(PRP - Cold Case) Casual Insanity

[Samaritan]

Inspecting the pictures, a new piece of the puzzle that was the mind of Hollis Cook falls into place. One of the frames contains a citation for outstanding performance in the line of duty. It was issued ten years ago from the Police Department of Portland, Oregon. The other frame contains a group of five people. One of them is Hollis Cook, dressed up in his best uniform. Another one is a cop and two others seem to businessmen or lawyers from their attire. The last one seems to be a doctor of some kind. It seemed to be a close knit group. Relaxed smiles, arms around each others shoulders while facing the camera...it seemed to be something unofficial.

Truce made his way over to the bathroom. He opened the door and entered the small room with all the necessary equipment...but nothing more. The faucet was leaking a steady stream of water.

Hot water.

Steam welled up from the sink and mingled with the wave of frosty air, that Truce had brought along with him unbidden. Truce got a glance of his reflection in the mirror, before condensation blurred his features. Some of his features. Then it hit him. There were words, written with steam on the mirror!

"Stop her! She will harm others!"

Please roll Wits + Composure for your unseen senses.

[Truce]

  Perceive with Unseen Senses, 2suxx

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2014-11-28 18:00:07		Truce rolls 5 to perceive his surroundings [WIT+COM] (10 Again)		8, 1, 3, 10, 3, 7		2 successes

  Speak With Dead, 3suxx

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2014-11-28 18:10:21		Truce rolls 6 to cast rote Speak with Dead [WIT+Occ+Death-1(Spell Tolerance)] (10 Again)		10, 4, 7, 8, 3, 8, 6		3 successes

The framed contents didn't seem to fit with the story of an unstable man who lost his mind before a tragic demise. Truce wonders who the other people are in the picture and if they might know more about what Hollis Cook was like in life.

What was originally a cursory glance turns into a moment of concern as he experiences the manifestation of a ghostly spirit through the eerie writing. The voice confirms his suspicions, though it is never easy to interact with the dead. Still, Truce has tools at his disposal. He moves his hands in arcane gestures to invoke the rote that allows him to peer through the veil of Twilight and not burden the ghost with the trouble of drawing upon its own Essence.

"I hear you, Hollis," Truce says in an even voice to the steam-filled air, if somewhat presumptuously. "Who is it that you wished to be stopped?"

[Samaritan]

Another shower of cold air swirled through the humid mixture, that filled the bathroom. A very vague figure phased into existance by momentarily giving shape to the damp steams floating around. In the next blink of an eye, it was gone again already. Truce felt a wash of sadness move over him.

His senses now attuned to the "other" side, he heard a voice, thin and screechy and full of desparation.

"Shhhhhhhh...don't speak the murderers name. She will hear you. She will want you dead."
Something next to Truce's own reflection, still blurred by the moisture in the mirror, moved. There was a moment of breathless silence, as if the whole room listened, concerned, that something might have been stirred from his slumber.

"I am not him. I was with him. Just like her. He needed to die. It was just. It was right. She saw to it. But she likes her ways. Likes the chase."

The breathless voice seemed to float through the room. It circled Truce, as if someone was inspecting him, judging his size, his appearance as if to fathom, what peculiar specimen he was.

"Why can you hear me? Are you one of them? Bearer of blade? Severer of soul? Destroyer of dreams? Why can you speak to me as if I was me?"
There was a curious undercurrent in the bodyless vocalization that came out of thin air.

[Truce]

Truce's eyes widen as the being does not identify itself as Hollis Cook. He needed to die? Severer of soul? What sort of person does this Ghost think I am? he thinks in a rush of panic as he turns to follow the voice circling around him. It sounds as though this being is a witness to a murder. But who is this 'she' he keeps referring to? Who is he, for that matter?

  Determine Ghost's Assumption, 2suxx (penalize as needed)

Date		Action		Roll		Result
2014-11-29 12:42:17		Truce rolls 6 to surmise the ghost's meaning from nicknames [INT+Occ] (10 Again)		5, 7, 7, 10, 8, 4, 3		2 successes

"I will not speak her name then, for I do not know it," says Truce, his voice a little shaken but still relatively calm. "As for who I am and why I can hear you, I am a Speaker for the Dead, or rather a counselor of them. I was hoping to speak with Hollis Cook... But since he does not appear to be here, I would like to ask you some questions about what transpired in this building. But first, who are you, and why were you present when Hollis was killed?"

[Samaritan]

"No. Hollis Cook is gone. She saw to it. He needed to go."

There was something resolute in the voice now. Conviction, probably. He was sure, that Cook was gone...erased from existance, physical and spiritual it seemed.

"You speak for the dead, ghosttalker? Don't speak for Hollis. Don't speak about Hollis. She will notice. And then she will play with you. You don't want that, ghosttalker. She loves her ways."

The voice now came from one direction. The entity stood in the doorframe.

"He killed us. The dead man killed us. Years ago. He and his brotherhood of blade-bearers. Oh, he was none like them. Just a tool. Broken tool now. She made sure of that. They severed us both from ourselves. It was so very long. I have forgotten."

The voice had shifted back into the living room.

"I was Thomas. I think. The murder man was greedy. Kept my ring. Kept her bracelet. So we stuck to him. She took a liking to play with the murder man. Wanted to see how far she could push. Like a needle. Today she stuck it in too deep."

One of the empty bottles of the booze next to the couch fell over.

"It didn't work. He always needed more. To sleep. When he was out, her plays did not work on him. Too far gone. Today it was not enough. She pushed. He broke. But now she has nobody left to play with. Bad thing. You must stop her. Please, ghosttalker. Stop her. The murder man was bad. He needed to die. The others here are not."

The voice sounded concerned now. Pleading. Whoever Thomas once was, he was genuinely scared, of what she could do next, now that her favorite plaything was gone.

[Truce]

A Brotherhood of Blade-Bearers? Some cult, perhaps, that Cook was involved in. This Thomas certainly seems convinced of Hollis's crime, something he had gotten away with for some time now. The voice and the woman he spoke of were supposedly victims, dissatisfied with their fate. But did Cook leave no specter behind, a man with such a dark past? Perhaps so, or perhaps it was seen to. It is a simple matter to make certain.

Truce steps out from the bathroom into the living room once more. "You have my sympathies for your fate, Thomas," he says after the specter. "I will speak with her then before she decides to play with others. I know you are concerned, but would you help me? Do you know where your ring is, and her bracelet? I won't tell her you told me." Anchors, no doubt. He has no intention to harm them, or the ghosts if he can help it. But if Thomas is right, then this victim's rage has granted her the power to attack the living. Violence to beget more burdens and more violence. The dead must not pollute the world with their unresolved angst.

[Samaritan]

As if someone slowly turned up the volume on a loudspeaker, steps could be heard. Faint at first, then a little louder. In the same manner, as if a very old TV had been switched on, faint traces of a humanoid figure started to appear. While the ghostly apparition moved closer to the door of the living room, it grew in substance until a pale man in a white T-shirt and jeans could be recognized.

A spectral hand beckoned, before the figure moved through the door and disappeared.

Truce made his way over to follow the figure. Noises could be heard from the hallway outside. Somewhere a piece of glassware had been shattered. A couple seemed to have an argument. It seemed all very far away.

[Truce]

The manifestations continue to pour forth from Thomas, distracting Truce's senses. Before Truce follows, he takes out his cell phone and walks over to the framed picture of Hollis Cook and his group of friends. Truce isn't sure if he'll need it, but the Necromancer is making sure he investigates all leads, especially if this cult were still at large. Putting the phone back in his pocket, Truce heads to the door to follow Thomas into the hallway.

[Samaritan]

I'm sorry, I missed to clarify, that the ghost moved through the bedroom door. The door to the hallway is still open and torn out of its hinges.

The bedroom was half the size of the living room. A small framed cot stood under the only window of the room, which had access to a fire escape. The bed was in immaculate order and the linens were clean. It was obvious, that Cook had usually fallen asleep on the couch after a suitable dose of alcohol to keep him sound asleep. A large wardrobe stood at the wall opposed to the door. The apparition of Thomas stood in front of it, an almost apologetic look on his ethereal features.

"It's in there. I can't open stuff. Neither can she. Be careful. I think she is playing in another apartment."

Being closer to his anchor apparently allowed the ghost a better grasp on the concept of existance. His voice sounded more solid now. He looked like a young man in his twenties and if it weren't for the complete lack of colour in his face, he could have been handsome. His speech was also more coherent.

"Ghosttalker, you speak for the dead? But you live. What are you? I have never met anyone like you. The men with the blades seemed off, but they never saw us or spoke to us. Our bodies were all they cared for. Are you a priest?"

[Truce]

That explains the blankets and the booze in the living room. It seems Hollis Cook could not sleep soundly with his spectral roommates, or perhaps he suffered from insomnia. Maybe both.

Truce smiles at the more visible Thomas, hoping to keep him at ease before asking his questions. "I'm not a priest, no. There aren't many priests who can see the dead either, that I'm aware. I'm something else, an Awakened soul. Something inside me awoke and I began to see the world as it really is. You may call me Truce if you like." Truce was pleased the Ghost is so conversational and self-aware. It made things much simpler, though there is still much to do before his time is up in the apartment building.

Truce walks over to the wardrobe where Thomas stands. "I'd be happy to explain more, perhaps later. For now we need to make sure that woman doesn't get carried away in her play." Truce reaches with a gloved hand for the wardrobe door to inspect its contents and locate the anchors.