FIREPLACE
Built into the wall is a massive brick fireplace, the kind you only seem to find in really old houses these days. It’s full of partially burned pieces of wood and what looks like some smaller pieces of furniture. On top of the mantle is a handbag and a small book of matches. An eerie portrait hangs above.
The firebox of this fireplace is full of junk. It seems to have become somewhat of a defacto “trash can” for the house. Honestly, if not for the ghosts, this would be a great place to party. You do notice what appears to be an unscathed photo sticking out of the junk.
The fireplace has a few pieces of half-burned wood inside it, and combined with all the trash you could probably get a gnarly fire going. If you have something to light it with, you can input the ID here:
You grab the matchbook from atop the mantle. There are a few matches inside, but they look wet.
You glance at the portrait above the mantle. An imposing man stares past you, taking careful consideration of the house before him, yearning for an answer to the mysteries it holds. His eyes ache with the search for a solution, and his mouth appears to want to open, as if to shout an accusation and demand that justice be done. You recognize the man as a young Charles McDermott.
An old handbag teeters on the edge of the mantle. There’s not too much fancy about it, but you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, right? Not wanting it to fall off, you quickly grab it and try to open it. Unfortunately, it’s locked. You’ll need a key for this lock. If you have it, you can enter the ID here:
As you’re appraising the value of the handbag, something catches your eye in the fireplace. Ashes begin to swirl about, filling the air with a dusty haze before molding themselves into the shape of an elderly woman.
“A thief! Oh heavens, someone call the authorities at once!”
You recognize the woman as the neighbor, Birdie.
“Stay back! I’m warning you! I’ve dealt with thieves before!”
“Relax ma’am, I’m here to help.”
“My apologies dear, I mistook you for a burglar. This home has turned into a den of thieves as of late.”
“Crass, aren’t we? Well, if it helps you to put an end to this whole kerfuffle, I’ll gladly share my thoughts. I was out for an evening stroll through my garden, just down the road there, when I noticed one of my garden gnomes had been stolen! I knew right away that it was one of the McDermott children, they’re always stealing things from my home.They can afford to live in such a wonderful house but can’t afford to teach their children manners? It’s appalling! I grabbed my bag and headed over to confront them about their brazen thievery, but no one was home. It started to storm and I was getting wet, so I let myself in with the key they kept hidden beneath a flowerpot to wait for their return. Oh, this is my father’s house, he built it you see, so that wasn’t a crime or anything. I had a chill from the rain, so I warmed some cocoa on the stove. At that moment, they burst through the door like raging bulls, Vera, Virgil, Jane, that uncouth vagabond of theirs, and a strange man who looked like a sleazy car salesman. I could scarcely get in a word! They seemed suspiciously concerned about something. That must be when I was murdered, as I don’t remember much at all beyond that point!“
“That’s correct. This house was built by none other than my father. Unfortunately, after his death I fell onto some financial hardships, and that devil Charles McDermott took full advantage! He hoodwinked the house away from me, and I was forced to move to a barely livable shack just down the way! Alas, there was little recourse at that point. Being cheated out of a family home wasn’t enough though, as the McDermott children have taken to tormenting me daily with their cruel shenanigans. “
“Isn’t it obvious? Charles stole my father’s house from me, and his children incessantly punish me by trampling my garden and stealing my valuables! That, and they so rarely invite me over for tea or cocoa. An old woman such as myself could catch a chill so easily, the least they could do is have the sophistication to offer an iota of kindness once in a while. And now, they seem to have drug me into whatever disturbing devilry they’ve concocted – ghouls trolloping about, Charles raving madly about murder! Perhaps they all got what they deserved.“
The fireplace has a few pieces of half-burned wood inside it, and combined with all the trash you could probably get a gnarly fire going. If you have something to light it with, you can input the ID here:
You grab the matchbook from atop the mantle. There are a few matches inside, but they look wet.
You glance at the portrait above the mantle. An imposing man stares past you, taking careful consideration of the house before him, yearning for an answer to the mysteries it holds. His eyes ache with the search for a solution, and his mouth appears to want to open, as if to shout an accusation and demand that justice be done. You recognize the man as a young Charles McDermott.
An old handbag teeters on the edge of the mantle. There’s not too much fancy about it, but you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, right? Not wanting it to fall off, you quickly grab it and try to open it. Unfortunately, it’s locked. You’ll need a key for this lock. If you have it, you can enter the ID here:
As you’re appraising the value of the handbag, something catches your eye in the fireplace. Ashes begin to swirl about, filling the air with a dusty haze before molding themselves into the shape of an elderly woman.
“A thief! Oh heavens, someone call the authorities at once!”
You recognize the woman as the neighbor, Birdie.
“Stay back! I’m warning you! I’ve dealt with thieves before!”
“Relax ma’am, I’m here to help.”
“My apologies dear, I mistook you for a burglar. This home has turned into a den of thieves as of late.”
“Relax ma’am, I’m here to help.”
“My apologies dear, I mistook you for a burglar. This home has turned into a den of thieves as of late.”
“Crass, aren’t we? Well, if it helps you to put an end to this whole kerfuffle, I’ll gladly share my thoughts. I was out for an evening stroll through my garden, just down the road there, when I noticed one of my garden gnomes had been stolen! I knew right away that it was one of the McDermott children, they’re always stealing things from my home.They can afford to live in such a wonderful house but can’t afford to teach their children manners? It’s appalling! I grabbed my bag and headed over to confront them about their brazen thievery, but no one was home. It started to storm and I was getting wet, so I let myself in with the key they kept hidden beneath a flowerpot to wait for their return. Oh, this is my father’s house, he built it you see, so that wasn’t a crime or anything. I had a chill from the rain, so I warmed some cocoa on the stove. At that moment, they burst through the door like raging bulls, Vera, Virgil, Jane, that uncouth vagabond of theirs, and a strange man who looked like a sleazy car salesman. I could scarcely get in a word! They seemed suspiciously concerned about something. That must be when I was murdered, as I don’t remember much at all beyond that point!“
“That’s correct. This house was built by none other than my father. Unfortunately, after his death I fell onto some financial hardships, and that devil Charles McDermott took full advantage! He hoodwinked the house away from me, and I was forced to move to a barely livable shack just down the way! Alas, there was little recourse at that point. Being cheated out of a family home wasn’t enough though, as the McDermott children have taken to tormenting me daily with their cruel shenanigans. “
“Isn’t it obvious? Charles stole my father’s house from me, and his children incessantly punish me by trampling my garden and stealing my valuables! That, and they so rarely invite me over for tea or cocoa. An old woman such as myself could catch a chill so easily, the least they could do is have the sophistication to offer an iota of kindness once in a while. And now, they seem to have drug me into whatever disturbing devilry they’ve concocted – ghouls trolloping about, Charles raving madly about murder! Perhaps they all got what they deserved.“