Kingsmouth
Sheriff's Office (170,345)
Human
Alive
Neutral
Sheriff
Dr. Bannerman, Deputy Andy, Sandy "Moose" Jansen
Sheriff Helen Bannerman is a resident of Kingsmouth and the primary contact for what little remains of the population. Fairly pragmatic about her situation she has a number of tasks for a willing pair of hands, especially if they're armed.
Well, I don’t mind telling you, this makes no damn sense to me. And I hate to be the one drawing a blank on Final Jeopardy. But right now, folks just need me to look like I’ve got all the answers. The questions, they come later, along with the grieving. Then after a little time, folks’ll lose their hankering for the questions. Fact is, a few of ‘em in high places get downright evasive about it. I never do quit. It’s a bad habit. I’m just a sheriff after all, not some forensic detective like on that CSI. Thought I had it the worst when the ravens came around, years ago. Was an ugly time for Kingsmouth, not the kind that makes it to the news. The kind we keep inside. Now I see those ravens are all back in town. They with you, or should I be bringing them in for questioning?
If you’re planning on striking out of town, Kingsmouth hospitality dictates I gotta set you right. And I need you to keep this on the down-low, but there’s worse out there than our undead problem. Worse than anything that shuffles on two legs, that’s for sure. I’m about as pleased as can be that I didn’t catch a better look. Could be the kinda thing that gives a nightmare nightmares. You want to stay in the light, keep out of the trees, out of the fog. We’ve got a few folks left holding out across the island. Well…there was last time I could check, and I’m an optimist. Pays to see the donut, not the hole. Red’s shack at Tolba Bay, the Innsmouth Academy, the Wabanaki Indian grounds – they should still be safe. Could be the others like you, that Wolf fella, have set up camp out there. Toasting marshmallows and such. And steer clear of the pumpkin patch, hey? Just a feeling.
Guess you could say I got lucky. Around the time this mess kicked off, I was up at the old lighthouse, checkin’ in on Sam Krieg. Maine’s best-selling export. Oh sure, we do that fancy book-learnin’ round these parts too. Never much cared for horror stories, or the man himself. Wavin’ a rifle around in a dressing-gown, juiced up, heck of a disturbance of the peace. Well, turns out that was the last of the peace. “I gotta write this down, Seriff, this is goddamn manna from heaven,” he says to me when the fog let go. I left him magnuming that opus and high-tailed it back to town. Tried to bring Ellie Franklin with me, but kingdom coming couldn’t pry her from that mansion. Real-monster house in the west island, you can’t miss it. I’d appreciate you letting them know we’re still here, for when they’re done playing survivalists.
You sure you want to be talkin’ to me about all this stuff? I mean, I’m probably flattered that you think I’m in on it all. Truth is, I’m always the last to be invited to the midnight meetings at Town Hall. Reckon I must be all thumbs when it comes to secret handshakes. I know this island’s cut from a different cloth, a damn weird cloth. Sure as there’s a difference between being homely and being plain stupid. Take it from me, no one round these parts is a dope, not all the time. Everybody knows, or knows someone who knows. Salem’s got nothin’ on us, we had an episode with torches and pitchforks only..pfff twenty-five years ago now? But my job, I gotta do it wearin’ this police jacket, not a robe and wizard hat.