Août Dupin
État physique : Haute alerte.
État mental: Préoccupé pour Dupree.
"Professeur Dupree, c'est assez bien pour moi en ce moment. J'ai seulement besoin que quelqu'un de l'autorité de l'université nous permette d'établir un périmètre, d'éloigner les étudiants et autres passants pendant que nous faisons notre travail. Vu qu'August a déjà fait un peu de ce travail pour nous, nous allons droit à la poursuite. Alors, je voudrais d'abord vous interroger; comme vous l'avez dit, vous étiez le premier sur les lieux, et notre premier témoin. Est-ce qu'on pourrait répondre à ces questions en privé? » Cette dernière question est apparue comme si elle était dirigée vers le mois d'août. La dernière chose dont Barry avait besoin en tant qu'inspecteur à venir, c'était d'avoir un IP qui se mêle de ses affaires. "Et il travaillait ici, à l'université? Alors je vais avoir besoin de voir son bureau, ne voudrais pas laisser des rochers débloqués?"
C'était juste la chance d'Auguste. Il venait juste de trouver sa première avance solide sous la forme du professeur Dupree et déjà le bon vieux Barry voulait traîner le pauvre vieil homme dans quelque chose qui ressemble à une ruelle sombre et sans doute forcer toutes les informations qu'il voulait obtenir de lui. August était prêt à parier que ce ne serait pas une expérience très agréable pour les moins en santé de Dupree.
En vérité, August ne pouvait pas vraiment imaginer ce que Barry voulait demander à Dupree, y avait-il quelque chose dans cette scène qui a fait penser à Barry que ce n'était pas juste un suicide normal comme August l'avait supposé? Bien que hardie et sujette à la violence Août savait que Barry n'était pas tout à fait un homme stupide; un fait qui lui a fait se demander si son vieux compatriote avait d'autres connaissances, probablement la police acquise, qui lui a fait deviner deuxième si c'était vraiment un suicide.
Quoi qu'il en soit, le mois d'août s'est vite senti avoir besoin d'intervenir pour le compte de Duprees en raison d'un mélange entre sa boussole morale agaçante et l'envie de protéger sa propre piste d'enquête, ce qui a rendu le mois d'août prompt à s'exprimer. Le pauvre professeur n'avait aucune idée du danger potentiel dans lequel il se trouvait.
Aoûts apparemment constant lent et rythmique voix profonde est resté inchangé comme il a interjecté avant Dupree a eu un moment pour accepter la vie privée. Eh bien Barry, si ça ne vous dérange pas, je vais juste vous suivre. En fait, je parlais juste avec Dupree avant votre arrivée et il m'offrait de m'aider à examiner ma nièce disparue après que toute cette affaire malheureuse ait été bouclée. Vu que l'affaire a l'air très nette, ça ne me dérangerait pas d'aller au bureau d'Atkins. Je t'aiderai même à regarder autour de toi, après tout, quatre yeux sont mieux que deux, hein? Il s'est arrêté un moment et a pris une traînée de sa cigarette mourante. Vous pourriez même questionner le professeur ici le long de la route, vous savez, deux krauts avec une grenade pour ainsi dire.
Verrouiller les yeux avec Barry August a dû admettre qu'il avait un peu honte de jouer la carte des vieux jours, mais ce sont des moments désespérés-à ce moment-là, il faisait presque n'importe quoi pour faire arrêter les cauchemars damnés. En toute honnêteté, bien qu'il ait eu l'intention de dire au bon vieux Barry quand le moment était venu de savoir pourquoi il était en ville-nuitmares et tout. Ici face à Dupree et un cadavre n'était pas ce temps-là cependant-il a fait de son mieux pour donner Barry un regard qui a montré qu'il a aspiré à parler plus tard.
Name: Jeremy Arthur Velera
Nickname/title: The Irishman, Jav, Lance Corporal
Gender: Male
Age: 29
Build/physicality: A typical worker’s body, Jeremy is nothing special. His left arm shows signs of scratching, as if someone had held it tight and scratched on it. Do not let that fool you though; he can take a beating if needed be.



Background
Psychological status: Officially rehabilitated, but can incidents of backlashing trauma of shell shock.
Quirks, ticks, conditions, sensitivities to the paranormal: If suffering from shell shock, hears the tangled voices of The Elder Gods, though does not comprehend what they truly are. While sane, usually rubbing his eyes, as if crying or itching.
Magical potential (Y/N): Yes, but unlikely to master due to psychological trauma.
Personality: Like many veterans of the Great War, he does not like to talk about his experiences with it, and does his best to avoid people mentioning it. Other than that, and why he left Ireland, he is an open man who would not mind a good chat, preferably over a glass of whiskey. He is hard work, and prefers to take on problems head on with the most practical solutions. Only reason he wouldn’t like you or help you would be that you’re overly interested in the war, you are either German or English.
Hometown: Dublin, the Irish Free State. Currently residing in Arkham.
Education: British Secondary school, military training and service.
Occupation: Mechanic at “Ferguson & sons motor cars”.
Achievements: Awarded for longstanding service during the war; assassination of Loyalists and British officers; fleeing to America; finding a decent-paying job in Arkham.
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Religion/philosophy: Roman Catholic
Marital status: Engaged to Maggie Oswald. Fiancé home in Ireland, waiting for Jeremy to return or to afford herself to come to America.
Family status: Mother and father alive, one brother in prison, another brother dead on the shores of Gallipoli, sisters working in either Dublin or Manchester.

Growing up in Dublin wasn’t easy for Jeremy, nor his family, but so it was for most families in Ireland. His family lived of their father’s mechanic shop, their mother’s cleaning the houses of the prosperous English who lived in the city, and their children’s small earnings from whatever work their parents found for them. Jeremy himself ended up spending much time in his father’s mechanic shop, growing to know quite a bit about machines himself. He never formally became an engineer, but his skills are that far from one with a degree.
Even with reoccurring financial problems for his family, and growing tensions in Ireland over Home Rule, the Velera children were able to attend school. Jeremy pulled his way through school, finishing Secondary School in Dublin. By that time, the Great War had already engulfed the continent and nearly half the world. Lord Kitchener called upon Britain’s finest to fight the Germans and Austrians; over what, Jeremy wasn’t quite sure, only that some Austrian was shot somewhere called Sarajevo, and all of a sudden the Germans are invading Belgium. Jeremy, wishing to prove his worth and to protect his beloved Ireland, enlisted.
Jeremy ended up in the 16th Division, primarily made up of Irish volunteers, undergoing months of training before they landed in the trenches of France in late December 1915. Eyeballed by their superiors, the Irish, seen as unreliable troopers, but men like Jeremy proving their worth in the exhausting trench war against the Germans. They held their trench just as good as any other Englishmen. Jeremy himself lost count of how many Huns he had shot while there, and how many times he was called down to the officer’s quarters to fix the water pumps. It all took its toll on him though; he lost more friends in the trenches than he made all his life in Dublin, shot and blown to pieces by the enemy, seen unfit for service after falling into the abyss of madness, known as “shell shock”, Jeremy too falling victim to it in the end.
Their section of the trench had just held back a German attack, and their officers ordered them to start the counter-attack. At first, it went well, only suffering minor causalities, as expected from the fine gentlemen staring at the maps, far away from the horrors of war with their bottles of wine and comfortable beds. Then they got in range of the German machine guns, and it all went down the drain. They retreated, but Jeremy himself couldn’t make it back to their trenches, and took shelter in a crater. Then he waited. Around him lay the bodies of dead comrades, so he thought; after waiting hours, through the day and dark night, until it started all over again. This time the Germans used poison gas, luckily Jeremy had kept his gasmask when they went across no-mans-land. His comrades hadn’t. Jeremy froze in shock as he saw what he thought were his dead comrades move as the gas seeped into the crater. Having played dead in fear of Jeremy being a German soldier, they could play no more as the gas reached their skin. They cried out in pain, clutching their eyes and gasping for air as they slowly died, skin blistering as if it was burning. And Jeremy could do nothing to save them. They screamed for so long, the screams burrowed themselves into Jeremy’s head, and he could hear nothing else. He screamed, just like his comrades in agony, and he just sat there for five long hours until they found him. Diagnose: Shell shock.
For months he could only hears the screams of his friends, or what he thought was their screams; it had been so long that he couldn’t remember if it were their voices, or something else. Something sinister, evil, ready to devour his soul. Never in life did he need God more than this. It made him mad, as if he wasn’t already. He was one of the lucky ones though; he could be saved. Months passed, and he emerged from Craiglockhart Hydropathic a cured man, fit for military service one more. By that time, the war was over. He returned to Dublin, ready to continue with his life. Then he joined the IRA.
Ireland wanted Home Rule, Westminster wouldn’t give it to them, and so they decided to fight for it. Jeremy had experience from the war, he disliked the union of Great Britain and Ireland, and had little to lose. He did his part in the civil war, killing British officers and Loyalists, being the sharpshooter he had become from the trenches. Even after the Irish Free State was established, he fought on for a fully independent, united Ireland, and for this, he had to flee. Flee from Dublin, from Ireland, from his family and beloved Maggie, from his life. He left for America.
He eventually ended up in Arkham, found work at a local automobile garage, and begun working. He needed enough money for another ticket, so that Maggie could finally join him in America to begin a new life. All through this, through the civil war and his new life, the horrors of the Great War haunted him, and sometimes, he found himself screaming at night. Had not the doctors found Jeremy to be sane though?
Then again, what did the mere doctors truly know of the forces beyond this world?

Miscellaneous information
Combative belongings: Webley Mk VI revolver, trench knife.
Noncombative belongings: The Holy Bible, wrench, pictures of his family and fiancé, his medals and uniform from the war, documentation of his rehabilitation from Craiglockhart Hydropathic.
Other information (optional): May or may not have connections with the IRA or the Irish mob on the East Coast.
Theme song (optional):