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@Rekker @Archangel89 Both of you have created brilliant characters, and ones that I think will really fit in to this Lovecraftian world! I'll be getting in touch with you both shortly in order to talk you through the next steps, but we are off to a great start.
@Archangel89 You are more than welcome to throw a sheet together, and we can go from there. I look forward to seeing what you come up with!
In This Fine Town Of Arkham

A Night At Wilde Hall






"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown" - H. P. Lovecraft



Six Hours Till Midnight





While other guests make their way through the heart of Arkham, Richard Joyce is not one for strolling through the streets. Perhaps it is the deeper dark, the longer shadows, or simply the relative peace and quiet, but Richards journey on the fateful night of the 23rd took him not through Arkham, but rather around her edges. The town has been haunted by dreams and nightmares, and Richard is no different, so the motivation of seeing the Wilde Woods himself, of hearing the wind howl through the twisted branches, smelling the dank earth on the air, may have driven him to walk beside the trees, towards where a carriage promises to take him deeper within still. And yet, perhaps the oppurtunity to venture within need not wait until the carriage.

At first, Richard thinks nothing of it. The Wilde Woods has long warred with the city for control of the land between the two, and the tree-line is broken and fractures, one more gap in the undergrowth is nothing out of sorts. As he draws nearer, it starts to demand more attention. A space, a parting of the thorns that seems to open up like some great maw, nothing but shadows beyond it. Crouching down on his haunches, Richard reaches a hand down, and feels a chill run through him. Footsteps, in the mud, leading into the forest. Glancing up, it is then that Richard truly hesitates. The undergrowth has been beaten back, whoever the footsteps belonging to practically wading through them, and on the thorns, Richard can make out blood, even in the dim light. For a brief moment, those thorns look all too familiar, their shape twisting into barbed wire in the mud, and then Richard catches himself. He can't go down that hole, not tonight. He needs to focus. Standing upright, and straightening out the uniform he wears, Richard looked around. Unsurprisingly, the path he is on is deserted, and there is certainly no sign of the stranger that left the boot prints behind in the mud. They may be long gone, but Richard suddenly finds himself looking more warily at the long shadows around him.
@Irredeemable I really like Richard. I already have a clear picture of who and what he is, and that is a credit to the work you've already put in. I'll send you a PM shortly to move Richard on to the next step.
@Irredeemable You are more than welcome to put a sheet together. I look forward to seeing what you come up with!
The task of the day was to get the first IC post up, so that you can all start thinking about your next step. I'll spend the rest of the evening sorting out a discord, and getting in touch with you all to talk you through what comes next!
In This Fine Town Of Arkham

A Night At Wilde Hall






"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown" - H. P. Lovecraft



Six Hours Till Midnight


On the fifteenth day of November, in the year of 1923, the night finally arrives. Arkham is a city of shadows, and as the sun sets, and those shadows lengthen, driving anyone with any sense for whatever shelter and sanctuary their homes can provide, it is those who thrive in the shadows that emerge. The date has been marked in the calendars of the rich and powerful of Arkham, and as it finally arrives, there seems to be a spark of electricity in the air. Anticipation? Excitement? Fear? Perhaps all three.

Dark carriages move through the winding streets of Arkham, carrying the old families and new money of the city towards where the city loses it's fight with the wilderness, towards the edge of the Wilde Woods. Deep within, Wilde Hall awaits. Some know the route well, or as well as anyone can know the shifting, inky depths of the Wilde Woods, while for some, it is the first time they have braved the darkness. Whatever the case, a strange silence settles over these dark carriages as they move through the trees, the twisting branches blotting out the dim light of the moon, high above. It is as if the shadows themselves absorb any noise, even the sound of a breath snatched away from the lips.




Tommy Bannerman reached the edge of the Wilde Woods a few minutes before the clock strikes six. Having done what he could to smarten up, in the hope that he would be able to blend in amongst the other guests making their way towards Wilde Hall, Tommy pulled out the invitation, holding it up towards the flickering glow of a nearby streetlight as he read the words printed upon it one more time. By now, he could practically recite it from memory, having poured over it a dozen times, but something about the words gave him a sense of confidence, quietened the voice of doubt that nagged at the back of his mind. Satisfied, he tucked it away into his pocket again, and glanced around the dimly lit street that he stood in. He was in the right place, or near enough. The invitation had included the details of half a dozen coaches, ferrying guests through the shadows of the Wilde Woods, and considering he hardly fancied the treacherous walk, Tommy had resolved himself to catch one of these carriages, even if it put his deception at risk.

As if on cue, the stifling silence of the fading evening light was broken by the rattle of wheels on stone, of hooves striking road, and a dark shape detached itself from the shadows at the end of the street, moving towards where Tommy stood. Squaring his jaw, and standing as tall as he can, Tommy did what he could to play the role of the pompous and the rich. What would Mister Script do? Almost without thinking, Tommy took a step out into the road, and held up his hand to flag the carriage down. The figure, hunched over the reins, turned it's head towards where the boy stood, and the carriage shifted slightly, turning towards him. Tommy allowed himself a smile, he had managed one small victory at least. Before he could feel too smug, another noise broke the silence, a yelp, then a crash of something clattering to the ground. Whirling around, Tommy's eyes strained against the shadows. An alley opening up behind him, leading away from the street, away from the carriage, and for a moment, he could make out nothing in the darkness, and then suddenly, a figure burst out onto the street, feet pounding. They barely seemed to see Tommy, barrelling towards him. He only had a moment to think, to act, or he would be sent sprawling!




Unaware of the commotion poised to take place across town, Debora White glanced at the clock in her office, grimacing slightly as she saw the hour hand teetering on the brink of six. The time seems to have moved too quickly, the hour coming to hand too fast. For a moment, she questioned herself. Was she ready? Would she ever be? But then something caught her eye, and she caught herself. She needed to be ready. With a silent promise, she pushed herself to her feet, paused only to check her outfit and mask in the reflection of the window, and crossed to the office door. Her hand had already reached the handle when she stopped. It had only been a moment, but she had heard it, clear as day. She knew the office like the back of her hand, it was like a second home to her, so she knew the third step from the bottom creaked. It was that creak that had shattered the silence, that creak that had stopped her in her tracks.

Debora wracked her brain for a moment. It was late, after hours, the building should be empty. This time of night, the streets were empty. Her ears straining, Debora's breathe caught in her throat. For a moment, there was nothing, and then the distinct creak again, as whoever was on the stairs lifted their foot. She stopped herself from adding 'or whatever' to that thought. The dreams had been getting to her, she knew that, and since... Gritting her teeth, Debora pushed the thought out of her mind. The steps were coming regularly now, and whoever was coming would be there in a matter of moments. Her eyes darted around her office. She had to move fast, if she was going to move. She had to do something.




While others may be caught up in the darkness that grips Arkham, Eugene Esposito was having no such misfortune. It had taken him a while to find the dingy speakeasy, but it was cosy enough, if in need of a lick of paint. The bartender was a stony-faced man, who had only offered Eugene a few words since he had sat down, but he had warmed up a little once he realised that Eugene paid promptly, and that he came back. Since then, Eugene had become somewhat of a regular, striking up an acquaintance with the barkeep, Thomas, one of the few people in Arkham that had given the New York journalist had arrived in the city. As Eugene finished his drink, he glanced up, and caught Thomas looking suspiciously at the mask that Eugene had donned for the evening.

"Say, what's with the get-up?"

Eugene hesitated at first. The invitation that was burning a hole in his pocket had stressed the theme of the masquerade ball, the idea of keeping your identity secret, but he had started to enjoy Thomas' company, despite himself. There was something about the wrinkled features, the dark, squinting eyes. Shrugging slightly, Eugene put down his empty glass, gesturing slightly to Thomas as he replied.

"I've got an invitation to Wilde Hall. One of their masquerade balls this evening."

The barkeepers face shifted, and the change took Eugene aback. He had grown so accustomed to the unflinching expression, that to see emotion there felt wrong, but there was emotion written across Thomas' face now. Eugene was so shocked that it took him a moment to even process what that emotion was, but when he did, he felt a shiver run down his spine. It was fear. The silence hung heavy in the air, before Thomas opened his mouth to speak, before catching himself, his mouth closing again. Without a word, Thomas simply reached out and poured Eugene another drink, not meeting the other man's questioning eyes.
With three characters accepted (and a fourth currently balancing on the threshold), I will consider this roleplay primed, and ready to rock and roll! Before we can start proper, I will just quickly touch upon how I intend to play out this roleplay, and what that means for the players.

With this being a roleplay steeped with mystery, there are going to be things that you find out as a player that you may not want other players to know. I obviously cannot enforce any secrecy, but I hope that the layers of mystery will be entertaining enough to persuade you all to keep some cards close to your chest, at least until you can make a suitably dramatic reveal!

Secondly, I intend to approach posts as a collaboration between myself and you, as a player (and other players, if you come together as a group). The reasons for this are two-fold. The first is that I will be modelling this roleplay on the Call of Cthulhu system, and that tends to demand more of a back and forth than you might get from the more traditional GM update and player post cycle, and the second is that there is a wealth of locations, NPC's and events for you to stumble upon, and I want that world to feel as alive and reactive for you all as it can be.

All great mysteries have a ticking clock of jeopardy, and this roleplay will be no different. The Wilde Hall Ball invitation that your character holds in their hand (regardless of just how it came to be in their possession) invites all of the guests to arrive before the strike of six, and all of the rumours of the events suggests that the dark carriages return from the woods just past midnight. That gives your characters six hours to survive achieve their goals within Wilde Hall. As each hour passes, I will post an update, encompassing the situation for each of your characters, as well as Wilde Hall as a whole. Once those six hours pass the Eldritch horrors will consume the world then the doors slam in your face.

If there are any questions, then please do not hesitate to throw them my way, either here in the OOC, or in a PM!

As a final point, would people be interested in the creation of a discord server for this roleplay? I don't feel strongly either way, and I've had success both with and without discord, but I thought I would open it up to those of you already accepted. @Dusty@Alkanet@Moon Man
Just to make sure everyone knows where we are at, most of the applicants are steadily working their way through the process, and considering we already have a good group size, I'll probably be looking at getting this show on the road towards the back end of the weekend.

If you're lurking, and thinking about throwing a sheet into contention, then try and get it in before the weekend (or at least express your interest). If you're in the process, then you have your deadline! And if you're already accepted, well then you can put your feet up.
@Alkanet You are more that welcome to have already crossed paths, but it may be worth holding off on pouring too much time and effort into the idea until your respective characters are accepted.
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