free web site hit counter


Into the Night Tales

Last Login:
June 14th, 2018


View All Posts




Gender: Female

Age: 42
Country: United States

Signup Date:
February 09, 2012


Subscriptions

Advertisement

06/13/2018 11:19 PM 

Innsmouth Calling

Mysterious packages and old friends call Lenore Lovecraft to the town of Innsmouth, Massachusetts. However, it seems that she can't do this one alone.  Strangeness fills this little port town, hostile to outsiders.

Can you make it out in one piece?

3 Comments  

View All Posts

Angel

 

The dreams were coming less frequently now, but true rest had eluded Angel these last few nights.  Was it something that had happened up in Iowa?  The vampire hadn’t been infected with a demon ghost, like Buffy or Rachel Winchester.  But it had been a strange case from the very beginning.  A haunting if there ever was one.  After the ghosts of Parker, Catherine, and Victoria were trapped in the Ethros Box and embedded in concrete beneath the Wells Fargo building, Angel’s dreams had been haunted by people from his past – his father and his sister Kathy were frequent visitors, accusing him of failing them and himself.  But Darla was there playing the other side of the coin, telling him he’d gone soft.  That his true destiny was a path of evil.  Lose the soul, she insisted.  There were others, too – Cordelia, Fred, Nina, Penn – a vampire Angel sired – all with differing advice for Angel.  His head was too crowded when he slept.  So he’d been working most nights.  Last night it was a nest of Grimslaw demons.   

A knock on his door.  Angel was already awake.  Sitting on the edge of his bed, barefoot, rubbing at the back of his neck, Angel responded, “Yeah!”   It was Wesley, he wanted to talk.  “Come on in.”  Wesley entered into the cave-like room.  The windows were shuttered tight against the deadly morning light.   Angel squinted.  Glare from a sconce light fixture in the hall was in his eyes.  “Close the door, Wes.”  The ex-watcher did what he was asked, plunging the room into near total, but soothing darkness.  Angel reached out and switched on a lamp set on a nightstand next to the bed.  The bulb was a mere 15 weak, yellowish watts, which was just about right.

Wes said Lenore Lovecraft sent him a message.  She needed help, he said.  “Massachusetts?”  They’d gotten back from Iowa just a few days ago.  Angel didn’t like to travel.  “Crap.  Alright.  Gather whoever you can from the team and let’s get on the road.”  It would take them three days to drive there, and that would be pushing it.  Kat could maybe teleport them there, although Angel hated that idea.  Maybe a few of them could teleport with the rest of the team making the drive.   

Posted on Wed Jun 20, 2018, 14:41

Wesley Wyndam-Price

 

     The inscription was right there on the hardwood door of his office at the Hyperion Hotel, indelibly etched into the wood.  Wesley imagined someone using an awl or a screwdriver to inscribe the desperate call.  But he somehow knew it had been clawed into the wood.  Or taloned.  Yes, someone had used the dewclaw of some massive beast – a werewolf or other mythological creature – to carve this message: 

     Innsmouth Calling, need help NOW!  LL Essex 42.61 70.64   

     But what could it mean?  Innsmouth was a fictional town in Massachusetts, memorialized in H.P. Lovecraft’s 1936 “Shadow over Innsmouth”.   With his morning coffee cup in hand, Wesley entered his office and sat down at his 1930s era, claw-footed Victorian desk.  He withdrew a Rand McNally Atlas of the United States from the lower left drawer and opened it up to the pages for Massachusetts.  Sipping on his coffee, he quickly discovered that Essex was a county on the coast of Massachusetts north of Cape Cod and Boston.  “LL?” he mumbled to himself, frowning.  Where had he heard those initials recently?  Of course.  Lenore Lovecraft, which dovetailed nicely with the Innsmouth reference.  Now, what of the numerals?  

     Well, they didn’t constitute a street address.  Nor did they correspond to a phone number.  The latter would have been most convenient.  One could simply call or text Miss Lovecraft.  Steam arose from the coffee in his cup as Wesley sat and further contemplated the numbers.  He glanced at his Atlas once again and realized it didn’t have the information he needed.  So he switched on his laptop, opened Google Earth Pro, and zoomed in on Massachusetts.  The numbers were, of course, decimal latitude and longitude, although they lacked the precision necessary to absolutely pinpoint a location.  But the general area was the coastal community of Gloucester on Cape Ann.  So he believed he understood the who and the where.  But what?  Obviously it was a cry for help.  But help with what?  Nonetheless, Miss Lovecraft was a colleague now, a trusted ally.  And first and foremost, Angel Investigations would always come to the aid of an ally, whatever the crisis might be.  

     It was 6:45 am and Angel had been out on a job until the wee hours of the morning.  He wouldn’t appreciate being disturbed.  But it had to be done.  Who knows what trouble Lenore might be in, or how dire her circumstances might be.  Wesley quickly left his office and headed upstairs to the vampire’s quarters.     

 

Posted on Sun Jun 17, 2018, 10:34

𝚁𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚂𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚛

 

It was nice to just... sit.

Sitting on the stool behind the counter of her Bangor 'Antique' store, Raven's Roost, she absently bounced her foot, reading the thick, faded purple bound book, written in Latin.
Above her, in the rafters, preening, sat the ever present feathered shadow, Yig.
A few teens had been in and out of the store today, little 'Wiccans' that looked up to the gothic outsider most of the adults in town shunned, and they questioned Lenore about getting started, and left with a bag with a few books, candles and incense, wide eyed and whispering to each other about how 'cool' she was.

She was almost ready to stand and stretch when the door swung open, and the little bell hung on it chimed. 
Her dark eyes look up to see a middle aged man with a box under his arm.
He was dressed in a suit, not an expensive suit, but a functional one, with a plain black tie.

"Miss Lovecraft?"

He asks, moving through the store. Standing, she closes her book and sets it down.

"Yes, can I help you?"

He puts the box down on the counter between them, and extends his hand to her.

"My name is Harvey Edwards, I'm sorry to have to be the barer of bad news, but I'm the attorney of Jack Walters. He wanted this delivered to you in the event of his passing..."

As the lawyer was intoducing himself, Lenore took his hand and shook it, however her hand fell slack at the mention of Jack, and his passing, her pale face draining further, her jaw falling slack.

"Dead?"

Lenore half whispers, her mouth dry.

"Well, he has been missing for a long enough time that his family had him pronounced legally dead. They just wanted to move on with their lives."

Lenore shifted slightly, standing up and folding her arms across her chest, almost hugging herself, Yig fluttering down and landing on her shoulder, Harvey jumping at the appearance  of the dark avian.

"Whoa. Uh... yes. And they bundled up everything he listed in his will to go to you... I'm here to deliver it."

He shifts the box towards her, and she looks down at it, then back to him.

"Oh... ok.... well.... uh... thanks, I guess..."

She pauses, then shakes her head slightly.

"Sorry, I don't  really know what to say..."

She looks to him, and he nods understandingly.

"I don't expect much from you, Miss Lovecraft, I did just drop a death on you. I'm sorry, but I do have to go now. My condolences..."

He turned and left the store, leaving Lenore, Yig and the package in silence.

'Whoa. Stuff from your dead boyfriend... open it!'

Yig hopped from her shoulder to the counter, Lenore glaring at him.

"He's not my boyfriend..."

She folds her arms for a moment, then picks up scissors from under the counter, and cuts the rough twine and brown paper open, looking at a beat up shoe box.
She flicked the lid off with the scissors, and looked inside at the scraps of paper and beat up looking journal.
Quickly rummaging through, she glanced over the scraps, seeing the rambling of a man on the verge of insanity, and with pursed lips, she opened the journal.

Skimming the pages, she realised Jack had been chronicalling research, based on the reason of their falling out.
The Old Gods.

Snapping it shut, she packed the box back up, and stuffed it in her bag, sending it deep into its enchanted depths.

She shut up shop, and went home, Yig close by the whole time.

Back home, in her office, Lenore began decoding the scraps, following the research, and working out where it was when Jack went missing.

The last written page of journal was torn out, the last sentence unfinished, however, the second last page was an apology.

-If this reaches you, I'm sorry Lenny. I should have listened. You were right. I'm sorry... I'm sorry... You were right... 
I just hope you can forgive-

It cut off, the next page missing.

She had been taking her own notes, trying to pinpoint where he was. 
It took her hours, but she had worked it out.
He went missing near the coast of Massachusetts.

"Yig, we're going on a road trip."

'To look for your boyfr- I mean, your fuck buddy?'

Lenore huffed at him, then proceeded to bundle clothes and other things into her bag.

"Yes. We are looking for Jack."

Piling into the Honda Civic, she set off, driving through the night.

They arrived outside a rusted iron gate, connected to the salt spray warped fencing just after dawn.

Lenore decided to leave the car back up the road a ways, parked off to the side, before walking back to the town.
Squeezing through the gates, she was immediately hit with a wave of nausea.

"Oh... we are in the right place...."

She muttered, Yig nipping her ear.

'Yeah, it's... not a nice feeling....'

"Keep an eye out for me..."

Yig took flight, taking up a position on a roof. Lenore slowly made her way through the quiet streets,  noone out yet this early.

Making her way to the town square, her eyes locked on an ornate marble building, very out of place surrounded by the rotting wood stuctures. The sea winds seemed to carry the sounds of screams from the marble building.
It was becoming phyically difficult for Lenore to even stand in the town, her mind filling with the whispers of her 'matron', as well at the screaming from the salt spray.

She staggered through the streets, Yig hopping from rooftop to rooftop, trying to scream to her, going unheard.
She moved almost blindly, stumbling into a rotted out building. The screaming and whispers stopped, and while on her knees, Lenore reveled in the silence for a moment, before the smell of death and decay washed over her.

Raising her eyes, Lenore found she had stumbled into a church, the pews laying scattered and broken, a full sized crucifix behind the pulpit.
Lenore spotted the sourse of the smell.
The corpse of what looked to be a priest pinned to the crucifix, innards torn out, strewn across the church.

"Oh god..."

Lenore doubled over, emptying her stomach on the floor.

Deciding this building was still her best bet for somewhere to hold up in, she set about taking the poor mans body down, gathering his bits and putting him in the back corner, covering it with a blanket from her bag.

She then started putting up protective sigils and runes, casting protective spells.

It wasn't long before it was dusk, and the church became dark.

Lenore curled up on the floor, sliding under one of the standing pews.

'Yig... I think this place is where I'm going to die... I can't.... it's  too much...."

'Ask for help... you know people now...'

Lenore didn't  answer. Curling up tightly, she shivered as she fell unconscious,  exhaution over taking her.

In her sleep, she sent out messages, pleas and requests for help in every way she could, leaving psychic claw marks on people if she had to.

She was going to die here otherwise.

Posted on Thu Jun 14, 2018, 01:13

View All Posts

Mobile | Terms Of Use | Privacy | Cookies | Copyright | Profile Layouts | FAQ | Vote For Us

© 2018. RolePlayer.me All Rights Reserved.