Igordragonian's Paper Chase IC

[zingbobco000]

For reference this is taken from Paper Chase written by Keith Herber, Mark Morrison, John Sullivan, L.N. Isinwyll, with Mike Mason, Dan Kramer, and Chris Spivey, thank you!

Paper Chase
“Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places”
—H. P. Lovecraft, The Picture in the House

Welcome to your second scenario of Call of Cthulhu, the Horror/Investigative roleplaying game of mystery wherein you, an ordinary person, shall encounter and confront the terrifying alien forces of the Cthulhu mythos. Now that you've gotten some experience under your belt concerning the rules and the way the game operates, we will enter into our first freeform scenario. This is still something intended for a beginner, so it's not going to be incredibly complex or puzzling, but nevertheless, it is time to begin... welcome, to Paper Chase.

----
Ossipee, 12:44 PM, September 4th, 1921.

You've done it... you've made it. You're... alive. After hours of following the trail you collapse as in front of the first signs of a civilization not trying to sacrifice you in some time.

The flames flicker over you, covering the grass, scorching your legs, and your face as you cannot scream, for your mouth has been utterly charred over. As you awaken in a grassy field, a butterfly resting on your head flits away into the cloudy blue sky above. You look around you. You are not in Emberhead anymore. You're somewhere else, somewhere... safe. As you rise to your feet and dust off your dirty clothes you realize... you're entirely without papers, you have barely anything except your wallet and a bit of cash. But, surely Miskatonic with you arriving a couple days late, I mean, you were nearly sacrificed by an insane tiny village on the top of a cliff.

As you think that in full you realize just how crazy that really sounds. It would almost be a better excuse to say that your dog ate your ticket. Who would believe you?

You slowly trudge into the city, thick dark circles are under your eyes and your shoes are ruined at this point, and they were new as well. You wanted to give a good first impression to the faculty at Miskatonic, even if your first day was not even until the 2nd. People seem to give you a wide berth as you search for something, a telegraph, a phone booth, anything that would allow for you to contact Miskatonic and beg for them to excuse your absence. Eventually, you find one.

Outside Ossipee, 6:19 PM, September 4th, 1921.

A god-darned interview? They're revoking their previous offer? They have no right! You angrily slam your foot into the side of the motor-coach, you made sure to get onto one with plenty of other people this time. The haughty woman to the left of you gives you a stern glance as you do this and shifts away from you. This wasn't at all how everything was supposed to go, but eventually, the twisting and winding turns of the road begin to allow for you to drift off. At least this driver is better than Silas.

Rochester, 8:15 PM, September 4th, 1921.

It's pouring rain, but all you can think of are the faces, of May, Silas, Mr. Winters, even little Ruth, they were all, to some extent involved in... ritual sacrifice, and for what? The bus lets some passengers out and others on as it continues towards Arkham.

Portsmouth, 1:11 PM, September 5th, 1921.

As you board the train to Newburport and then to Arkham you happen to glance in a mirror. What happened? It's been nearly a couple days since that whole dream occured, but was it a dream? Some aspects are fading now, so it must be. It was just a festival with some weird rural townsfolk. "Altitude sickness." You think to yourself. That's the rational explanation for everything that happened.
A cart comes by offering snacks, you go to by some chocolate BB bars when the sudden lightness of your wallet hits you.

Newburyport, 4:27 PM, September 5th, 1921.

It's a small communal village, you do not wish to explore further.

Arkham, 7:30 PM, September 5th, 1921.

You've arrived. You're nearly 3 days late from whatever hallucination-induced nightmare you experienced combined with calling every transportation company known to man. As you finally step off of the train, with nothing on you but a couple scraps, you cannot help wonder. Why? Was it worth it? Why didn't you just go back. And, at the same time, you just cannot explain it.
As you're looking around, aiming to hopefully find a hostel, or at least a comfortable park bench, a man comes up to you. He's in his late fifties with several tufts of white hair, and has a scholarly look about him. As you approach you eye him curiously, "Hello there, my name is Mr. Rupert Merriweather. I was just walking by the station when I happened to notice a certain look in your eyes. I don't normally say this to people I just met, but, I feel a... kindred spirit with you, would you be willing to go to a cafe and talk with me for a moment?"

The man seems friendly enough, as you were hoping oh so long ago the citizenry of Arkham would be. And yet, part of you has been scarred by the events prior. Can you truly trust this man?

[igordragonian]

My instinct make me a do wierr gesture, to pull out the photo which In don't own anymore, trying to remember how I used to look.
To him it might look like a tick.
I was wary of this man.
But... I did yearned for someone to talk with. Maybe he could make sense out of it.
Beside.
Who know, when my next meal will come.
"Why, thank you. I'l apreciate your company."

[zingbobco000]

The man smiles as you accept his invitation, "Splendid, there's a place just round the corner here. They have the most wonderful cookies. And don't you worry, I'm the one who's inviting you, no need for talk of bargains or bones or greed."

Rupert is right, it's merely a short walk as you find a wonderful little cafe with a couple lights on. At least here people actually go out after dark, like a normal town. "So, what brings you to Arkham, Mr...?" As you're seated a waiter comes by and hands you a small menu of food and drink associated with french cafes.

[igordragonian]

I take a seat with sigh of a relief, yet in pain.
I have burns in places it isn't aproriate to talk about.
Ideally, I would be in hospital, or at least at home, healing.

But for, now coffee and some pasteries will do.
I inhale, and cough black spit, moving my head, so the disgusting ooze will hit the floor.
"My name is Issac Warshaver. I am an... anthropogist. Excuse for my disgusting cough.. I don't feel too well..'
I pause
"I were supposed to work at the university here. But the traitorouse bastards made me do a second interview-"
The rage make me cough again.
"Again. I was late by foces beyond my control. I doubt they will accept me. Those nimrods.'
I curse angerly.

[zingbobco000]

Rupert looks most certainly concerned due to your yelps and cough; however, as you mention that you're an anthropologist, he gives a laugh: a rather deep laugh that resounds from within. Luckily there aren't too many patrons around this time of night, so nobody seems to give you any looks. "Why, my boy, I knew we seemed like kindred spirits! I used to be a cultural anthropologist! I studied the ancient egyptians, along with their interaction with the Roman Empire during the first century. Why that was my specialty! In fact, speaking of the mystic aspects, I looked deeply into the syncretic aspects of the Roman and Egyptian pantheons, morphing into something more, something... stranger." His face is alight with wonder.

However, as your conversation takes a turn, Rupert looks somewhat bewildered by your rather vulgar outburst. But you do also see surprise on his face as you mention the University. "Well, Mr. Warshaver, and I assure you that I sympathize with you, but I do happen to know several people at the university, and I can personally confirm that they're not all bad. If you think about it from their perspective, surely a delay such as the one you described might warrant ensuring that you are fully committed to working there, even if from your perspective it was due to such forced circumstances?"

The pastries are quite tasty, they are warm and go well with the coffee. Mr. Merriweather also eats cookies from his own order, enjoying their crisp and delicious nature.

He then looks down at his watch. "Oh my, would you take a look at the time. I feel absolutely dreadful that I've stopped you from going to... erm... where are you staying, if you don't mind my asking?"

[igordragonian]

I sigh.
"Forgive my outburst. I understand it all. I am just.. very frusrated. It took a llot of courage to finally to leave my home town, and I nearly died on the way here... during.." I pause.
'A research."
I try not to show my pain, but I feel, like a slightly stronger then usual wind, will blow my flash off.
I become distracted, one he talk about Romans and Egyptians, while I speak a bit about Aztecs and Maya.

"...I..' I feel ashamed to eat of from the generosity of others, and felt worse then a beggar.
Most beggars didn't coughed black ooze.
I look away. "Were still figuring where to rest my head for the night." I say, filled with shame.

[zingbobco000]

Mr. Merriweather nods throughout your recountment, looking quite concerned when you mentioned that you almost died, but he does not seem to wish to pressure you on the matter. Nevertheless, as you mention you do not have a place to stay he speaks up. "Well, my friend, I consider myself a good judge of character, and I value good-heartedness, and it seems quite clear from our conversation that, despite your outburst, you are just trying to make it in the world. There's a hotel on the corner of High and Garrison. Tell the man there, Mr. Erving, that I requested personally for you to head there. We go quite a ways back, and I'm sure he'd be willing to offer you a place there until you can get back on your feet, which I am certain will happen in no time at all. I should make it clear this is not a gift, this is merely an investment into your future, so no need to feel guilty accepting my assistance."

He then stands up from his chair and sticks out his hand, ready for a firm handshake. "Well, it has been excellent meeting you Mr. Warshawer. I am very glad to find another man concerned with the study of anthropology such as myself, and I look forward to many more conversations with you!"

[igordragonian]

I shake his hand back, rather weakly.
"Thank you." I say. "You are truly a life savior.'

[zingbobco000]

Mr. Merriweather nods, "It's nothing, I just want to help." He then begins to gather his things, finishing off the last cookie. "Well, I think I'd best be heading out. It was wonderful to meet you Professor Warshawer." He gives you a wink as he disappears into the darkness.

[igordragonian]

I nod meekly, ans go my way to the hotel, panting and every few minutes catching my breath

[zingbobco000]

Note that there's generally going to be a one-month or so time-skip between scenarios to allow for me to describe external events and how they pertain to the game at large. Also, you're back to full health in the span of a week or so, given that you'll heal 1 HP/day.
----

Arkham, 9:18 PM, September 5th, 1921

You walk up and down the unfamiliar streets, searching for High and Garrison, until you eventually find it: The Greatview Inn. Stepping inside feels like a literal breath of fresh (this place must be air conditioned during the hot summer days), and as you meet with the receptionist, and subsequently mention Mr. Merriweather's name, she smiles and nods. "He's a rather kind man isn't he. He always helps out around town, of course his son won't have any of that. Anyway, here's your room!"

Arkham, 10:58 AM, September 6th, 1921

You rush up the steps to the doors of the faculty building for Miskatonic University. You cannot be late for this interview, especially after that... event led you to missing your first day. In fact, you wonder if they'll even let you on at all for this term, after all, the year's already. Nevertheless, there must be something you could work out.

Arkham, 11:47 AM, September 6th, 1921

Well, that was it. It's strange, they asked questions, but while they did, your mind was on something else: Emberhead. You cannot seem to get it out of your mind. Eventually you figured the library, being one of the greatest in the country, would have some answers, and while it does, it's not enough to satiate you.

Arkham, 12:38 PM, September 10th, 1921

You're teaching a young group of freshman about several interesting comparisons made between the Han Dynasty and the Roman Empire. You got the job. Apparently "Professor Merriweather," as he is called here, happened to recommend you, which cemented your position as a Junior Professor. You realize that you're teaching people less than a decade younger than you, and for some reason you feel nearly twice their age. Maybe it's because of what you experienced, or maybe it's just you, either way, you're unsure.

Arkham, 6:27 PM, September 14th, 1921

You've managed to find a rather cramped apartment next to the university on Lich St.. Despite it's size it's rather cozy, and it is not like you had too much to set down when you got here.
Every now and then, Mr. Merriweather (or Professor Merriweather apparently) calls you up and asks if you'd like to head to the cafe and chat about the study of ancient cultures. It's here where you realize that Mr. Merriweather, while not as knowledgable as you concerning the mystic tales and folklore of said cultures, still knows quite a bit. Perhaps he happened to study it a very long time ago. Either way, the conversations surely serve to brighten your day and are intellectually stimulating.

Arkham, 10:35 AM, September 22nd, 1921

You've managed to make some friends in the department. A professor of archeology, by the name of Professor Jones (Nevada Jones), happened to notice that you were reading Pagan Tales: A Deep-Dive into the Pagan Influences on New England culture and noted how "Many of the small villages oriented their main thoroughfares and roads to perfectly align with the sun during such days as the summer solstice. I've managed to explore the burnt ruins several of them, and it was all rather common."
Soon you got to talking and discovered that Professor Jones also had an interest in the study of the occult "For academic purposes only, I assure you! After all, such things should belong in a museum." Either way, it was nice to know that you at least had someone to talk to at the school as well.

Arkham, 4:05 PM, September 26th, 1921

You're reading in Orne Library (the main library on Miskatonic's campus), when suddenly a *tap tap* grabs your attention. As you raise your gaze from "Fire Rituals: from the Wicker Man to the Fourth of July, Why We Love Them" you notice that Mr. Merriweather happened to stroll up to your table. You also notice he has a cane, and has used it to rap on your desk. "Why I hadn't expected for you to be reading such a book as that? What, are you planning on capturing me and burning me alive? Should I be worried?" Your chuckle sounds false in your mouth, but Mr. Merriweather continues. "You know, I used to be part of a club here, an extra-curricular society if you would."
He stares off in the distance towards the myriad of bookshelves in the Miskatonic Library. "We used to have such fun gallivanting around, ah vigor. To be young and spry again, eh Isaac." He then looks back to you, "Anyway, us old fogies fizzled out and stopped coming, but the club we originated from, now that's still going." He then strokes his chin, "You know, I think they're having a meeting this Friday night. You should go! I'm sure you'll meet some new people that way."
He then looks at his watch and gasps. "Well, I'd best be headed off, Agnes will chew my ear out if I stay out to late, and Bertrand..." The man looks down then looks back with a bright smile. "Ah, I don't need to worry you with the details of my social life, farewell Professor Warshawer!"

Arkham, 3:15 PM, September 30th, 1921

You head towards Room U35. You're honestly quite unsure what you're doing. What even is this "Club" anyway? Either way, you stand here at a crossroads, shall you open it? Or depart and focus on living the rest of your life, you have a job, a home, some friends, it could most surely stay that way.
However, should you decide to open it, your life will surely be changed... forever.
----

Oh boy, that was long, but I hope you read all of it and enjoy. Again, I know it's very railroady, but that's kinda how I have to run the in-between segments, just to actually have everything make sense and ensure that the game does not drag on forever.

[igordragonian]

I still have dreams about fire.
And I have lost my photo. But maybe it's fine.
Maybe.
People seems to ignore the fact I am disgusting to look at, and I am thankful for that.
The morbid curiosity. It almost killed me once. And sure, this club, is just probably a group of overly passionate fans of the cryptic and the mystical, I have feeling I shouldn't. And yet, I go there.
Me and my damn morbid curiosity. It will kill me.
Eventually.

[zingbobco000]

You open the door to see three people sitting in an cleared-out lecture hall, but with several chairs surrounding the table. "Well, I'm still not sure this is entirely our area of 'expertise', Lois. I'm a risk taker, fair and simple, but that doesn't mean I'm inclined to go rushing off after the first person who calls wolf!" A young african-american woman says to one of the other members. She wears fashionable clothing and seems to be filled with a sort of youthful vigor.
"Lois," apparently the other student, flares up for just a moment. "Well ex-cuse me for believing there could be things in the world that God made other than us humans. Why, imagine the possibilities!" She is an young Italian woman with an athletic build and a stylish bob of dark brown hair.
"Now now, settle down. While I'm unsure if this would truly be an exploration into the unexplained, the money would still go a long... oh! We have a visi-, Isaac is that you?" As the third member of the group you recognize to be Dr. Nevada Jones, your colleague, in his casual clothes as opposed to the ones he normally wears as a professor. "Lois, Jessie, this is a coworker of mine, professor Warshawer. He teaches anthropology, and we've had a couple of intriguing conversations together concerning the unexplained." He then turns back towards you. "Is there something I can help you with Isaac?"

[igordragonian]

I am adjusting my glasses, raise my hand to watch the photo, which I have lost.
"...Pl...pl...ple..please forgive me, Doctor and dear ladies..' I look away, feel ashamed to let women witness something disgusting as me.
"Mr. Merriweather has re..recomnded me to join this club. I al.. also have devolped curiosity... mmm..' I pause.
"Maybe... it was a mi..mistake..'

[zingbobco000]

Professor Jones looks confused, "Professor Merriweather? I'm surprised he even knew about us." He strokes his chin for a moment as Jessie happens to notice you standing in the doorway.
"Come in! We're always accepting new members, isn't that right Professor Jones?"
"Hmm...? Oh yes, of course, forgive my absentmindness." Professor Jones tips his fedora in your direction.
"Anyway, I say we go for it, what's the harm? We investigate it over the weekend, see what we turn up, and if there's nothing... well. Then that's it, case closed!" Lois seems to be very focused on whatever this debate is.
"Sorry Professor Warshawer for involving you in this, but let me explain. We received word from a friend of mine, Mr. Kimball, that he had a rather unusual break-in. Normally he'd contact the police, but it's rather strange and all, and given the nature of this society, I thought I should broach the topic of sending one of our number out there to explore."
Jessie's eyes then dart back towards you, "Professor Jones, does Professor Warshawer even know what this society is?"
All eyes then await your response.

[igordragonian]

"If I understand, you are researching the occult and mystiism?'

[zingbobco000]

Lois laughs and then adds, "Indeed, ya' see Professeh Warsawer, this a society of discovery. We explore the unexplained. I guess afterwards we might tell stories about it, but it's been here quite a long time, with different students and staff members leaving and joining."
Jessie nods in confirmation, "We deal with whatever strangeness lies upon God's great earth-"
As Professor Jones cuts her off "Now Jessie, we're getting ahead of ourselves." He then looks back to you, "Now, we certainly have a wide variety of mysterious things in this world. However, in the end, much of the strangeness is more mundane than we originally anticipated." He looks then back towards Jessie and Lois, "Hence why I do understand Jessie's-"
"But Professor, why not have a look, I'm sure that there's something there. I highly doubt an alumni of this university such as Mr. Kimball would deceive us in such a way. It doesn't make any sense." She then turns towards Jessie, "And Professor Jones said we could use the mone-"
"Wait a moment, you're busy this weekend with James, I have a paper to write on the Emancipation Proclamation, and Professor, you said you had a gosh-darned load of papers to grade!"
The professor then strokes his chin, "That is true, Jessie, maybe I can..." He then turns towards you. "You know, Isaac, I know you just met this little... Society of ours, but how would you like to go on an expedition to explore the unexplained? I'm not sure what you're doing this weekend, but I'm certain you would be well-compensated for your efforts."

The two students also look towards you, Lois stares at you with pleading eyes while Jessie merely seems to be gauging your reaction. You do recall that you have nothing going on this weekend, and it's been a rough month trying to manage things here, maybe a sort of "vacation" could be just what you need.

[igordragonian]

"Well, if may I be honest, my weekend is.. empty.' I pause.
'An expedtion would actually fill it rather nicely."

[zingbobco000]

Three smiles grow onto the faces of the club members. "Sounds mighty fine Professor Warshawer! Anyway, about the case, Thomas Kimball, an alumnus of Miskatonic has been burglarized."
Lois then chimes in "But this wasn't no ordinary burglary. For the burglar only stole books. There were a variety of other valuables within the house, but the burglar only took a couple of his uncle's favorite books." Her voice then takes on a lower pitch, masked in mystery. "And the strange part is that his uncle, Douglas Kimball, vanished around a year ago without a trace."
Professor Jones then smiles as the two students retell the story, and cannot resist adding in a piece of his own. "Now Isaac, Thomas has no idea if the two events are even related in the slightest, but apparently his uncle was a rather mundane fellow. Nothing ever happened to him, and the fact that these two strange events occurred in the past couple of years and are associated with his uncle brought our attention." He then raises his hand to note, "We've helped people in the past, Isaac. The Arkham Police Department sometimes calls on us, but Thomas lives in Arnoldsberg, a couple of hours drive from here. I wouldn't expect any help, so I'm afraid you'll be on your own for this investigation. But it shouldn't be too bad right? Just try your best and see what you can find."
He then hands you a coach ticket towards Arnoldsberg, "This was included in the request, I hope you don't mind a couple hours' drive. The coach should leave tomorrow morning. Hopefully, that'll offer you enough time to return on Monday." The Society smiles, happy to have a new member of their group.

[igordragonian]

I am almost dissapointed. Few missing books? Feel underwhelming compared to man sacrificng cult...
Oh well.
"Very well. At worst I'll get to know a new friend." I force a smile.
"So this won't he a waste of time either way.'

[zingbobco000]

Eventually, after the discussion is all said and done, everyone returns back to conversing about the newest developments in the world. They all chatter for a bit, inviting you in to converse as well, and you cannot help but feel... appreciated. You have coworkers, yes, but this is something a bit... different. It feels like you're almost like you're in Providence again, with all of your friends, but that's for later. What is most striking is that to be honest, the Society is incredibly informal. The members are just normal people who like to sometimes try and solve a couple of mundane mysteries every now and again, and you cannot help but feel calmed by this fact. Maybe the world is more normal than whatever happened at Emberhead would suggest.
Eventually, the time comes for you to depart, and thus, you all go your separate ways, but the Society is most certainly anxious to hear a report of what happened next Friday!
----

Are you ready to depart?

[igordragonian]

Yes, I am. I'll just pack my suite case, and of course my mystery notebook, where have I have written the spell, and also what ever I can recall from the incident. I don't expect to find anythinf- I expect it to be silly, and later we could laugh at my wasted time.
I am ready!

[zingbobco000]

Arkham, 10:15 AM, October 1st, 1921

(Quick Recap Boxed Text:) You have been contacted by Thomas Kimball of Michigan. It seems his house has been burglarized and some of his books have been stolen. The mystery also has the added wrinkle in that his uncle inexplicably disappeared without a trace nearly a year ago. Mr. Kimball would like you to find out who stole the books, return them if possible, and, if somehow these two events are related, discover the whereabouts of his uncle and whether he is still alive.

You board the coach, and you can't help but be slightly trepidatious considering that the last one you went on led to... well... you're not really sure exactly what happened. You are grateful, however, to notice several passengers have gotten on in addition to you. Anyway, it's time for a new journey.

Just Past Ossipee, 12:18 PM, October 1st, 1921

The coach crests over a hill with some slight difficulty, but eventually manage to crest it and make it through what appears to be the charred ruins of a town. With your background, you recognize that it most likely burned down due to a forest fire maybe several decades earlier. It is at this moment when you realize exactly where you are. You're in Emberhead.
However this doesn't make any sense. You remember being here a month ago. You're not entirely sure what happened then, but you're certain that you were definitely there. However, you have little time to ponder this utterly confusing turn of events, when suddenly, you're gone. You've headed down the hill. The charred ruins of what must have at one point been Emberhead stand alone, fading off into the distance.

Arnoldsberg, 2:39 PM, October 1st, 1921

You exit the coach, thank the driver, and begin to look around. You've been dropped off on what you presume to be the main thoroughfare of the town, which, while most certainly not that large, is still respectable. You happen to notice an actual police department (you silently thank whoever/whatever you would thank in this scenario), a real library (as opposed to one in the "village hall"), and even a newspaper, as a young boy eagerly runs up to you handing you a copy of the Arnoldsberg Advertiser for but a couple coins.
You pull out the rest of the letter, as you eventually find yourself wandering the streets of Arnoldsberg until the rural (if it could be called that) elements fade away, and as you reach 218, Aylesbury St. You don't see too many other houses except this one for a couple hundred feet or so, as you notice the most likely reason: it's right next to the graveyard.
As you knock on the door, you hear a voice from inside shout: "One mo-moment please!"
Eventually, a young man opens the door, he looks around almost as if he expected several people but then extends his hand warily from the doorstep. "H-Hello there, I'm, well, I'm Thomas Kimball. Are you a-a member of... The Society?" He lowers his voice, as if it was some deep dark secret that the two of you were discussing in a crowd.

[igordragonian]

I again raise my hand, to look at the photo I have lost. To others this gesture might look like a strange kind of salute.
I can't see how I look like at the moment.
At least Kimball didnt barfed at the sight of me.
"Yes. I am. My name is Issac Warshawer. I might be able to help.' I offer a little and akward smile.

[zingbobco000]

Thomas shifts slightly. "Well, uh, yes. I'd like for you to look into the theft, and if maybe you could shed any light on my uncle's disappearance." He then realizes that you're still standing outside on the porch, and the second aspect of your statement springs to mind. "Oh, come in, come in, I'm so sorry. The break-in just has me a bit flustered is all, and it's not like the police are going to pay any attention to some missing books. Can I get your bags?"

[igordragonian]

"I understand.' I nod.
"Thank you. I see you are quite the gentelman.' I say and walk after him inside.
"And what does the police say about your uncle's dissapearance?'

[zingbobco000]

"Ah, well, um, th-thank you."
You see that the house is quite charming, it's rather large and spacious, with a wide variety of elegant furnishings. "This, well, this used to be my uncle's house you see, and to be honest." Thomas then shrugs. "I have no idea which of his titles we-were taken, although, I do most certainly notice their absence, of course."
He then gestures for you to follow him and leads you down a hall to a room that looks rather unlike much of the rest of the house. It's cluttered and piled high with books of all shapes and sizes, and on all subjects, their only common trait is that it appears that at some point, they all were well cared for. "This, well, this was my uncle's study, I-I couldn't really bear to clean anything up, so most of it has been left a-as is. However, if you notice..." He points up towards one of the bookshelves and you see six clear dust outlines where presumably several books were. "A-a couple days ago, I heard something a s-sound from this room in the middle of the night, like a book falling, only to discover these spots m-missing." He looks at you utterly confused. "I-I have no idea what anyone would want with my uncle's books, but the burglar d-didn't even take any of our, well, our actually valuables. S-so I didn't want to bother the police."
Meanwhile, when you question him about the police he looks fraught. "We, um, contacted them, and they, they sent out missing person's rep-reports. But, nothing, was ever f-found..."

[igordragonian]

I nod, trying to follow.
"...Did your uncle had enemies? Anyone who wish him harm?'

[zingbobco000]

As you're looking around it is quite clear that there is literally no order at all in this study. Books on the shelves don't appear to be arranged alphabetically or even by subject. It would probably take hours if not nearly a day to go through all of this clutter. However, as you make your statement, you see Thomas shrug. "I honestly h-have no idea. I really didn't interact with my uncle that much. He mostly just kept to himself in his study. Always reading he was..."

[igordragonian]

I try and make sense out of it.
'Did he owned rare books? Enough rare to be fought over?"