April 4th, 1907
I was reluctant to take the journey down to Derbyshire as it meant closing the doors of my shop back at Liverpool. My dealings in antiques has been profitable but margins remain slim, and this trip will not sink me but it could lead to some narrow numbers in the near future. But if it wasn’t for Lord Cunningham, I wouldn’t have a business in the first place. As a procurer of that which is rare and valuable, no source is better than Cunningham. His ability to find the rarest manuscripts and foreign artifacts is matched by no other, and for that, I at least owe it to him to spend a week and care for the ailing man.
The wind howled across the moors as I pulled up to the gate of the manor. The garden seemed well kept, as the hedges were beginning to bulge with what was sure to be a beautiful spring display. Despite the oncoming warmth of spring, the cold wind still held the bite of winter and I tugged on the bell hard in hopes that the gate would be opened quickly so I may find shelter inside the manor.
As I waited, I recalled the words of Christopher Cunningham’s last letter to me. It was a letter that rambled, and barely coherent. He spoke of strange lights and shadows in the moors. He spoke of horrific sounds carried upon the wind. I fear old Chris is entering the final stage of his life and may be suffering from delusions. I hoped the visit from an old friend will bring comfort to a man facing his own twilight.
It felt like an eternity waiting at the gate. The carriage driver left me here alone with only the piercing, screaming wind as company. After a couple more pulls of the bell rope, the front door of the manor opened and Mr. Douglas approached. A fit young lad, Mr. Douglas greeted me by name and led me towards the manor. He said he has been the butler for Chris for about a year.
Mr. Douglas bid me to sit in the waiting room while he summoned Lord Cunningham. I was startled as he rudely dropped my things upon the floor and walked away. I know Chris can afford better butler than that. At least is was warm in the waiting room.
As I waited, my eyes drifted towards the library. Chris had a fine collection of texts, a library worthy of envy. It has been a long while since I visited the manor so I wandered into the library to peruse. There on writing desk sat an old book, more like a tome by the sheer size of it. The wind howled and the old leather cracked as I slowly opened the book.
It was written in a language I have never seen before. Similar to sanskrit in which the letters seemed to flow together but also intermingled with pictographs like hieroglyphs. The pages were thick, yet well preserved and I tried to imagine what part of the world in which this text originated. I was enthralled.
I jumped when a shrill voice loudly pronounced my name and I quickly turned to see Mrs. Bristle standing at the entrance to the library. Calm returned to me as I saw the familiar face. Mrs. Bristle has worked at the manor for as long as I can remember. She told me Lord Cunningham was resting at the moment but she would show me to my room.
The room is warm with a nice iron stove in the corner and beautifully soft, four-post bed. Mrs. Bristle mentioned she would return when Lord Cunningham is finished resting and when dinner shall be served. The door swung close with a heavy thud. And a click.
I unpacked my things into the armoire and found comfort in the warmth of the room. The window vibrates now and again as the strong winds of the moor press against it. There was a small stack of books sitting upon the nightstand and I picked through them but none caught my fancy. Then the thought of the book down in the library flooded my mind. I had to see it again.
I stood and attempted to open the solid wood door only to find it would not budge. I pushed and pulled to avail. I knocked softly against the oak timbers and said, “Hello?” But no answer came. I shook the door, and once again pushed and pulled with all my might. My frustration turned to agitation as I beat on the door with my fist, yelling at the top of lungs that I wanted out! But no answer came.
I stepped back and ran towards the door, throwing my shoulder into and finally the door swung open and slammed the hallway wall with an echoing boom. The sound of footsteps quickly approaching from the stairs followed as Mr. Douglas appeared to find me there, holding my painful shoulder.
He asked with wide eyes if everything was okay and I vented my disdain about being locked in the room. He mentioned that the door to that particular room sticks and should never be shut all the way. He also mentioned that he would bring up the issue with Mrs. Bristle and make sure it wouldn’t happen again.
Needless to say, but today has been somewhat unnerving. Mrs. Bristle brought dinner to my room and informed me that Lord Cunningham was too ill to see me today but ensured I could see him in the morning. The food is tasty and I hope tomorrow I will be able to see my old friend.
What you have read above is my first session playing English Eerie by Scott Malthouse. If that name sounds familiar to you, it is because Scott is also the creator of Quill, which has been featured quite often on this blog.
English Eerie is a game that falls into a similar vein as Quill. It is a writing game meant for a solo player in which you play out a scenario. Where English Eerie differs is the genre and length of gameplay.
English Eerie falls under the genre rural horror in which journaling reveals a tale of creeping horror in the countryside of Britain. It is also a game which is meant to be played over multiple sessions rather than in a single session like Quill.
Being a fan of Quill and horror, I could not resist picking up this game and I hope you will stick around as I post these gameplay journals to the blog. I have never written horror before, but after this first session, it is definitely something that gives me the chills. (Also typing by candlelight while listening to the audio file of howling winds helps with atmosphere as well). Let me know how I did.
English Eerie is available on Drive Thru RPG as pay-what-you want.
Disclosure of Material Connection: Some of the links in the post above are "affiliate links." This means if you click on the link and purchase the item, I will receive an affiliate commission. Regardless, I only recommend products or services I use personally and believe will add value to my readers. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising."
Be First to Comment