[IC] Act One: Savannah

He wipes sweat from his forehead and turns to look at the house from this perspective.

"What do you say, my friends? Maybe the house itself will offer more clues? Carruthers only prevented disturbing Virginia Henslowe, but we have free access to the rest of the house and grounds, granted by Douglas?"

"We could check out the drier outbuildings, including those overrun by the trees first. I'm not sure we'll find anything, but it makes sense to be thorough."

"True... Since we're outside. But let's watch our step, please... I don't trust this swampy terrain. More suitable to malaria-carrying mosquitoes than to humans..."

He follows Lillian.

Sam follows along, keeping his eyes open for logs to be wary of.

The ruins almost hidden by clumps of trees are little more than broken, plain walls, and collapsed doorways, with little or no roof left, and the inside given way to the elements - bushes and even a small tree are growing inside one of the ruins, bursting forth from the hard-packed clay that forms the floor like an eager tongue pushing between earthy lips and teeth.

There's very little here, though it does give you a vantage point to see the ones in the swamp, which seem very similar, albeit smaller - seems like one building out in the swamp, while here in the trees there are 4 or 5 similar ruins.

"I suppose one could consider this scenic, after a fashion."

Lillian recognises, them, eventually as she looks at the bare walls, the rusting remnants of the roofs, and from the fact that from here, the mansion itself is hidden from sight - which means the reverse too. She also realises why the other two perhaps haven't recognised these structures.

The Henslowe estate was a southern plantation. These were the slave quarters. The other building, being apart from these ones, was almost certainly the kitchen, kept away from the other buildings in case of fire, as often the slaves would be locked inside these buildings at night to sop them from escape.

"Oh. Oh my."

The realisation leaves Lillian cold.

Realising that the others were looking at her with some concern, she slowly elaborates. She then adds,"I think that one is the kitchen, seperate to inhibit arson and food or tools being stolen for escape attempts. The other buildings being lockable night cells for this plantation's slaves. Let the swamp take it all."

Samuel narrows his eyes as he looks out over the sinking buildings. "Let's check the rest of the grounds... although if we cannot find anything further we may have to venture back here."

The car is only about 20 feet out, and judging at the angle at which it is laying there, the swamp is only about 2 feet deep at that point.

There are several "logs" around though, and at least one of them seems to have eyes watching you.

Samuel recognises the car as a 1909 Ford Model T, and judging by the level of rust on it, it's been there quite some time - probably longer than Henslowe has been in the sanitarium in fact. If that's the case, he realises, it's doubtful that Henslowe has left anything in there that would be of use, especially considering the dangers of the alligators present in the swamp.

"What say you, we can take a look at those sheds over there, next? They seem close to Carruther's cottage, but we should be cleared to check there. Unless the dogs protest, of course, " he says.

"It seems safer than some other options, Doctor," Lillian nods, "I hope the dogs are tethered."

She sets off in that direction.

As you near the cottage and outbuildings, the dogs start barking / howling, a deep, low sound that reverberates through you. It sounds almost like a bunch of hellhounds or something, cut through occasionally with the odd muttered curse from the groundskeeper or a "quiet down." The door to the cottage opens and Carruthers steps out, shutting the door after him. He stands and watches as you root around in the sheds - which contain nothing much more than rusted tools and gardening equipment, most of it in poor shape and obviously quite old - upkeep has not been spent on these tools for quite some time. Several of them are also festooned with large webs, and huge garden spiders can be seen scuttling around.

"Sorry, Sir!" Sam apologizes to the groundskeeper. "Mr. Henslowe didn't have a lot of time to give us any real details, so we aren't quite sure where to start. We apologize for disturbing the dogs."

Carruthers grunts in reply, taking a sip from the large mug of coffee he has in his hand. You notice the shotgun is no longer in sight, presumably back in his cottage. The dogs have quietened down a bit now, and you can hear the faint strains of a tinny-sounding radio coming from the cottage, what sounds like a baseball game commentary.

"Mr Henslowe, if you pardon me sayin', has always been an odd one. Artist fellow, you know. He'd be distracted by a butterfly, and no head for the work he should have done. He was different that time he came home from the hospital, wanderin' around with his camera all over the grounds, and workin' on that book o' his. Real focused, he was."

"Big shifts in personality are always interesting," Sam replies. "Was there anything in particular he seemed to focus on?"