Thread: Hunt: Horrors of the Gilded Age ((Ser Issac of Clarke & ScarlettRose))

- Chapter 1 - Assemble the Hunt Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places. H.P. Lovecraft Headquarters of The Order - London, England - April 10th, 1891 Ah there was nothing quite like the sound of rain on a cool April evening. There was simply something divine about the sound. Something that helped the man calm and relax as he worked. Though the night was cool, the room was warm as a large fireplace crackled and popped as he worked. He was by no means a tall man but he was by no means short. He was only slightly taller then his fellow man. His chocolate brown hair had a slight shine to it as he sat quietly, his feet propped up on a foot rest and a book in hand. A cup of tea sat beside him, still hot and barely touched as he ran his eyes across the book. He took a slow breath as he continued reading. On his desk was the usual. A few books on mixing and making gunpowder, unsolved murders of the 19th century, things of that nature. A few letters he had yet to send to her Majesty stating that he had done what he could to recruit hunters to the cause. A few bolts from his crossbow as well as a small crucifix. Everything in his room was right where he needed it to be, while it was by no means tidy, it most certainly wasn't a pig sty. One might use the term 'controlled chaos'. Conner took a sip of his tea and sighed as he slipped the velvet bookmark into the page he was on, closing the cover and setting the book down. Slowly, Conner LeStrange rose. He let out a slow breath as he walked quietly to the window, observing the hustle and bustle of London. Oh how glad Conner was to have a home in a city as wonderous as London. He smiled a bit at the thought of how strange the times were. Pistols that didn't require a minute to reload immediately after firing a bullet, talks of horseless carriages soon replacing horses. He smiled a bit more at the thought of the train ride he'd taken not too long ago. What a treat it was. His smile dwindled as he thought of his little girl. Anna. She wasn't very little anymore, 20 years old now. She had sprouted up like a weed. She was getting married last time he'd heard, settling down in a small home in Baltimore within the United States. He sighed a bit in slight depression at the fact she hadn't asked him to the wedding. Alas, he'd chosen to hunt vampires and to join the Order. The needs of the many always outweighed the needs of the few. Even if it made his daughter a stranger to him, he would defend the realm of man. Dr. LeStrange watched as the horses and carriages went back and forth. Times were changing he could feel it. He was curious to see what the future had in store. What could possibly be made? He didn't know. So much had changed already. Conner turned and took a sip of his tea. He could see Elizabeth Tower from his window, quite impressive really. It was a testament to man's ingenuity. He sighed and set his cup of tea down, putting his glasses on to take a look at who would be arriving soon. Mages, Warriors, Hunters, Scientists. People of every background, gender, skin color. He had sent letters out to all members of the supernatural community. He'd done his best to ensure that all could come to London quickly. Each one was invaluable in their own way, each one an expert in their own field. All Conner could hope for was that it would be enough As Conner finished with the files in question, he walked to the map where Father Henry was working diligently researching various news articles, local legends, things of that sort. Conner examined the map and then looked to Henry. Any suitable leads Father? he asked with a raised eyebrow. Henry rubbed his neck and nodded. Father Henry was her Majesty's personal historian and the Order's official archivist. His job was to go over bits and pieces of information and record it all by hand. If anyone could notice patterns and link them, it was the Father. I've come across three possible incidents so far but I'm digging deeper to find out anything I can. Only so much I can do with bits and pieces of information coming in from around the world, he said. Conner chuckled. Not to worry. I have faith in you Father. If anyone can do this, it's you he said. Conner glanced over the father's shoulder and examined the locations in question. Paris, Germany, and a small coastal town in America by the name of Innsmouth. Curious. The hunters would be arriving any moment, best to prepare for their arrival. Conner turned and made for the study, preparing a fire for the room. As the rain came down, the sound of wooden wheels and horse hooves could be heard coming down the street from the headquarters themselves. The carriage stopped before the home, before the massive door that appeared strong enough to stop a mob. The carriage car opened to reveal a tall and lanky man step out. The man stood a little more than 6 feet tall. He was by no means a giant but he was taller than most of his fellow man. His hair was black like a lump of coal and his upper lip sported a rather prominent mustache. At first, the man seemed vaguely familiar to most. The mustache in question made one rack their brain trying to figure out why he looked familiar, than it became apparent only moments later. The man looked familiar because they knew him, if only by reputation. The modern day Prometheus himself, the very rival to Thomas Edison, Mr. Nikola Tesla a man who would invent the 20th century as we knew it. Yes yes yes, this is the place. Thank you sir. I will take care of my luggage the man said in a rather high pitch tone as he stepped out of the carriage and undid two rather large trunks. Strangely, the trunks themselves had a set of wheels and a handle that extended upward that allowed the skinny man to roll the trunks. Trunks mind you that were both large enough to fit an average sized human being in. Knowing the man's reputation and profession, one might wonder why someone of Tesla's stature would come to a location that was intended for monster hunters. It seemed that someone of Tesla's caliber would look down on such things and mock such superstition. Quite the opposite in Tesla's case. The man was a scientist, an inventor. It was his job to ask questions that his fellow man couldn't answer and to discover answers to such fascinating questions. It was a field that science didn't seem to touch because many believed that such things were a seperate indistinguishable entity that needn't follow the rules of science. That was precisely why Tesla was interested, nay fascinated by such a field. Tesla handed the cabbie his bank notes and sent him on his way as he wheeled his luggage towards the stairs. He stumbled a bit as he walked and cursed in Serbian as his luggage became rather awkward to move on the uneven bricks of the street. Not to mention the rain coming down seemed to be agitating the man as well as he soon got his luggage to the curb and sighed in annoyance as he pat the moisture from his jacket. The man talked to himself, muttering how the rain was agitating and how he'd rather deal with Serbain snow than English rain any day. As he quit mumbling, he turned to the massive doors. With what strength he had, he knocked several times. Now, he must wait patiently for his host