>>477225

Consigning yourself to your bare study, you examine the envelope more closely and find yourself rather rattled after looking at the sender. Samuel Hawkins? You haven't heard from him in a decade or more, ever since you split paths once college was over and you joined the agency and he returned home to Massachusetts. Intrigued, you slowly open the envelope and find a tiny black case inside, which eventually becomes a DVD disc as you explore that too. Turning on your laptop, you stick the disc inside and hit play.

----------------------------------
"Kirk," you call as you finally open the door to your study, "Could you arrange for us to fly to Massachusetts by tomorrow?"

"Of course, sir," you hear him respond from underneath one of your couches, no doubt busy dusting and cleaning again, "Would you prefer the limousine or the Aston once we arrive?"

"Aston, my dear friend. You always take the Aston."
----------------------------------

As you look out the frosty window of your private jet, your mind goes back to Samuel and his DVD, recalling the entirety of the video as you kept playing it over and over until you'd memorized the entire thing.

A minute of video, not much to work with but it certainly got the message across well enough. A haggard, exhausted Samuel Hawkins in front of a camera in some basement somewhere reciting words from a script with a forlorn look in his eyes.

"If you're watching this, then it means I'm already dead and you've received this message as part of the dead-man's-switch connected to the pacemaker installed in my heart. It also means that you're one of the only people I trust in this miserable fuckin' world, and that I need your help. You'll find more information for this in Room 37 at the Ocean's Trident, Innsmouth, Massachusetts. I know it's a lot to ask, but I would hope that I meant enough to you in our time together to at least be worth a chance."

“Sir, we’re almost there.” Kirk announces as he shakes your shoulder, snapping you out of your thoughts and bringing attention to the rapidly-approaching ground now visible through the window.

You nod in response, satisfying Kirk with a reply and releasing you from his attention. You think back on your time in the agency, looking back on your career with a mixture of pride and bitterness. All those assassinations and infiltrations, you did good work.
Just too bad it was all for nothing.

Which agency did you work for again?
>CIA (Alpha Mike Foxtrot) – Once per thread, instantly pass a combat check with one degree of success at the cost of -10 to any other rolls until the thread ends
>MI6 (Quick, Quiet, Professional) – Once per thread, instantly pass a sneak/disguise check with one degree of success at the cost of -10 to any other rolls until the thread ends
>BND (Eyes Everywhere) – Once per thread, instantly pass a speech/intelligence gathering check with one degree of success at the cost of -10 to any other rolls until the thread ends


(2/2)

>>477230
Bump, looks good!

>MI6 (Quick, Quiet, Professional) – Once per thread, instantly pass a sneak/disguise check with one degree of success at the cost of -10 to any other rolls until the thread ends

I love me some disguises!

>>477230
>MI6 (Quick, Quiet, Professional) – Once per thread, instantly pass a sneak/disguise check with one degree of success at the cost of -10 to any other rolls until the thread ends

>>477230
>>MI6 (Quick, Quiet, Professional) – Once per thread, instantly pass a sneak/disguise check with one degree of success at the cost of -10 to any other rolls until the thread ends
We 007 now.

>>477230
>BND (Eyes Everywhere) – Once per thread, instantly pass a speech/intelligence gathering check with one degree of success at the cost of -10 to any other rolls until the thread ends

>>477272
007, but with more make up, latex masks, and fake moustaches. I want to assassinate dictators while they're under the impression that we're their dear old mother, come to visit!

>MI6 (Quick, Quiet, Professional) – Once per thread, instantly pass a sneak/disguise check with one degree of success at the cost of -10 to any other rolls until the thread ends

I wont what kind of Inquisitor, seeing as this is Modern Inquisitor Quest

We killing Heretics?

>>477230
>BND (Eyes Everywhere) – Once per thread, instantly pass a speech/intelligence gathering check with one degree of success at the cost of -10 to any other rolls until the thread ends

>>477230
Also voting MI6

>>477230
>MI6

File: Innsmouth_Ambiance_Sketch(...).jpg (116 KB, 1024x497)

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Perk Acquired: [Quick, Quiet, Professional]

You worked for MI6, one of the most famous and decorated agencies in the world. They practically wrote the book on espionage, and their reputation is, while exaggerated, still deserved. You learned how to be completely invisible with them, how to imitate and how to infiltrate. With your skills no fortress is secure, and no target is beyond your reach.

The Jet touches down with a staccato thump, shuddering up and down as rubber burns against Massachusetts concrete. You and Kirk thank the pilot as he lowers the stairs for you, and you exit the Jet with a slight smile. There is a slight humidity in the air, which you take in stride though Kirk seems to swelter a touch in his stuffy tuxedo.

Near the bottom of the stairs, you eye a silver Aston Martin parked, and as you walk up to it you observe the specific details and touches you’ve become accustomed to in your work. Finding it satisfactory, you give Kirk a smile as the two of you enter the astoundingly expensive vehicle. You busy yourself assigning the GPS to fixate on Innsmouth, which you discover is a few hours away, and then recline on the beautifully stitched seat with a yawn.

“We’ll get there late it seems, Kirk.” You whisper as you lean back and relax, hoping to catch a quick nap before your work really begins.

“It seems so, sir. Won’t be no issue though, I’ve taken the liberty of bringing a few drinks with me. Your favorites, as per usual.”

“Whatever would I do without you, Kirk?”

“You know the answer to that one, sir.”
-----------------------------------------------------

After what seems like a few minutes of sleep, you are nudged awake by a slightly tired looking Kirk.

“We’ve arrived, sir.”

You retract your seat and back with a groan, taking a quick look at your surroundings through the windows which you make out to be the town of Innsmouth. All around you are dreary wooden buildings and rickety boats alike, an ancient fishing village grown into a full-fledged town it seems. A middling amount of light is present in the place, primarily from several worn lampposts stationed strategically throughout the town to provide vision for basic navigation amidst the blackness but barely anything besides.

Right. Time to get to work.

File: Oceans Trident exterior.jpg (67 KB, 500x296)

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>>477432

It isn’t hard to find the Ocean’s Trident, because as it turns out there aren’t really many establishments designed for temporary living in the place. You guess it has something to do with the fact that this place gets pitifully few visitors at all times of the year, and that most residents here have had permanent lodging here for a very, very long time.

A scratched up yellow replica trident graces the worn wood on a mount by the roof of the inn, besides that the interior of the building has rather stereotypical New England fare. This essentially means low amounts of lighting and a rather disturbing amount of objects that have relation to the ocean and its inhabitants.

At the polished wooden counter, you find a silver-bearded old man whom you suppose to be the proprietor of this establishment. You size him up as you walk up, noticing his prodigious size and the scars he wears visibly from the skin you can see past his heavy coat. The best general description you could come up for him would be a modernized reproduction of Captain Ahab minus the missing leg.

“You lookin’ for a room, laddie?” He half-screams, half-roars at you as he notices you across the counter.

“In a fashion. Could I take Room 37, please?”

He stares at you with a sudden intensity, which as far as you can tell is born out of suspicion.

“Room’s already taken. You can get another one or get out.” He spits out at you, luckily not literally doing so or he’d end up unconscious and you’d have to find a way to hide his body.

>”Why exactly is that room unavailable? You don’t exactly seem like you have many guests at the moment. And by that, I mean any guests.”
>”I suppose I could take Room 36 or 38.”
>”I’m sure you could tell me a little thing or two about the guest in 37, friend. I can keep a secret, you know.” (Bribe. Roll d100 bo3 aiming to beat AVG 60)

Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>477434
>”I’m sure you could tell me a little thing or two about the guest in 37, friend. I can keep a secret, you know.”

>>477434
>>”I’m sure you could tell me a little thing or two about the guest in 37, friend. I can keep a secret, you know.” (Bribe. Roll d100 bo3 aiming to beat AVG 60)

We roll after the option is chosen correct?

Rolled 97 (1d100)

>>477434
>>”I’m sure you could tell me a little thing or two about the guest in 37, friend. I can keep a secret, you know.”
I'm picking this, but be sure to not reveal that it's a roll or what the DC is AFTER the choice has been chosen in the future.

>>477434
>”I’m sure you could tell me a little thing or two about the guest in 37, friend. I can keep a secret, you know.” (Bribe. Roll d100 bo3 aiming to beat AVG 60)

Rolled 62 (1d100)

>>477434
>”I’m sure you could tell me a little thing or two about the guest in 37, friend. I can keep a secret, you know.” (Bribe. Roll d100 bo3 aiming to beat AVG 60)

Rolled 96 (1d100)

>>477434
>”I’m sure you could tell me a little thing or two about the guest in 37, friend. I can keep a secret, you know.” (Bribe. Roll d100 bo3 aiming to beat AVG 60)

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>>477443
>>477438
You reach into your wallet, and retrieve a few bills and offer them up to the old man.

”I’m sure you could tell me a little thing or two about the guest in 37, friend. I can keep a secret, you know.” Just to add squeeze out a little extra charisma, and hell, to play the stereotype the whole way through, you give him a fucking wink.

Luckily it seems your physically painful maneuver paid off, because he eyes the bills with curiosity, and then stares back at you with an appraising gaze. From experience bribing people, you know he’s weighing his honor and word against a rather sizable amount of money, especially for somebody who presumably isn’t commonly exposed to so much at once judging by the state of the inn.

Finally, it seems his honor wears out, and he leans in on the counter towards you and begins to whisper as if the other party in his promise were somewhere nearby.

“Alright, I’ll tell you, just make sure to keep this between us okay. This guy’s been renting it out for the past year, though he doesn’t use it much. He pays me every month on time, all cash, no questions asked.”

“This mystery guest of yours, he have a name?” You whisper back, glancing at Kirk, who is still waiting for you by the entrance diligently and catches your look before responding with a nod.

“Samuel. Hawkins I think. Always wore this beige overcoat all the time, like one of those old movie detectives you know.”

Yeah, sounds exactly like Sam.

“Strange as it sounds, I’m an old friend of his. Could I check out his room for a few minutes, he mentioned he left something in there and he asked me to get it for him.”

The old man looks at you for a second, then back at the stack of money in his hand and makes up his mind, decisive action overruling the doubt clouding his face. He reaches under the counter for a moment and pulls out a key with the number thirty-seven on it and hands it to you.

“You do[ look like the kind of folk he’d hang around with, and the two of you certainly paid the same way. Alright, I’ll let you check it out but you’d best be quick about it, got it?”

You nod and accept the key before making a wave at Kirk to get him moving, and the two of you eye the stairs and make your way up the old wooden steps to the rooms. Both of you walk into a dimly lit corridor, white paint shedding off the walls and an incessant creaking plaguing each step on the floorboards. Not a bad spot for Sam to camp out if he was under some heat, you think. The creaking would alert him to anybody walking around in the corridor, limiting the angles of approach that intruders could take.

Stacking on the two sides of the doorway, you quietly draw your Walther PPK and Kirk pulls out his Glock 17. You carefully plug the key into the knob and twist and then push the door inwards, leaving an opportunity for Kirk to rush in with his pistol raised.

(1/2) (I'm sorry I take so long to write!)

>>477672
As the two of you clear the room and find it both empty and dark, you notice something rather strange about the room. You feel something in the air here, but you can’t quite chalk it up to a smell or anything really able to be described. Ignoring it for the time being, you decide to rummage through the drawers and shelves nearby to see if you can find any trace of Sam.

After a few minutes, you and Kirk both come up with nothing, absolutely nothing in the room as far as the two of you can tell.

“Have to stop checking blind; Sam is a tricky bastard when he wants to be….” You think to yourself.

Alright, Sam liked to keep his secrets three different ways if he’s exactly the same as when he was in college with you, which, due to him wearing that atrocious coat, he still is.

So that gives you three options, either he has something buried under the floorboards, he’s left a kind of portable media device laying around here somewhere in a hidden spot inside a wall here, or you might just need to ask the citizens around here if they’ve seen a man with a beige detective coat and fedora around.

>Check the floorboards
>Check the walls
>Give up and see if you can get some information from the locals

(2/2)

>>477929
>Check the floorboards

>>477929
Walls, baby

>>477929
>Check the walls
We are on a higher floor so the floorboards would be someone's roof.

>>477929
>>Check the floorboards

>>477929
>>Check the floorboards

>>477929
Walls

>>477929
Walls

>>477929
>Check the walls

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You decide to check the walls, remembering that one time you accidentally swung your fist into the hollow spot in the wall of his room once time. You were grateful that you didn’t hurt your hand as much as you would have if it wasn’t there, but you did get chewed out by Sam for making a massive mess.

Knocking on the walls carefully, you strain your ears to make sure that you’ll be properly informed if your knuckles reveal a hollow spot. Kirk backs up to the doorway, taking extra care not to make any noise that would detract from your hunt. A few minutes of fruitless searching take place until you discover exactly what you’re looking for, the distinctive thump of a hollow spot.

Winding yourself backwards, you decide best how to breach the wall without getting your clothes dirty. You end up attempting to bash in the section of wall with a standing electric lamp in the corner, but as you begin unplugging it, Kirk walks forward and stops you. Slowly, he walks up to the specified section and runs his fingers, which end up revealing a few hidden screws keeping a painted camouflaged wooden cover on the wall.

“He had to have a way to store things inside without rebuilding the wall every time needed access, sir.” He gives you a sorry smirk, no doubt enjoying your embarrassment for the moment and takes out a Swiss Army Knife.

“Right, Kirk.” You accept the knife from, and unscrew the plate loose from the wall. Releasing the cover, you find a little cache of folders and notebooks. While the old man states that Sam’s been in and out of this room, the dust layer tells you it’s been a while since he’s been around here. Picking up a particularly worn notebook, you examine the title and find it says “Contingency Plan” in Sam’s messy handwriting in black ink.

Of note also, is a black flash drive, along with an old wooden ship block with a strange skull insignia emblazoned on it. You get Kirk to carry the paper documents downstairs, while you restore the wall to its former state. Pocketing the drive, you close the door on the room and head downstairs with the ship block and lay it down on the counter in front of the old man.

“Have you seen this design before, sir?” You ask the old man as he takes a good look at the block currently occupying his counter.

“Aye, it’s the mark of the Ayers family. They’ve had a long history in this town, but they belong to it now too.”

“What do you mean, exactly?”

“I mean they’ve gone, they used to have a shipyard near here but as a family they’re through. Bad accident took most of ‘em at sea, the rest packed up and left elsewhere.”

>”Do you know where this old shipyard is, exactly?”
>”What did you think of the Ayers?”
>”How long ago, exactly, did this accident happen?”
>Write-In

>>478316
>”How long ago, exactly, did this accident happen?”

>>478316
Ask all 3 you flaming faggot

>>478316
>”How long ago, exactly, did this accident happen?”

Then
>”What did you think of the Ayers?”

Then
>”Do you know where this old shipyard is, exactly?”

>>478333
>>478344
These

Must pick something up for Mom. Will be back in 1-3 hrs/

>>478408
Have returned. Beginning to write.

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>“How long ago, exactly, did this accident happen?”

“A couple years back, don’t quite remember the exact date, but I only heard it involved the ocean and a boat. Either way, the remaining members of the family closed their businesses around here and skipped town after that.”

>”What did you think of the Ayers?”

“Didn’t ever really have much contact with them to be honest with you, they mostly kept to themselves, but it was known around here that they were steady, decent folk. If a tad secretive, but that isn’t exactly rare around here, secluded as this corner of the country anyways.”
>”Do you know where this old shipyard is, exactly?”

“Yeah, place has been closed for a while but it’s not too far from here.” He points at a red marker on map of the area on an adjacent wall. “Don’t see why you’d want to check it out though, not exactly a whole lot there anymore.”

Seems like you got what you wanted to know from the old man, might have to visit that abandoned shipyard it looks like.

You toss a few more bills onto the counter to the abject surprise of the old man before you speak up, “Samuel won’t be using your room anymore, he’s had something bad come up. He wanted you to have this though.”

The old man nods and gives you a hearty smile as he pockets the money with a quick swipe. “Tell you what, if you ever need some information around here, you can come ask me. I’m partners with the a few bartenders, helps to know the local gossip y’know.”

“Sounds good.”

You walk out of the Trident and back into the Aston, where you quickly figure out some solid directions to get to the abandoned shipyard. Kirk starts up the car, and the two of you quickly speed out of the town and into the blackness of the woods. The bright lights of the Aston Martin end up barely being able to cut through the darkness, leading to a rather treacherous and indeed, for you an uncommonly nervous ride.

Kirk does an admirable job navigating through the low-visibility conditions, swerving and adjusting according to the miserable corners of the road with minimal danger. Within half an hour, you come across the desolate shipyard, surrounded by rusting metal pieces and rotting wood. The area is rather large, encompassing what you figure to be several square blocks of piers. In the middle of all this, is the silhouette of a large ship, still docked somehow and shrouded by a large black cloth.

Now why would there still be a ship docked in an abandoned shipyard? You bet Sam could tell you, if he was still alive that is. Thing about him was, he wouldn’t leave a clue like that ship block inside that cache for no reason. Man of logic that he was, whatever you’re looking for is probably inside that lonely ship in front of you.

(1/2)

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>>479040
Stepping out of the car, you and Kirk head back to the trunk, where the two of you decide to grab flashlights until you see something unusual in the distance. By the lonesome boat, you spy the tell-tale rays of flashlights moving around in the darkness. You stop Kirk from taking a flashlight and point out the lights in the distance, and the two of you give each other a knowing look. Instead of taking flashlights, the two of you grab suppressors and screw them onto your pistols.

You skulk quietly amongst the empty, shuttered buildings, making your way quietly to the lights while Kirk follows thirty feet behind you due to his lack of training in stealth. Moving from cover to cover, shadow to shadow, the two of you traverse the distance in silence, steadily gaining on the location of the intruders. Soon, you enter hearing range and you pull your free hand into a fist, getting Kirk to stop and telling him to raise his pistol.

Hugging the corner of a building, you take a quick peak, and find two hooded figures with rifles and mounted flashlights arguing with each other rather heatedly. You take a second to both train your PPK on the closest one to you and listen in clearer to their conversation.

“Look, we killed the bastard already; we don’t need to play scared and pussyfoot around taking it over!”

“And he took how many of us with him? Twelve? I’m not taking any chances on this okay, if any of us die this mission the Master will have my head!”

“I’m not going to creep around one step at a time to clear an empty fuckin’ ship! Our orders were to finish before daybreak, and if we keep dicking around here we’ll be late!”

“Well FUCK YOU KYLE!”

“Hey FUCK YOU TOO JACK!”

You look at the two of them, two absolute rookies with assault rifles arguing in the middle of the night in an abandoned shipyard. It would actually be rather amusing had it not referenced your dead friend, and so in the interest of time and professionalism you decide to make your move.

>Shoot to wound

>Sneak around and subdue them in close combat

>Spook them, and then watch them turn on each other

>>479078
>Sneak around and subdue them in close combat

Knock one out, interrogate the other

>>479078
>Sneak around and subdue them in close combat

>>479078
>Sneak around and subdue them in close combat

>>479155
Supporting.

>>479078
>Spook them, and then watch them turn on each other

>>479078
>>Sneak around and subdue them in close combat

You quietly move around the arguing pair, taking care not to make noise or be seen without being in the shadow of another object. That said, the idiots are arguing so loud you might as well just be sprinting but really you want to practice in case you actually need to get this done on competent enemies sooner or later. You sneak up to the shadow of a wall ten feet behind one of them, waiting for the right moment to strike, though plenty of moments of the two yelling and nearly striking each other gives you many opportunities to use.

You decide on waiting until one of them makes a move on the other, and which takes a few minutes of rather loud yelling and screaming with a variety of insults you haven’t heard before, and you mentally pocket a few of them for future use. Finally, a fist flies out and catches the other, knocking him to the ground with a thump and making him drop his rifle. You sprint into the back of the aggressor and whip your pistol into the back of his head, though you take care not to do it too hard.

You need information, not bodies.

The other one struggles to recover from his friend’s punch, and as he makes his way back to his feet you elbow him square in the face and break his nose with a sickening crunch. Wrapping both hands around his neck, you put your face close to his, allowing him to understand his position as he recovers from the second blow.

You put on your interrogation face “Who sent you?”

Whether from fear or courage, or perhaps a strange mixture of both, the man regains his composure rather admirably considering his inexperience. “F-fuck you!”

“Right then, I suppose I’ll just torture you for fun once your friend wakes up and ask him. In my experience, your buddy watching you get cut up and beaten for a few hours might do wonders to loosen his tongue. Or you could tell me what you know now, and save the two of us a lot of time and a visit to the dry cleaner’s for me.”

He thinks about it for a second, and then decides to spill the beans as he realizes you aren’t bluffing about torturing the shit out of him. This is good because you really weren’t bluffing about it, though, yes, generally you find the idea of torture distasteful and messy and probably would have just had Kirk do it.

“Look okay, Jack and I don’t know shit! The Order doesn’t fuckin’ tell us anything we don’t need to know, we’re cannon fodder, raw meat on the frontline man!”

“What Order are you talking about, friend?”

“The Esoteric Order of Dagon, it’s some fuckin’ cult me and Jack are in because we aren’t good for much else and needed a job and somewhere to stay man.”

(1/2)

>>480150

“Care to drop a few details? This isn’t exactly decent information, so far.”

“Uh…they’re meeting in some beach house near Innsmouth …in like three days at midnight. Belongs to the mayor I think, he’ll probably bring the all the members too, which is around forty people.”

“And I assume the “Master” you work for is the mayor, then?”

“Yeah.”

Nuts.

“One last question, friend. What exactly are you doing here?”

“Checking out that ship over there, guys at the top said it belonged to that Hawkins fucker. No clue who he was, but apparently he and the Order have been fighting for quite some while. Wasn’t there, but apparently the others got him in an ambush and finally killed him. Took like twelve of us with him though, tough son-of-a-bitch if the stories are true.”

Suppose that’s all the useful information you’re going to get, now that you’ve expended your basic question pool.

You bop the guy on the head, letting him go as he slides to the ground clutching his head, unconscious for the next few hours. Hopefully, because you never actually know with head injuries really.

Kirk decides to finally appear and whistles as he checks out the two unconscious cultists currently sprawled out on the ground. “Nice work, sir. Would you like me to dispose of these two, or keep them for later in case they know anything else?”

>Eliminate them, have Kirk take care of the bodies

>Tie them up, save them for further interrogation

>Release them; they don’t seem like the kind of men to die for the cause

(2/2)

>>480155
>Release them; they don’t seem like the kind of men to die for the cause

>>480193
Torn between this, because I always tend towards "good" characters, and eliminating them, because it would probably be more efficient.

>>480155
>Eliminate them, have Kirk take care of the bodies

Not that we have to enjoy it but loose ends are not something we leave. Part of the training and the job

>>480155
>Eliminate them, have Kirk take care of the bodies
Loose ends are bad ends

>>480155
>Eliminate them, have Kirk take care of the bodies
Sad truth about our business.

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You can’t exactly judge the kind of people that Kyle and Jack are, you’d need to know them much better than you do now, but you can’t risk them reporting back to the Order and you aren’t going to shackle them up forever. It isn’t pretty, but in your line of work you know the call you have to make to ensure the best possible odds of success in your mission.

“I’ll take care of them; get the body bags from the trunk and some gloves, Kirk.” You call out to your butler as you walk closer to Kyle and point your pistol at his head.

One shot to the head, clean, efficient, and the splatter isn’t too bad thanks your Walther being chambered in .32 ACP. You walk over to Jack and put one in his head too, and after you collect your shell casings and replace the magazine. You stoop down and liberate a flashlight on one of the bodies, saving you the trouble of having to walk back to get your own.
Kirk comes back a minute later, and you watch him bag the two poor bastards up and then lug them into the trunk of the Aston. “Be sure to place some air freshener in the trunk when we’re done, oh and grab those assault rifles, they may come in handy.” You call to Kirk as you walk up closer to the boat, taking note of the wooden gangplank connecting the shipyard floor to the vessel.

Boarding the ship, you find that the black cloth covering the rest of the ship isn’t present by the area near the gangplank, meaning whoever placed it there meant to obscure it to intruders. Walking onto the wooden deck, you notice several signs of life despite this supposedly being an abandoned ship. Modern power tools and things like paint-brushes and discarded beer bottles, certainly feels like something Sam would spend his time working on.

Opening a door to the interior, you find it less lively and more befitting of an abandoned ship complete with dust layers and knocked-over furniture. You decide to skip the rest of the ship and head straight for the Captain’s cabin, which surprisingly, is full of what you assume to be Sam’s possessions. A strange collection of items, you admit, and that’s not something you say lightly, being a collector of things yourself.

Gilded wooden furniture coupled with strange, exotic lanterns and drawers filled with musty, ancient scrolls and lists written in black ink. You see a hollowed out skull sitting on a table, next to a fancy quill and similarly gilded inkwell. What catches your attention the most, however, is the prevalence of the Ayer family insignia present on most of the objects in the room. Seems you’ve found the chamber of secrets, now you just have to connect the pieces and figure out what they mean.

You do have a few options right now, thanks to Sam and his evidently serious fetish with secrecy and puzzles.

>Find what’s on the black flash drive you found in Room 37

>Read through some of the books you found in Room 37

>Search the cabin for a clue

>>481042
>Search the cabin for a clue

>>481042
>Search the cabin
As if there's anything else to do here

>>481042
Search for clues

>>481042
>Search the cabin

Also, OP, I'm really enjoying your writing style. I run a quest of my own, but I feel like my narrative style is lacking. Any chance of a few tips?

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>>481240
Read a lot and analyze other quests/works and see how they work, I think? I actually have no clue, never been very technical at writing.

I'm really glad you're enjoying it!

I feel like I'm letting everyone down sometimes because I write really slow.

>>481042
Search cabin for clues

>>481296
You're doing fine

>>481296
I wouldn't worry too much about slow writing. It can be a shitload of work to run a decent quest. As long as you post often enough to keep it alive, you tend to be fine.

Cheers for the advice man, I think my plain-ish writing gets a free pass because I do a lot of drawing up for my quest, but I feel like it's worth working on nonetheless.

>>481296
Quality is worth a wait, LQM. No worries. I take just as long and my quest isn't half as good, even a dozen threads in.

>>481042
>Search the cabin for a clue

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Rummaging through the room unearths a treasure trove of both equipment and random objects that seem to possess no clear rhyme or reason as to their origins and usage. For example, you find a modern hand-grenade hidden in the empty spaces of a bookshelf as you look for a literary hint or journal. Next, you uncover a decorated sacrificial dagger enclosed in a cardboard box as you check under the luxurious bed.

You’re half tempted to ask Kirk to call over a van to load up on things, but you remind yourself of your purpose in this cabin to begin with. A few minutes later Kirk finds something rather interesting, and he hands it to you after tapping you on the shoulder, stopping you from unsheathing an antique saber that you grabbed from under a desk.

An old manila envelope, covered in a layer of dust and dirt with a stamp in the corner.

You look closer and find a few of prints amidst the dust layer, telling you the envelope’s been handled recently and, judging by the wrinkles everywhere, often. You find it already opened, and you reach inside to discover an ancient letter, which you place on Sam’s desk and focus your flashlight in preparation for reading. It’s written in black ink, no doubt done with a quill and inkwell of the same make as the one on the desk next to you, and with rather beautiful cursive handwriting to boot.

“Dear Professor Wilkins,

I, George Hawkins, have merged my own chapter, with the Ayers family, a steadfast and righteous line, in the interests of suppressing and purging the newly discovered heretics and cults along the Miskatonic and in particular, the town of Innsmouth.

This merging is a result of our raid on the cult, The Esoteric Order of Dagon, based in Innsmouth, which although successful, cost my chapter many members as they were warned of our coming by foul and heretical rituals. The Ayers have been loyal allies for many, many years and I found it fitting that they be rewarded with official Inquisition membership. Training and approval will not be necessary, as I personally can attest to their skills and competence, and can train and equip them as needed without assistance from the Inquisition.

Also, regarding official Inquisition membership, my son Samuel has recently finished college and has expressed a desire to train and become an official agent himself. I believe that he would make an excellent candidate; such is his aptitude for logic and precision. However, I leave such a decision up to you and the others.

Godspeed,

George Hawkins.

>>482483

It seems that the Hawkins and the Ayer families are connected, evidently by this “Inquisition” which you figure to be either a cult itself or a secret society similar to the Esoteric Order of Dagon, with whom they seem to be in conflict with. You think about Sam and how quickly he left to go home after graduation, how he’d simply vanished without a word to you or anybody else.

Guess he really did have places to be, huh.

You take the letter, and search through a few more pages and books scattered around the room, but nothing striking exactly shows up. You decide to just come back tomorrow, the night seems to almost be over and poor Kirk hasn’t had proper sleep in a long while. Or you could sleep here, though it wouldn’t exactly be as proper, you’d be able to analyze some of the tools and other possessions Sam kept here for a reason.

It would mean that one of you, you or Kirk would have to stay up, an exhausting affair for two caffeine deprived individuals.

>Stay here and let Kirk sleep, while you analyze some of the loot here

>Leave for now and stay the night at an actual establishment

>Head to the Oceans Trident

>>482485
>Head to the Oceans Trident

>>482485
>Head to the Oceans Trident

Let's kip there, hopefully this place will stay unraided for a day but pull everything of interest that we can fit in the car just in case

>>482485
>Head to the Oceans Trident

Let's go to the trident

You decide to just grab a stack of important looking papers and the letter, and head back over to the Ocean’s Trident, at least for the night before doing anything else. As you and Kirk make it to the car, you stop Kirk from entering the driver’s side and get behind the wheel yourself.

“You’ve done enough for one day Kirk; I’ll take it from here.” You announce as you start up the Aston and turn on the radio. He nods, and sits down next to you, opting to lean back and attempt to take a quick nap on your way back to Innsmouth. The ride back is smooth and quiet in equal measure, your concentration on the road and the stream of classical music being played provide a comforting background to think and analyze as you steer and curve around the broken road.

Once again, you make your way back to the Ocean’s Trident. You tap Kirk on the shoulder and he wakes up with a groan, no doubt struggling to will his body to move for just a little longer. You pop the trunk and the two of you bag up your newfound possessions and carry them with your luggage into the Trident, where you finally notice how late it is thanks to the ticking clock stuck in a wall.

Old Man Trident is luckily, still awake, and he raises an eyebrow at the two of you and the loads in each arm. “Bit late for a little shopping, eh?” He laughs as you merely roll your eyes and drop a bag onto the counter to allow access to your wallet, but he stops you there and places another key on the table.

“You’re more than paid for already, and I won’t have being a greedy host on my conscience, especially for two esteemed patrons such as yourselves. And also, I was wondering when I would have to ask you for Samuel’s key back but it seems you’ve saved me the trouble.

You thank him and take the key, along with your bag and hurry upstairs with Kirk to the same dimly lit hall you’d explored a few hours ago. You open Room 37 and toss your belongings inside before helping Kirk do the same with Room 38, wishing him a good night, or whatever remained of the night, before closing your door and laying down on the stiff bed in the corner. You decide to brush your teeth and shower before heading to sleep, you can figure out the notes and such tomorrow after some rest.

You dream about your time with Samuel in college, how the two of you would eschew the normal clubs and bars your colleagues would commonly frequent and instead head to a Jazz lounge or a café to meet. It was an easy friendship between the two of you, as you shared many things in common, one of which was a stoic determination to accomplish goals at any cost. Indeed, the two of you were considered nearly inseparable at points, choosing to take the same classes and appointments with each other. In terms of looks and skills, he was the hammer, physically imposing and blunt and logical in his dealings while you were the scalpel, weaving and slashing through plans and conversations with equal ease.

>>483026

You missed him when he left and even in the years that followed, you really did, and it left a bitter taste in your mouth when he did so without a word, but you accepted it as his own decision and left it at that.

How quaint that you’re meeting him again, figuratively, through this goose-chase he’s sent you on.

(Continuing tomorrow, I'm seriously sorry I keep leaving massive gaps in between posts. I get distracted really, really easily and I write very slowly!)

>>483028

It's all good man, I'm enjoying the story

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Alright guys, I'm going to have to end this session here. I've got some tough times ahead for the next day or two, and I can't really write at the moment. This'll give me some time to plan and get my act together better.

I'll see you guys around.

Also twitter if anybody would actually bother to be alerted to me running the next part / questions.
https://twitter.com/Leave_QM/followers
http://ask.fm/LeaveNoDoubt

>>484737

Understandable, hope the next two days aren't too hard on you. I'll be here to play when you get back

>>484737
Thanks for running, enjoying the story so far! Hope shit works out for you!