The Missive (arden scarlet)

The game in the area is getting thin. No explanation for it. I have seen no large amounts of predators, for they are becoming thin as well. Even the insects are behaving strangely. Flies that wont touch certain corpses, the feeling of oppression permeating the entire forest. Nothing seems right. last night i only caught one rabbit. I never only catch a single small prey. Nigh but two weeks ago this was a lush and fertile hunting ground, and i know that there is no other predator in the area. There must be a reason for it. A reason for the forest itself, life itself, to be scared to a standstill.

I go hunting once more today, hoping to find some decent game to keep me fed for the coming snowstorm. Supplies are running thin, and i may have to go to town soon. London. Bah. Nothing but bricks and bullox.

I return late to camp with naught but empty hands. I have not been this close to worry since i left my boyhood home, torn with cinders and smoke. I have not been this close to despair since i gazed upon that fire and realized that none would walk out of it. These are hard times coming upon us. Dark times, and i fear that i may not survive them. Crawling into my tent, something is amiss.

In the hours since i left the premises, someone has left me a missive. Not a fold of cloth is astray, everything how i remember it. Nothing stolen or moved or opened. Yet there it is, on my bedroll.

"You are invited to dine at the prancing pony, in London one week from now, bring your supplies, and tell nary a soul. I have work that may be relevant to your skills ~ Vanhelsing"

Short and to the point. Oh i know who he is, Vanhelsing. Everybody has heard of him, even a hermit like me. But to be confronted with a missive, with no clear sign how it got there is slightly... disconcerting. Stranger things have been known to happen though, and one thing is sure. If i stay here, i will not survive.

To the prancing pony then. Let us see what this hunter of the dark has in store for a simple man such as myself.

The Chronicle

There comes a time in every man's existence where the foundations of his faith and everything he holds to be true are brought into question. In the dark days of the Victorian world, few people are aware how wrong their pre-conceived notions of life are.

The Darkness is alive and its minions brought back to power by none other than the notorious Jack, but one organization stands in his way. The Rippers walk the line between twilight and eternal night.


You alone stand at the doorway to hell. Do you have the power to close it forever?

Introducing Arden Scarlet

Arden is a hunter approximately 25 years old. though middle aged (considering the life span of the era) he is an extremely isolated individual. you can usually find him hunting or camping, if indeed you can find him at all. hunting has made him somewhat observant, stealthy, and tough, though it has done nothing for his social skills. he can stalk prey for hours and not be noticed, but when it comes to conversation he lacks finesse.

when it comes to any social interaction actually, he lacks finesse. and its not because he doesn't have any. out and out, Arden is mean. a real bastard and loving it. short and to the point idle chitchat does him no service, and he lets everyone around him know it with his dark disposition.

somewhat of a coward in the face of unknown things, he requires time to adjust. the first time faced with a monster he may be shaken up, but the second time action will be taken. swiftly, and without mercy.

to sum it up, he's a hermit hunter with a sharp tongue.

Meet Sergeant Roger Wilkins, His Majesty's Royal Marine Corps:

My character is Roger Wilkins, a non-commissioned officer in His Majesty's Royal Marines. A real jovial pretty-boy, he is a fairly typical soldier: reasonably brave and useful with a rifle. He has, up to the start of the campaign, had no encounters with the supernatural, ripper-tech or anything else out-of-ordinary. Sgt. Wilkins is the eternal optimist, always upbeat and ready with a quick, motivational taunt; in short, he's the commander everyone wants but nobody ever seems to wind up with.