[h2][b][i][color=008000][center]In This Fine Town Of Arkham[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h2]
[h3][b][i][color=008000][center]A Night At Wilde Hall[/center][/color][/i][/b][/h3]
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[center][img]https://s3.eu-central-1.wasabisys.com/devonilx7/2020/04/forest_path_dark_150398_1920x1080-1536x864.jpg[/img][/center]
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[center][b]"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown"[/b] - [i]H. P. Lovecraft[/i][/center]
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[center][@Eviledd1984][/center]

The letter was rough, little more than a sheet of paper folded in half, but it still intrigued [b][color=0054a6]Benjamin Zebrowski[/color][/b], and he was quick to cross the office and open it. The writing was a scrawl, and it bore no name or address, but Benjamin still felt with some sixth sense that the letter was meant for him. Meant for him or not, it did not make the message any less cryptic.

	[b]"Not all who wander are lost. Not all guests are welcome. Not all who are mourned are gone. Beware the dark, embrace the dawn."[/b]

	Benjamin turned the page over, hoping for something more, but the letter was blank, other than those four sentences. What did they mean? Who had delivered this letter? A friend, or a foe? Benjamin didn't have an answer to any of those questions, and even just trying to turn them over in his mind was giving him a headache. He glanced at the clock on the wall and frowned. The letter might still be a mystery, but the invitation in his pocket was much clearer. The point that he was supposed to go to wasn't far from his office, and he would have to leave soon if he didn't want to be late.

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[center][@Dark Cloud][@Penny][/center]

It was [b][color=008000]Opportunity Knox[/color][/b] who was first to react to the collision, all of her practiced charm coming to the fore. Clearly her words had an effect on the coachman, appearing to quickly remind him of his station, and his surroundings. Glancing at Opportunity, even as [b][color=gray]Morgan Eisenhorn[/color][/b] made his own argument, the coachman released his grip, an almost sheepish look crossing his face as he nodded towards Opportunity. 

	[b]"Of course. Apologies, ma'am."[/b]

	Turning back to Morgan, who had found his feet again, the coachman's face grew more serious. He brushed down the front of the other man's shirt, doing his best effort to flatten out any creases caused by his grip, before fixing Morgan with a steady gaze.

	[b]"You ought to be more careful, sir. What compelled you to be running through the streets like that?"[/b]