Young Writers Society

In a small, remote town in regional Western Australia, there's an abandoned old mansion that sits on the edge of town. Professor Magnus Sinclair from Molan University knows there's something wrong with it, something dark and unusual. In fact, he's pretty sure it's haunted, so he rounds up five of his best students for a little week-long investigation at the mansion for extra credit.

While on this investigation, they begin to uncover a series of old, well-kept secrets--and in the process, they wake up something that should never have been awoken. The Mansion is not what it appears, and now that its awake, it's intent on swallowing them whole.

Will you survive the week or will the mansion consume you before you manage to escape?


Ghost Hunting Equipment:
Here's a link to the wiki on ghost hunting! There should also be a section on methods and equipment, which will also have a list of the kinds of equipment you might find in a ghost hunter's tool kit! It will also tell you about the different methods they might use. This is more of a reference link than anything.

Psychic Abilities:
Here's a list for you to persue! But remember, only three people here have an ability and those abilites are as stated below. Again, this is more of a reference link than anything.

The Mansion:

The Mansion is also known as Faversham House. It was built in the late 1830s and has been added to many times over the years. There are around 50 or so rooms in this mansion, but it has a tendency to...rearrange its floor plan, so they could be more or less or a whole new floor to explore. Be wary in Faversham. It's not what it appears to be.
- Mansion Floor Plan:

This is what the layout of the Mansion is supposed to be, but don't be surprised if the layout changes or is different upon arrival.

The University:

Molan University is a small, somewhat overlooked campus in regional Western Australia. It has a range of courses from Occult Studies and Parapyschology to Neuroscience and Biology. Basically, if you can think of a course, Molan University probably has it. And if they don't, they'll sign you up for an online course!
- University Campus:

Code: Select all

[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Gender:[/b]

[b]Appearance:[/b] (a brief appearance will work; please include a picture)

[b]Personality:[/b] (Please make this in-depth!  Also include strengths and weaknessess)

[b]Abilities:[/b] if it applies to you, anything relevant to abilities goes here! feel free to just link to the appropriate wiki page if that works for you!

[b]History:[/b] (brief history will work, include how you got onto the investigation team)

[b]Other:[/b] anything that doesn't fit above, such as personal missions/goals, any secrets you might be keeping, etc.

The Professor - Magnus Sinclair - @ScarlettFire
The Psychic Medium - Meryl Bennet - @PrincessInk
The Skeptic - Olivia "Ollie" Martin - @Gravity
The Audio-Visual Tech - Orpheus Kitchen - @Chaser
The Aura Reader - Emilia "Lia" Winterquist - @Magestorrow
The Telekinetic - Unknown - @Gravity

Magnus pulled the small bus into the driveway and applied the break, staring up at the imposing mansion before him. He narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses and scanned all the windows. It felt like the house was watching him back, and that was the point, wasn't it? He wanted the house to know they were there, for the ghosts to notice their arrival. After a moment, he turned to grin at the five students sitting in the back of the bus with all of the gear.

"Well," he said, gesturing blindly towards the mansion. "We're here. Now let's get unloaded and set up. We only have the place for a week and I'd rather get right to it than sit out here and stare at the old girl."

He turned and climbed out of the driver's seat, not bothering to wait for his students to reply. Magnus wandered round the rear of the bus and opened the back door. He hauled out a couple of the heavier cases and set them down beside him, peering over the top of his sunglasses at his students. He frowned, watching them silent for moment before deciding that he needed to intervene and get his students to work.

"Mister Kitch, if you'd be so kind as to assist me?" he called, catching the attention of the audio-visual tech who'd decided to join the investigation. "Ladies, please. Phones and various other devices away--at least until we're set up inside the mansion."

With that, Magnus picked up the two heaviest cases then turned and strolled off towards Faversham House's main entrance. He could see the caretaker lingering by the door, hopefully with the keys and no more setbacks. He'd been trying to get the investigation to happen for years now, and every time something happened or someone changed their mind, or there was some kind of disaster. Magnus would really rather prefer not to discuss the last time he tried to get into Faversham House. The damned door handle had bitten him. Metaphorically, of course.

"Afternoon, Professor," the elderly caretaker said as soon as he reached her. She smiled weakly up at him and Magnus noted that the shadows beneath her sharp blue eyes were a lot deeper than they'd been before. "I have the keys. Is this your study group?"

"Yes, Edna, that's them." He set the cases down carefully and took the keys when she offered them. "And please, call me Magnus." He frowned, giving her a quick once over and touching her arm in concern. "Are you alright? You seem rather frazzled, my dear."

"Oh, it's...it's nothing, Magnus," Edna said and glanced over her shoulder at the front door. "Just, uh..." She lowered her voice and leaned in towards him. "There's a new room. On the top floor. I don't remembering being there when I check last night, and well... It's definitely not on the floor plans, so I'm mightily confused."

Magnus sighed and gave her a pat on the shoulder. "It's okay, Edna. We'll get it all sorted out for you."

"Thank you, darling," Edna said and then shuffled to the side so he could get to the door. "Oh, and be careful in the library! There's a railing loose on the second floor balcony."

He chuckled, turning back to smile at her again. "Thanks for the warning, Edna. You should probably go home and rest. How's your cat? Heisenberg? Is he still sick or did my little herbal cure help him?"

Enda grinned wildly. "Oh! It's helped a lot! It's like he's a brand new cat." She seemed to bounce a little on the balls of her feet. "I've never seen him with so much energy before! It's frankly amazing. How do you do it?"

Magnus chuckled again. "That's a secret, darling. And it's good to know that Heisenberg is feeling much better now," he said, turning his attention to the keys and shuffled through them. He listened intently to both Edna and his students, and then to the house, trying to determine if it had reacted yet. Apparently not. "Do let me know if you need another bottle and I'll make one up for you."

"I certainly shall, m'dear! I certainly shall." With that, Edna trotted off down the drive, past the bus and all five of the students currently unloading the equipment from the back of the bus. Magnus paused to watch her a moment before he unerringly found the correct key and turned to unlock the door. He's known which key it was from the start; he'd just been stalling a little, making polite conversation while he waited for the bus to be unloaded.

Footsteps approached him, and then someone cleared their throat. "Uh, so, Professor, how long will it take to set up the HQ? Because I am keen to get investigating."

“Shouldn’t take too long,” replied Kitch, hefting a large duffel bag on his shoulder. “The Mystery Machine is unpacked.”

Professor Sinclair slid the key into the door, turning it smoothly. “Excellent. Would everyone follow me, then?

“And welcome,” he added, placing one hand on either door, “to Faversham House.”

The mahogany doors flew open with an uneven creak. They hit the indoor wall with two successive booming sounds. The sounds echoed up through the bones of the dark entrance hall, like two ghosts in a mad chase. Professor Sinclair didn’t seem fazed, walking around the door and checking for damage. Kitch walked in after him and whistled.

The hall was a sparse, heavily contrasting place. The dark seemed to be a solid film covering the ceiling and walls. Light filtered in from the central window and broke in octagonal shapes on the floor. Dust particles circulated in the shaft, whizzing around as Kitch moved through them.

He squinted into the darkness. Beyond the foyer was a lounge, replete with a bar and piano. There were a few boarded-up windows on the other side, mustily kept but with glints of daylight.

Two long staircases sloped around and upward to the second-floor balcony. There was a drab banner on the overhang, collecting mitres of dust. Professor Sinclair pointed to the lounge. “We’ll set up right there.”

They set their bags down. Kitch rolled his shoulders and exhaled, looking around. The lounge was a cozy spot, spacious too, and within reasonable distance of the front door. From here, many halls branched off into the east and west wings.

Kitch laid down his bag and unzipped it. He was an A/V worker by study, so his hands moved quickly to screw together a camera tripod. This camera would take a continuous video of the main lounge and entrance hall, in case they missed something. He angled it gently, then pointed it at Meryl. “Smile for the time-lapse,” he said, grinning.

Meryl offered a small smile. Kitch pointed to the case she had carried in. “Could I get that over here real quick?”

“Sure.” Meryl handed it over. Kitch set it down carefully and opened it up. The microphones had been arranged in gray shock-absorbing foam. There were six clip-on microphones and three-hand-held ones. The hand-held mics he connected to headphones, creating some crude dowsing equipment. He quickly popped one on to test it out.

“Professor?” Kitch swiveled around to Sinclair. “Mic check! Let me hear those bassy tones,” he cajoled, holding the microphone out.

Sinclair leaned into the mic and looked Kitch dead in the eyes. “You have an exam tomorrow.”

Kitch mock gasped and shuddered. “The horror!”

The heaviest box was for a hand-held electrical generator. It was a small yellow and black box with a crank on the top. With enough elbow grease, a single person could get it turning enough to recharge their ghost tools. Kitch had been using it to charge his cell phone. There was no service in the mansion, though, and he had to settle for solitaire.

Another bag held a handful of Geiger counters and thermometers from the chemistry lab. There were handheld EMF meters for studying electrical field fluctuations, and compasses for navigation or spinny spinny ghost-spooking. Each student had already been handed pencils and a notepad. Kitch reached into another bag and hauled out a ham radio. He’d be the one operating it, to look for stray radio waves that said “Bring me the child.”

Meryl grabbed some of the equipment as soon as he’d set it down. Ollie hovered around the camp, looking at all the stuff.

Kitch spread his arm over his wares. “See anything you like?”

“I didn’t know we were using actual science equipment,” she replied dryly, pointing to the Geiger counters.

“Well, how did you think we catch ghosts? Magic?” He smiled at her, knowing she didn’t really believe in either. She was here to keep an objective and scientific gaze on the data, sort of like in a group project. As for Kitch, he didn’t exactly care whether they found anything or not. Any reason to break out the good stuff was a festival for an audio tech.

Every student had also brought their own special equipment, of course. They all had their own way of feeling things out in paranormal situations. Kitch had brought a Ouija board with only the letter “O.” His dormmates called it the Ooooo board.

Ollie took her stuff and walked over to the actual camp, located by the bar. Professor Sinclair and Lia had been in charge of setting it up, replete with a power lantern and marshmallows. They had a portable stove and enough food for a week, sleeping bags as well as the odd fire extinguisher.

Kitch unpacked the last box. Infrared and night-vision goggles remained in their foam casing. They were the most fragile equipment, and the A/V department had stressed not to break them. Slapping one on anyway, Kitch walked over to the lantern, where everyone else was sitting.

“What’s up, guys?” he asked, the goggles bouncing like bug eyeballs.

Lia looked at him for one second and snorted. Sinclair smiled a bit before continuing.

“Edna will be back at the end of the week. Until that time, I have arranged for there to be no interference from the outside world.” The professor looked carefully at each of them.

“Now, I know I went over the rules of ghost-hunting on the bus, but I figured Kitch wasn’t listening, so I’ll start over.”

Kitch laughed with everyone else, because he really hadn’t.

Sinclair held up three fingers on his right hand and counted them with his left. “Rule Number One. No one works alone. If you find a cold spot or electromagnetic fluctuation, tell us and confirm it before investigating. Remember, parapsychology is a science.”

Kitch smiled. Luckily, his transcript agreed with that.

“Rule Number Two. Be careful around the mansion walls. The structure is old, and I don’t want to have to explain any property damage to Edna.

“Rule Number Three.” Sinclair’s voice dropped slightly, and his chin dipped, casting his face in shadow. “Trust each other more than you trust this place.”

The atmosphere got a little heavier. Kitch couldn’t stop it, and inhaled tensely. No matter what you think from outside, ghost-hunting was a nerve-wracking experience.

“And as a Rule Number Four,” Sinclair paused for a moment, before pointing down the left hallway. “I believe the restroom is that way.”

An internal sigh of relief swept through the group, kind of like a ghost. Absentmindedly, Sinclair held up his pinky. “Ah, and the last rule is to have fun,” he said. “Now, let’s get investigating.”

Ollie Martin

As the van approached Faversham house, Ollie had her earbuds in her ears, blasting alternative music. Her eyes roamed over the bricks and windows of the old house. Knowing Sinclair, she wasn't surprised. She had taken his course thinking it would be easy, but she had unfortunately devoted too much time and energy to her other courses. Luckily, Sinclair offered this extra credit assignment and it was an excuse to get her out of class for a week.

She planted her feet firmly on the lawn, though lawn was an overstatement given that it consisted of dead grass and weeds. It was mowed at least, presumably by the caretaker. But Edna looked like she would have trouble pushing a shopping cart, much less a lawnmower. Ollie watched as Edna and Sinclair unlocked the house and the doors swung inward. Having removed her earbuds moments before, she heard the loud boom of the front doors and it struck her that once she was in, there was no out. Not until Edna came and let them out.

"It's for the credit, remember? You don't believe in this stuff anyway," she thought to herself as she walked up the front steps and into the dusty foyer. The only boy in the group, Kitch, was busy unpacking all the scientific equipment. Ollie set her bag down on the ground by the bar and walked over to see what Kitch was doing.

"See anything you like?" he asked her, cheekily spreading his arms. She couldn't tell if he was serious or not. All this equipment seemed excessive- and expensive- for hunting phenomena that most certainly did not exist.

"I didn't know we would be using actual scientific equipment," she said dryly, pointing to the stuff on the ground.

"How do you think we catch ghosts? Magic?" Kitch asked, and Ollie couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. In a way, Kitch was like her. He was there to observe, record, and operate the equipment. Ollie didn't know if he was there for the extra credit, if he believed, or if he was simply there out of curiosity, but she could more easily envision partnering up with Kitch than with the others.

Professor Sinclair began to address the group, and Ollie lifted her head to look at him.

“Edna will be back at the end of the week. Until that time, I have arranged for there to be no interference from the outside world.” The professor said, taking a moment to look each student in the eye. His gaze, though friendly, sent shivers down her spine. Especially paired with the idea that she would not be able to leave. It was out of her control.

“Now, I know I went over the rules of ghost-hunting on the bus, but I figured Kitch wasn’t listening, so I’ll start over.”

Ollie chuckled but she was glad Sinclair was going over this again. She'd had her earbuds in and had completely missed everything everybody was saying.

Sinclair held up three fingers on his right hand and counted them with his left. “Rule Number One. No one works alone. If you find a cold spot or electromagnetic fluctuation, tell us and confirm it before investigating. Remember, parapsychology is a science.”

Ollie watched Kitch smile, further confirming that he wasn't taking this as seriously as he let on. It took everything she had not to roll her eyes at Sinclair's words. They were in an old house. There were bound to be drafts, and she wasn't about to trust voo doo-ey "scientific" equipment to tell her about the "electromagnetic fluctuation."

“Rule Number Two. Be careful around the mansion walls. The structure is old, and I don’t want to have to explain any property damage to Edna.

“Rule Number Three.” Sinclair’s voice dropped slightly, and his chin dipped, casting his face in shadow. “Trust each other more than you trust this place.”

Ollie felt some tension in the room as she and the other students exchanged glances. What did he mean by this? As much as Ollie tried to discount Sinclair's words, she couldn't help but look at the now-shut oak doors that trapped them inside the house.

“And as a Rule Number Four,” Sinclair paused for a moment, before pointing down the left hallway. “I believe the restroom is that way.”

An internal sigh of relief swept through the group, kind of like a ghost. Absentmindedly, Sinclair held up his pinky. “Ah, and the last rule is to have fun,” he said. “Now, let’s get investigating.”

Ollie raised her eyebrows, laughing on the outside but internally afraid to acknowledge her developing feelings towards the "investigation". She felt uneasiness in her gut, though she desperately tried to hide it. Regardless, there was no way out and she had no choice but to go along with it.