about apologizing. Perhaps she wasn’t that tough as she looks. Then again she was TV chick…<br><br>As the bus arrived, Owen took his gun, a bible and the phylacteries he once had gotten by a friend and left the bus.<br>Leaned on the vehicle he waited for the show to start.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>06-04-2011, 11:06:33</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				The rain fell in sheets against the rooftop. The house sensed the approach of newcomers, and shuddered in anticipation. A thin layer of dust coated the floorboards, disturbed only by the passing of the noon breeze through drafty rooms. Nothing stirred within its walls...nothing physical, anyway.<br><br><em><strong>Prey. Mortals. Many. Coming.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; More<br>Hungry. More hungry. Want them. Let them in.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Want</strong>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>Save them. Send away. Run.<br><strong>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; in&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Keep&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <br>Let them in. Want them. Keep them.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;them.</strong><br>No. Fight. Stop you. Help them.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; you.&nbsp; &nbsp;<strong>Eat. Stronger.<br>Foolish. Want them. Hurt. Eat. Stronger.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Stronger.</strong><br>Please.<br><br><strong>Hungry. Prey.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Prey.</strong><br>Stop it.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <strong> Hungry.</strong><br><strong>Never. Never. Mortals. Prey. Hungry.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Never.</strong><br>Help them. God.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<strong>No&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;us.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; hungry</strong><br><strong>No. Foolish. No God. Only us. Only hungry.<br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;God&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; hungry.<br>Want them. Eat. Foolish. Give us.<br>Want&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Give us.</strong></em><br><br>Footsteps clattered on the front step. The visitors spoke. The heavy front doors swung open with barely a creak or a whisper. They wished to enter. Of course they could. Guests were always most welcome.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>schnookums</strong> on <strong>09-04-2011, 23:00:53</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				Alice read on the way there...it was a futile attempt to take her mind off of things which she knew were coming. This wasn't just a walk in the park for her...she had convinced herself that this was the big one, where she...probably wouldn't make it out again. There, she finally admitted it to herself. She didn't really think she'd survive this. Was it suicide to go in? Or just an attempt to perhaps make some good for a life fated to end badly? She shook her head, the rational part taking over for a moment, her book briefly forgotten. <em>"I'm just being stupid...this is probably overblown hype and I'm letting some sick death wish drive me to it."</em> she thinks. Still, the approach to the house filled her with cold anticipation, her heart already pounding fast, adrenaline surging in a&nbsp; useless gesture...there's no fight or flight on this bus, and all it serves to do it make her edgy and distracted.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>10-04-2011, 08:57:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Malcolm Wade -- Out of One Storm, Into Another</strong><br><br>The others milled about for a moment at the bottom of the steps as Mal strode toward the front door. His hand was inches away from knocking on the door when the ornately carved entrance swung open, grave-yard silent. Malcolm peered into the dimly lit room and watched with not a little trepidation as the lights flickered to life.<br><br>"Yeah, that's not creepy or anything. Really," he muttered to himself. Cathy hovered to his right, swirling in a formless mist. Her chatter took on a more urgent tone than usual, the way it usually did whenever they were about to meet a heavy player. She still wasn't saying anything that seemed directly relevant though, so he chalked it up to a general sense of disquiet rather than an immediate threat. Mal felt the others joining him at the door and turned to face them, his radio in hand.<br><br>"Alright. Judging from the reports we read and what we've heard about this place, I realize this probably won't be a popular suggestion. But I believe we'll be most effective if we split up. I doubt operating as a large group would offer any serious protection, and I don't know about the rest of you but I'd like to find whatever this thing is and deal with it quick. Our best bet should probably be to work either alone or in pairs, so we can comb through the place faster and see what we find. The radios will let us stay in contact, so if anyone runs into something they feel like they can't handle alone, give a shout. If we can, the rest of us'll come running.<br><br>"I guess this probably goes without saying, but stay sharp. We may not know what this thing is, but we know it's got a lot of juice and it ain't shy of throwing it around." Malcolm turned back to the open door and took a deep breath, then walked into Harrowgate Manor. As the others entered behind him, the hairs on the back of his neck started to tingle and the doors swung shut once again. Mal almost would have sworn he heard a faint, echoing laugh from deeper inside.<br><br><em>'Right. Time to go to work.'</em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Devi</strong> on <strong>12-04-2011, 22:37:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><b>Lisa Morgan</b><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp;Lisa wasn't happy about going into the house. She could admit it, the place spooked her. Still, she needed the money, she needed the footage, and she needed something to make her more than "Lisa Morgan, chick on a failed ghost hunters show". So she walked in, shuddering slightly. Her camera roamed the house, and the various expressions on the folks entering. It was good to have something between her and the action - she was a filmmaker now, and the filmmaker is always fine. Lisa shook her head, laughing at herself despite her unease. of course she was fine! Spooky old houses don't hurt people, they just draw tourists and crazies wanting to see "ghosts". Still, she kept close to the others for now - she didn't want to be alone here, however much sense splitting up might make. And it did make sense - it would let her set up some haunting action without some annoying moralist trying to tell her they were looking for real ghosts, and it would keep any snide comments from getting onto her tape. She frowned fiercely, glaring at nothing in particular. Who did these folks think they were, anyways? They had been nothing but rude, so far.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Fulgrim</strong> on <strong>03-05-2011, 13:55:23</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Owen looked at the old manor with disgust. It once might have been a beautiful landmark in this region but something felt terribly wrong about it. Not just there-is-ghost/demon-in-this-building wrong. No! Standing beneath its threshold alone made him feel tainted and there was a presence that felt heavy and oppressive, like a foul fog.<br>While the others attempted to walk inside he turned and looked for a path into the unkempt gardens.<br>If he was right, the there was no need to prove that the thing inside was pure evil and it was of greater importance to see whether it was able to leave the manor and tried to cross the manors borders. If he wasn’t right he still would get paid – for a nice walk in the green.<br>Without a further word the priest disappeared into the bushes – literally.<br>The touch of the knee-deep grass and the dark veined leaves almost felt as if the flora tried to scan him, but the man was experienced enough to know to distinguish between doings of ‘the evil’ and stress-induced imagination.<br>After all, if there was something really dangerous around here the cryptic words of the deceased would have forecast his dead. Unless he was dead already…&nbsp; &nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>04-05-2011, 07:11:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Malcolm Wade -- Fine Dining from Hell</strong><br><br>As the others split up, Mal wandered through the front rooms, looking for anything that seemed unusual or unnatural. He trusted Cathy to do the same, and watched her evaporating and reintegrating from place to place. Every now and then, Malcolm felt a brief but sharp patch of cold circulating around him; if he didn't know any better, he'd have thought the house was checking him out, somehow. Then he realized that he actually <em>didn't</em> know better, and that might have been exactly what was happening. A chill ran down his back, and not just from the temperature.<br><br>None of the doors were locked. In its own way, that was either reassuring, or very, very unnerving; on the bright side, it meant that getting to the bottom of Harrowgate's mysteries would be that much easier. On the other hand, it meant whatever this thing was, it had its pick of rooms that could turn into deathtraps at a moment's notice. A cursory scan of each room from the doorway was all Malcolm was presently willing to risk, and Cathy seemed to agree. The two stuck close to each other as they wandered the halls.<br><br>Mal's flashlight swept over the walls and carpet, clean and lush in some areas, molded and rotted in other patches. The renovations crews hadn't been able to finish more than two thirds of their work, and the result was an eerie mesh of decrepit contemporary. There were no pictures, no paintings, standing or hanging anywhere in sight, but a few spots on the walls were a lighter, less faded color than the rest. Mal wondered idly where the pictures had gone, or if they'd been destroyed by the original mob.<br><br>Perhaps halfway into the house, Mal turned a red, crystal doorknob and pushed open a heavy mahogany door into an elaborate, deceptively large dining room. The flashlight played over several ornate wooden chairs on either side of an equally lavish, carved dining table; from the size it could have sat at least thirty diners, easily. A thin, lacy, blood-red table cloth hung from the table's edges, flapping in a nonexistent breeze. Malcolm watched, fascinated, as tiny flames lit the ends of several tall white candlesticks, two surrounding each table setting.<br><br>His attention diverted, Mal failed to notice the form of a young boy manifesting behind him. The child's head hung low, eyes glaring darkly from beneath his brow, and water dripped from his arms and hair. Mal walked forward a few paces, oblivious to the boy's presence until he saw Cathy motioning to him frantically, her voice much higher than usual.<br><br><em>turnaroundbossturnaroundquicktheressomething--</em><br><br>In a flash, Mal spun around and saw...nothing. He shined the Mag-Lite on the door he'd entered through, then turned back to Cathy with a silent 'What the hell?' gesture. As he turned back toward the dining table, the boy reappeared in front of him, floating four feet off the ground and flying right at him, his expression murderous, mouth locked in a silent scream.<br><br>"Holy fuck!" Mal screamed, wheeling backward and losing his footing. The investigator went down hard onto his back as the apparition roared overhead and vanished back into the ether. For a moment, Mal lay still and tried to stop his heart before it exploded out of his chest, with Cathy hovering over him with her usual blend of amusement and concern. When he was certain he could stand again without fainting, he rolled over and picked himself up from the floor, brushed off the dust from his coat, and reached for his flashlight. Its illuminating beam seemed to scatter strangely across the floor, the light almost appearing to undulate back and forth, as if the floor was...<br><br>Moving.<br><br>Upon closer inspection, Mal realized the floor of the dining room was covered with ants, millions of them writhing and teeming in a living carpet that most definitely was not there when he first fell. With a scream that didn't sound at all like a little girl's, he leaped backward and started to climb up onto the dining table, scrabbling backward like a frightened crab. After getting his legs back beneath him, Mal rose to a kneeling position and swept the flashlight back and forth over the floor.<br><br>No ants.<br><br>But now, the chairs weren't empty. A strong, merry voice startled him from behind, and he looked around to see dozens of grotesque, rotting corpses in varying stages of decay, with a bare skeleton standing at the head of the table. "My, my, we really should give our compliments to the chef! Tonight's meal looks absolutely <em>delicious</em>!" It said, its eternal grin clattering as it spoke. The corpses laughed, a hearty, horrifying chorus, as Mal jumped back to the floor. He raced toward the dining room door and jerked it open before risking a glance back. The dining room was empty, and dark; not even the candles still burned. He wasn't about to take chances, however; he rushed back into the hall and slammed the door shut, then leaned against the heavy wood to catch his breath.<br><br><em>'Alright, then. Whatever the hell you are...round one goes to you,'</em> Mal thought wryly.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>kitakaze</strong> on <strong>25-05-2011, 05:57:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Just after half-past noon a black, official looking sedan pulled off from the main road into the estate, and wound its way up to stop beside the parked bus. The skies overhead had steadily become more and more ominous, and the rain had begun as intermittent, fat droplets of unseasonably cold rain. Before the driver could even open his door, the rear passenger door swung open, and out stepped a young Japanese man dressed in a plain black shirt and blue jeans with a denim vest. “Sugei...” He simply stared up at the mansion for a few moments, practically in awe at the sheer weight and volume of the impure spiritual energies the place was steeped in.<br><br>“Mister Kawashiro, this way please, Mist-” Jun cut the man off in mid sentence with a chopping motion. “You do not want to be here, I know. Please do not feel that you need to remain longer.” He smiled warmly at the man who gave a hesitant nod as he sat back down in the driver seat of the sedan. “Oh! Sir, one more thing. Be sure to clean those clothes and shower yourself before returning home, you do not want to drag any of this back into your home.” He left the bewildered man behind at the car as he made his way up to the bus, smile still in place even as he knocked on the closed door and called out in greeting. “I am afraid I have made you wait, please forgive my tardiness, Hatcher-san!”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>26-05-2011, 00:54:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Caleb Hatcher -- A New Challenger Appears?</strong><br><br>A laptop sat open on the seat next to Mr. Hatcher, its screen filled with several small windows each displaying spreadsheets, reports, zoning and liscense paperwork, and various and sundry other minutiae that came with running a business. Hatcher flicked through them half-heartedly, applying digital signatures and crunching numbers only to keep his thoughts well away from whatever might be happening inside the manor. Harvey, the driver, sat reclined in the driver's seat, an open book draped over his face; the man's snores were mostly quiet, but every now and then the windows practically rattled, and Hatcher idly wondered if the man's wife was deaf in both ears, or just on one side.<br><br>There wasn't much work for him to do anyway, really; his secretary, Ms. Foster, took care of much of the day to day paperwork, but unfortunately he had lacked Harvey's forethought to bring any other means of distraction along with him when they'd set out this morning.<br><br>Just as he was lamenting his boredom, the muffled sound of tires on gravel sounded behind the bus, and Hatcher peered through the windows to see one of his company cars approaching the manor. A young Asian man exited the car and spoke with the driver, than stood for several moments in the middle of the drive, staring up at the manor with a slightly awed expression. He seemed familiar, somehow, and Hatcher returned to the thick packet of folders he'd brought along and rifled through the envelopes within until he found what he was looking for.<br><br><em>'Oh, right. The young Mr. Kawashiro, flown in from Japan. Highly recommended.'</em> Hatcher looked back at the mansion as the other investigators disappeared through its gaping doors. <em>'Well, it's not exactly the cavalry, but at least it's something.'</em><br><br>The young man knocked on the door to the bus and called loudly. Hatcher fiddled with the door mechanism (naturally, Harvey didn't give so much as a twitch at the disturbance) and finally gave up, pulling the door open by hand.<br><br>"I am afraid I have made you wait, please forgive my tardiness, Hatcher-san!" Kawashiro said, a sunny smile firmly plastered on his expression. Mr. Hatcher extended one hand and nodded curtly, welcoming the new investigator onto the bus. "Not at all, Mr. Kawashiro. I'm afraid it is I who owe you an apology; I was uncertain if you intended to join us, and in the interest of time it was decided to move forward with those who had already arrived. But I can assure you, the job is still open and you are more than welcome to try your hand at it, if you're still inclined. I trust you've recieved the first dossier on the manor's history and past owners? Your other team members have already entered the house, but if you have any further questions before you enter I'll be happy to answer as best I can," Hatcher said.<br><br>As he spoke, Hatcher moved further back into the bus. He returned shortly with the equipment crate and sat it down in another empty seat. "As I told the others, I've taken the liberty of providing some basic supplies -- flashlight, communications radio, minor first aid kit, that sort of thing." He ran a hand over his head, wiping a thin line of sweat from his brow in the unaired bus, and turned to look back at the front door to the manor.<br><br>"I'm afraid this is all I can offer you, before you go in. This, and whatever answers I can provide. After you enter that house, you'll be on your own. Just...let me know when you're ready."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>kitakaze</strong> on <strong>26-05-2011, 03:35:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				A little surprised that the driver looked to simply be sleeping, Jun managed to keep it off of his face as he saw Hatcher fiddle with the lever-like device for a moment before simply pulling the door open. Jun firmly grasped the older man's hand in greeting and followed him up into the bus. He waved a hand dismissively at Hatcher's apology. “I understand your desire to have this business taken care of soon, it is much worse here than I... expected to find.” He seemed slightly distracted by a spot just over the man's left shoulder as he added, “Yes, the man who met me at the airport had the file and... eh, the photos also. This whole place has been filled with <em>kegare</em>... impurity, for lack of a better word...”<br><br>As Hatcher set out the provisions for him, Jun nodded slowly and began placing the items in pockets in his vest. It was clear that his employer was pushing himself to even sit this close the the source of his distress, and he had a good idea of what could be making it worse. Silently he put on a thoughtful expression and reached into one of his pockets and withdrew a long strand of beads carved with minute Kanji symbols. He securely wrapped them around his hand and leaned forward slightly to make a sudden shooing motion just above Hatcher's shoulder. A moment later his expression brightened once more and he nodded as if to himself. “Hatcher-san, you have done more than enough, such things are not meant to be dealt with by, forgive me, normal people. Even your short time here left you with a lingering spirit over your shoulder, but don't worry, before I go in I will place a ward on the bus for you, just to be safe.”<br><br>With a confident nod, as though that explained everything, Jun stood and bowed deeply before turning to go. As he stepped back onto the drive he turned and reached into a different pocket and withdrew a slip of paper with an intricately brushed design which he pressed onto the side of the bus' door, sticking it in place with the moisture from the still sparse rain. He immediately felt the <em>ofuda</em> take effect as it began to emit a faint amount of energy to repulse negative spirits, hopefully enough to keep his new employer safe... well, safer.<br><br>Jun made his way up to the main door quickly with every intention of catching up with his “coworkers” before they managed to get too far ahead, but hesitated when one of the large doors began opening of its own accord. It wasn't the opening door that worried him, per se, it was that he couldn't see what had done it... He checked to make sure his beads were secure on his hand and patted his pockets to reassure himself a bit before striding purposefully through into the foyer. With any luck there would be one or two others still nearby, the prospect of going through this place alone was suddenly much less appealing as he got a good look at the things floating around this veritable hell hole. As he was about to call out, the doors slammed into place behind him. “Nani kore? Yabai...” It looked as though the house itself, or whatever had control inside, had sealed the doors from being opened. He immediately muttered out a prayer and slammed his palm into the door in an attempt to purify the corrupt energy. For a moment it looked like it would work, but then he was thrown bodily away from the door as if by a silent explosion, and landed a good fifteen feet away in the center of the entryway. Looking up from the marble floor and wincing at his suddenly very sore back and arm, Jun realized something that he should have known much sooner. It was going to be a long day.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>29-05-2011, 03:40:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Lisa Morgan -- Front Room<br><br>It didn't take long for the group to split apart, and whether she wanted to or not Lisa quickly found herself alone in the foyer. The oppressive silence hung on the air like a funeral curtain, and the cloying smells of mold and fresh paint drifted to her nose. The lights were dim, and with the darkly painted walls there was precious little light to guide her footsteps. As she looked around, a creak, loud and impossibly long, sounded from behind a door ahead and to her left. From what she remembered about the house files, the door should have led to the parlor. A heavy *thump-thump-thump* drew her closer; <em>something</em> was behind that door...<br><br>Father Owen -- The Gardens<br><br>Raindrops spattered lightly on the ground as Owen wove his way through the garden. The wet grass was cold and stiff, like trying to wade through thousands of tiny, clutching hands. The rose bushes that had once lined the garden's perimeter had gone wild over the years, and now beautiful red and white petals dotted the landscape. Something was wrong, though, and Owen could smell it. The flowers had none of their trademark fragrance; in fact, the garden seemed infected with a pungent, meaty scent that defied description. Blossoms were hardly the only things that had flourished, however; thorny vines were wrapped around the grungy, once-white trellises and snaked along the overgrown pathways. The needle-pointed thorns crunched under Owen's feet with almost every step. As he reached the far edge of the garden he noticed several dark patches on the ground where the grass had died and turned brown, or in some cases had been utterly eradicated, leaving only bare patches of earth. Some were only a few inches wide, others several feet across. All were along the edge of the property. The wind slowly began to pick up, and the rain started to fall harder. Owen couldn't be certain, but it almost sounded like the wind was...<em>whispering</em> to him...<br><br>Jun Kawashiro -- First Floor Hallways<br><br>Jun's footsteps echoed softly down the hallways as he walked, exploring the house. Every door he tried stood firm, locked -- or jammed. The lights were brighter in the hallway than in other parts of the house, but they flickered on and off at random intervals, producing a slow, almost hypnotizing strobe effect. Some of the walls held artwork or portraits, although most were heavily faded or damaged by exposure. The patterned, pastel wallpaper seemed to go on forever, and the carpet squished wetly in places beneath Jun's shoes. A little brown spider swung from a thin strand of webbing, just below eye-level, and as he walked past it caught in his hair. Turning a corner, he took a few steps and walked past another water-logged painting, bumped against a wooden decor table, and stepped on an oddly familiar patch of soggy carpet. As he reached the next corner, another spider's web caught in his hair, and Jun began to suspect something was very wrong...
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>kitakaze</strong> on <strong>30-05-2011, 21:16:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				After the overt hostility he encountered at the front door, Jun was cautious to look carefully over each doorway before approaching or trying them. He largely ignored the smaller shadows and minor beings that he passed, confident that his prayer beads were enough to ward them off. As he passed through the halls it occurred to him that at one point this mansion must have been a beautiful place, though judging by how deeply rooted the evil seemed to be, the beauty of the construction likely lasted only long enough for the original tenants to take up residency.<br><br>He largely ignored the minor inconveniences such as the flickering lights or the damp carpet and walls. When the spider landed in his hair, however, Jun hurriedly bushed it from his hair, grimacing at the sensation of cobwebs on his face. When he turned the corner and bumped into the table, he muttered under his breath at being too distracted to notice something so obvious. He hoped that he would reach an open door or stairs or some other new feature to break the monotony of these overly large halls... and the damned spiderwebs just seemed to be waiting for him! He started to brush another handful of webs from exactly the same spot on the side of his head when he stopped in mid motion. The same spot...?<br><br>With a quick glance behind himself, Jun hurried around the next corner and bumped into another table with a startled curse. He frowned darkly as he rubbed at his bruised shin and examined a suspiciously familiar painting. Slowly he walked back the way he had come, his eyes scanning carefully from one wall to the other. As he turned the corner, Jun pulled up short, almost losing his balance in the process. There in front of him, just below eye level, was a small brown spider hanging from a nearly invisible strand of web.<br><br>“<em>Chikushō</em>...” Sometimes Jun hated being right. He stepped around the spider and stood squarely in the center of the hall. He had heard of these sorts of “looped space” before, but those were usually the work of <em>sukima youkai</em>, “gap demons,” and he had not expected there to be a similar being here in America. The important thing, he reminded himself, was that no matter how powerful a spell or illusion is, there is always a weak point somewhere in its structure, if only one can find it.<br><br>It was slow work, going over practically every inch of the walls and floor without actually prodding at them, but Jun was not yet desperate enough to actually touch the mysteriously damp carpet. His first thought had been either the painting at the corner or the table. Neither of them stayed where he moved them to, nor did they remain broken when he tried a more forceful tactic. As he felt himself getting frustrated, Jun took out the flashlight that had been provided for the first time since entering the mansion. Using the surprisingly bright beam to counteract the flickering lights, he began to examine the ceiling as best he could while keeping an eye on his surroundings suspiciously.<br><br>Three loops later, he was just about ready to try putting a hole in the wall. He somehow kept managing to almost walk into the table, and that damned spider ev- Jun blinked and shook his head slowly. “<em>Masaka... Sonna ni kantan...?</em>” Cautiously he made his way down the hall until he found the spider dangling from the ceiling, curiously immobile, as if it were patiently waiting for someone to pass by. Jun quietly said a prayer in apology, shook the strand of beads, and clapped his hands together sharply, squashing the spider between them. Suddenly there was a sensation of rippling in the air, as though through water.<br><br>As he brushed his hands off on his pants, Jun looked about warily. Nothing looked different from where he stood. He edged down the hall, his hand raised in defense, and turned the corner in a rush, prepared to kick the table over if he was still stuck. It seemed that his luck was improving, though, as he was now facing a new corridor of doorways, this one ending with a window which faced part of the garden. With a relieved sigh Jun replaced the flashlight in his vest pocket and leaned on the wall for a few moments. As he rested against the wall, he pulled the hand held radio from his belt and flicked it on. There was no better time to make friends than the present, after all, and he depressed the PTT button. “Eh, hello? If anyone can hear me, this is Jun Kawashiro. Hatcher-san sent me to assist here, is there anyone listening?”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>06-06-2011, 07:52:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Caleb Hatcher -- Finally, a Bright Spot</strong><br><br>Hatcher watched, quietly amazed as the young man brandished a small, beaded necklace and made a simple gesture over his shoulder, as if brushing away a pesky mosquito. At first he thought it was exactly that, and he turned to see what had Mr. Kawashiro's attention, but nothing was there. But almost immediately afterward, Caleb felt as though a heavy weight had been taken off his shoulders, one he didn't even realize was there. It was like the fear and the stress he'd been carrying had wrapped itself around him in a smothering blanket, and now it was simply...gone.<br><br>For the first time in over a month, Hatcher felt a genuine, sincere smile begin to spread over his face. The fear was still there, of course; by no means had he forgotten his encounters with the house, but it finally felt like something <em>could</em> be done about it, that there really might be a solution. He nodded gratefully to the young psychic, not trusting himself to speak, and gave him a brief salute as Jun exited the bus and strode toward the manor. <em>'Good luck, son. And godspeed to you as well,'</em> Hatcher thought.<br><br>His silent prayers for his newest employee's safety were cut short when a *BeeP* sounded from his laptop's speakers; an e-mail notification. He slid into the seat and opened the new message. It was from his secretary, letting him know that two more exorcists had replied to the ad and would be arriving shortly, though they would now be a bit late. Hatcher looked over the files attached. Natalie Graham and Angela Clarke, both 22, both highly recommended. He finished scanning the brief bios included, and sent back a message to his secretary to have cars and drivers waiting for them at the airport if they decided to fly in, and to go ahead and e-mail them the house's case files before they arrived so they could begin familiarizing themselves with the job immediately.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>06-06-2011, 08:24:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Malcolm Wade -- Respect the Protocol</strong><br><br>Static crackled over the radio for a moment before a voice sounded from the small, tinny speaker, and Mal almost missed the sound beneath Cathy's voice as she chattered behind him. So, a new player, eh? Well, after what he'd just witnessed in the dining room Malcolm was in no mood to refuse another hand on this job. He waved Cathy off a few feet and brought the radio up, fiddling with the volume knob before he answered.<br><br>"Uh, yeah. I mean, roger that -- aw, hell, forget it. This is Malcolm Wade; pleased to make your acquaintance there, Jun. If Hatcher sent you, I guess you should have some idea of what we're dealing with here. You run into anything off the board yet?"<br><br>Mal waited for a reply, and after a few moments' thought he sent another response, this time to all of the radios. "Alright folks, quick roll call. Ms. Morgan, Father Owen, what are your positions? Have either of you experienced any manifestations yet?"<br><br><em>'Boss I think you're supposed to say 'over' when you're finished speaking on one of those things like they do on television or else the other people don't know when you're finished speaking and you won't get any answers you know I never understood that it always seemed to me like someone should be able to tell when someone had finished speaking and you shouldn't really have to tell them that you're finished because if you have to tell them you're finished you're not really finished until you finish telling them you're finished and'</em><br><br>Malcolm sighed deeply and brought the radio back up to his lips, annoyance flashing over his face as he met Cathy's cheerful expression and deadpanned into the mic. "Over."<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>kitakaze</strong> on <strong>14-06-2011, 20:36:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				As the radio crackled to life, Jun held it up to his ear, rather than raising the volume and risk agitating anything nearby. He nodded a small bow out of habbit as he smiled in amusement as Mal disregarded radio talk to speak normally. "A pleasure to work with you, Malcom-san. Yoroshiku né, I am in your care." He slowly edged his way to the window and peered out at the worsening weather with a little concern.<br><br>Mal's question made him raise an eyebrow in confusion as he puzzledout what the man meant. "Ehh, I am not certain I understand. If you mean anything strange, then yes. Be careful about spiders..." He turned away from the window and looked both ways, wondering which way to go, and had to laugh when he heard a monotone "over"from Mal. "Malcom-san, did you find someone else already? I heard another voice I think, on your signal. Eheh, over."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sarah Morgan</strong> on <strong>15-06-2011, 10:59:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Natalie pulled slowly into the driveway behind the bus, smiling briefly in relief that she was actually finally here, but the smile quickly turned to a look of exasperation at the weather.&nbsp; That was all she needed, she thought grimly.&nbsp; Oh well, there wasn't any help for it, and sitting here wasn't going to make the weather change any faster.&nbsp; Climbing out of the car and carefully locking it, she moved over to the bus, deciding to stop there first before making her way to the house, just in case there was anything important she should know.&nbsp; Peeking through a window, she thought she saw someone, but she couldn't be sure.&nbsp; Tapping lghtly on the glass just in case, she waited to see if the doors would open, or if it was only a driver who'd brought the others here, and she should quit wasting time and head for the house.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>19-06-2011, 00:02:45</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				﻿<strong>Caleb Hatcher -- One More for a Full House</strong><br><br>Hatcher looked up from the laptop scree at the sound of tapping on the glass door of the bus, and peered out the window to see his newest investigator. Female, young, brown hair -- it had to be Miss Graham. Or was it Grant? He shook his head absently and rose to open the door, the driver seeming permanently indisposed, and stepped back to allow the young lady room to board.<br><br>"Welcome, Miss...Graham, isn't it? I'm very glad you could make it. Please, come in. As I've already explained to the others, I have some additional equipment to hopefully aid you in your investigation," Hatcher said as he moved toward the back of the bus, the pattering rain masking the sound of his footsteps. He returned with a large box, sat it down on one of the seats and began rummaging through its contents.<br><br>"These are your emergency supplies. Two-way multi-channel radio, miniature first-aid kit, high powered flashlight. I know it's not much," he said, looking slightly embarrassed, "but I'm afraid it's all I can offer. And honestly, I don't believe anything else would be much use...in there. Now, one of my secretaries should have already sent you the initial reports on the house and its history, as well as profiles of some of the more recent victims, and I expect you will have already familiarized yourself with what little information I've been able to provide. If you have any questions, I'll answer them to the best of my ability; otherwise..."<br><br>Hatcher fell silent for a moment and looked once more through the window, feeling the weight of sending yet another innocent person into the house. But there was really nothing else he could say. She had come of her own volition, and he had tried to make her as aware of the dangers as possible. The rest would be up to her, just as it would be up to the others. He could only hope they could work together and find a way to destroy the immense evil they now faced.<br><br>"I'm afraid all I can do now is wish you good luck, miss, and may Heaven protect you. You should find colleagues already within the house, although I can't say if they'll be any help. They seem good people, though. I hope you'll all find a way to come through this safely." Hatcher extended a hand and looked sadly into Miss Graham's soft brown eyes, then slid into one of the seats and allowed her to move to the exit.<br><br>"Good luck..."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Starlequin</strong> on <strong>19-06-2011, 01:59:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				﻿<strong>Malcolm Wade -- What a Lovely Singing Voice You Must Have...</strong><br><br>"--ange, then yes. Be careful about spiders..." Mal listened through the radio's tinny speaker to catch the new guy's warning, and rolled his eyes in disgust at the thought. Spiders. Of <em>course</em>, it would just <em>have</em> to be spiders. A shudder ran through his whole body at the notion of repeating his encounter in the dining room, with thousands of little arachnids standing in for the phantom ants. He brought the radio back to his lips and responded as Cathy launched into a soliloquiy about how helpful normal spiders were in their ecosystems.<br><br>"Spiders. Juuust great. Watch out for ants too, by the way...hell, you know what, just watch out for damn near everything in here. Whatever this thing is, I think it's only toying with us, but I suspect it'll start gettin' mean real soon." He glanced back at Cathy, still waxing poetic on the delicate balance of nature, and lifted one eyebrow; so New Guy had caught her voice? Well, at least Mal knew for sure the guy had talent. He clicked the radio's call button again.<br><br>"Ah, yeah, that was just my partner. I'll...introduce you guys later, if we have one. And speaking of which..." Mal turned up the volume and sent out another broad call to the others. "Hey, priest, superstar, you guys still with us? Can you give us your positions, do you need help?" He listened, wide-eyed and intent, as one of the radios -- no telling whose -- sounded to life, responding on all open channels.<br><br>An inhuman chorus whispered over the radios, a cacophony of unholy voices composed of the snarls of rabid dogs, the sobs of bereaved mothers, the slosh of raw sewage being poured over breakfast cereal and a hundred other sickening sounds of revulsion, each hissing and growling over one another to be heard. Much of it was horrific, ear-bleeding gibberish, but here and there Mal could detect a word or two. None of them were encouraging.<br><span style="font-family: impact;" class="bbc_font"><strong><br>--hhuUNgRrrRyY... <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;--MmmmMOOorreEEe... <br>&nbsp; &nbsp;--CLOossSEerrr... <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<span style="font-size: 7pt;" class="bbc_size">--freeEE UUusss...</span> <br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; --ssSOoullSSs... <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;<span style="font-size: 5pt;" class="bbc_size">--ruuUNnn...</span> <br></strong></span><br>Mal swallowed hard and stared at the radio in his hand as if it had turned into a snake, and slapped at the 'OFF' button before the voices could continue. For a few moments he leaned against the wall, eyes closed as he counted down from thirty. Then, he straightened up, held the radio away from himself like a live grenade, and switched it back on.<br><br>Silence. Slowly he brought the walkie back to his lips and depressed the 'PTT' button. "Uh...okay. Forget about it 'getting mean.' I'd say this bitch was born ornery. I'm guessing by now the others are out of commission, so it looks like it's down to you and me, Jun. And whoever else is dumb enough to show up next, I guess. Watch yourself, bud, and stay in contact. I ain't in no mood to try runnin' this thing down by my lonesome."<br><br>Mal resumed walking, carefully testing the floor's older patches as he moved forward through the darkened halls. Cathy drifted lazily beside him, poking her head through the wall every few feet. Mal didn't really know what she could be looking for, and decided not to burden himself with the knowledge just yet. If she found anything of interest, she'd let him know. Or it would, either way. At the rate things were going, he was betting on the latter.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Horror of Harrowgate Manor (The House Where Evil Dwells)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sarah Morgan</strong> on <strong>19-06-2011, 05:25:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=101356.msg4804025#msg4804025">Quote from: Starlequin on 19-06-2011, 00:02:45</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">﻿<strong>Caleb Hatcher -- One More for a Full House</strong><br><br>Hatcher looked up from the laptop scree at the sound of tapping on the glass door of the bus, and peered out the window to see his newest investigator. Female, young, brown hair -- it had to be Miss Graham. Or was it Grant? He shook his head absently and rose to open the door, the driver seeming permanently indisposed, and stepped back to allow the young lady room to board.<br><br>"Welcome, Miss...Graham, isn't it? I'm very glad you could make it. Please, come in. As I've already explained to the others, I have some additional equipment to hopefully aid you in your investigation," Hatcher said as he moved toward the back of the bus, the pattering rain masking the sound of his footsteps. He returned with a large box, sat it down on one of the seats and began rummaging through its contents.<br><br>"These are your emergency supplies. Two-way multi-channel radio, miniature first-aid kit, high powered flashlight. I know it's not much," he said, looking slightly embarrassed, "but I'm afraid it's all I can offer. And honestly, I don't believe anything else would be much use...in there. Now, one of my secretaries should have already sent you the initial reports on the house and its history, as well as profiles of some of the more recent victims, and I expect you will have already familiarized yourself with what little information I've been able to provide. If you have any questions, I'll answer them to the best of my ability; otherwise..."<br><br>Hatcher fell silent for a moment and looked once more through the window, feeling the weight of sending yet another innocent person into the house. But there was really nothing else he could say. She had come of her own volition, and he had tried to make her as aware of the dangers as possible. The rest would be up to her, just as it would be up to the others. He could only hope they could work together and find a way to destroy the immense evil they now faced.<br><br>"I'm afraid all I can do now is wish you good luck, miss, and may Heaven protect you. You should find colleagues already within the house, although I can't say if they'll be any help. They seem good people, though. I hope you'll all find a way to come through this safely." Hatcher extended a hand and looked sadly into Miss Graham's soft brown eyes, then slid into one of the seats and allowed her to move to the exit.<br><br>"Good luck..."<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>Natalie gave who she presumed was Mr. Hatcher a friendly and warm smile as she moved out of the rain and onto the bus, watching him curiously as he took out the few items he had for her.<br><br>"I'm sorry I'm so late," she apologized.&nbsp; "I ended up having car trouble, and it took a bit longer to get it fixed than I'd have liked," she explained, nodding in answer to his assumption that the secretary had given her the preliminary information.&nbsp; {She did, and thank you for thinking to get radios for us, I wouldn't have thought of that," she said, a little sheepishly.<br><br>She moved to take the items from him, holding out a hand in return when he offered his, impulsively giving it a squeeze, attempting to reassure him.&nbsp; "This means a lot, your trusting strangers to come and help you, and I'm sure we'll be all right," she said quietly, hoping it was true.&nbsp; She met his eyes for a few seconds, before giving him another smile and moving to make her way to the house, pausing on the steps to look around the outside for a minute before she got up the nerve to open the door and go in, giving a final look over her shoulder to catch sight of him watching her, and giving a slight wave before the door closed behind her.&nbsp; She listened trying to see if she could hear anyone around, as she wasn't too keen on going exploring alone, hoping someone was close by to have heard the door close, and might be nice enough to come and see who'd shown up.
			</dd>
		</dl>
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