Percival will ask Lucien, Daniel, Andrew, Greg, and Joan

To write and account of what they experienced at the Barret Murder House, in as much detail as they remember and including what happened as we left, and written individually without the other influencing their memory.

"The uninvited kids must have started smoking something and we all had a bad reaction to. We started seeing things and imagining things. I think it was that one kids that went missing that brought it. He was acting really weird. Glad we got out of there. I can't remember much else."

At least that's what we should tell the cops if they ask us. Or are you asking me about what really happened?

Percival wants what’s really happened as a record of it from each persons perspective, what they saw, felt, heard, did, so that we can show folks if we ever decided to make it public that there is commonality of experience.

He’s not looking for something to say to the cops. This is meant to be for folks who take supernatural things some what seriously.

Bump NPCs were asked to do this as well

<I'm not sure if you are looking for me to really type the adventure from their 3 perspectives, but I can't feasibly do that>

Greg will basically just shrug and be like "whatever" and never get around to it. If pressed he'll be like, "what are you a professor giving me homework? I'm not doing homework."

Andrew will be fine with it but then change his mind after talking to Greg on the grounds that he'll be incriminating himself and he'd rather not have anything he wrote saying what happened floating around out there.

Joan will, despite hearing the same arguments, will write a piece.
Her piece is overly and sadly unironically dramatic featuring exerts like:

"It was then that I emptied myself and stepped through the threshold of the house. Gazing up at the darkness I raised my hands in praise to Lucifer and asked him to hold the morning light away until Andrew, Gary, and Daniel (and the other guy who's name at the time I did not remember) would return. I then sacrificed a roach by stomping on it and offered its soul as a sacrifice to the lords of hell and night that they keep the skies as black as a soul in the pine barrens lest the light come and forever seal them away in between our worlds.
Upon the air I then heard a voice. A voice as clear as if it were beside me which it was spoke, "oh my god, what a freak." I turned to meet the physical manifestation of the voice and upon seeing the tall athletic form of a high school male I raised a clawed hand, nails stretched out and hissed it away from the house.

It was during our bleakest period that I turned to, moving the hair from my face, and said, "This is a red alert Greg! We need to call everyone!" And I fled. I fled from down the cursed hall and the steps. I fled from the dust and litter and into the cool embracing darkness of the night. From the deep bowels of my purse I brought forth my cell phone and called! I called everyone who's numbers I had! I called, and called, dial after dial, with the winds whipping through my hair and I cried to each ear that would hear, "they are gone! You must come!" And for like the four horsemen they did come! Arriving by cars until we numbered over twenty!

Percival will tell Andrew that he does not need to attach his name to it. But having a record of what we experienced provides proof.