Poking around the house of Henry Hancock has us delving in to his basement. In one of the rooms we discover a secret chamber behind a false wood panel, which apparently has been overlooked by whoever has ransacked the nearby study. The heavy iron box in the chamber may have been what the intruders were […]
The obvious first place to look for Henry Hancock, the gentleman apparently in distress, is in his home, in the village he was staying at. After settling in to our accommodation the previous evening, we make our way up to the house to investigate. We ring the bell, knock on the door, and get no […]
Apart from Harry Herpderp, not his real surname, attempting to pickle his organs, the liner journey across the Atlantic is uneventful. We arrive on the west coast of Scotland and travel by train and car to the east. Once there, Herpderp continues where he left off. 'Whisky', he says, when we enter a local pub. […]
Half of us manage to get in to the depths of the bunker, smashing through a sewer wall to get inside. The other half are upstairs, watching for guard reactions and preparing to cut the power if necessary. And by 'if necessary', I apparently take that to mean, 'when I get the tiniest bit twitchy'. […]
Our Madame bumps in to a paranormal investigator, who learns of our mystery and, with the death of the professor, finds a place in our little team. When we get to meet Harry Herpderp, maybe not his real surname, we learn that one of his interests is playing the jazz banjo. 'We haven't heard it, […]
Finding a scrap of paper in his pocket, the professor is reminded of the inscription he saw in the catacombs of the secret society's building. It was scribbled on the wall in chalk, and looked vaguely Latinesque. Wernstrom has some research to attend to in his laboratory, so enlists me to decipher the text because […]
Opening a door, rather foolishly on our way out of the vast basement complex underneath a secret society's building, reveals a pair of blue-skinned men. Their blueish hue is a bit weird, that they're completely nude certainly isn't proper, and that they are looking to bum-rush us has our hackles up. Guns are drawn from […]
It's our first full group in months, and so we're back to the main adventure. Does anyone remember where we were? Thinking about how to infiltrate a lodge in 1920's Boston, it seems. 'The very last thing we said, I think, was 'let's work out a plan'.' Okay, good. So you've had three months to […]
Nothing suspicious is happening. No siree. It's just another day in 1920s Massachusetts, and five people are going about their business. Professor Cole Whitman is a bit odd, though, always with his studying and long conversations with private dick Richard Castle, otherwise known as Dirk Codpiece when he's not in earshot. But a quirky old […]