Hoovertown Horror 2:Warren:for real this time

>>232383
>Search the bathroom for any kind of drugs or pills he has been taking.
Also anything you can get high on your self.

>>232403
The bathroom door is open. It might be worth it to check in there first. The idea of raiding his medical cabinet brushes across your mind but you decide against it. Alcohol has always been your medication of choice. The urge to drink bubbles up in you as you nervously walk towards the bathroom. You still have this overwhelming dread, what happened in your dream last night was horrifying. Warren's eyes were a thousand miles away as that shapeless mass of sound and fury dug into his chest. You cringe and push the thought into the back of your mind.
You cross the threshold into the bathroom. The first thing you notice is how nice it is. Victorian styled, marble counters, floral wallpaper. All of Warren's apartment was nice like this. The man had a good run as a doctor before the war and a nice inheritance. Some people had it lucky.
The second thing that you notice is an open shaving kit on the counter next to the sink. The razor is missing. This alone doesn't mean anything concrete but the dread you feel nearly doubles you over.
The shower curtain is drawn shut.
>Open it
>Leave
>Write in

>>232430
>Open the shower curtain.
But do it slowly, but if you can tell that what ever is behind the curtain is something you don't want to see, I would stop.

>>200713
previous thread

>>232441
"Ok..let's do this"
You decide to just peak inside the shower curtain. If you see anything that isnt a empty bathtub you aren't going to look any further. You already have enough memories of dead friends from the trenches.
Your breath stops as you slowly reach for the curtain. It's a simple floral pattern that matches with the décor. It also blocks any horror that may hide inside.
Your fingers grip the curtain and you open it no more than a quarter of an inch.


You breath a sigh of relief, you don't see anything inside the tub. You open it with a flourish and look at the blessedly bare white of the tub. Warren is still missing, but at least he isn't in the bath with the razor. Too many good men went that way after they brought home too much of the war with them. You turn around and exit the bathroom.
You inspect Warren's room a little further when you re enter the room. The bedspread is on the floor and leads towards the bathroom as if Warren ran to the bathroom in a hurry. His dresser drawers are open so he must've gotten dressed after he grabbed his razor.
He grabbed a weapon, then got dressed.
Or he had to go to the bathroom in a hurry and didn't put away his razor this morning. He could be at The Lady's Mercy right now drinking.
You keep trying to remind yourself of the more rational options but the dread and paranoia keep pushing through and turning this scene into a horror movie.
You notice a drawer in his desk is open. A key sits in a lock indicating that this particular drawer is usually locked. Warren's rough draft is on the desk and the typewriter has a piece of paper in the roll. You can't read it from here but it looks like a page from Warren's book

>Go to the desk
>Inspect dresser
>Inspect bed
>Inspect room further
>Leave Warren's bedroom and check out the rest of the house
>Leave Warren's house
>Write in

Stat Update
>Sanity:40
>Grit:99 (you motherfuckers)
>Intelligence:52
1-10 and anything above your stat is a fail when rolling.
Rolling for Grit and Intelligence is a 1d100
Sanity loss is determined by the OP when and what to roll.
A total loss or sanity results in you guys losing control of the character and a new character creation phase will begin.

>>232484
>Inspect dresser

You should double check that rough draft, just to be sure that it's only that.
If it's nothing suspicious, check that top drawer.

>>232670
>>232673

You walk over to the dresser to check the open drawers. The dresser is obviously hand made and very old. All you can see is his clothes; all neatly folded and in their place. You decide to open a few drawers and look around. You rationalize the violation of your friends privacy away.
"I need to find his gun, if he left that surely he can't be in any trouble"
You weren't even sure if Warren owned a gun, you just assume most soldiers do.
There's nothing of note. Just a series of impeccably organised clothing.
You wonder if what is missing is more significant. His uniform isn't in this dresser. Warren wouldn't be walking the streets of new York in his uniform. There were no event going on. He would have to be very properly drunk to be trundling about Times Square in full uniform.
You decide to move on to the desk. You can't help the urge to read what Warren has written. The old codger never told you he had started to write. You would always suggest that he "should write the war out of him." You two would talk for hours about the war and you found his word craft to be astounding. The man spoke of everything and everyone with such respect. He could describe the best in the worst. Which made it all the worse when Warren would become depressed thinking of those boys lives he lost or couldn't help in the war.
You pull the piece of paper out of the typewriter and begin to read it.

"The trenches were mud and fire. The cries of those brave men tore through the sounds of the push and shove of battle. The Battle of Somme was measured in inches gained or lost on either side for the soldiers, for me it was measured by those cries. How many more of these men were going to die in the night? Somme was measured for me in medicine, blood, sweat, and no small amount of pain.

How does something that isn't become something that is?
Describe it."

That last line gave you pause. You don't think it was part of Warren's narrative. It looked like a riddle. You fold up the paper and stick it in your pocket, you will have to ask Warren about it later.
You check the open drawer. You find an empty box of ammo for a pistol. Warren has his gun, and maybe his uniform.
You look out the window and into the street and think about your options
>Leave room
>Leave apartment
>Inspect room further
>Check bed
>Write in

>>232737
>>Check bed

>>232737
Check the bed, for sure. Take one last sweeping look before you leave if there is nothing up with the bed.

>>232771
You double back to the bed. It's a massive thing. You find it funny how much your apartment foils Warren's. You check under the bed and find a suitcase. It's quite heavy and drags across the floor lazily as you pull it out. It's roughly the size of a large dog, thin and wide. You reason that it was made for hanging clothes. What's weighing it down is a mystery to you and will remain so since the case is locked.
You toss around the idea of finding the key and opening it. But you have already gone this far and still haven't found any proof that Warren is hurt or missing. Nothing concrete at least.
You push the case back under the bed and stand back up. The nightstands grab your attention. You look and see Warren's reading glasses and a glass of diluted bourbon. The ice had melted. He very well could've fallen asleep next to it.
Inside the drawer of the nightstand you find a Bible and some other knick knacks like playing cards and spare change.
>Leave the apartment
>Inspect the room further
>Leave the room
>Write in

>>232823
Look inside the Bible for anything slipped between the pages or any notes written inside. Check the playing cards too, in that case.
See if you can figure out using anything to force open the case, if not you'll just need to leave it behind.
Do one last sweep of the room.

>>232930
You pick up the Bible. You remember a conversation with Warren about religion. You lost yours in the trenches. Warren did not. He needed to be able to pray for the men he had lost and he needed to feel like they still existed. They had polite debates on the matter many times over more than a few stiff drinks.
You flip through it carefully, looking for a clue or maybe even a key to that suitcase. You still wanted to open it despite your moral objection to the matter. The fear of Warren being hurt or missing is driving you up the wall. You do not have many friends left in the world.
Toward the end of the book a piece of paper falls out. It has numbers written on it. 1448.
The case had a combination lock.
"Jackpot."
You haul the thing back out from underneath the bed and punch in the combination. The lock comes undone and you grab the handle and take a breath. You feel like you are severely violating your friends privacy, but you need to know what's in this. You know you can just lie about it later. You can lock it back up again and pretend you never saw what was inside of the case. Unless the thing was something completely unforgettable.
The case opens and you look inside. The feel your jaw drop almost comically.
Gold bars. At least a dozen of them. All marked with German symbols. Warren had a stash of German Gold. Lord knows how he came across it. You begin to wonder if Warren really had an inheritance at all.
You stare at the gold, immoral thoughts begin rumbling in your head
>Take a gold bar
>Take all the gold bars
>Lock the case and put it back
>Write in

>>233019
Write or draw the symbol the best you can on a piece of paper. Don't take a piece of gold, not now anyways. Put it back for the time being and leave the apartment.

>>233049
You quickly take the piece of paper and run back to the desk and find a pencil. Luckily the page only had a paragraph and the riddle so the bottom half was blank. You quickly make a rubbing of the symbols on the gold and fold the paper back up. After relocking and replacing the case you do a final visual inspection of the room.
You don't think Warren is home, but you also have only checked his bedroom. Surely he would've come up and inspected what was making all the dragging noises though. You decide regardless that it's time to leave. German Gold, riddles and mystery were the only things you've found here. You may as well check back in at the bar or something less illegal than this.
You open the window and crawl very carefully down the fire escape. You are relieved once your shoes hit the ground. Now if anyone sees you, you don't have to explain why you've just climbed down from a building.
You look back up at the building with that dread still in your heart. Warren's room only had more questions than answers. Those questions were buzzing like bees inside of your mind trying to figure themselves out and escape.
>Review what you've learned
>Go to the bank to get your pay from "Screams in the Night"
>go home and write
>Go to the Lady's Mercy, you have no money for drinks
>Write in

Think about what you have learned and head over to the bank. If you have time, go to the bar. Maybe buy a drink there, but be in the mindset of asking around for Warren.

>>233072
Seconding >>233129

>>233129
Without any cash it's really hard to do anything. Plus, a good walk may help get your thoughts in order. You head down Warren's street and think about what you've discovered. Trying to piece it all together.
1. You dreamed about Warren getting attacked in a similar manner as you from the first dream.
2. You haven't been able to get in contact with Warren all day. Neither at his house or the Lady's Mercy Tavern
3. Warren's uniform, razor, and gun appear to be with him.
4.He has a stash of German minted gold bars.
5. "How does something that isn't become something that is?
Describe it."

Something about that riddle flummoxes you. Warren wasn't a riddler, why couldn't he have been more concise. Maybe it was a part of his book and it just didn't make sense out of context. You had a lot of questions for Warren.
You hope he can still answer them.

You arrive at your bank, it's a Wells Fargo you've been using ever since you've returned from the war. You walk in and head up to the desk.
Marcelline is behind the counter, she is a past her time flapper that enjoys flirting with the rich clients, you usually have a hard time even getting her to make eye contact with you.
"Did my check come in today?"
"Yes, actually. I don't know what you did to impress your boss but he didn't drop off the normal amount" Marcelline seems somewhat excited to share this news with you, which you note to be out of character.
"He even left a note for you with it, Charmer. "
She smiles at you and winks as she passes you the note and the bank statement.
Your jaw drops for the second time today. Sternwell mentioned a bonus for the story, but there was 400$ in here, roughly double what you usually get.
Still slackjawed, you open the letter and read it's contents

"Henry,

I couldn't bring myself to tell you this in person. We are both stubborn old men set in their ways. You are going to drink until you die and I'm going to dislike you. The mold is set.
Your most recent story however.. stayed with me after I read it. Your schlock is usually good for the masses. People just want cheap thrills. This time Henry you've touched into something -primal-. Some fear of the beast in the dark waiting to take you away. It's your best work and you deserve this bonus. If you keep delivering like this I may finance a book from you. Let's wait until next month eh?
I'll do my best to be less of a cad towards you and you should maybe try not to drink all of your extra cash away.
Sternwell. "
"I'll see you next month Charmer." Marcelline says as you silently walk out the door.

>Go to the bar
>Go home and write
>Write in.

>>233878
>Go to the bar

Drink and think.

>>233878
>Go to the bar

Spend some time around the people we know, maybe buy just one round for the lads this is cause to celebrate after all.

Good to see this still going QM

>>234237
>>233886
taking these actions. I'm at work. Will post in a few

Despite all the unknowns in Warren's apartment this news that your writing moved Sternwell. That was a cause for celebration. The man never acknowledged the fact that you were a talented writer. He just owed Warren a favor. Luckily for you your writing was popular. It kept a roof above your head and your liquor cabinet full.
You walk to The Ladies Mercy and enter. Phil is behind the bar as always but after a quick scan of his regular booth you don't see Warren. You walk up to Phil.
Whiskey Neat Phil, has Warren been in since the last time I've asked?
Phil eyes you credulously. "no sir he hasn't, yknow this is an army bar not a gay bar right?"
You stare at him coldly, soon he can't resist himself and Phil chuckles.
"Eugh' come here too often for me not to fuck with yah Henry! Lighten up! I'm sure Warren will come in at any time. Just sit back and relax a bite mate "
You smirk at Phil and go to Warren's Booth and sit.
Neither those Navy boys or your friends Walter and Frank are here. Just a few regulars that you recognize.
Sam Davis included. You two purposely avoid making eye contact. Sam and you are too stubborn to switch Bars. Memories of you two training together pop up into your head and you dampen them with a swig of whiskey.
"No man left behind"
You mutter under your breath.
>Get everyone a round
>Confront Sam Davis
>Talk to Phil
>Ask around about Warren
>Drink and wait for Warren
>Or write in

>>235849
get everyone a round

>>235849
>Ask Phil about the riddle
so this is just my sleep deprived guess mixed with my knowledge of Lovecraft. Is the answer something along the lines of perception, or the mind?

>>235849
>Talk to Phil

>>236132
>>236139
>>236446
You decide after a few sips from your glass to go talk to Phil some more. The man seems to be in good spirits tonight.
"Hey Phil, How do you turn something that isn't into something that is?"
Phil looks at you oddly
"Well, you describe it. "
You look at him with amazement. "Is that some sort of riddle I've never heard of? It's something Warren write I thought. "
Phil looks at you quizzically.
"I heard it from those gentlemen you left with last night. They came back in looking for you earlier. I didn't tell them you would be in because frankly they both seemed bloody lit. I'd watch your back, it looks like they've been hitting the bottle hard and they are looking for yah. "
This information was shocking to you. Warren typed that out on his typewriter and the men you met last night asked it to Phil today. As far as you knew neither Walter or Frank had even met Warren let alone trade obscure riddles.
"Thanks for the really late warning Phil."
"Sorry, frankly I had forgotten about it until you posed your question. Why are you in such an odd mood today"
You crack and you tell Phil about the dream in lurid detail. Running through the trenches of Somme with Warren, the look on his face when the shuddering darkness enveloped him. The sounds of gunfire coming from the mouth of the injured German. All of it. It felt good to finally say the dream out loud.
Phil looks at you. Lost in thought.
"If your writing is any bit like your dreams remind me to not get a subscription for Screams in the Night any time soon lad."
You smile weakly and take the last sip of your drink.
"To top it all off, I got a bonus today since my last story impressed Sternwell. "
Phil smiles
"That old bastard finally gave you some credit! Well here have a drink on the house. We don't need you blowing your whole bonus here!"
Phil places another whiskey in front of you and you take it and thank him. Phil runs down to the other end of the bar to help another patron and you are left alone with your thoughts.
The facts are as follows to your knowledge.
1. Warren is missing
2. Warren, Walter, and Frank have all made references to the same riddle that you haven't heard before.
3. Walter and Frank are looking for you
4. Everyone seems to really like your most recent story, which Incorporated elements from your first dream in the climax

>Keep drinking
>Talk to Sam Davis
>Go home
>Write in an action

>>236139
any deductions you've made I totally suggest you act on them. It's more fun for me to not affirm or deny anything

>>236515
>Go home

>>236515
>Go home

Start writing another story using the dream as a jumping off point for inspiration.

Honestly the thing that is really throwing me off is the German gold, it's got to factor in here somewhere I just can't see where. It's too important for Warren to have skipped town on it, his house hasn't been ransacked, my guess is he is running with Walter and Frank at the moment, not sure what they're tracking down though. Unless our stories are giving a window that these horrors are using to worm their way into the world

>>236526
>>237081
You finish your whiskey in one big gulp and decide to go home. With all the stress, satisfaction, fear and mystery of the day you feel like writing. The next month always comes faster than you expect.
You walk home and enter your apartment building. After a short walk up the stairs you open your door and begin relishing being in your own space. You poor yourself another whiskey to lubricate your writing process and sit down in front of the typewriter with the bottle.
You sigh and take a sip. You think about the book you read earlier, the poems and prose of a man feeling hunted by a creature that doesn't exist until it is described or percieves.
Your eyes widen as you realize the similarities between that book and Warren's riddle. It's a scary coincidence that feels cold straight down into your bones.
"Could Warren have read that book?"
You ask out loud to yourself.
Maybe Warren could have, But Walter and Frank didn't seem like literary types.
The only logical conclusion is that Warren somehow knew Walter and Frank. Then a flash of your dream surges into your minds eye. You remembered hearing Walter and Frank's voice in the distance.
They were speaking German.
They had a fondness for the word "official"
If you take evidence from your dream, a nebulous logic appears. Maybe Frank and Walter did know Warren. They all frequented the Lady's Mercy. They all made references to a very obscure book.
Maybe Walter and Frank had something to do with the gold?
"But then why live in a Hooverville?"
You take a long drink from your glass and top it off. Maybe they were there because it was abandoned. If you were a German in America you aren't going to get accepted into very many communities right away.
And what if you didn't want to be accepted into a community?
Was the Hooverville even abandoned before they arrived their?
A vision of Walter and his huge frame beating the homeless out of the Hooverville crosses your very active imagination.
It all seems plausible.
But somehow not totally right.
You decide to write to get your thoughts off of the subject. There's nothing to do about any of it right now.

>Write your most recent dream into a story involving a man fighting in the trenches of Somme and avoiding a Dimensional being who cannot be seen
>Write about a concept of a monster becoming real when a writer begins describing an entity that exists between dimensions and writes it into our reality
>Write a sequel to your most recent short story "The Darkness Dimension"
>Write in-within reason please

>>239287
>>Write about a concept of a monster becoming real when a writer begins describing an entity that exists between dimensions and writes it into our reality
If my theory is true, we're going to be essentially creating some eldritch horror. Or at least bringing it into our existence from whatever one it was in previously.

>>239343
You jot down a basic plot summary by hand before you start typing. You feel like writing something personal, so you decide to make the main antagonist a writer. Maybe not a veteran, after your dreams you are done with war. You decide to make him a successful writer forging his Magnum Opus in a secluded cabin in the woods. Isolation and fear go together like whiskey and whiskey.
"In the loneliness of the forest he sat alone in his cabin. The typewriter clicked and clacked and forged a work of monstrous art. Frightening and beautiful.."
You get into the flow of the story and begin to lose yourself in the narrative. Occasionally stopping to drink or refill your glass.
>Roll 1d6
>Roll 1d100 in a linked post

Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>239343
My bad

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>239396

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>239396

Rolled 22 (1d100)

>>241748

Well, seems like OP is kill