forum The Strange Case of William Harker (Closed)

Started December 06, 2022 by @Anxietyfilledcinnamonroll group

tune

Name: Arthur Timmons
Age: 22
Gender: Male
Role: Murderer
Appearance: Arthur is of average build: 5'9", 160 lbs. Curly dark brown hair, brown eyes, fair complexion. Full lips, no facial hair, big smile. Average muscularity. Likes to wear blue. The one identifying thing about Arthur is he has six fingers on his left hand.
Personality: Arthur is a rather intense person. He's not mean; it's just that whatever feeling he's experiencing, he feels it intensely. This leads to him being pretty easy to read, as well as fairly predictable. He's a giving individual, prone to protectiveness, and loves adventure with a little danger. He's worldly wise, but his current youth often makes him rash and impetuous. He also is prone to flashbacks, which can be problematic. He also has a strong sense of what is right, and guilt over some of his more unsavory appetites is slowly driving him crazy.
Background: Sixclaw is the name chosen for an ancient Revenant Werewolf. He is responsible for the myths of Fenrir, Carcharoth, and Lycaon. He started as a typical werewolf, but was killed in a fight with a demigod back in the day. However, his spirit was too strong, and so be became a Revenant, and has been effectively immortal since. When he dies, his spirit inhabits a new host, who becomes a werewolf and gains the extra claw which marks him. He's seen some stuff. His current host is Arthur Timmons, who can neither control nor remember exactly what Sixclaw does.
Other: Sixclaw is the physical opposite of Arthur in every way. 7'6" at the shoulder on all 4's, 15' tall standing up, weighing in at 480lbs, densely muscled, thick shaggy vantablack fur, piercing blue eyes, with an extra toe/finger on hs left front paw/hand.

(hope that's all ok, I can tone him down)

Name: Cassandra "Cassie" Graham
Age: 23
Gender: female
Role: colleague 1 (nurse)
Appearance: Cassie is a wide-eyed, somewhat nervous young woman with a soft features. She stands at 5' 2" with a curvy build and the least grace of any human on the planet. She has fair skin that gets a bit sun-tanned in the warmer months with a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She has gentle, green-gray eyes with naturally long eyelashes. Her eyebrows are a few shades darker than her light caramel-colored hair, which falls to her shoulders in soft waves. Her face is framed by the loose waves of her hair, having a little bit of bangs. Her face is oval-shaped with a soft jawline. She has a button nose and full lips. When she moves, it is like the movements of a frightened animal, despite her being fairly adept at her job. She always seems unsure of herself.
https://www.artbreeder.com/beta/image/53a4f7b74ff72806f721b03663d7
Personality: Cassie is quite a nervous little thing. She is sweet, but less than graceful. She is very clumsy, but when she is working is when she is at her most put together, her mousy nature becoming more sure of herself. She takes the "do no harm" of the Hippocratic Oath very seriously, wanting to help everyone to the best of her ability. Cassie loves talking to people, getting very excited about topics she is knowledgable on. She is good with animals and children, loving the company of both, and good at storytelling as well. She loves being a nurse and wants to help everyone that she possibly can, though she is a bit naïve. She hasn't worked in actual hospitals for very long, having recently graduated from a nearby women's college. She loves learning and reads frequently. She also loves gardening and the outdoors. She really looks up to Dr.Stephens and looked up to Dr.Harker as well.
Background: Cassie hadn't known William Harker long, having recently graduated from college. She started working at the hospital only a few months before his death, and really looked up to many of the doctors there. She was not particularly close with most of the people there since she was a relatively newer hire, but she was always very kind to everyone.
Other: owns a pet cat that she took in as a stray, currently unmarried

(I did my best to make everything as clear as possible)

(I would also like to note that your character can send letters to each other discussing events, the murder, etc. I just would like a way for you guys to add more tension/ discourse to the story, so it doesn’t seem like you’re always waiting on me (Especially with the colleagues and patient being in contacts and the murder having direct contact with all.) I don't want you to feel like I'm pushing you, but to let you know the option is open)

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The journal of Sir Bailey Fox:

January 19, 1894

10 AM: I have been called forth to investigate the newest murder case of the month. I do find the murder odd, however. How does a respectable man garner enemies? I do suppose it is not out of the ordinary when medical practices are met with disdain and backlash. I called for a coach to transport me to the medical practice of Dr. Harker. The morning was quite gloomy, with rain drizzling over the slippery streets. Clouds consumed the sun, sucking light out of the gray sky. It was quite fitting for the occasion my person was being whisked into. The coach was small, little room for my umbrella and me, which I found odd considering I am a small man. Once we arrived at the office of Dr. Harker, a sense of melancholy washed over me. The building became washed over in grey, the brick moulding together in my mind. The pittering of the rain unsettled me further as I disembarked from the coach and entered the dreary excuse for a building. Once inside, I climbed the stairs three levels above the ground, taking in minute details as I went.

The building was cold, matching the dreary outdoors. I have never personally met with Dr. Harker, and glad I never have. The rest of the climb garnered nothing of interest. The inside of such a building was bland, almost hideous, matching the chilly hold its icy claws held over me. Once I had reached Dr. Harker’s office, I pushed open the door to find a bustling crime scene. The first thing I notice is the body. It had not been removed from the scene and appeared to be new, having only been there for about 24 hours. The office was a terrible mess. Books had toppled from their place on the shelf. Blood had dribbled onto the floor from the desk on which the body lay. What caught my attention the most was the way the body slumped. It wasn’t classically laying face down on the desk, but rather staring at me with cold, glossy eyes as it stared out the door that led to the rest of the practice. There were deep gashes in the neck, exposing the hollow inside. Look at the condition of his desk; the majority of the things were knocked off, which I say indicates struggle. His colleagues and a patient or two would have definitely been around.

–

After spending much time with the body, my notes include a few pieces of evidence that could lead to an arrest. I had found and gathered a piece of dark brown hair that could also be read as black, a murder weapon that seemed to be a knife, but the wounds did not match up to a stabbing, and a book documenting who entered for care and work:

Notable colleagues include: Dr. Rose Stephens, Cassandra Graham.
Notable patients include: Atlas Mill
Notable persons of interest whom are not listed as a colleague or patient include: Arthur Timmons

Another interesting clue that stands out to me is the fact that the door seemed to suggest forced entry at a time when Dr. Harker did not want uninvited guests. I will also note that not a drop of blood leaves the room, nor do footprints enter or leave. I shall investigate further and send letters to those of interest.

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Bailey sat at his desk, hunched over four pieces of letter paper. He knew this posture was bad for him, but it only felt natural considering the nature of these letters. The second part of the investigation has started now. Gathering the accounts of potential witnesses and snuffing out any suspicious persons. With a sigh of profound sorrow, he started to draft a letter to the wife of the poor doctor. Then a letter to colleagues and the patient. Then a letter to the mystery man. The one who seemed to have little connection to Dr. Harker. This man’s name caught his eye. Bailey wanted to know more and personally investigate him, but he couldn’t let his personal conundrum get in the way of his work.

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Letter from Sir Bailey Fox to Mrs. Katherine Harker (Sweet_Pea)

January 19, 1894

Dearest Madame,

I am sorry to hear and/or inform you about your husband's tragic passing. I would like to ask you a few questions that might help bring forth the person who might have hurt such a respectable man.

• Do you know of any enemies your husband many have collected over the years? Anyone who may have a vendetta against him to deliberately kill him when eyes could have been watching?

• Did your husband ever mention how work went? If things were going well and up to par. Or did he ever seem bothered coming home from work at all? Almost in distress or irritated?

• Where was the last place you saw your husband?

Please get back to me the soonest you can, sincerely, Detective Sir Bailey Fox.

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Letter from Sir Bailey Fox to Dr. Rose Stephens (letsgetlegit_9113) and Mrs. Cassandra Graham (menace-to-society)

January 19, 1894

Dearest Madames,

I am writing this letter to you to find answers to Dr. Harker’s tragic passing. Since you are one of Dr. Harker’s colleagues, I assure you might give some insight to his work habits before the murder.

• Were there any anomalies in Dr. Harker’s usual workload?

• Was Dr. Harker ever distant? Did he seem erratic or not fully understand where a conversation was headed?

• Where was the last place you saw Dr. Harker and were you two on good terms?

Please get back to me the soonest you can, sincerely, Detective Sir Bailey Fox.

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Letter from Sir Bailey Fox to Mr. Atlas Mill (ScotchTapeWorm)

January 19, 1894

Dearest Sir,

I am writing this letter to you to find answers to Dr. Harker’s tragic passing. Since you are one of Dr. Harker’s patients, I assure you might give some insight to his behaviour and quality of care before his murder.

• Did Dr. Harker seem to be distracted, almost as if something else was on his mind? Did he make mistakes and/or recite your personal information wrong?

• Where was the last place you saw Dr. Harker? Were you two on good terms? Or were there discrepancies in the care you expected and the care he gave you?

Please get back to me the soonest you can, sincerely, Detective Sir Bailey Fox.

---

Letter from Sir Bailey Fox to Mr. Arthur Timmons (Davadio)

January 19, 1894

Dearest Sir,

I am writing this letter to you to find answers to Dr. Harker’s tragic passing. However, you are not written as a patient or a colleague in the log book. Therefore, you are a prime suspect while also a mystery to me.

• How did you come to know Dr. Harker? Were you two on good terms, or was there a strain in your relationship?

• Where was the last place you were with Dr. Harker? Or at least seen him? What were your reasons for visiting his practice?

Please get back to me the soonest you can, sincerely, Detective Sir Bailey Fox.

Dear Mr. Fox,
Thank you for contacting me. I was beginning to get wary about my husband's passing the more I thought about it. If my William had made any enemies I was not aware of them. Everyday when he came home from work he would tell me about his day. For the majority of the many years he had worked there, he never had a very many unpleasant days at work. That was now that I recall before his last week, he came home annoyed and disgruntled, when I would ask him about his day he would reply with "long day had to work hard," I didn't quite believe it though. The last time I saw my darling husband was after he had left for work that morning. I made breakfast and said farewell as I would everyday.

That is all I can recall, Thank you so much Mr. Fox for everything you are doing to help,
Sincerely, Miss Kathrine Harker.

Georgie ran up the creaking, crumbling steps in the tenement, headed for the third floor of the decrepit brick building. He'd been tasked with delivering the mail, and Arty had a letter! He dodged the spots where the bricks had crumbled out of their spot in the wall and fallen to the floor. The third floor was in the worst disrepair, but that made it the cheapest floor to live on. The smell of ash and grime up here was partially covered by the off-putting scent of blood.
The rest of the residents avoided Arty, but the young man had always been kind to Georgie. Old Man Robins tried to grab the girls when they went past his door, and swore at the boys, but people still talked to him and tolerated him… so why couldn't Georgie be friends with Arthur?

The 12 year old boy made it to the door and knocked. Arthur opened the door and smiled at his young friend, who immediately held out a letter.
"Something came in the mail for you, Arty!" Georgie beamed. His friend looked disheveled, and tired, and moved like a man who was very sore, but Georgie ignored all of that. "I hope it's good news."
Arty nodded slowly as he took the letter. "Me too, Georgie." He sniffed, and his smiled widened. "Your mum cooking chicken soup?"
Georgie nodded quickly. "Yes! I can't stay, gotta go eat before my brothers get it all." He flashed Arthur another smile, before taking off back down the hallway.
Arthur watched him go, before looking at the letter. It seemed to glow with a dark light as he held it, and he couldn't shake a sudden sense of unease. He closed the door and sat down at his rickety desk to read it.
…………
Journal Entry, January 19, 1894

Apparently I neglected to journal yesterday. But, I suppose now it's of no import. I was trying to track symptoms, trying to record what goes on in the days leading up to illness, but…
Well. The letter I got today changes everything.
I ought to respond to the detective. I ought to tell him everything. But just now… I need a moment to grieve.
Dr. Will and I were just beginning to heal some of the long standing scars. We were beginning to get answers, and now…
The question looms in my mind as well… did I do this? It certainly seems plausible, and if that is the case…
Grieving indeed.

Atlas had been sitting in his office, in the house his father had bought for him, when the bell rang. The young man was lounging at his desk, a drink in one hand, his head in the other. His head had been pounding ever since last night, and he couldn't even remember what had happened. One minute he'd been having a session with his Doctor, the insufferable man, and next he was at home, passed out and missing one of his shoes.

The sound of the bell pounded through his head like someone was hammering into his temple with an ice pick. Atlas groaned, tipping his head back and downing the rest of his drink, hoping that would help with this unceasing headache.

"Go away!" He snarled the words as loud as he could, making the pressure behind his eyes worsen, Atlas gave a cry, dropping the glass and clutching his head, the shattering of glass felt like it was mocking him. He stood, ignoring the way the room swayed, and putting a hand on the desk, gripping it so hard his knuckles turned white and his nails made little grooves in the wood.

He stumbled to the door, wrenching it open and glaring with bloodshot eyes at the man who stood there. Atlas clung to the door frame, half hunched over and disheveled, the first three buttons of his shirt undone and his hair a mess. The deep bags under his eyes were obvious, and the smell of alcohol came off of him in waves.
"What.." He inhaled deeply, a shuddering breath, looking deeply angry. "Do you want?"

The man at the door was familiar, or at least the uniform was. A mailman, Atlas briefly imagined wrapping his hands around the mans stocky neck and watching the life slowly drain from their eyes. The idea flitted away a moment after as some letters were handed over. Atlas grabbed them roughly, and slammed the door shut, stumbling back to his office. He leafed through the pile, annoyance bubbling up.

Bills, bills, bills, why do they bother sending them to me? Father pays them anyways. He was just about to toss the whole bundle into the fireplace, when a letter caught his eye, addressed to him from one Sir Bailey Fox. Atlas was curious, so he opened the thing, eyes scanning over the letter as a deep sense of dread settled over him. Oh hell.

I killed a man last night.

…………….
The journal of Atlas Mill, a leather bound volume that shows signs of wear and tear. It's filled in sporadically, with large gaps between days. It looked frequently thumbed through, like the author often re-read it.

January 19, 1894

It doesn't feel much different being a murderer from a normal man. It's quite curious. I keep waiting for the feeling of guilt that's so often described in novels, but I can not for the life of me muster up more than a vague sense of annoyance. Dr. Harker was a nuisance and a quack, but he was a good doctor. Father will have to find me a new one quickly. And perhaps a good lawyer too. Jail sounds quite dull, lacking the creature comforts of a gentleman's life. Lacking entirely books and feminine graces, I wouldn't wish to go.

I received a letter today, from a detective no less. It asks some entirely too personal questions about Harker's "behavior and quality of care". The pretentiousness that oozes off the letter sickens me, I've got half a mind to tell him to go to hell and answer none of the questions, but then he might get the idea of coming to visit. Then I might be under investigation for two murders rather than one! Hah!

There has to be other suspects, the good doctor had many other patients, colleagues, I even vaguely remember William going on about a wife in one of his sickening spiels about his home life in an effort to "connect". Surely they are also under suspicion, I'll have to look into it, see who I can shove into the limelight to save face. In my letter back to the gumshoe, I'll see what I can do..

……………..
Letter from Atlas Mill to Sir Bailey Fox

Sir,

I'm appalled to learn of Dr. Harker's passing! He was a good doctor, one who I have frequented for much of my adult life. My father always spoke highly of him, so I often visited him for any malady's I had. I'm quite sickly you see. Going to his offices were some of the few times I was able to leave my house without assistance.

As for your questions, I saw Dr. Harker, I suppose, the night he was murdered. We were having one of our usual sessions, and it was going more tolerably than usual, but we were constantly being interrupted by others. His coworkers seemingly couldn't exist without him this night, seeing how they popped in an out with abandon. The only thing of note that comes to mind, was that he seemed a bit on edge. Glancing around as if nervous.

Oh, and just as I was about to leave, he mentioned to me, as if in passing, that his wife was waiting for him. It seemed oddly specific. Other than that, it was a normal visit, the care received was average, and of adequate quality. Like I said, I've known Dr. Harker since I was a young man, I was quite fond of him, but I always felt that he was somewhat disappointed in me. A frustrating quality of older men, no? Always jealous of the young, so they put all their expectations on them. Tell me when you catch the killer? I'd like to see them brought to justice as quickly as possible.

Waiting in expectation,
Atlas Mill

Cassie had been watering her plants when the mailman came, causing her to jump. She enjoyed gardening, and the interruption of her (mostly) tranquil morning caused her to start. Her house was very modest, at the point where it could be considered more of a cottage, really, but that was the way that Cassie liked it. The little garden she had begun to nurture had plants that she could use for food once harvest season came around, and the idea excited her.

She fetched her mail from mailman with a word of thanks and a cheerful wave, curious when she noticed a letter from a Sir Bailey Fox. Who was that? Cassie had never heard that name before. She opened the envelope, jaw dropping as she read through it. Not only dead, but murdered? How in the world had that happened?

Surely it wasn't her fault, right? She had been swamped with patients that night, trying her best to do whatever she could to help without getting in the way of the doctors. One of the patients had asked for their medication, and Cassie had grabbed the wrong one in her hurry–luckily she realized her mistake before she gave it to the patient, but she ended up leaving the other bottle in plain sight for anyone who might want to use it to hurt Dr.Harker. It probably had nothing to do with his murder, but Cassie couldn't know for sure. Someone could have drugged him to keep him docile before killing them, or somehow forced him to overdose? She wasn't sure, but either way, wouldn't that mean her inadvertently killing him? Was this whole thing her fault? Most of her memories from that night were in a blur, but that was one thing that she remembered crystal clear.

There was a chance that it wasn't actually her fault at all, so she would lie low for now until she knew for sure. She wasn't about to turn herself in when it wasn't actually linked to her at all and lose all hope of landing a respectable career or a marriage or more friends. She had to respond to the letter as if she had no stake in the matter.

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Letter from Cassandra Graham to Sir Bailey Fox

Dear Sir,

I am very sorry to hear about Dr.Harker's passing. He and I were not very close, as I have only been employed at the hospital for a few months now, but he was a good mentor and kind to me. Dr.Harker was a good man, and I hope you are able to catch his killer.

As for any anomalies, the night he died was particularly busy, but other than that I do not believe there was anything excessive that he took on. He was a sensible man, and adept at his job. When it got busy, he would be a bit distant, but it never worried me, for he was always reliable in the end. I would not say he was unusually distant on the night of his murder. The last place I saw Dr.Harker was at the hospital before I left for the night. He was still there when I went home.

I truly hope you are able to solve this mystery, and if there is anything that you have questions about you may feel free to contact me again with any details.

All my best,
Cassandra Graham