The world beyond Darkness

All Hallows eve
Evil lurks when the Spirits cross

October 31st, 1892

The Witching hour

A few days before, Father Batch brings a letter to Adrianna, addressed to her late husband. He translates it for her, and it could be a lead into cabal activity, a dead end that may only open wounds unknown. Could it even be a trap?

At the Haunting’s after an evening of fancy dress for a final nightcap, several members of The Companions gather. Lt. Wilson Is the first to leave, but moments after he leaves, evil darkens the landing into the Lodge proper…

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Money

Adrianna Blackburn
I can’t stop this jumpy, itchy feeling I have. Those stupid bugs. Why is it I can face a huge stone dino and not have any fears but little flying bugs have me crawling in my skin. Lying here trying to sleep and all I can think to do is jump around and get them off. Even thinking of the beach doesn’t draw the feelings away. Eventually I am able to fall asleep, many many creepy hours later. Finally the bugs are replaced by images of money. Lots and lots of money. I’m swimming in money. Its all around me. Different kinds of coins and bills. Living the way I have all my life, I’ve never seen anything like this before. Everything is made of money. I see other people around but they don’t act like anything is so unusual. To me they appear to have money falling off of them. When I reach out to grab any off it, it disappears. Why can’t I touch it? Its right there, everywhere. Tables, chairs, walls, doors, all of it made out of money. But just like in real life I can’t get any of it. Why oh why do my dreams do this to me. Touching my husband again, having money, beautiful beaches, all just dreams. Never to be anything I can have. Just want. So close yet so far away. When I wake up I know I must go find some other way to make money. I really enjoy being a ripper but I can’t live this way anymore. I want more. The only way I see to improve myself is by getting more money to buy better weapons to defend against whatever we are to face next.
Father Batch has been really great to me since my husband died. He is really the reason I am still here. But there has to be something else I can do on the side. So I must figure out something I am good at. Killing. Yes, but what else. Maybe I should look around. See whats out there. Check the papers. See if there is anything that doesn’t involve killing….or bugs. No more bugs.

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A Night at the Museum
** DM Update **

October 23rd, 1892

Father Batch decided to send our hero’s to a ball at the British Museum of Natural History. There, a Professor Randal Mitchell would be unveiling a new fossil. If they had the opportunity, they should try and get him to join the community, ad his world knowledge could prove very useful.

Things do not go as planned…

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Dear Diary,
DK Graypartridge

It has been the most amazing week!

It started with the fabulousness that is the Van Helsing workshop and just got more wondrous from there!

Okay. I’m gushing. I can’t help it. I have met the most wonderful, beautiful man!

His name is George Lyons Carleton III. He is ex-military, a scientist and a true gentleman.

We met at the workshop, I was frustrated with the device I was trying to build, he was intrigued by my mumblings and my frustrations… and apparently I am adorable with a grease smudge on my nose.

That first day we talked and tinkered and drew up plans long into the night, agreeing to return the next day and take up where we left off. That, however turned into a long stroll, lunch in one of the poshest tea rooms I have ever been in and an invitation to dinner.

Things have moved so quickly. In one week George and I have gone from new acquaintances to inseparable companions. He knows everything about me and I know everything about him. George finds my mumblings and constant ghostly companions intriguing and endearing while I am in awe of his acts of patriotism in the line of duty and his bravery in dealing with his life altering wounds.

When George found out I was living off the Companions’ stipend he was horrified and immediately pledged me his patronage, starting with a thick packet of money that should keep me out of the second class seating for a while. I will admit to feeling oddly ill at ease at taking his money, but he assures me it is not an uncommon thing, and he also assures me there are no strings to that funding. Strings to his heart, yes, but they lead straight to my own heart and do not deign to touch the filthy lucre.

I think I am in love. I know I have a new friend. I think I am in love.

Darling Kimberly. Not since my father have I adored the sound of that name. In George’s voice it is heaven.

Oh gods. I think I’m in trouble.

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Treasure beneath the Chapel
** GM's Update **

October 8th, 1892

While staying in the inn at Rosslyn, our rippers go to examine the Chapel after dark. Inside, they have an intriguing encounter, perhaps answering the question they came here for.

Following that, they return to The Hauntings, meet with Johann, giving him their findings. He thanks them each, and dismisses them to their own device…

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The Chapel at Rosslyn
** GM's Update **

3 October, 1892

Our rippers have attracted the attention of Johann Van Helsing, and they are summoned to the Van Helsing Lodge. There, they are told that Dr. Abraham Van Helsing has gone missing and he would like them to check into it. He was apparently heading into Scotland.

After scouring his books and notes, they find reference to Rosslyn Chapel, a scribbled addendum to his notes, as well as a great deal about the history of the Rippers organization. They take a train and a carriage to the small town of Rosslyn, the last stop on the train before Edinburh. Visiting the Chapel they find some interesting things.

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Interlude- Wonder

After arriving back at The Hauntings in pretty bad shape, I went straight to bed hoping to sleep some of it off. Sometime in the night my mind wanders to the special place my husband and I would go to when we needed to forget about the world we lived in. That wonderful peaceful MONSTER FREE ZONE we called it. Ours was a peaceful beach. Blue crisp water, tall palm trees and a huge beach with soft white sand. No one else was there except us. We could relax in each others company and not say a thing. or talk nonstop about anything but what we just went through. No real life here. Just peacefulness. When laying on the beach got too hot we could cool off in the water. My husband would wrap his arms around me and just hold me. That was the only time I ever felt completely safe, protected in the arms of the man I loved. As I woke up from the best sleep I had gotten in awhile I remembered I had a friend to check in on. I was feeling so bad when we got back that I didn’t go check on Justin. I needed to make sure he was back at The Hauntings and in better shape then he was the last time we left him.

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Interlude - Mysterious Parcel
DK Graypartridge

Rest and recovery seem to be the first order of business after an inquiry. This time, due to injury I was taking it slow. Mornings spent resting, afternoons spent in the late summer sunshine drafting up a new device, chatting with Rosalind (who is ..was.. a well read, bright, intelligent young lady and a joy to talk to) and reading some of the latest scientific journals.

This ritual was interrupted by the arrival of a mysterious package. After having signed in recipet for something from an unknown sender (I know… I know… not the brightest of sparks here) the porter wheeled in a large, battered trunk. Baffled I knelt to inspect it before opening. I was just about to turn over the leather tag when PopPop appeared at my shoulder with a large, but sad smile on his face. Without a word he nodded his approval at me and I turned the tag and read his name and address written in his strong meticulous script.

Someone had decided I should have my grandfather’s travelling workshop. It was not something I had ever seen. When my parent’s died and I went to live with my paternal grandfather, he had stopped travelling to jobs and settled in to local work so I would have a stable home. Apparently, this trunk had been carefully stored away and forgotten. Until someone found it.

After getting help to move it upstairs I spent the rest of the afternoon and long into the evening opening, rummaging, cleaning and making lists of things that needed replacing or updating. I was in heaven. Not only are there tools and trinkets and bits and pieces of my grandfather’s younger life, but there is a leather bound journal half filled with notes and ideas, sketches and plans… all in that oh so familiar hand.

I am delighted and moved to tears for such a wonderful treasure, but, I am also worried about who might have found it and sent it along. Who are they? What might they want? Why?

I am certain that the answers to all my questions will make themselves known in time. Until then I will put this little workshop to good use. I will enjoy the hours spent pouring over the journal with PopPop, listening to his memories. I can see several ideas here that we can bring to fruition together. Several we will have fun arguing over as I think they are not feasable.

A true gift to an orphaned girl. A mysterious treasure indeed.

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Shark Fin Soup, or The Mystery of the Disappearing Seamen or.... anything you walk away from is a win.
DK Graypartridge

I’m discovering that a good portion of being a member of Van Helsing’s little society is boredom. So much so I find myself pouring over the newspapers just to see what I can see. Which is how, oddly enough, I found our most recent exploit.

Sailors gone missing. A report here, a report there nothing amazing, no one important, but none the less, three people gone missing too close together and too similar in many ways. So off we go, down to the docks to have a little look around, a little wander, perhaps chat with people who might have seen or heard… and what do we discover but a man wearing an amulet that has an aura of its own. A familiar aura. One much like the one surrounding the amulet of our most unfortunate priest in Norfolk. Questions lead us to a new group of strong arms calling themselves The Sharks. A group that has mysterious shark men in their midst.

Well… some footwork, more questions, a scuffle or two and we know where they are holed up. Know we have to remove that amulet from circulation. Know we three cannot tackle it alone, so off we trundle to ask for aid from another house. Three more add to our little group and off we go to tackle the stronghold of this new gang.

Which doesn’t go well. Many hurt on both sides. Several dead on both sides. So many mistakes. So much loss. But. We do leave the place with all our members, although poor Lord Blevin succumbed to his wounds in hospital later. We do leave with the amulet safely in hand. We do get gone before the actual arrival of the constabulary.

I guess we can count that as a win. I guess.

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Beneath the Docks
** GM's Update **

Sept 16, 1892

From the small room above, they have descended into what appears to be walled up sewers, and have encountered relatively fierce resistance. Beneath the streets in the darkness, they encounter a man-shark, and the peg-legged thug they have seen before. After a stiff fight, in which Lyle was killed by a deep wound to his side, they defeat all of the enemies of goodness, returning, with a shark-fin amulet, to Hauntings lodge…

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