Game Posts

As a matter of fact, Barry had been listening to the radio. Two years Stateside and he still didn't understand baseball's appeal, but he gathered this Babe Ruth character was some sort of big deal – a kind of American Don Bradman, if The Don could be thought to suffer any comparisons. Barry thought he couldn't.

He gathered at once that something important must be going on. To Barry, big city Americans always seemed to be in a violent rush, but he had never heard the Dean use quite that tone before. 'Immediately' meant, well, immediately, so he marked the page in his copy of King James' Daemonologie and began packing. Fuelling up the Hudson implied some sort of journey, and anyone who grew up in the Outback knows better than to travel unprepared. Food, water, rope, light – just the essentials. The dean had mentioned legal trouble. Well, Barry was no lawyer but a 12-gauge is a powerful legal argument anywhere in the world.

On the walk from the dorm to the dean's office, he racked his brain for information about Professor Whitman's work.

Howard groans. He clicks open his briefcase and throws in some files he believes may be pertinent. The dean's office isn't too far away. Just a brisk walk. Howard double checks to make sure he has his note pad and writing utensils. The briefcase snaps shut, and he whisks it out the door.

Larry had just sat down and opened bottle of Schlitz when the phone rang, he finished it not long after hanging up. He says quietly to himself, Of course I was listening to the radio, though I cant believe the Babe went dry tonight. He sighs then shouts, Robert, can you drive me back down to the university? Apparently the dean needs a little muscle. Sounds like some egghead got himself into some trouble. Robert, Larry's brother, begrudgingly tells him to take the truck, he won't be needing it tonight. Larry opens another bottle and drinks it down as he gathers his things, What in the hell has this man got me into this time, he thinks while drinking, guess I'll be getting some over time, I suppose. Larry takes a moment to fill his flask before driving Roberts truck back to the university and back to work.

Marv hangs up the phone and stands quietly for a few seconds before he breaks out into a smile. Of course he'd been listening to the radio. That's what people did at this time of day, right? At least, in his home...

Marv walks quickly to the door to his father's office and knocks before cracking open the door. A cloud of cigarette smoke reaches out towards him, tickling his nose. "Hey, Dad?" he says. His father looks up from the card game, the rings on his fingers catching the light.

"Yeah?" he mumbles around the cigarette between his lips.

"I'm heading out. Don't know when I'll be back," Marv says.

His father reaches up to grab the cigarette between two fingers and takes a long drag on it. As he blows out the smoke, he stubs it out in an ashtray. With a raised eyebrow, he says, "All right. Have fun. Call when you get where you're going." He coughs. "And kiss your mother before you leave."

Marv smiles at his dad. "You got it." With that, he shuts the door and goes to find his mother. Once that's all done, he throws on his jacket and jumps into the seat of his Model J and turns it on. The engine roars satisfyingly as he speeds to the dean's office.

Marv pockets the keys to the Hudson unconsciously and picks up the folder, thumbing through the contents. After he's finished, he hands the file to whomever's on his right side.

"So... is anyone still at the dig site? I assume that's where you're sending us."

Howard grabs the file and quickly peruses the contents. He has been following the story through "The Courier" and will not accept this tripe about the curse of Roanoak. "Who is this Chad Wilkens? What right does he have to spread these falsities about 'curses' and the erroneous beliefs of savages!?... What really happened to Professor Whitmer?"
He eyes the man scratching at the outline of a flask on a breast pocket, then his gaze moves to the half-empty decanter of whiskey the dean seems to be drinking from. Howard pours a hefty amount into the first glass, and then a moderate amount into the second. He hands the first to the dipsomaniac, and shoots the second down on his own.

Larry sits down quietly as the others talk, Probably best to let the eggheads do the talkin' he thinks as he lights a cigarette. Are you going to offer any of that to anyone else, doc? he asks, directing the question to Howard.

"Good idea, mate. I'll take some too," Barry says with a friendly nod at Larry. "and a squiz at the file there, since we're sharing. Curses are what you could call a particular interest of mine."

As the drinks are being poured, Marv waves off a glass. "None for me, thanks. I find it takes the fun out of the drive."

As he looks around at this motley crew, he nods to himself. "Ok, so we just need to go out there, figure out what's going on and let you know? Is there something you're note telling us?"

Larry grabs a glass of whiskey and takes a sip Damn that's good. Rich bastard probably has a case of this.

People are dead. I'm not an incredibly religious man, but these accidents do not seem very accidental. That or it's the worlds biggest coincidence. Larry throws back the drink and gets up to pour himself another one.

Marv laughs at that. "I imagine it's a not insignificant amount. Otherwise, we wouldn't be here." He shoves his hands in his pockets. "By the way, what's our take?"

Howard places the file on the dean's desk with in reach of whoever else might want to thumb through it. He rolls his eyes at the thought of religion or some other hocus-pocus-hullabaloo having anything to do with this. But Larry does make an interesting point, maybe the accidents weren't so accidental. Howard wonders if there are any rival groups out there that are willing to kill for what Professor Whitmer is trying to cover up, and, for that matter, exactly how much money is "tied up in this"?

Marv nods with a good-natured grimace. "Sounds about right..." He looks around at the others. "Any more questions? I think I'm good to go. I've got a direction to head, a task to complete and wheels to get me there."

"This Professor Whitmer bloke, what's he like? In personality terms, I mean," Barry asks. "Knowing a bit about him might give us a leg up on things."