Beneath Unknown Bones
Who: Characters who are going to investigate the ruins of the Sheckley manor.
Where: 633 Noyes Street
When: October 12, morning
What: Exploring the ruins and searching for clues.
Rating and warnings: PG-ish
Notes: Feel free to tag in in whatever order you like. You'll get NPC tags whenever there's some new information to reveal, but they won't happen every single round, so please don't wait on them.
The Easttown district where the Sheckley manor was located was too far a trip to walk. To get there those who wished to investigate the site had to take the trolley across the river and then transfer to the Northside line. That dropped them off on Federal Street by the corner of the large open green of Independence Square. This was a totally new area of town, one they'd not had occasion to visit before, and its feel was rather more lively than the quiet residential street on which the Dixon house was located.
The Square, or the town commons as it was called by most, was bordered by government buildings on the far side, and thus from there the members of the group who were going to the police station parted company with the rest. Those going to the Sheckley manor, meanwhile, had to head east, past the impressive rows of buildings alongside the square, and into an older part of town.
The streets gradually widened, the paving stones gave way to old brick, and the roots of great old trees buckled the sidewalk in places, mirroring the disrepair of what must once have been grand houses in some heyday nearly a century past. Now the facades of most of these buildings were cracked and weathered, paint peeling and yards overgrown. Few people, it seemed, chose to stroll down these blocks, but then the condition of the street made it necessary to watch one's footing.
A few doors north of the crossing of Whately Street was what must, unmistakably, be the former number 633. The house was no more, demolition crews having made short work of knocking down the walls and hauling the ruined roof away. All that remained was the foundation, and even that had been partially flattened.
Still visible was the uneven outline of three walls where the edges of the house had once stood, and the large open rectangle dug into the earth which formed the former house's basement. Even there, the whole south side had been partially filled in with soil, which sloped down haphazardly to the basement floor below.
No more than that was visible from the street, but for anyone who drew closer, it would be easy to spot the single police officer seated on a folding chair in the basement, casually reading a newspaper as he (apparently) guarded a rope barricade near the basement's northwest corner. Other than him, the area seemed quiet.
Where: 633 Noyes Street
When: October 12, morning
What: Exploring the ruins and searching for clues.
Rating and warnings: PG-ish
Notes: Feel free to tag in in whatever order you like. You'll get NPC tags whenever there's some new information to reveal, but they won't happen every single round, so please don't wait on them.
The Easttown district where the Sheckley manor was located was too far a trip to walk. To get there those who wished to investigate the site had to take the trolley across the river and then transfer to the Northside line. That dropped them off on Federal Street by the corner of the large open green of Independence Square. This was a totally new area of town, one they'd not had occasion to visit before, and its feel was rather more lively than the quiet residential street on which the Dixon house was located.
The Square, or the town commons as it was called by most, was bordered by government buildings on the far side, and thus from there the members of the group who were going to the police station parted company with the rest. Those going to the Sheckley manor, meanwhile, had to head east, past the impressive rows of buildings alongside the square, and into an older part of town.
The streets gradually widened, the paving stones gave way to old brick, and the roots of great old trees buckled the sidewalk in places, mirroring the disrepair of what must once have been grand houses in some heyday nearly a century past. Now the facades of most of these buildings were cracked and weathered, paint peeling and yards overgrown. Few people, it seemed, chose to stroll down these blocks, but then the condition of the street made it necessary to watch one's footing.
A few doors north of the crossing of Whately Street was what must, unmistakably, be the former number 633. The house was no more, demolition crews having made short work of knocking down the walls and hauling the ruined roof away. All that remained was the foundation, and even that had been partially flattened.
Still visible was the uneven outline of three walls where the edges of the house had once stood, and the large open rectangle dug into the earth which formed the former house's basement. Even there, the whole south side had been partially filled in with soil, which sloped down haphazardly to the basement floor below.
No more than that was visible from the street, but for anyone who drew closer, it would be easy to spot the single police officer seated on a folding chair in the basement, casually reading a newspaper as he (apparently) guarded a rope barricade near the basement's northwest corner. Other than him, the area seemed quiet.