SMT Devil Summoner - Task Force 666 Quest #32

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You are Adrian Brown, a twenty five year-old third-year medical student living an otherwise normal American life in search of employment. That was until you woke up inside a derelict and demon-infested hospital with four other victims of short-term memory loss. Together, the five of you managed to somehow survive by negotiating with demons and defeating those that were not so amicable. And upon escaping, the all of you realized that it wasn’t as simple as that.

Task Force 666 a multinational organization dedicated to combating hostile demons and those that would use them for ill intentions. And the hellhole you just went through? That was your ‘job interview’, one that you passed with flying colors. When properly offered employment as an agent among the ranks, you accepted without too much hesitation or second thoughts. Duty to humanity and whatnot.

You are now a Devil Summoner in the service of the Task Force, and the de-facto leader of East Coast Operations Division IV Carina Squad. It is your duty to protect mankind from all threats involving the demonic, but how you choose to carry out your orders is entirely up to you. The choices you make shall not only affect those around you, but the fate of the entire world itself…

[Wednesday, July rd 2015, 10:45 AM]

Grimore. A relic of old magic from the beginning of modern history, and one that has evolved through the passage of time. Once, they were simple scrolls of animal skin or papyrus, so very fragile and easily breakable. In the dark ages, warlocks carried with them thick tomes of vellum as they traversed through the Old World. And prior to the COMP’s debut in 1987, it was not uncommon for agents to carry incognito penny dreadfuls while on assignments.

But in spite of nearly four thousand years of human history, its purpose has remained the same:

The storage of a Devil Summoner’s demons.

“It’s been in use recently,” MacKay says, worryingly glancing towards the display. “The scanner’s picking up faint energy signatures and signs of activation. When it was first used, I can’t give you an exact date, but I can estimate that it was within the last few months. Perfectly within the timeline of the missing children.”

“And has it been in use ever since?” You demand. The ramifications of this new information are staggering. A million questions are burning holes in your pocket, namely how the hell an American history museum got its hands on a fucking grimore.

But you keep your calm. Besides, it would make for a poor sight to MacKay through the twenty agitated questions while in a public area.

The priest shakes its head. “No. Repeated uses would have given off a different reading. A singular activation, but the most logical purpose is quite disturbing.”

A chill goes down the back of your spine. “There were demons inside of those pages.”

He nods. “And it appears that they may have been errantly released from their bindings within the last few months.”

“And that’s not the worst of it yet,” Fitz grouses, pointing to the image on her COMP. “Each of those pages’ve got a summonin’ circle, yeah? But take a look ‘round the edges. I snapped a few pics and brought ‘em together…”

(cont.)

Only now do you notice that there are some sort of fragments that run along the corners. Errant designs, superfluous fragments of shapes and sketches that you figure to be without purpose or necessity.

“Okay, you see ‘em, right? Now watch this…”

You watch with rapt attention as Fitz manipulates the dials on her COMP. The six pages, each with their own intricate designs and circles, come together on the display. Like a jigsaw puzzle, the images slowly come together, incomplete designs and fragments forming a cohesive whole as they line up to form…

A bigger summoning circle. One that is, judging from the intricacy of the design and runes affixed to the circle, made especially for a powerful demon.

“This one is dormant,” She reports, dismissing the image from the display. “Hasn’t been used yet.”

“Wait, wait wait,” You mutter, trying to clear your head. Your mind’s starting to hurt at the influx of this new information. “Hold the fuck up. Yet?”

“Just as she meant it. It’s dormant,” MacKay grimly states, “There’s a faint undercurrent of energy that’s pulsing from it every few seconds, not quite unlike a heartbeat. We can’t tell what it is right now, but there’s definitely something trapped inside of those pages. And judging from the spikes on the graph, it’s quite powerful.”

...

You exhale, rubbing your temples as you process this information. “How powerful?” You eventually ask.

He looks uncertain before Fitz answers for him. “At least, if not slightly more, powerful as the snake guy we fought on the highway. Oreo somethin’ or other, the ones that those chuckefucks in Central think isn’t connected to the case.”

(cont.)

As MacKay begins to talk to her about why it’s bad to badmouth one’s superiors, you can feel the onset of a headache. From the six faded circles, you can deduce that there are least six demons of unknown species and malignant agenda are out somewhere in the town. Six demons that are, logically, the whole damn cause behind the kidnappings.

And within the pages of the whole damn grimoire, something else is lying dormant and just waiting to bust out. Or be let out. You’re not sure which is worse, of it getting out on its own or an external force letting the damn thing free. Something with enough power to match a demon that had five agents of the Task Force on the ropes.

…well things most certainly took a turn for the worse.

“But there’s some good news that we found from this clusterfuck,” Fitz inputs, the beginning of one of her smirks spreading across her face. “The energy readin’ from the smaller pages? Some of ‘em match up to the signatures we found in the supermarket and the orphanage the other day. Whatever came out of the display definitely left a lasting impression on the store. Who knows? There might be some demons that’ve set up shop somewhere over there.”

That gets your attention. “So can we confirm that demons have taken up residence in the grocery store?”

The priest nods. “That seems to be a strong likelihood. Now that we have all the information together, it’s time to plot a course of action.”

“I say we head out,” Fitz interjects, tapping her foot on the hardwood floor. “I mean, we’ve already got ourselves a tangible lead on the bastards that’re presumably responsible for this. Why waste anymore time putzin’ around here in this dusty-” Here, she pauses, sneezing into her sleeve. "-fuckin' hell. This dusty old building?"

(cont.)

“Because there might be some clues we haven’t found yet,” MacKay gently replies. “For instance, all the display tells us of the fragmented grimore is its origins and the author. If we were to perhaps ask a staff member, maybe the curator, even, we could find some more information.”

That elicits a pensive noise from the policewoman before she turns to you. “Eh…it’s your call, Sawbones. You’re the leader of Carina Squad. What d’you think’s best for us?”

>Stay in the museum, search for more clues
>Head to the grocery, search for the demons
>Custom option

>>Stay in the museum, search for more clues
Need the whole picture first.

>Stay in the museum, search for more clues

>>Stay in the museum, search for more clues
>Comm central and give them a head's up on what we found. Maybe they can arrange a government seizure of the tome.

>Stay in the museum, search for more clues
Would sending Fitz and Brady to scout out the grocery be wise?

Nah go as a team last thing we need is a surprise demon lord attack.

>Stay in the museum, search for more clues

You sure you're up for this, Kaz? I mean, I appreciate that you're trying to keep the SM/tg/ flowing, but...

>>Stay in the museum, search for more clues

Yeah. My health is already getting better. Lost some weight and I'm seeing a doctor tomorrow. Keeping an upbeat attitude is part of the treatment. So let's positive thinking!

Writing...

good to hear boss. Glad you're doing better. Now all we need is for TT and bird to show up.

You mull the decision over in your head before coming to a conclusion. “We’ll stay in the museum for a little bit longer,” You affirm, glancing around the room. “As much as I want to go chasing after the missing demons, we still don’t have enough information. Sure, we’ve got a much better lead than we did a few days ago, but it’s still not enough.”

>MacKay approves +4
>Fitz disapproves -4

Fitz’s expression turns downcast before she counters. “How about splittin’ up? Send some of us over to the store, keep some here in the museum?”

You shake your head. “Too dangerous. We don’t know what came out of the pages, and I don’t want to risk anyone’s safety when it could’ve been anything to hide in the grocery store. It’s best to go together when going up against the unknown.”

She seems to be accepting of that, at least. “Fair enough. Alright, so if you’re set on stayin’ here, you think you know what you’re lookin’ for?”

Shrugging, you flip open your own COMP and start composing a message to Brady and Victoria. “Like MacKay said, we’ll probably end up asking one of the staff. Just gimme a second to let the others know what you’ve found…”

>Brady and Victoria rejoined the group.
>You quickly filled the two of them on what MacKay and Fitz discovered.

“Bloody hell,” Brady exhales, casting a nervous glance towards the display. “We’re up in it now, aren’t we? I mean, granted, it’s nice to have this lead after finding absolutely fuck all in the yesterday’s search, but Jesus, Mary and Joseph. This is a bit much for us.”

Victoria frowns. “Not with that attitude, mister.”

He raises his hands. “Just stating my personal opinion. Ain’t necessarily the truth since we had somewhat of an alright performance with Orias the other night, but I’m more worried about collateral damage, you know?”

(cont.)

You nod. “Yeah, I get that. On the highway, we didn’t have anything to worry about. But the museum is smack in the middle of the city. It would be nothing short of a disaster if it got out.”

“So we do everythin’ in our power not to let that happen,” Fitz cuts in. “Just don’t go leapin’ to the worst case scenario first.”

MacKay hums in agreement. “That’s right. Now, according to the brochure, it seems that the current curator is one Doctor Jack Capretta, with a degree in world history and a lifetime of experience in American History. Graduated with honors from Princeton, did some teaching in Standford and retired to Lebanon after thirty years of teaching at his alma mater. He’s got an office downstairs and a lovely house in the suburbs.”

“He should be here, right?” You inquire.

“He should be. I wouldn’t see why the curator wouldn’t be here in his own museum during its hours of operation.

You smile. “Then let’s pay him a visit.”

>Entrance to the basement

The woman manning the entrance to the basement looks at you with a disinterested glance. “Good morning, sirs, ladies. How can I help you today?”

>“We’re agents of the government, and we’d like a few words with Doctor Capretta.”
>“We’re history students, and we have a few questions for Doctor Capretta.”
>Custom option

>>“We’re history students, and we have a few questions for Doctor Capretta.”

>>“We’re history students, and we have a few questions for Doctor Capretta.”

>“We’re history students, and we have a few questions for Doctor Capretta.”

>“We’re agents of the government, and we’d like a few words with Doctor Capretta.”

You put on the friendliest smile that you can and gesture to the rest of your motley group. “We’re history students with Campbellsvile University. We’re on assignment for our professor and we’ve got some questions for Doctor Capretta.”

The woman, the tag on her shirt identifies her as ‘Lisa’, squints at the group. It’s not exactly in suspicion as much as it is one of close scrutiny. All of you are certainly dressed as plainly as you can, hovering between that fine line between formal and casual. Certainly what any modern university student would wear in good faith both on and off campus.

Hell, even though the age disparity is a little big, with Victoria being a whole seven years apart from MacKay, that doesn’t necessarily mean that you aren’t what you claim to be. That one chemistry elective you took had an Air Force retiree in his forties measuring liquids in the beakers.

Regardless, Lisa seems to buy it. Licking the side of her thumb, she opens a logbook and begins flipping through the pages. “Alright then. Do you have an appointment with Doctor Capretta?”

…well, shit.

“Ah, no, I’m afraid we don’t,” You admit, glancing nervously to the rest of your team. The only good thing about this part is that you aren't faking your apprehension. This is not good. Not good at all.

She exhales, as if she’s done this many times before. “Then you’ll have to make one. He only sees people with appointments, regardless of your reason for visitng. The closest available slot is…five o’clock later today. Would you like to take that slot?”

>Choose one:
>“Yes, please, put us down for that.”
>“I don’t see why we can’t see him now…” [Social]

>“I don’t see why we can’t see him now…” [Social]

>“I don’t see why we can’t see him now…” [Social]

We get a +30 to this as opposed to +20 since she is female.

>Sure! We needed to check the grocery anyway!

>>“I don’t see why we can’t see him now…” [Social]

I wanna see Adrian fumble here and now just for the laugh

>>“I don’t see why we can’t see him now…” [Social]
Let's put those perks to good use

You think about the ramifications for your next actions, consider them, inhale deeply, and put on the brightest smile you can muster. “I don’t see why we can see him now. I mean, sure, we don’t have an appointment, but if I squint at your book, he doesn’t have anyone right now.”

Lisa closes the book and coughs brusquely. “Be that as it may, I’m afraid that I’m going to have to say otherwise-”

“We’ll be in and out before you know it,” You insist, dialing up the saccharine a little bit higher, “Just no more than ten minutes with Doctor Capretta and we’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

You don’t feel the daggers in your back, or hear the sound of Brady trying to stifle his laughter. Okay, so far, so good…
Switching tactics, you channel your inner Greek philosopher and channel your pathos. “Thing is, we kinda had a hard time driving over here. Spent a good forty five minutes on the road, dodging traffic and waking up early to beat the summer heat.”

She takes off her glasses and squints at you. “Sir, as much as I’d like to help, there is a certain protocol and procedure that we have to follow-”

“I know,” You reply smoothly, still maintaining a friendly gait. “Being a student and a little bit of a part-timer on the side, I know that there’s rules and etiquette to follow. Though, I don’t like to impose. I really don’t. But I would really appreciate it if you could just let us have a brief…talk with Doctor Capretta. We’d be all kinds of grateful, might even buy a lot of stuff at the gift shop.”

Lisa seems to hesitate, glancing back towards the entrance to the basement before turning back to you. The corner of your mouth tugs in the most disarming smile you can muster as you pray to whichever deity’s watching you.

>Roll 1d100 + 30 Social (+20 for Social, +10 for Lady Killer Perk)
>Best of three

Rolled 83 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

Praying to the Trio,

Rolled 21 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

I'm helping!

Rolled 81 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

Look at this one.

Rolled 34 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

Rolled 4 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

Rolling for posterity

Rolled 58 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

How much shit are we about to catch from our team?

113 is pretty good, I'd say.

Damn, Adrian is smooth.

The only person who seems to get bitchy is Victoria.

>Considering the fact that you got Alyssa with a flat 99

Writing...

L A W
A
W

We are not having another Alyssa scenario. That is a one time only kinda deal. This girl can give us her number if she wants, we ain't calling.

Unless she ends up case relevant...... again.

It's only a matter of time before we get the perk for demon women, then men, then demon men, and then just generally being a fucking radiant sun of social rolls.

Define "relevant"

>Lucifer possesses her too for another round.

Goddamnit Morning Star. So insatiable.

Why not? She's attractive.

It adds way too many complications.

How does randomly banging some chick add complications? One night stands are a thing.

I'd have been fine with: " I don't want this turning into a smut quest."

Well, the morning star is another name for Venus...


please no ban, mods. this is historical art, no one is jerking to this

having case information, connections to the person who did the summoning, getting attacked or seeing demons, etc.


Personally i'm betting she's the one who opened the tome...

Cause I'm more focused on getting the mission done than getting my fictional dick wet.

Besides you saw how Alyssa's one night stand affected Adrian.

I doubt it. Had we gone to grocery we never would have met her. I don't think she is plot relevant, just a gatekeeper for getting more clues.

>113, 51, 111

Your prayer seems to work. The cogs in her head spin as she goes over the decision of letting you in or not before she caves. Sighing deeply, she scribbles something on her logbook before giving you a hesitant smile of her own. “From one student to another, huh? Alright, see what I can do. And one last thing…”

She points to the gift shop. “You all better get something nice when you’re finished with Doctor Capretta, you hear?”

That gets everyone to laugh, dispelling the tension somewhat. And the best part is that there aren’t any daggers in your back or stifled laughter. Thank the gods. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

>>Later

After a few minutes in conversation, Lisa puts down her phone, seemingly surprised before she calls you back to the front of her desk. “Doctor Capretta will see you now,” She tells you, incredulous at the fact that you’ve got yourselves a literal drop-in appointment. “Down the stairs and a straight left through the hallway.”

Nodding, everyone begins filing down the stairs, exchanging polite courtesies with her. As you’re the last ones to head down, you turn to her. “Thanks a lot. Really, I mean it.”

She smiles. “Yeah, no problem. Wasn’t too long ago before I myself was out of university. I get the hassle of things. Oh, and don’t be alarmed by Doctor Capretta when you meet him.”

That gets your attention. Frowning, you ask her, “Wait, what do you mean by that?”

Lisa chuckles nervously. “Let’s just say that he’s…different than most curators. You’ll see when you meet him. Now hurry up! Doctor Capretta doesn't like delays..."

(cont.)

>>Capretta’s Office
The man’s office is small, but cozy enough for at least five more people to sit in comfortably. From the width and dimensions, this part of the basement must’ve been used for storage at some point throughout the building's history. The walls are adorned with doctoral certificates, historical artifacts, the stars and stripes, and a prominent picture of the building itself.

Those don’t surprise you. What does is half of the wall dedicated to photographs; some faded and yellow, to the recent material of digital photography. But in spite of their respective ages, they all share a commonality: every single photograph has Capretta dressed up like a colonial in some sort of historical reenactment festival.

The curator himself is just as he appears in the brochure: an elderly man past his prime, but nowhere near the point of deterioration. In spite of his white hair and the faint sight of a few wrinkles going along his face, his eyes maintain the bright spark of someone passionate about their life’s work.

“Ah! You must be the students that Lisa told me about,” He says, sitting up from his desk. His words come out in a New English accent, someone born and raised somewhere in the north eastern part of America. “Please, please, do come in! I would make for a bad host to have my guests standing on ceremony. Can I offer you tea? Or perhaps something a bit stronger? I understand that you had a long time on the road just to come here for your history assignment, so you must be quite parched…”

Huh. So that’s what Lisa meant. And judging from the befuddled looks everyone’s giving you, it seems that they share your surprise.

Capretta continues, “Well, let’s get you situated nice and proper before we carry on, shall we? I myself was just about to take a break from my work. Ghastly thing, paperwork is, I tell you. I escaped from Stanford to get away from all the paper, but it seems that it’s followed me to Kentucky…”

(cont.)

On the one hand, SMT Go would be incentive for Kaz to get Veeky Forums. On the other hand, Kaz is a QM, and The Curse strikes when most inconvenient.

Kaz will be hit by a truck while in Asia.

>SMT Go
Odd as it is, 'demons that can only be seen with certain equipment' was a thing in strange journey, so a phone game with the premise of the phone allowing you to see demons isnt that far-fetched.

You try to refuse his offer of refreshments, but all of you cave before his chipper attitude. MacKay is the first one to succumb, smiling and politely asking for a cup of water. Victoria and Brady follow suit, with both of them asking for tea. You and Fitz are the last ones, only surrendering begrudgingly at Capretta’s smile and the other’s pointed looks.

Though you have to admit, the iced tea is quite the relief, especially in the summer heat.

Once you’ve all gotten some form of refreshments, you all manage to settle down as Capretta returns to his desk. “So, Campbellsvile, eh? Last time I had a lecture there was way back in ’02. Better times, those were, when we didn’t have students texting on smartphones during lectures. Tell me, how is Doctor Kilmer doing? Last I heard from him, the old rascal was still teaching calculus to freshmen.”

Oh fuck.

Thankfully, MacKay seems to save all of you from answering. “Doctor Kilmer is doing quite well,” He says smoothly. You blink in surprise. For a priest, he’s pretty good at lying straight through his teeth without giving off any sort of tell. “I never took one of his courses, but from what my friends have told me, he’s quite the cutting figure in the classroom.”

“Ha!” Capretta laughs uproariously. “Damn, that means I owe him money. We made a bet years ago, long before any of you were born. I told him ‘Steven, I’ll bet you two percent of my tenure that you’ll quit calculus before our thirtieth anniversary of our graduation. You know you can’t stand freshman’. Well, it seems that I stand corrected!

“But I’m afraid I’ve let myself get carried away. So tell me, what brings you here to Lebanon of all places? Surely there are other museums that have other, perhaps even greater, historical artifacts of great significance.”

>“We couldn’t help but notice your Colonial display…”
>“Small towns are better for this sort of assignment.”
>Custom option.

>“Small towns are better for this sort of assignment.”

>“We couldn’t help but notice your Colonial display…”

>“Small towns are better for this sort of assignment.”

>“Small towns are better for this sort of assignment.”
"But uh..."
>“We couldn’t help but notice your Colonial display…”

Not really mutually exclusive.

>“Small towns are better for this sort of assignment.”
easier to get stuff that isn't already done by other groups, hidden gems are a bonus.

AND SPEAKING OF HIDDEN GEMS

One cuts straight to the point, the other lets Capretta have a little more fun with the banter.

>>“Small towns are better for this sort of assignment.”
followed by
>>“We couldn’t help but notice your Colonial display…”

I'm afraid that if we don't cut to the point you'll fall asleep before we get anything done.

One segues into another while making everyone comfortable with some conversation before getting to the point.

Like so

Fair enough. Though I can stay up for another few hours before picking up tomorrow as per the norm.

Considering the fact that I'm going to China and the Philippines...that isn't outside the realm of possibility. Both countries have drivers that can't drive for shit.

Writing...

>can't drive for shit
those places are completely different, though.

In the philippines, you can cross the street pretty much anywhere and cars will stop. Don't tempt fate too often, though.

In China, you bet your ass you better follow those stoplights or take the overpasses. Nobody will give a shit if you get hit.

>Both countries have drivers that can't drive for shit.

I can attest to that. Expect lots of shouting in either region.

Far as I've heard in China it's better to kill the guy you hit, otherwise you'll be responsible for their medical treatment.

Yeah people will back over the person to finish them off.

“Small towns are better for this kind of assignment,” You reply, smiling as you cap the bottle of iced tea. “Big city museums have a tendency to get crowded really fast.”

The curator nods in agreement. “A true enough fact. Say, your accent…you aren’t from around here. You’ve come a long way from the East Coast just to attend Campellsvile.”

The fact that he was able to place your accent isn’t too worrying. You shrug. “It’s a good school, and there’s a lot of nice folks around the area. And actual people who can drive. Navigating down and up route 495 is hell when half of them are Virginians who can barely drive properly.”

You try not to make too much of a face as Fitz kicks you under the table. Oh, right. Virginian. Hopefully she doesn’t take it too personally.

Capretta seems to buy it, at any rate. “It’s a lovely place, the East Coast, with nice museums as well. But what gets me right hot and bothered in a temperamental way is the lack of…proper attitude they have to the displays within museums. There’s too much banal chatter, selfie-taking, and just seeing the museum for the sights. They don’t bother reading the signs most of the time anymore.

“So I say, ‘bah’ to interactive displays!” He says, dramatically flicking his teeth with his thumb in the approximate direction of the East Coast. “Let them keep their computers and automated tours. The world will never find a truer experience with history while they use modern technology.”

You say a silent apology to James Smithson and the Smithsonian institution. “Exactly. But while we’re on the subject of museums and displays, we couldn’t help but notice something in particular…”

That gets his attention. He leans in closer, a curious look on his face. “Oh, really now? Let me try to guess. The imported revolver from the South has drawn in a large crowd of youngsters, so that can’t possibly it. The refurbished bear trap, maybe…?”

(cont.)

Victoria clears her throat politely. “The journal. On the first floor, early colonial section. I believe the sign said that it was from…Salem, I believe?”

That manages to get the doctor to break out of his thoughts. “Ah, that’s right. Doctor Joseph Putnam’s medical journal. Did you know that he’s a direct sibling to the Putnam connected in the Salem Witch Trials? One Ann Putnam Jr., the woman responsible for the accusations to the victims. Ghastly business, it must’ve been, having to be brought up by a woman who’s lies and slander lead to the execution of twenty people.

“But it’s interesting that you’d go for the journal. Most people who come from universities head to the more…dramatic bits of our country’s history. The Revolution, the Civil War, and almost all variants of bloodshed. You must have quite the interesting assignment.”

Brady chuckles nervously. “You could say that, sir. You wouldn’t be wrong in the slightest bit.”

Much to your surprise, Capretta puts his feet up on his mahogany desk, shoving aside paperwork and utensils to make himself more comfortable. After he’s settled nicely in his chair, he smiles pleasantly. “Well, if that’s the case, then I am at your humble service! It’s not every day that we have researchers studying this period of history, let alone having the will to drive such a long distance in the morning. Just give me the satisfaction of reading your report when you send it to your professor.

“So, ask your questions! I would only be too happy to answer them.”

>Do you have any questions?
>Write-in.

Where'd you procure it from?

Any crazy rumors about it?

Are there any specifics to the accusations? What was Ann Putnam claiming they did?

Joseph Putnam....what kind of doctor was he again? It didn't SEEM like a medical journal.

Do you often open up the display for closer inspection? When was the last time that happened? Would it be possible for us to do so?

Are there any living descendants connected to the events here?

Are there any myths or legends surrounding the journal itself? Maybe something similar to a fairy tale or folk saying?

Specifics about Salem should be researched with our own methods, I think.

>Do you have any questions?

Have you accepted our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ into your heart?

>Where did you get it?
“An auction, if you would believe it,” He sniffs. “One of the storage lots in Louisville was having an auction of their abandoned units. Something drew me there, and when I saw this one particular unit, filled to the brim with antiques…I couldn’t resist. Spent a large amount of money to pay for it, I might add. And I can’t believe that someone would just leave a pile of valuable antiques just there. It can’t be too hard to pay one dollar per month, now can it?”

“Just out of curiosity, there wouldn’t happen to be a name attached to that storage locker?” Fitz asks, eyes narrowed.

He shrugs. “Phearson. Not that it makes any difference. The man or woman’s a veritable fool to have let such a priceless trove of history get away from him or her for only five thousand dollars.”

>Any crazy rumors about it?
“None that I’ve heard. As far as I know, this thing didn’t even exist before I discovered it in the pile. Four months is plenty of time for an urban legend to spread, but not without proper advertising.”

>Specifics to the accusations/Ann Putnam

“Oh, the usual drivel. Riding broomsticks, dancing as if possessed by demons, some nanny or wet-nurse leading away children into the woods for Satanic purposes. Typical Puritan reactions. Although in her later years, she did confess to be lying about the whole ordeal. Personally, they let her off too easily, all the families of the victims just letting her live and let live.”

Everyone simultaneously shifts in their seats and casts nervous looks at each other. There’s definitely a red flag if you ever saw one.

>Joseph Putnam
This one is on you, being the medical student that you are. “What kind of doctor was he again? I mean, it didn’t seem like a medical journal at a first glance…”

(cont.)

That gets a smile from Capretta. “My dear boy, keep in mind that this is the time period where they still bled people to make mental maladies go away. And performed amputations without any sort of anesthetic save for a leather gag. As far as the world was concerned, he was very accomplished and respected man of the medical community.”

…fair enough. You don’t really have a response to that. Besides, the pentagrams only came up when you turned the magnetite scanner on it.

>Open up the display?
“Only in a closed environment,” He states, taking another swing from his bottle of tea. “It was nothing short of a miracle that the journal didn’t disintegrate when I extracted it from the antique desk. It’s been behind a vacuum sealed environment ever since we interred it a few months ago.”

“Okay, this might be a stupid question,” Brady interjects, “But is it possible for us to get a look at it without the glass.

Capretta smiles sadly. “I’m afraid not. I can see the enthusiasm in your eyes, but even that will not permit me to let you have access to the journal. I’m afraid you’ll have to make your report without putting your hands on the book itself.”

The Englishman nods, as if expecting that. “Yeah, I figured. Worth asking, though.”

>Living descendants? Any within the surrounding area?

“Oh, without a doubt. The Putnam family is one of the oldest American families along the Eastern Seaboard. If you were to search diligently enough, I’m sure you would find a Putnam. Not that there are any in this area. What I wouldn’t give to have a conversation about their genealogy…”

>Fairy tales associated with the journal/folk sayings?
Capretta sits up in his chair as much as his upraised legs can allow him. “Now that’s quite different from rumors. Sure, there are tales and legends by the dozen for Massachusetts. Although…there is something…”

That gets everyone’s attention. “Yes?”

(cont.)

He shrugs. “It’s only a tale associated with Putnam’s time. But if you’re so curious, then I suppose that there’s no harm in sharing it. Tell me, are any of you familiar with the story of Mad Henry?”

You take a look around. Everyone’s got some sign that they don’t, from Fitz’s scrunched eyebrows to MacKay’s intrigued expression. You yourself have got no idea of any sort of this thing, Mad, Henry or otherwise.

Regardless, Capretta seems to take your puzzled reactions as confirmation of his question. “Then I shall regale it to you, in spite of the fact that I am far from a storyteller. Mad Henry was an alleged ‘black magician’ who lived sometime in Massachusetts. According to some sources, he could cast magic spells and bring back the dead to life. And, if you would believe it, they say that he got his powers by letting, get this, a demon – a demon! – inhabit the man’s body…”

He goes on to describe the sordid tale of Mad Henry, a deranged hermit with bright red eyes who pined after the daughter of a local farmer, some girl named Rachel. He showered her with gifts: goblets of pure gold, necklaces of pearl and, according to some sources, a pot of daises that never wilted. However, it was all for naught: she was in love with a man named Geoffrey, with whom she eventually eloped with.

During the wedding party, when all the town’s residents had come invited, the weather took a turn for the worse. The thunder roared and lighting flashed, and Mad Henry crashed the party, an army of the dead at his sides, eye sockets burning with blue fire. They cut their way to Geoffrey, and upon his apprehension, Mad Henry cut the groomsman’s throat from ear to ear.

Rachel had screamed and pleaded, begging the hermit to restore her husband to life. But instead, he made off with her into the thundering night. A mob was quickly formed, and they chased the corpses to Henry’s house, but there was nothing nor nobody to be found.

(cont.)

“The only thing that they found,” Capretta continues, “Was a series of illuminated globes that hang from the ceiling. They shined bright, even through the dark of the night. No one knew what they were, and no one had the desire to know. The mob torched the house to the ground, buried Geoffrey, and searched the countryside to no avail. All they could do was pray for Rachel’s safe return.”

After a year of praying, when Rachel’s family was losing hope, she appeared on their doorstep. She was dead, merely an apparition with bloodstained clothing and a bloody knife in her hands. The same knife that slit open Geoffrey’s throat. Mad Henry had cut out her tongue, so she couldn’t scream for help, but her father knew that his daughter was free at last, having killed Mad Henry after long months of madness with him. He embraced Rachel, and she gave up her soul and finally found rest.

“Now how does this pertain to Putnam exactly? Well, I did some digging way back in the day, and I discovered a wedding list for a Geoffrey and a Rachel in the early 19th century. The ink’s faded and the parchment’s nearly ashes, but for the letters ‘PUT’ was on the place reserved for the best man. Is it our Joseph Putnam? Who knows? But he is the most likely candidate since he was the only Putnam we know who stayed in Massachusetts in the years after the witch trials.”

The sound of a digital watch goes off, and Capretta checks his wrist with alarm. “Oh, dear. I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me. It’s time for me to take my medication. It’s the kind that has to be consumed with food, so I’m afraid I’ll have to leave. But it was a great pleasure taking the time with you to go over some history. I’ve missed the days when I get students coming to me for research help...”

He smacks his head suddenly. “Oh, I’m so rude. I was so caught up in my excitement that I didn’t ask for your names! How absolutely dreadful of me…”

>Aliases.
>Real names.

>Real names.
Lets be real guys. Aliases didn't do jack last time. It just added an extra layer of complication of being 'Andrew' around Alyssa and Madison.

No last names though.

>Real names

No really good reason why, just goin' with instinct.

>>Real names.
First names only

>Aliases

Chuck Steak Flank.

>Real names.
Just first names.

I guess cept for Fitz who just uses a shortened version of her last name. One day we'll find out and it'll probably be underwhelming.

>Real names

Are we going to find out Fitz's first name at last??

Nah she is just going to say Fitzgerald or Fitz with no indication that it's her last or first name to a stranger.

>>Real names.

You smile, extending a hand out to Doctor Capretta. “Adrian. It was a real pleasure to talk to you.”

He returns your smile with one of his own, and extends his own hand to clasp yours in a strong grip. “Charmed. Doctor Capretta, at your service.”
That’s the signal for everyone else to come up an introduce themselves. They pick up on your lead, giving their own respective handshakes and first names. Everyone except for Fitz. When MacKay finishes his exchange, she hesitates, mulling over before she comes to a decision.

“Fitzgerald, sir,” She eventually mutters, shaking his hand. “It was a real pleasure speaking to you.”

Aside from a raised eyebrow, he proceeds to shake her hand without any further incident. “The pleasure is mine, miss. Now, if you will excuse me, I must go take my leave. There’s a grilled chicken sandwich in the staff fridge with my name on it!”

With that, he bows politely and sprints out the door…only to turn back and say: “If you have any other questions, don’t hesitate to come back during open hours. I’d be more than thrilled to entertain your questions again.”

>>[12:24 PM]
“Okay, now what?” Brady asks, munching on a bit of sugar candy he bought from the gift shop. “So we got a little more information, definitely some good leads. Ann’s accusations line up with the current events, and while I’m hesitant to rely on a ghost story…”

“These aren't normal circumstances,” MacKay completes for him, exhaling. “Both are leads definitely worth pursuing, but those take time. What we do have-”

Victoria interjects, “Are definite energy signatures on the demons that came from the journal. Both of which are at the orphanage and at the grocery store. Both are soaked with magnetite, but if we’re operating with Adrian’s safety concerns in mind, then we need to all go as a group.”

“Exactly,” You agree. “Everyone get in the car. We’re gonna head to…”

>The orphanage.
>The supermarket

>The orphanage.

>The orphanage.

Time to kil-...SAVE the children.

>The supermarket
orphanage is too high profile....right? The supermarket had subtler signatures?

>The supermarket

I'm hungry and it's probably influencing my decision.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

Rolling tiebreaker

>>The supermarket

I deleted my vote. Just go with the Orphanage.

Kaz is dead.

got runover by a car while looking for brunch and accidentally spotting Pixie and Alice on his phone.

Nope and kek.

Writing...

No he's just in teh final stages of QMLichdom, soon he will reawaken and be more powerful than before

“Orphanage. If it weren’t for that, I’d go to the supermarket, but there’s more of a clear and present danger with the kids than with the adults in the frozen yogurt section.”

Fitz nods. “Good choice. Thing is, there’s only one problem…”

“What’s that?” Victoria tilts her head.

“Getting inside of the building,” she replies, fanning herself with one of the museum brochures. “I think we got lucky with Capretta when Sawbones convinced the lady at the museum. Not so much with an orphanage. Last I checked, you’ve gotta really have an appointment. They don’t mess around when there’s kids involved.”

“She is correct,” MacKay interjects. “There’s a very long and complicated process when it comes to even walking inside of the door. It’s no small amount of paperwork, background checks, and a whole lot of hustle before you even get to see one of the kids.”

Brady finishes his sugar candy with a particularly loud CRUNCH. “So what, we’re shit out of luck?”

You shake your head. “Not necessarily. We can always just keep an eye from the car, do a few magnetite scans in the area…”

Everyone stops walking and just gives you the flattest stares they can muster. It takes a few moments for your brain to catch up to what you said before you scowl and clear the air with an exaggerated motion. “Okay, bad choice of words aside, I think the best we can do is surveillance. Maybe.”

“And if there are demons in the orphanage?” Victoria asks.

“…haven’t got to that part yet,” You admit. “But we’ll burn that bridge when we get there.”

MacKay chuckles. “I believe that the phrase is ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we get there’, Adrian.”

You shrug. “Considering our track record, MacKay, I wouldn’t be surprised if the bridge just blew up.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Brady interjects, as you all finally reach where you parked the car, “I’d pay to watch a bridge explode.”

(cont.)

“Because that’s so comfortin’ to hear from you, Brady,” Fitz grumbles as she clambers into the car. “Really damn comfortin’…”

>>One fast food stop later

Two hamburgers and a side of fries later find all of you idling on the sidewalk a good block away from New Connections orphanage. It’s a quaint building, but one that’s got some love rubbed into the frame. The outer walls have a fresh coat of paint on them, and there’s no small amount of home improvement that’s gone into the structure itself.

Adjacent to the side, there’s a furbished playground encircled by a white picket fence. The youngest kid couldn’t be older than four and the eldest you’d peg at fourteen. But it seems to be a fair split of sexes, races and ages spread across twenty something kids that’re running around the playground without a care in the world.

“Damn, I feel old,” Brady grouses from the back of the car. “I miss the days of running around like a snot-nosed little twat.”

“There's a difference?” Fitz mutters.

“Oi!”

She laughs, and even Victoria manages to stifle her giggle. “Just ribbin’ ya. Nah, you’re alright, Brady.”

“Alright, time to cut the chatter,” You order, shutting off the car. “Here’s the plan. Two of us are gonna circle the perimeter of the block, magnetite scanners active and reading for energy signatures. Haven’t decided who’s going out yet, but the second one of us finds something, we share it with everyone else, clear?”

Everyone voices their agreement.

“The rest of us are gonna stay in the car, safely away from the building. Run scans, do research on the new information…and be sure to ring up Central and tell them what we know. They might provide some insight.”

Fitz snorts. “Doubt it. Not with their heads up their asses."

“…dully noted, but with that said, here’s how we’re gonna split this up…”

>Select two people to circle the area
>Select three people to stay in the car