For game write-ups.
Hi all I thought I would put a post up as I've been lurking for long enough. I thought I would talk about my current campaign.
I've split the game up into 2 sections an extended character cration stage that allows the players to develop there characters back story as we play and gives them a better reason to team up than, the Call of Cthulhu equivilent of you all meet in a pub, this section of the game is set in the mid 20's with the players going from Freshmen to Seniors and hopefully
Wednesday February 1, 2012
(After playing the Call of Cthulhu scenario “The Edge of Darkness” Monday in High Point with Steve Turner, Jeff Smith, and Ken Woody from 8 p.m. to 1 a.m.)
On Wednesday, September 19, 1928, Grover Jones received a letter via personal courier from Rupert Merriweather, asking the man to meet him the next day at 1 p.m. at St. Mary’s Hospital in Arkham.
Jones stood over six feet tall and was a little overweight, though the potbelly
* * *
At 1 p.m. the next day, Thomas Vanderholdt roared up to St. Mary’s Hospital in his parents’ bright yellow Stutz Bearcat. He wore thick, leather driving clothes against the cold and wetness of the day. It was overcast and cloudy and threatened rain. As he set the heavy driving coat, goggles, hat and scarf in the front seat of the vehicle, he saw a black Ford tow truck with an auto club insignia painted on the side pull up. A man in coveralls climbed out and entered the hospital
“I didn’t have a chance to get lunch on my way here,” Jones said. “I had to stop what I was doing at the station. Do you want to grab a bite? There’s a Walgreen’s around the corner.”
“I was thinking maybe we should pick a place that’s a little more private, hmm?” O’Shea said.
“They’ve got good hotdogs,” Jones said.
“I do like hotdogs,” O’Shea said.
“I’ve got a car around the corner,” Vanderholdt said.
“My truck’s right
The soda jerk brought their food and left them alone again. O’Shea had drunk half his coffee black and then filled the cup again with cream and sugar. When he settled down with his sandwich, he took it apart, eating the interior first and then eating the bread separately. Vanderholdt noticed and wondered if it was some Irish ritual.
Vanderholdt read the journal while he ate. He found the last entry the most disturbing. It was dated 18th of March, 1882, and read: