If we need an extra player, I know of someone who may be interested.
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Jazz Age Jack Lalane works for me.
Gave it a try, please review for accuracy. I pulled the occupation from an older Call of Cthulhu Investigators Companion. Hopefully, that is ok. Jimmy Knutson: Occupation: Coach Age: 30 Sex: Male Residence: Arkham, MA Birthplace: Bemidji, MN HP: 11
STR 60 (30/12)
Investigator Skills
Non-Occupational Skills
Backstory:
After a failed try-out at Rutgers, he headed to the smaller Miskatonic University to give his best. After four years of collegiate football, Jimmy graduated with a degree in Sports Medicine. Realizing that he wanted to be part of the upper echelon of society, he used his good looks and fast-talking to make his way into a more academic clique. When not indulging with higher society, Jimmy works as a sports doctor for Miskatonic's various sports organizations.
I'll come along for the ride if you'll have me. **EDIT**
Thanks!
Yes, the dice definitely came to aid more times than they probably should have. Great job leading the campaign for us! Looking forward to an invite for another should you feel the urge!
With no words of hope coming to mind, the doctor collapses to his knees. The languishing of Edward's cry out to the lieutenant rings in his ears and his head sinks and his chin rests on his chest. After a few moments, he mutters "'Tis the business of little minds to shrink, but they whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves their conduct, will pursue their principles unto death."
"We've been in quite the little skirmish with a fearsome creature. Glad to have you back, cousin. Unfortunately, I fear our brave Lieutenant may not be back with us."
Sensing that the lieutenant is in more grave danger, the doctor releases his grip on his cousin's collar and proceeds with haste towards the wounded comrade.
"Quick lads! We must retreat! I sense the tides may be turning against us soon!" In his efforts to get away, he begins to drag his cousin along the ground away from the water's edge, away from the heat of combat.
"Move away from there Leftenant! Quickly!"
Out of fear of his cousin taking flight, Emrys, too, dives to the ground but ensuring that he shields and covers his dear relative. As they tumble to the ground, he shouts "No harm shall fall you today cousin!"
With his cousin more agreeable, he pulls him away and out of the line of fire of the lieutenant.
Sensing that his cousin is obviously confused, Emrys tunes his answer to minimize any potential displacement. "Cousin! I've in France for the same reason as you! You've been injured! I'm here to take you back to the field hospital!"
"Cousin! It's me! There are no Hun! You're in danger!" Emrys continues to yell at his cousin while attempting to pull him from the wrath of the demon serpent.
In a moment of unthinking, the doctor rushes towards his cousin to pull him away from the venomous creature.
"Lieutenant, do you see that serpent? Its gaze seems fixed upon my dear cousin. Perhaps I should move closer, ready to assist my cousin in a time of need should it arise. What do you think?"
The doctor looks over at the Lieutenant to see if he acknowledges the movement of the dragon-eel.
The doctor hears the shrill giggling and shudders. He does his best to cast it from his mind, unwilling to fall to the same trick a second time.
"I'm in agreement cousin. I think it best to be on our guard. The fog seems to want us here, and... well, given our last erhm, engagement, I don't know if I'm fond of the morning mist rolling through the dell anymore."
The doctor notices the slumping stature of his comrades and reassures them to the best of his ability. "Come now gents, let's get going to find some respite. I'm sure there'll be tea and biscuits aplenty!"
"Gentlemen! There! A pathway!" The doctor shouts to his compatriots as he walks in the direction of the heath, waiting for them to catch up.
The elderly doctor uprights himself and takes a quick moment to take in his surroundings. He looks back in the window to see if the other two gentlemen will follow.
Emrys pushes open the window and braces himself for what will hopefully be a graceful exit.
Emrys sizes up the window and prepares to hoist himself through, using all the energy he can muster left in his frail, damaged body.
"Gentlemen, it may be a good time to make a quiet escape, iff'n one is possible." the doctor states quietly to avoid raising any potential alarms. He begins to survey his surroundings to see if there is a way with which to make a quiet exit.
Given the momentary respite, the elder doctor is collapsed in slumber.
"Would it be worthwhile to see about reinforcements? We barely made it through by the skin of our teeth lads. I don't know how much more this old body can handle."
"Cousin, I can't go on at the moment. All these dealings today have left me in quite the mess of sorts. I think it best we find somewhere quiet to camp. It seems the lieutenant is in a similar way."
The doctor is crumpled over in the ditch. His hand, applying pressure to the laceration is caked in blood. He looks up the embankment in hopes that one of the gentlemen may see him.
Laying in the ditch, the doctor abates the bleeding. He contemplates his life, the family at home, and the futility of what he's involved in. "What can ONE man... really do?"
Breathing a bit deeply, the sigh of a small respite from his current predicament sees the doctor relax just a bit. "I hope the other two are fairing better than I."
The doctor remains calm and attempts to hide any visible signature of life to persuade the tormentor into thinking he is deceased.
The doctor, hearing the sounds of feet, collapses into a slump, feigning death - something he has seen time and time before - in the hospital and on the battlefield.
The doctor, gripping from the pain of the wounds, falls forward into the trench, hoping he can lure the devil children into thinking he has been vanquished.
At the bottom of the trench, the doctor looks through his bag, seeking supplies that will ease the sting of the wounds to aid in making his way back to his colleagues.
Focusing in on the sound, the Doctor makes haste back to his companions, trying his best to increase the distance between himself and the devil spawn.
Realizing that he is without means to defend his person, the doctor makes haste to assess the situation.
Reeling back from the gash that the other child has inflicted upon him, the doctor looks at the steely black revolver in his hand. "Please God, make this last bullet fly true." He regains his composure, though somewhat hunched over from the pain, lifts the revolver to take aim while his other hand applies pressure to the wound.
Dr. Hanmer, knowing he may have two shots, at best, left in his Webley, takes aim again onto the children.
The doctor grasps his thigh where the devil-child had inflicted the wound. "Blasted children! Spawns of Satan! You shall meet your maker!" The doctor takes aim and fires another round.
The revolver fires off wildly into the mist. The act of dodging the small child's advances and letting loose a round proving too difficult for the elder doctor. The sense of hopelessness begins to grow in the doctor. He stares at the child, readying his next move.
While dodging, the doctor lets loose a round form his revolver.
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