“alright! let’s get this show on the road, boys.”
“opening the gas vents and unlocking cabin one’s basement door.”
“hold on to your bets, everyone...”
the sun has just begin to set and you are all gathered in the living room of the main cabin. the startling sound of a door creaking catches everyone’s attention. would you look at that? the door to the basement, previously locked, is now open. before you can enter, a raccoon dashes out, proving to be the source of the noise downstairs you heard earlier.
no one really seems to question how the raccoon got there in the first place.
someone switches on the light and honestly, the antique porcelain dolls lined up on a dusty wooden shelf would be more off-putting if it weren’t for the taxidermied wolf head forced into a snarl hanging above said shelf. there’s a tape recorder on another shelf and a straw hat hanging off the corner of the shelf. it almost feels like the eyes of the dolls and the wolf follow you as you take a gander around the dimly lit room.
the scholar’s grandfather really has some interesting... hobbies, no?
old papers are strewn across a table with questionable stains and smack dab right in the middle is a journal, bound in something similar to leather but not quite. it’s opened to a page with chicken scratch writing, just barely decipherable among the strange symbols surrounding it.
so, who can read latin?
