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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Oct 30, 2018 1:49:52 GMT -8
Edmund-- ∆§Indea§∆ You stand before the wardrobe, looking almost unrecognizable here in the dark. Your flashlight can't hope to penetrate the deep recesses unless you got very close. You lean forward to get a look at that demon-- the texture of the paint made the face look almost 3-dimensional in this light. The sounds of the investigators downstairs seemed like a distant party.
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Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Oct 30, 2018 2:06:22 GMT -8
I decided to face my fear and crawled back into it, holding onto my flashlight.If I couldn’t face my own fears how could I tell my clients to? Though the image of the little girl got caught in my mind. I looked for the soft blood.
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Oct 30, 2018 2:08:34 GMT -8
((Roll 2d10+Soul to See Through the Illusion))
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Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Oct 30, 2018 2:11:24 GMT -8
fh4|66Yw+-1·
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Oct 30, 2018 2:14:27 GMT -8
Damn! You don't sense anything at all. There are a few mushy parts of the paint, but nothing you can sense beyond cheap Walmart latex. Maybe it's the distraction-- or was the whole thing fumes all along? What did you decide about that experience anyway?
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Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Oct 30, 2018 2:23:41 GMT -8
Edmund- ”Damn...” It must have been the fumes or maybe the thrumming from the factory. Or chemicals coming off vats from it. Either way I couldn’t recreate my last experience so it must have been a flight of fancy. I was almost disappointed. I pushed myself out again disappointed. I walked briskly to the window to stared out to see if I could make out the transport vehicle.
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Oct 30, 2018 2:30:03 GMT -8
You stand at the window-- you can see the blockade below. That reporter still stalking around as overworked cops try to direct traffic. You hear creaking all around, those voices downstairs, the rumbling machinery, the patter of ice hitting the roof. At last you see the cops make way for a large van...
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Post by ∆§Indea§∆ on Oct 30, 2018 2:38:28 GMT -8
Edmund- ”Showtime!” I wrapped my fingers on the mantle before racing downstairs. Woe be to anyone in my way.I felt almost sick in my guy, I so wanted this to go well. Mills had seemed so coherent earlier.
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Post by Dr. Jar on Oct 30, 2018 13:28:48 GMT -8
Harriet- The beam of my flashlight illuminates, and I see another beam upstairs. There is a pause before the person races by me and starts off downstairs. At the same time, I hear a vehicle pull up. I wonder if this is our man, but if it is, he's early.
I look about and trace the path of our killer upstairs.
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Oct 30, 2018 14:17:30 GMT -8
You see the bathroom door, hanging open. The babysitter was drowned here. The tub has five inches of filthy black water inside. There's a very odd scent, like crude oil and salt water.
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Post by Dr. Jar on Oct 31, 2018 0:49:15 GMT -8
Harriet- I stare into the water, and wonder if there's some trace evidence there, though the logical component of me knows that there's no way there's any original water here. I wonder what the strange lingering smell is (probably just mold really).
I try not to consider the struggles of this poor elderly woman in her final moments.
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Oct 31, 2018 1:09:41 GMT -8
A cold air settles in the room, maybe brought in with you as you peeked inside. Rust... copper... blood?((Roll Soul+2d10 if you'd like to stay. ))
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Post by Dr. Jar on Oct 31, 2018 1:19:07 GMT -8
Harriet- I gaze into the tub and wonder why the smell of blood still lingers. g4J5OhQN-1 ·
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Post by ◊◊BLOODBEASTER◊◊ on Oct 31, 2018 1:30:14 GMT -8
A bubble rumbles up and pops, showering little flecks of black over the side of the tub. Nasty... Must have a clog.((Nothing special... ))
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Post by Dr. Jar on Oct 31, 2018 11:57:23 GMT -8
I turn around and head downstairs, tracing the killer's path. I'm focused.
Beyond that, the suspect is here and he is ready to talk.
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