In reply to Stanley Bishop (msg # 29):

"Shall we take two cars, Leo? Or taxis?"

Leo welcomed his old friend's handshake with a sad smile but a firm grip. His vision clouded briefly as the memory of the prior evening returned to the forefront, no longer distracted by the investigation. "It's good to see you, Phil. Thanks for stopping by. We were just about to head out to catch the tail end of a lecture. It's not necessarily the lecture that is important, but the lecturer. Or perhaps both." Leo shrugged. "If you want to see Kate briefly before we leave, we can briefly stop upstairs, though she's not in much of a mood for visitors just now."

He turned to regard the comments from the other. "The Lambda seats six - it will be a little bit of a squeeze, but neither Rosie nor Miss Ashcroft take up much room." He waited for a decision from Phil on whether to head upstairs for a brief visit to the missus, or to simply head out to the lecture.

    Annabel was in the process of getting her coat when Philip arrived. She knew about him from Dr. Elias but had never met the man. The doctor sure had a good support system of friends and colleagues. Considering the oddness of this all, the man needed all the help he could get.

  Slipping the coat on and bundling up she said to Doctor Elias, "With the state that Mrs. Elias is in, I'm sure the visit can wait till later Doctor. That may, Mr. Piggott isn't rushed and we won't be any later than we already are."

  She gave a warm smile to Philip, "Forgive my manners Mr. Piggott, I'm Annabel, Dr. Elias's assistant. As the Doctor said, please forgive the abruptness of this meeting, but it seems we've lost track of the time and are late for the lecture we wanted to attend."

Walter's a bit taken aback that he's been kept away from Aunt Kate all day, but this stranger can waltz right in and see her. Never mind.

As he gets into his hat and coat, he extends his hand to Phillip: "I don't know that we've ever met. I'm Walter Brandon, Mrs. Elias's nephew.

"I'll be right back, folks." He runs up the stairs, regretting it a bit by the time he gets to his room, winded and wincing from the hell his side is giving him.

Coming down the stairs, he says, "All set. You driving, Stan?"
This message was last edited by the player at 15:08, Wed 29 Oct 2014.

In reply to Walter 'Bo' Brandon (msg # 33):

” Yes, I will handle the wheel. , Bo, you ride shotgun .” Bishop said as he moved to the foyer and peeked out the window.

Philip looked shocked at Stanley's words.

"Shotgun?  Wha...?  What's going on here. Leo?  Why do we need someone to play shotgun?"

He quickly turned to Annabel.  "And yes Miss, I will come with you and see to Mrs Elias later.

In reply to Philip Piggott (msg # 35):

Walter opens the door for the others."

"Piggott, right? I expect Leo can fill you in on the way. Don't want to miss the lecture. One of you ladies want to sit up front with us?"

Despite herself, Annabel giggled at Philips's reaction to the saying. "It's nothing like that Mr. Piggott, it's just who gets to sit in front."

   She moved as Walter opened up the door, "I will take you up on your offer Mr. Brandon. Since 'shotgun is taken, I will ride...well I guess maybe pistol?" She gave a mirthful smile as she said it and climbed in and took her seat.

Leo let his wife know that he was headed out again, then gathered his overcoat and galoshes before heading to the car. He waited for those that were getting into the front to do so before holding the door open and allowing his niece to precede him into the vehicle. Once they were all seated and underway, he started to bring Pilip up to speed. "You know now that Jackson has been killed - we are currently tracking down those that we think were responsible for his death. There seems to be a cult that has set up shop in Harlem that might have something to do with it. Though Jackson poked his nose into a lot of different things, so we can't be certain just yet." Leo paused a moment having given Philip the very high level overview. "So...what have you been doing of late, Phil?"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:49, Fri 31 Oct 2014.

 "I am so sorry that I haven't been in touch before, Leo.  Actually I've been in New York for quite a few months now.  I moved here from San Francisco after...some unpleasant incidents, which I won't go into now."

"In fact I have been so busy writing up the details of those incidents that time just seems to have passed me by."

He turned to look around at the assembled crew.  "You all seem to have managed to get really involved in poor Jackson's death; please count me in.  I will do whatever I can to help."

Bishop headed out of the house to the car. it was his habit to warm the engine, and these cold winter nights made it critical to do so. He had already prepared the car for the trip. in the trunk with the hardware he picked up from the house, as well as a few items he moved from his own car.

Their prey was dangerous, if they were going to survive they too would need to be dangerous. They would be far outnumbered , and the enemy were likely all killers.

"It is good to see you again, Mister Piggott.  I only wish it was under different circumstances.  Father will be pleased to see you, as well."  Rosalie had left her tea behind and risen to gather her coat and hat once again, bundling up for the cold weather.  "You've just arrived as we were headed out.  Come and squeeze into the backseat with me and Uncle Leo and we can fill you in on what the papers left out.  I'm sure you'll have plenty of ideas that will help us dig into these horrid events." 

Leo nodded at his niece's suggestion. "Jackson was in town yesterday and was going to stop by to wish his old man well on my birthday. But the only chance I had to speak with him was while he was in his room at the hotel. He sounded disturbed, though he put a brave face on. We decided to check on the lad, and when we got there found that he had been murdered by three men wearing odd items on their heads. They fought to the death, though they apparently had an accomplice stationed nearby in a black Hudson - the car took off before anyone knew to follow it, though."

Leo paused his recounting of the prior night's events to take a breath and calm himself. "We looked through Jackson's things and found that he had been researching the Carlyle expedition's disappearance in several places around the world. He mentioned that expedition on the phone, but not what work he had done to track it down. Jackson had items from London, Cairo, Shanghai, and here in New York. One of those items was a handbill noting a lecture to be given by Mister Anthony Cowles at NYU. The subject of it is the Cult of Darkness. We also believe there may be something called a 'Death Cult' in Harlem, though we aren't going to look into that this evening."

"Rosie went with Abraham to track down a couple more leads, one here in New York and another in Boston. Perhaps now is a good time to discuss what you found there?"

With car warmed up Bishop ushered everyone into the car, he made sure to place the ladies in the center seat.

"Phew!  That is some story, Leo."

Philip's voice was a little odd.  He sounded partly upset, probably because of JAckson's death, but there was also an element there which spoke of a spike of interest.

"I have been involved in somewhat similar things before although none seemed to be so...deadly.  But count me in with whatever you are trying to do.  Perhaps my skills will be of interest."

While he had waited for everyone, Bishop had kept his eyes peeled for anything odd. With everyone safely in the car Bishop started out for the university. It had been just about twenty four hours since they had found Jackson dead. They were getting close to the killers, but from what he had seen of what had been gather at the publisher's office Jack appeared to have become slightly unhinged. That a man of such iron character could be so shaken was as troubling as a nest of killers in Harlem.

Columbia University -  Schermerhorn Hall
Broadway Ave. h 116th St
January 16, 1925

Whether Bishop's vigilance paid off was something that he and the others would only have to speculate on. He didn't see anything suspicious, but maybe he wasn't looking in the right place. Or maybe he was.

The trip to Columbia didn't take long, and Dr. Elias was able to easily guide them towards the lecture hall, where they found seats readily available as only half the seats were taken. At the lectern near the head of the room was an older man, with a bushy beard and a belly who spoke with exuberance and an easily discerned Australian accent.

At the time they arrived, he was speaking about a bat cult that once existed among the Aboriginals of Australia. It was known across the continent, and the god of the cult was always known as the Father of All Bats. Adherents believed that by making human sacrifices to their god they themselves would become worthy enough that the Father of All Bats would appear to them. Once he was enticed to appear, he would conquer all men. Sacrifices were run through a gauntlet of worshipers who struck the victims with clubs embedded with the sharp teeth of bats. The teeth were coated with a substance derived from rabid bats. The poison was quick-acting, but victims apparently went mad before they died. Leaders of the cult reputedly could take the forms of bat-winged snakes, enabling them to steal sacrifices from across the land.

From his statements, it was apparent that Cowles believes that this cult became dormant or extinct hundreds of years ago. .

Cowles continued to speak further of an Aboriginal song cycle that mentions a place where enormous beings gathered, somewhere in the west of Australia. The songs say that these gods, who were not at all like men, built great sleeping walls and dug great caves. But living winds blew down the gods and overthrew them, destroying their camp. When this happened, the way was open for the Father of All Bats, who came into the land, and grew strong.

Cowles had the lights dimmed in the room so that he could project some slides. Each of the slides shows a few sweating men standing beside enormous blocks of stone, pitted and eroded but clearly dressed and formed for architectural purposes. Dim carvings seem to decorate some. Billows of sand are everywhere. Cowles says that the discoverer, one Arthur MacWhirr of Port Hedland, kept a diary in which he records several attacks on the party by Aboriginals. MacWhirr reportedly records deaths to victims from hundreds of small punctures, reminiscent of the earlier bat-cult.

Returning the lights to the room, Cowles tells finally of a tale he collected from near the Arafura Sea in northern Australia. In it Sand Bat, or Father of All Bats, has a battle of wits with Rainbow Snake, the Aboriginal deification of water and the patron of life. Rainbow Snake succeeds in tricking and trapping Sand Bat and his clan into the depths of a watery place from which Sand Bat can only complain, and is unable to return to trouble the people.

With this Cowles concluded his lecture, and the lecture hall began to empty as the students began leaving the building.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:49, Mon 24 Nov 2014.

    Annabel Listened to the lecture with a mix of skepticism and unsettledness on her mind. Giant Bats and snakes? She was sure it was all a bunch of of tall tales, but she was sure the cult was probably real enough. Wow, these things were all over the place it seemed. Well they were long dead and not likely to come here to New York. Still, like a good assistant, she had her notebook and took notes on the lecture just in case something might be useful.

  As the lecture ended, Annabel turned to Dr. Elias: "Well that was certainly interesting, but odd, I wonder why this lecture was important? Could this cult that is here be related to this Australian one somehow?"

Leo shrugged. "It's certainly possible, or perhaps the lecture is not as important as the lecturer. Let's go find out what he might have to say on this subject and others."

As the other people filed out of the room, Leo made his way toward the lectern and Cowles. He offered his hand in greeting. "Hello, professor. I am Doctor Leonardo Elias, an alumnus of this fine school. Do you have a few minutes to talk, or do you have other engagements?"

"Ah, Dr. Elias, good to meet you," he said, setting down the lecture notes he had been about to pick up and shaking the proferred hand.

"No worries, I've got no other engagements. Nothing that can't wait at least. I'd be more than happy to take a few questions. Most of the people that fill up this hall I think are here for some kinda extra credit, so they're not much for questions though I generally keep a little time for that kinda thing."

"What sorta thing can I help you with?"

Leo shook the man's hand, then let it drop to his side. He gestured to the others (presuming some had followed him up) "We are all somewhat acquainted to the world of cults and cultists. My son, Jackson, also a Columbia alum, was murdered yesterday by a group of men that we believe are related to a death cult. You may in fact have heard of him - Jackson Elias. He wrote several books on cults and the occult. Skulls Along the River, Masters of the Black Arts, The Way of Terror, The Smoking Heart, Sons of Death, Witch Cults of England, and The Black Power were all written either entirely or in part by him."

Leo paused to see if there was any recognition by the man.

"Well, I'll be," he said. "That's a lot to take in. My most sincere condolences. I never met your son, but I was a fan of his work. I've read those books you mentioned, and a few articles he wrote in some smaller journals. It was my work with looking into the history of the Sand Bat cult that drew my attention to his books about modern day cults."

"Any questions that I can answer for you, I would be most glad to do."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:01, Tue 21 July 2015.

Leo forced at least a small smile at the response. "Thank you for your condolences, Professor. The first question I have is what your area of expertise is. Is most of your research into cults specific to the Sand Bat cult, or do you have broader knowledge on the subject?"

Bo stands near enough that he can hear Leo's conversation with Cowles, unless they whisper. He doesn't care to meet the man. He has his back to Leo, watching the crowd, just in case.

His ribs are hurting a bit. He's beginning to feel fatigued. It's been a long day for a convalescent. He can't even remember eating dinner.

Philip was very interested to hear what the Professor had to say.  He stood, listening intently.