Not Quite Lovecraft

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Magic of Creation
You decided to teach her what you knew best: channeling magic through what you created.

Explaining it wasn't exactly easy. This was something that was instinctual to you, something you just did. It had been what you had seized first. Susan had done it differently, studying the sigils and working it into her embroidery. You couldn't blame her for having taken such a path. She had not experienced the occult in the fashion you had. She had the examples you had left around the estate, and that was it. You were deeply grateful things had gone as well as they had for her.

You told her about how it felt to focus on intent, and how to follow the flow. You explained that it could take several attempts to figure out the right shape for what you were trying to cast. It took time and energy and lots of trial and error, but as she practiced she would get the feel for it. It was slow magic, but it was the safest form that you knew.

Susan listened diligently and was more than willing to practice. It would likely take a couple of months before her first intentional piece was created.

[ ]Watch and guide her as she works
[ ]Speak to others in your family
[ ]Check on the protections around the estate
[ ]Ask after your sister
[ ]Head to the Penhew Foundation to ask after Aubrey Penhew
[ ]Check the papers for local news
[ ]Check in with Reverend James Fraser
[ ]Write-in
 
[X]Check in with Reverend James Fraser

I'm open to other ideas, but this option sticks out to me as an initial reaction.
 
Pick up at Church New
You decided it was time to visit one of your old friends. You headed down to the church you knew he now attended. As always James was more than happy to welcome you in. He had an attendant following after him that you didn't recognize.

"Oliver, good to see you once more," James said cheerfully. "Can I hope this is just for a visit?"

You smiled at him. "Partly, and partly because activities have drawn me to this country once more. I was hoping to hear things were doing well for you, and what you might have heard I may wish to keep an ear out for."

The reverend hummed acknowledgement as he lead you in to his office. His attendant followed, still watching you closely.

"Who is your friend?" you asked cheerfully.

"Brother Robert Chaes. He's been learning protective prayers from me, and is aware of what lurks in the dark."

"A pleasure to meet you," Robert murmured. You nodded at him.

"You as well." You looked to James. "How have things been for you?"

"I sent along that man you sent me. The poor fellow did much better with a bible and reassurances, he will do best kept from more problems. He seemed flighty. I do have one letter of note I believe you may be interested in. I'm sure you're aware I've been working on helping to spread faith and protection against that our brethren don't know of. One reverend I have been in contact with, Reverend Stratton, has written to me his concerns that a member of his flock is cursed. I have been looking into what I can for lifting curses, but perhaps your own personal investigations would be more beneficial."

"There was also an artist in London I thought you might be interested in. He does uncanny art similar to your own, a Miles Shirley. I don't believe there is danger there, but you may enjoy speaking with him."

[ ]Agree to visit Reverent Stratton
[ ]Visit Miles Shirley in London
[ ]Head to the Penhew Foundation to ask after Aubrey Penhew
[ ]Check the papers for local news
[ ]Write-in
 
[X]Visit Miles Shirley in London

I like the painting stuff. Feel a little guilty for not voting to help the potential curse victim though
 
Lesser Edale New
You assured James you would go and check on his friend. Whatever the situation was, you would do your best to help out.

Lesser Edale was a truly tiny hamlet. You weren't sure how it had managed the claim of being an independent settlement, considering it had a mere thirty residents. Perhaps it was the nearby Plumb Castle and the nobility that had claim over the land that had it marked as such. Tiny slivers of land like this had been parceled out back in feudal times for nobles that had earned land when their lord did not have much to give out. Or perhaps it had once been bigger, and shrunk with time as people migrated further towards cities. Either way, it was absolutely tiny.

Besides the church, there was a single inn, a general store, and a vet clinic that likely serviced the farms in the area. You felt slightly odd as you headed down to the church. There was nothing wrong, no supernatural means causing the unease. The scenery was quite beautiful, and if it wasn't persistently drizzling you would have liked to sketch it out. You simply felt completely out of place in a hamlet that refused to be fully country or proper town. How did one conduct one's self in such a place? Should you head to the inn first, or the church to meet the one you had come down for? Would you be welcomed, or chased out as an outsider?

You were surprised when you almost bumped into a rather rotund man in a police uniform. "Evening," the constable greeted. "'Ow may I help you?"

"Good evening," you returned. "Could you tell me where Reverend Stratton's chapel is? I came here to help him with some historical research."

"Ah, that would be just left off the road here, on the path heading t'wards the castle. Y'might want to check in at the Inn first, our reverend's been rather busy, he may not be able to see you tonight."

[ ]Head to the inn, ask about local news
[ ]Head to the church and see if you can see the reverend
[ ]Write-in
 
[X]Head to the inn, ask about local news

Sure why not. So long as we don't wait too long, we are rather busy right now after all.
 
Mark of the Beast New
You headed down into the inn. The atmosphere was warm, and everyone was quick to welcome you in. You smiled, pleased to see such a cheerful atmosphere. It could easily fit into a fairy tale of a cozy place with friendly villagers welcoming passersby and offering aid. You ordered some of the local ale and took a seat.

"What brings you here stranger?" the bartender asked with cheer.

"I'm an acquaintance of Reverend Stratton. I heard about his research and came to aid him," you told him with a smile. "Your town seems wonderful of what I've seen of it so far."

"Aye, a truly wonderful place it is!" a patron cheered.

You laughed and listened as everyone cheerfully gossiped. Most of it was speculation about what had happened in Edale proper, and rumors about the country in general. Discussions about the latest soccer game passed about, only for the group to fall into silence when a George was mentioned as someone who would have enjoyed it.

"George?" you asked curiously.

"He was...one of the farmers here," a man offered uneasily.

"Did he move?"

"No, he...he died."

"Murdered, more like," a man grumbled. "Him and Lydia Perkins. Some beast tore them apart!" He glared and spat.

"In this place?" You were rather surprised to hear about this. You were here for a curse, not for murders. Unless the curse was killing people, like the one in Moy, where you met James in the first place.

"Three months back," a woman muttered. "Terrible way to go out."

"Enough of this grim talk," the bartender announced firmly. "Ernest, give us a tune, would ya?"

Ernest nodded and began to whistle. The tension passed and people turned to other topics. You turned what you had learned over in your mind.

"Don't mind any of that talk," the bartender told you firmly. "Our constable shot the beast that was doing it, it's over now."

"Harold would have preferred it was caught earlier," someone joked. "But he's alive at least!"

You finished your drink. It seemed it was a good thing you'd come here. It had been three months since a death, but the curse in Moy had taken decades to play out. Hopefully you could stop the deaths from becoming annual, that would completely wipe this small place out.

You headed back out of the inn and walked to the church. A small vicarage for the reverend to live in was attached with lights visible in the window. An elderly lady hobbled toward you as you approached. "Sir, I'm afraid the reverend isn't accepting visitors right now," she told you firmly, steel in her spine.

"I'm here about a letter he sent," you told her. "I'm sure he'll see me."

"What letter?" she asked with suspicion.

"He seems to be having some trouble with some research he's been working on," you told her smoothly. "It happens to lay in my expertise."

"A scholar are you?" The elderly lady looked doubtful, but she did note the quality of your clothes.

"Of a sorts," you agreed. The lady hmphed and turned to let you pass. You knocked firmly on the door.

A bald elderly gentleman opened the doors, still dressed in his clerical robes. "Ah, I'm sorry I'm not-hello? Who are you?"

"Reverend Stratton? I'm Oliver Heartwork, a friend of Reverend James Fraser. I happen to have some experience with your field of research," you explained.

He looked rather taken aback, blinking like an owl caught in lights. "O-oh? Very well, come in, come in!" He waved you inside. His desk was littered with correspondence, a greek to english translator, and some old journals. "I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone to come in person. Would you care for some tea?"

"A spot of tea would be appreciated," you said agreeably. You took a seat and watched him putter around. He returned with the tea and you both sipped from your cups. "I'm afraid I don't know too much about your situation here," you told him. "James told me that you had a problem with a curse. I can see some possible ways of helping, but I'll need to know more about what kind of curse we're dealing with."

The reverend sighed. "It's on the local nobility," he told you. "I don't know what it is, I've been working through a journal from the previous reverend about it, but it's...it's slow going." He told you about how some time ago the family had been cursed with "the mark of the beast". It had inflicted the family for some time, but had been silent the past four generations. Now it had reared up again, and he was trying to find out how to stop it. Each full moon the ladies of the Vane family would transform into some great beast. Miss Eloise had only just turned 21, and he was afraid that she might have been the killer in those murders that happened. The Vanes didn't know how to stop her from transforming. He hoped that there would be an answer in the journal, but had reached out to James in case he had a solution already at hand. He didn't want to wait longer than necessary.

You nodded thoughtfully considering the various tail ends you had to research. The reverend apologized that he didn't have enough space for you to stay with him, but you assured him you would be just fine staying at the inn. You returned there and carefully went over everything you had learned. When the morning arrived and you were refreshed, you were ready to act.

[ ]Visit the Vanes in their castle to meet Eloise
[ ]Visit the Vanes in their castle to study their lineage for clues
[ ]Help the reverend search the old journals
[ ]Visit Harold, the survivor of the attack, check contagions
[ ]Write-in
 
Werewolves huh? How long to the next full moon? Also the beast that was shot, was it one of the local nobles?
Honestly we are (probably) over-leveled for this quest, but perhaps we can get something interesting from it? Pick up something useful for our main quest.

[X]Visit Harold, the survivor of the attack, check contagions

Seems important to check quickly.
 
[X]Visit Harold, the survivor of the attack, check contagions

Yeah, let's make sure that the problem isn't spreading


Also:
"Don't mind any of that talk," the bartender told you firmly. "Our constable shot the beast that was doing it, it's over now."
Miss Eloise had only just turned 21, and he was afraid that she might have been the killer in those murders that happened.
Seems like a conflict between the considered cursed victim being both killed and still alive. Am I misunderstanding?
 
Seems like a conflict between the considered cursed victim being both killed and still alive. Am I misunderstanding?
The bartender says the beast doing the killing was shot and killed.

That doesn't mean he's telling the truth. He doesn't know werewolves exist. And Oliver didn't ask the constable about the beast he shot. That's just what the bartender knows.
 
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