The Fifth Floor: Break-ins and Bribery
This post is one in a series of Juniper Campaign posts. If you’re new to the blog, you may want to start from the beginning, or read the summary to get caught up on events up to this point.
The group now has files for the three murder victims on hand, but none of them offer any additional insight. Certainly all three murders are a bit odd. The young woman’s body was left on display in a nearby park. Juniper isn’t exactly known for packs of wild dogs roaming its street, so the case of the senior citizen who died in a “dog attack” seems suspect. And the third victim’s death was particularly brutal. But only the third victim, one Hector McNeil, has any obvious connection to Shady Acres, where he worked as a nurse’s aide. Having happened barely a week ago, it’s also the most recent death of the three.
In fact, McNeil’s death is so recent that the group arrives at his apartment building to discover that the apartment is still behind crime scene tape. But the place seems entirely empty of cops, the apartment is only on the third floor, and McNeil’s apartment has an out-facing window. And so the party decides to investigate McNeil’s home in true Hunter style: by breaking in.
The Fifth Floor: Blowing Over
This post is one of a series in the ongoing Juniper Campaign posts. If you’re new to the blog, you may want to consider starting from the beginning, or reading the summary to get caught up on events up to this point.
Now that John’s alone, he takes the opportunity to explore the coma ward more thoroughly. Unsurprisingly, he mostly finds old people in comas, including Felix’s new friend Mary Louis. Unlike John’s own grandmother, Mary Louis seems tense, even in a coma. A folder containing her medical charts has been left on a nearby table, and John picks it up and leafs through it. Last updated a month ago, her charts actually show significant brain activity, which spikes every 16-18 months before dropping off.
Something’s Gotta Give
Cracadoom Island wasn’t really the kind of place where one could take it easy. Filled to the brim with smugglers, pirates, mercenaries, cutthroats, cutpurses, and crafty sword merchants (who made a killing off of daggers alone, but who rarely slept easy at night), it was the kind of place where you kept an eye in the back of your head, lest you lose it.
That being said, on that day the sun shone bright on the tropical island, and the ramshackle wharf’s many smokehouses and ale shacks were crowded with lazy nogoodnicks too busy fighting off the mid-day heat to bother fighting one-another. Toothless old crooks sat in the shade and stared out at the sea – forgetting their spiderwebs of puppeted contacts and bootlicking and bribes that had kept them alive so far and remembering instead their glory days out on the blue, the salt in their bones calling them back. Continue reading →
Intercontinental Adventures 