[GAME] Unhallowed Metropolis: City of Shadows Episode 1: Volatile Mix


"I'm going for the legs, when it's down try and get the head."

Ness needed no second urging, as soon as she could reach the creature’s head she moved into attack range, aiming for the mystery animate as advised.

[hide]( 3d10( 10 + 8 + 10 ) +3 Melee Weapon -3 Aiming = 28)
(Ness uses 1 move to move in position, 2nd move to attack animate???)[/hide]


DR: 12

Result: Success

2d10 + 2 (Exculpus) +3 (Vitality) + 5 (head attack)

8 + 2 + 2 + 3 + 5= 20

Result: Fatal Wound


The large animate's head fell to the ground, as to be expected from a skilled mourner such as herself with a pair of deadly exculpi in her hands. Suddenly the body of the large animate convulsed as if it were still unliving, its arms flailing around wildly, attempting to grab anything it could before it finally laid their motionless.

Cautiously Victor approached the large animate corpse and poked it a couple of times with his gun, just to be sure. It went down without having to go through hell, but even then it wasn't exactly a normal animate. "That....."

"....wasn't a normal animate." a sudden new voice from behind them said. It was a well dressed man, his suit completely white in spite of how easy it was to tarnish out there in that weather and with all the dust in the air. His face was concealed by a white and gold gas mask. In his right hand was a cane, tipped with what appeared to be a large, well polished and perfectly cut diamond. "Before anyone asks, the letters were from me, and seeing as you are all still alive it seems I was right and selecting you for what I have planned. We have much to discuss, but not here too out in the open and lets face it too dirty." he said before directing their attention to a pair of large carriages, each pulled by gas mask wearing horses. "Firebringer, Succubus, Beast, Silent Huntsman, and Mad Doctor, proceed to get in and we will be on our way and more importantly on the way to your payment." he said, the servants that accompanied him were leaving them little choice in the matter , practically shoving them into the first while the other servants collected the remnants of the large animate and loading them into the other. Just as he said they were on their way rather quickly. Left behind was the mourner, despite her role in the fight it seemed she was not among those the man had chosen to hire.


Soon enough Blackwood's personal guards had come to that street and stood guard over the pit in case there were any stragglers. Some muttered about the possibility that they were from nearby, possibly one of the larger wealthier homes, perhaps because a mourner had been less than vigilant in their work.


Soon enough the group arrived at Blackwood Spire, and like before the servants had practically shoved them into the elevator that began an ascent to the top level that their employer called home. At least it provided quite a view of the city below.

Victor had to let himself admire it for a bit, he had never seen the city from this angle before. Every time the elevator moved higher, the reminders of the city's problems faded little by little, actually looking rather pleasant compared to the life down on the ground, at least where most people lived. And then there was that one particular part of town, still in ruins, looking blackened and burnt out, nothing but bad memories there.

Soon enough they reached the top level, a fact that had been announced with a ding before the doors opened and they were shown in. If Victor's gas mask wasn't on everyone could see his jaw drop at the place. It was clear this guy had money. The ceiling was fully painted, each section illustrating a large scale battle between traditional white winged angels, and an army of black winged angels at the very center of it was a figure that was obscured by what was painted as bright lights, supposedly the leader of the white winged army. Their were sculptures of varying kinds, made out of silver, gold or in some cases both, and the fact that all the lights worked was something impressive to Victor who sometimes had to light a fire on his floor for light.

Also there was a servant, this time without a gas mask, indicating that the air in the building was safe to breath. He held out his hand and offered to take their gas masks for them. Victor of course obliged, glad to take in a breath of clean air. Handing the man his gas mask he took his sunglasses from his coat pocket and put them on, all the shiny stuff was a little to bright for his taste.

From there they had been shown into a room with various couches and chairs. "Master Blackwood will be with you shortly, until then make yourselves comfortable." the servant said before leaving them.

Victor of course plopped down on the nearest sofa, which was probably now dirtier just from him having touched it. "Well.....Id say this guy does have the cash to pay us." he said, trying to break the silence.
Although Irene had removed her mask, she had not given it to the servant. She was rather protective of her possessions. She had to agree with the American Undertaker, even if he was only stating what was already obvious. The man who had brought them together, who owned this home, would certainly pay well. Still, she would keep a wary eye out. The rich were one thing, the clever another. Someone who was both rich and clever would no doubt be impossible to trust. She drifted past Victor’s field of vision, running her fingertips delicately over the ornately carved top of a wine cabinet that was propped against the wall, before finally taking up a position by the window, her back to the rest of this menagerie of freaks, misfits and undesirables. One hand hung close to where her weapons were hidden after the day’s battle. She was at least thankful their host had not taken those away.


If it weren't for the tinted lenses in front of Victor's eyes most would have seen his eyes not so subtly following the direction and motion's of Irene's ass. "Nice view." he said with a whistle, almost unconsciously before realizing what came out of his mouth. "The window I mean, usually dont see Arkham from this high up." she was an Undertaker like him, pissing her off would be a bad idea. Enjoying the view behind a pair of tinted shades however was just fine.
Ben took of his helmet and just tossed it at the wall, not to far from him though just in case he needed it in a hurry. Slowly scanning the room tell his eyes fell on a very nice bottle of liquor, a brand he has never seen before but from the looks of the bottle, it was very expensive. Ben walked straight for the bottle and grabbed it and took a mouthful, then another, straight from the bottle then looked around and said "you dont think he will mind right?, well I am planning on finishing this bottle anyways, if i grab another i think i will use a glass, rich people seem to not like it when you drink from their bottles" He then reached in his pocket and pulled out his pack of cigarettes and noticed he still didnt have any damn matches. "Hey any of you fuckers have a light?" Ben said before taking another mouthful of the fancy liquor which if he was completely honest wasnt all that great but it did pack a kick.


Nathanial didn't give his mask to the servant, though he did remove it and hung it on a loop inside his overcoat. Gazing around the large room, Nathanial recalled the man's attire and actions. Though he'd been herded into the carriage, Nathanial was more focused on the pieces of the creature.

The ceiling was fully painted, each section illustrating a large scale battle between traditional white winged angels, and an army of black winged angels at the very center of it was a figure that was obscured by what was painted as bright lights, supposedly the leader of the white winged army.

Nathanial was entranced by the ceiling. It wasn't a far stretch to say that Nathanial could see his inner self among the angels. Though he had to smile at the thought of having one white and one black wing.

At the snipers attempt to break the silence, Nathanial moved to a chair and sat down. His sword resting easily in it's sheathe within the coat. Having just pulled a cigarette from the newly opened pack, Nathanial was stopped from lighting it by a rough voice.

"Hey any of you fuckers have a light?" The Deathwatch demanded while rudely chugging from several now open bottles at the bar. Shaking his head slightly in disapproval, Nathanial calmly stepped over to the soldier and waited for him to breathe.

He held out a single match and remarked "Are you certain you wish to light up? You might end up putting it out all the same, with your 'lovely' way of drinking."

As Nathanial turned to walk back to the chair, he gazed at the Deathwatch for a long moment. "A word to you. I would not speak to our host in such... terms. It's not polite in high society..." Leaning in so close to make his point Nathanial added with a small hiss "... and I am no 'fucker', soldier. I don't appreciate being called such a dirty word by anyone."

With his point made Nathanial calmly walked back to the chair and sat down.
A vulgar undertaker and a drunken solider, how did he end up amongst such company he wondered. Without saying a word Duncan removed his mask and handed it to the servant woman. He was somewhat on edge he couldn’t let himself stand out, he couldn’t give those around him questions he must be a ghost within this group contributing but never leaving a lasting impression. Seeing the solider create such a scene, he approached him with an offer.

“Sir I don’t speak for our host but I do enjoy a freshly aerate room, could I by chance convince you wait until we leave before smoking. I’ll personally buy a packet of cigarettes of your preferred brand if you’d be so kind.”

In truth Duncan cared little what the man did but that was not the point, a silent man would draw more attention to his actions.
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"That Dhampir is pretty sensitive" Ben said as he nudged the man who came over to talk to him. "Want any of this liquor, and hell you asked me to put it out all nicely but you see one of the animate bastards got me pretty good, my armor took most of it but that **** still hurts and these little guys help relax me and take my mind off of it. Since you asked so nicely though after I smoke this cigaret i wont light up another one" Hoping that would smooth things over with the man because hey he really wanted his smoke. Then Ben leaned in and said in a voice he hoped was quiet "Hey that girly over there isn't bad looking a looking right"
Irene rolled her eyes at the other Undertaker’s remark. It was nothing she had not heard before, same for the quick cover-up. She did not think of herself as the type to comment on “bloody men” and the brains that had summer properties down south, so the unseen gesture was not out of mean-spiritedness. His presence was a bit of an anomaly. She was used to people in her line of work being stern and grim and angst-ridden, covering for their familial issues with a mask of social abnormality that was, in some circles, considered rather enchanting. Magazines like The Black Rose and Sundown were always telling awful, sloppy stories about brooding dhampirs, lovesick mourners and mysterious bounty hunters with hearts of gold. This fellow was different. He had a sort of caddish bounce to him.

“Hey, any of you fuckers got a light?”

Irene made a barely restrained offended sound in her throat as the Deathwatch officer interrupted her analysis. She would have told him off herself had the handsome dhampir, Nathaniel, not stepped in and done the job for her. The doctor’s contribution was a nice touch, she thought. She could not fault the officer entirely, mind you. She enjoyed indulgences. It was one of the two things which drove her actions. She turned from the window and its expansive view of the dark, chaotic metropolis far below, and wandered back towards the centre of the room, letting the men debate amongst themselves and watching, taking stock, wondering what such a nightmarish conclave as these would possibly be used for.

Killers, military dogs, lunatics...

“Hey, that girly over there isn’t bad looking, right?”

And bloody men.

Irene kept her reaction better in check this time. Best not to let them see how to get under her skin. Just take the complement, her auntie would have told her. It was good advice. Sometimes an innocent comment could give you a clue to how to get into their heads, and if you got into their heads, you had a walking, talking tool. Admittedly, though, the pool of possibilities from that one was a touch shallow.
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"That Dhampir is pretty sensitive"

Nathanial heard the remark but chose to ignore it. Obviously the Deathwatch had never been among high society before. As he had a reputation to keep, Nathanial did put his unlit smoke away. The man now speaking with the Deathwatch had politely requested no smoking.

Nathanial glanced over toward the sniper who was on the couch and remarked "I've often wondered, but never asked, what happened in that burned out section?"


(OOC: Nathanial has no idea that Victor caused it. He's just trying to make polite conversation.)
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Duncan gestured in acceptance as the solider smoked.

“If you really believe the Dhampir to be sensitive you really should visit one of the parties Mrs. Halengrove and her hangers on hold. Behaviour like this would likely have half of them terrified of you and most of the rest ready to have ‘Stern words’ with you.â€

Duncan laughed, It wasn’t a mean spirited laugh rather it was intended to make light of situation and perhaps mock a few of his own acquaintances. He only nodded to the solders’ comment about the lady in their company, the doctor wanted to avoid making an enemy out of her as well as maintain the appearance of gentleman. He soon changed the subject on pondering the solders’ injuries.

“In all seriousness though if you are wounded or even bruised I better have a look, there was something odd about those animates and it might be best to err on the side of caution.€
"Know what, I like you. My name is Benjamin but you can call me Ben" Ben said to the man. "If you want to check out the injury go ahead, are you a doctor or something and just so you know, I do know how to act around the so called "high society" right after they started calling me a war hero they paraded me around at some fancy parties but that was awhile ago. But you see I don't really like or trust our host, too many damn questions and not enough answers, like how the hell did he know what was going to happen and why didn't just get his guards to take care of it or call in a whole squad of soldiers and most of all why us?" by this point Ben realized he was speaking in a voice loud enough that he could be easily heard by everyone in the room.

"I hate being in the dark, it gets people killed" he said before taking another drink then slowly took off enough armor so the man could see his bruise if he still wanted to check it out.
“ah, I’m Duncan I run a humble practice within the city. Your right the secrecy of our host is concerning. I think I’d like to know just how he was able to predict the animate attack in the first place.â€

Duncan said little else then the most obvious question. He was most concerned with why R.B had selected him to be involved in this buisness. If he knew of his reaserch then it would make no sense sending him into a fight he was meant to lose against a monster created by science. He could simply blackmail him into contributing to whatever work he was up to. It all led back to the most obvious question how did he know.

The doctor dismissed such thoughts and moved to where he left his medicine kit. Duncan took a small magnifying glass and began to carefully examined the bruise for signs of mineute skin tearing or early necrosis.

“Alright let’s see here.â€
Rolling medicine(3) to examine bruise DR11
8 + 6 + 3 = 17


The wound was nothing special, some bruising but no tearing of the skin or signs of teeth breaking the skin, which thankfully meant Benjamin wouldn't be joining the walking dead any time soon. If anything a bit of pain medication would be all that was needed until the pain went away naturally.

Victor had been silently watching the argument get more and more heated to the point that when it fizzled he became somewhat disappointed that no one was punched. A good fist fight always made for good entertainment.

I think I’d like to know just how he was able to predict the animate attack in the first place.

"When you learn to see the pattern, anything can be predicted." a familiar voice said, their host had finally come to join them. "Upscale neighborhoods, in the afternoon hours, different street every time going in alphabetical order, Sentinel was next and the address was near the point were the pavement above the sewer lines was weakest." he told them all, addressing how several were expressing interest in how he made his prediction. "As I said it is all about the patterns." he told them as he took a seat a safe distance from his hired rabble as he didn't want his suit getting dirty. This time his face was unmasked, his expression was calm and nonchalant, the opposite of many of the fiery tempers in the room, his voice having a tinge of refinement that was to be expected of his social status. "Now I'm certain you all have questions and I will answer the important ones. First off, yes I am the one who sent the letters and as for what R.B stands for, my name is Reinhardt Blackwood." The Arkham natives might twitch at hearing that name, the wealthiest man in the city, a descendant of it's primary architect, for all intents and purposes he literally owned this town.

Victor kept quiet and cool, chances or Blackwood was well aware of the damage he did on that day, no way the man at the top wouldn't be aware of that. This had made the fact that he was hired in the first place all the more mysterious.

"As for your payment...." he said, and as if on cue his servants almost instantaneously appeared next to each of them holding a silver platter with a stack of cash. "As promised, double for each animate that was slain by the group, with a bonus for the large one at the end. Put simply, that is forty for each of you. Im certain that will suffice as a show of good faith."

Victor counted up the cash he was given, it looked Blackwood's number was correct, more than that it looks like they had each been paid for their collective kill count rather than the individual kill count, which he wasn't about to argue with.

"...and now to business. For those of you that live in this city I am sure you've noticed some changes in day to day life. Despite our city being protected by the tesla array there has been now shortage of undead within our walls, and attacks by animates have been increasing in frequency. Im sure you've been getting plenty of visitors Doctor, and I'm sure our local undertakers have been doing good business as well, even the unlicensed ones." he glanced in Victor's direction at that remark. "Adding to that, vampire activity is on the rise and thrope sitings are up. Now I am especially invested in this city, and it's easy to see that my city is sick, but all I've mentioned is the symptoms. I believe there is something deeper to it all that requires further probing, this is where you all come in." he explained as a servant handed him a glass of wine and helping himself to a sip. "I myself am not a fighter, but I am a man of resources, and I have seen fit to assemble you all here to not only eradicate these threats, but track the down and eliminate their sources. A death watch platoon is large and powerful, but imprecise they are like a hammer that would smash everything in sight, and a hammer is not what I need. This small group on the other hand can act in a far more precise manner, like a sword picking the targets and eliminating them with a swift precise strike. Each of you excels in your line of work, and the damage you can inflict may as well rival that of the Deathwatch. With my influence behind you this group will be able to act outside the official channels to an extent. And before you ask, yes you will be paid, what you received here will be a small fraction compared to what you can make by working for me in this venture. All you need to do is say yes and we can begin."
"I guess you can count me in as part of your little suicide squad at least it sounds like it will be interesting." Ben said between gulps from a new bottle he opened. "But i would like some assurances, first of all i don't want to be hung as a deserter so you need to clear all of this with my CO and secondly i would like it if you could keep my platoon in the city while im not with them, if those bastards are going out i am going out with them. I also am guessing you are going to explain a bit more about whats going on after we all agree."

Ben then looked around the room at his potential future squad, wondering if they would be able to work well enough together to survive what he imagined they would be walking into. "Hey all you, I think since we are most likely going to be working together we should introduce our self's to each other, my name is Benjamin Williams as you can see from my armor I am a deathwatch solider, over the years i have been given the nickname the beast and when Im not out on a patrol killing animates I like to drink with the few people i call my friends" After saying all of that Ben finished off the bottle and leaned back against the wall


Nathanial accepted the cash with a smile, causing the servant to linger in awe for a moment, before slipping back into the shadows. Counting the money, Nathanial was glad to be building resources in this city. As the explanation was laid out before him, Nathanial closed his eyes and recalled the final conversation with his fellow London Noctuary Agents.

"Rare to get a request like this hmm? I thought the Noctuary in the States was well manned... why do they need Nathanial and why by name?"

"Dunno. Guess your reputation has spread farther than we thought. Best of luck over there. Watch yourself. Something stinks and I don't think it's dead..."

Returning to the present, Nathanial eyed Reinhardt Blackwood with suspicion. The letter he'd received mentioned sources nearly of the Noctuary standard...

"Forgive me Mr. Blackwood but I have to ask something of you. Was it you who had the Noctuary summon me here from London?"

Nathanial thought a moment before adding with a bow, "Of course I will lend my power to this group and cut down those who sicken this city. I am Nathanial Zedock, Dhampir Vampire Hunter also know as 'The Silent Huntsman'. I look forward to continue working with you all."

A small pause, as Nathanial was debating with himself before offering "And I suppose I should add that you may call me 'Nathan' but please not in public. I have a reputation among society to maintain."
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Duncan quietly mulled over Mr. Blackwell’s offer, as the other Ben and Nathan accepted. The Doctor had a lot to gain from accepting. In one brief excursion he had earned a 5th of what he would need to completely renovate his patchwork laboratory furthermore it seemed clear that what was attacking the city was capable of creating intelligent animates if he were to find solid research on it, he might find a clue to the elixir Vitae.

This offer was not without risks, Duncan’s government funding rested in a precarious position. Mr. Blackwell had shown no restraint in referring to Duncan as a “mad doctor†both in his letter and in person. This created a question if Duncan accepted would Mr. Blackwell reveal his secret to the remainder of the group, would he even permit him to refuse without revealing it. Duncan wasn’t too worried about the gentlemen undertaker he was unlicensed, a criminal, but Duncan was not certain how the rest of them may react.

“Mr. Blackwell after some careful consideration, I accept.â€

Ultimately the gains outweighed the cons, if he did his part perhaps Mr. Blackwell with all of his power and money would not be opposed in aiding Duncan in maintaining his secret.

“I am Duncan Lavoisier, a graduate of this city’s fine university I’ve studied Medicine, alchemy, parapsychology, forensic science, galvanic science as well as Thanatology. Needless to say, I am familiar with the living and the dead and can likely recognize an abomination created by the deranged who use their knowledge for selfish pursuits. As I mentioned to Ben earlier I run a practice in this city but I am also researching ways in which the human immune system might be strengthened to resist the plague. My parents were once quiet well known for their contributions to the academic community and as such I have access to some of the more exclusive circles within this city. I’m not sure if such connections will be needed but should they be I will happily contribute.â€

Duncan sat back and relaxed, his summary of himself covered the essentials even giving a ‘clean’ description of his research, after all elixir vitae could potentially grant immortality resistance to the plague should be child’s play for it. Mr. Blackwell should hopefully not have any reason to reveal his secrets now.
Irene’s lips curled into a wry smile. “You have quite a varied taste in mercenaries, Mister Blackwood,” she said, “a man of science, a trigger-happy drunk, a…” Her eyes fell on Nathanial and her expression softened a little. She resisted the urge to say ‘handsome,’ and settled for, “…hunter, and a…” Her eyes were on Victor now, and she cocked a brow, “…well, I’m not entirely sure what you are, but you can kill monsters, so I suppose you can stay.”

She turned once more to their mysterious benefactor. “You already know who I am, sir, or I think you would not have called me all this way from London…but if I am to accept your generous offer and we are to henceforth work as a unit…my name is Irene. Irene Plover. I am afraid I don’t have Doctor Lavoisier’s impressive list of qualifications, which I’m sure we’re all very much looking forward to having at our disposal, but you are aware I have my own particular talents.”


"Plover huh? My sources told me a succubus was in town." Vic said as he stood up, finally putting his two cents in to the conversation. "Gotta say Blackwood, this seems like a might by score right here." he said, thinking about how much they could potentially make off of this job. "Thing about big scores though is the fact that they could go really wrong and screw folks like us over." he said, remembering the infamous Arkham City fire, and how his involvement was the result of such a potential big score.

"Ah yes, I suppose you of all people would be the most cautious considering what happened back then." Blackwood was unfazed, as if he had seen this coming like so many other things. "Very well, I am prepared to sweeten the deal in your case. If I remember correctly, you lost your license yes? Work for me and I can see to it that it gets reinstated, and that the black mark in your records can disappear." he said before a devious grin crossed his face "And if not I'm certain the local authorities have a procedure for handling unlicensed undertakers if I call them. It's your choice."

Victor forced a grin, this guy had done his homework and prepared. It made him wonder if he had dirt on the others in this odd group. "Well it looks like I'm working for you now Blackwood, looking forward to the job." he said still forcing that grin.

"Excellent." he said "Well, as im sure today has been a long and hectic one for you all I would suggest beginning your investigations tomorrow. I'm certain you can cover any equipment related expenses that may come up. From here on you will be allowed to proceed as you will, as long as I get results." he explained to them all before looking to Duncan "The large animate's remains have been shipped to your clinic, I would recommend inspecting them when you get the opportunity. You could learn something useful. In any case you are all dismissed for now."

With that the group was herded back to the elevator, as expected there was a dark Victor shaped mark on the couch where he had been sitting. The group had agreed to meet at the pit where the attack in the morning the next day, except for Duncan who it was decided should try to find what he can from the mysterious animate before joining the rest of them.


The next morning, 9 am

It was the earliest Victor had been awake in quite a while, nothing like the allure of cash and reinstatement of his license to motivate him. His guns were all reloaded and his blades sharpened. He wasn't sure how much fightig they might end up doing but it never hurt to have them ready. They didn't spend much time planningthe previous night so he assumed they would be doing so today.

((Alright, for clarification it is still the same episode we just advanced to the next day. If your character bought anything between then and now, state it in your post along with the price. Duncan can either have been working on the animate autopsy the previous night when it was fresher or the current day either way it will require a 2d10 + Thanatology skill with a DR of 14, since it isnt a combat situation you can make as many rolls as needed in one post until you succeed to represent Duncan continually trying over and over to succeed))


The outer appearance of Miss Ness was as usual immaculate. There she sat with her pleasant if vaccant expression in her usual black attire, though to be fair this dress was far more casual than what she would wear outside, with lavender pin-striping and a veil hastily pinned in place by a black laquered hair clip that held her hair up and preserved her modesty.

On the inside however she was seething in anger, seated across from her in her own parlor were two officers who had come by unexpectedly from the local police precinct. She had of course offered them tea and they of course had accepted but this was far from the casual social visit proper conduct forced the trio to pretend it was. In fact the only creature not bound by etiquette was Tiny and the dog was following her lead, it was a small comfort to know that at a specific change in her body language Tiny would change from cherished pet to protector, but at the moment the uniformed gentleman were in their 5th round of going over things ‘once again’

It seemed that living in this neighborhood and frequently walking Tiny everywhere had done little to establish herself in wake of recent events when the rumor mill had gotten started. A mourner had supposedly gotten sloppy and she had been on the scene, therefore she was sure people where fixing her in their minds as the guilty party and now people would talk about the uniformed officers coming for a visit which was only mildly preferable to being asked to visit the station. Of course this rumor did not explain the giant animate which arose during the fight, but thankfully a fellow mourner had given her a clue by which Ness might get answers and some redemption.

Once her guests had finally left Ness went from perfectly still into a rare lapse of control, releasing a strangled but very colorful expletive and whipping a throw pillow against the wall, she then resumed her usual demeanor and glided over to her writing desk and began to pen a polite letter.

‘Most Honorable R. Blackwood,

It shames me to have to write to you Sir, I mean in no way to give you annoyance but I find myself in a most difficult situation regarding the recent animate activity. It seems through no fault of my own but sheer coincidence I found myself in unfortunately close proximity to these events and took what actions seemed correct at that time.

Now I find myself and my honor under question and have no other means of clearing my name as to the responsibility (or lack there of). My livelihood is very much dependant upon my reputation and any damage to it may cost me dearly in the future. I beseech you good Sir only that you please reply with the information you know about those events, so to which I may answer any charges or questions brought against me regarding this incident

Has always thought of you with great esteem;

Widow H. Ness.’

Upon finishing the letter Ness was tempted to just put it in the mail box and retire to bed for the remainder of the day, but she wasn’t that susceptible to self pity and so she put on a heavy black shawl and went to the post office to have it delivered right away.

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