After leaving the pub, Howard diverted to a shop where he could buy a small top-clasp valise.

At a clothier's, he purchased items such as a tattersall cap, two pairs of leather gloves and a non-descript overcoat.

Returning to the hotel in the afternoon, he was informed his new room was ready.

In reply to The Keeper (msg #1):

At the second-hand clothier, Howard changes his mind and buys an old-fashioned Inverness in a faded tartan.

Arriving at his new rooms, he puts up his wrapped parcels and spends a half-hour cleaning and loading his revolver. He places an extra twelve cartridges in a change purse.

After supper served in his room, he works through the evening, transcribing his notes. When he is finished, he folds them into an envelope and addresses it to Darlington at Scotland Yard. He finds stamps where Francis always kept them and affixes the proper postage. He'll drop it in the post box as he leaves the hotel in the morning.

He shaves and drinks a brandy, then lays out his garb for tomorrow.

He goes to bed early and sleeps the sleep of the just.

I'm holding off for the others to advance to Tuesday.

Yeah, that's where I'm at, too.

Unless you don't mind going ahead a bit?

Tony

Notably, the day dawned clear and sunny.

Howard awoke, although Simmons was no longer there to help him.

Notably, the day dawned clear and sunny.

Howard awoke, although Simmons was no longer there to help him.

Howard draws his own bath -- something he had done only occasionally for years. He hums quietly as he shaves, realizing as he wipes his face that the tune is The Battle Hymn of the Republic. While dressing, he quietly sings the words: "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord. He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored. He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword. His truth is marching on..."

He checks his revolver and carefully stows it on top of a few clothes in the small valise, twelve additional cartridges wrapped in a handkerchief in his trouser pocket. Looking in the mirror, he adjusts the cap so that the brim rests low above his eyes and puts a pair of smoked glasses on his nose.

He lifts the telephone receiver: "Front desk. I have two suitcases in my room. I would like them sent to the steamship office in Southampton, as indicated on the tags. Yes, today. Please, include the proper tip for the bellmen in my bill and send it around to my solicitor, Mr Bevans. You have that address. That's right. The rest of my belongings I would like held until I return. In about a fortnight. Thank you."

He steps from his door, locking it behind him, and strides quickly to the stairs, hurrying down the several flights and out the service corridor to the street behind the hotel. He walks two blocks before hailing a cab. He speaks the address of Tewfik al-Sayyid's shop in a carefully neutral accent, then settles back, humming Rule, Britannia! His hand rests lightly on the valise.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:34, Wed 20 June 2012.

In reply to Howard Lampton (msg # 7):

The taxi stopped just outside the shop/apartment. The shutters were drawn and a CLOSED sign was in the window. Looking back at his passenger, the driver asked, "d'yer wants me ta stay an' wait fer ya, guv?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:39, Fri 22 June 2012.

"For now, we'll wait for the shop to open," Howard says precisely.

In reply to Howard Lampton (msg # 9):

"Right, guv'ner." He sighed and cut the engine. The driver started to read a paper while the meter continued to tick away.

OOC: Spot Hidden check, please!

[Howard Lampton rolled 92 for Spot Hidden 35.]

Howard found his thoughts wandering as he waited for the shop to open.

In reply to Howard Lampton (msg # 11):

They settled in to wait.

Some time later at about 10-11am, it became more obvious that Tewfik wasn't going to open shop that morning, if he was there at all.

OOC: In this case, Howard is set to leave the next day? Or whenever you like, as mentioned there are daily sailings from Southampton and Dover to New York or other east coast ports like Baltimore or Boston.

Howard gives the driver an address a block from the Penhew Foundation. Upon arriving, he enters through the front door and asks to see Mr Gavigan.

In the daytime, the Penhew Institute revealed itself as a late Edwardian monstrosity, with a heavy Gothic influence.

A doorman let Howard in the front door, along with a scholarly-looking young man, there to either perform some research or view the exhibits upstairs. Their shoes clicked on the polished marble floor.

The ground floor atrium led off to the study rooms on either side of the entrance, with stairs up to the exhibit galleries and a door behind the front desk to the offices they'd been through the night before last.

A female secretary sat at the front desk, along with an armed middle-aged male museum guard there to prevent theft of the exhibits or unauthorised entry of the offices in the building's rear.

"I'm dreadfully sorry, Mr. Gavigan isn't currently available. He'll be out for the rest of the week. Shall I make an appointment for you at the earliest opportunity, Mister...?"

"Mr. Simmons, returning his visit," says Howard, "Is there any way I can get in touch with him? I have something here that I must show him immediately." He hefts the valise so that the young woman can see it.

She looked apologetic but firm. The guard, however, sat up and looked a little closer at Howard. He was armed with a revolver in a Sam Browne belt.

"Dreadfully sorry, Mr Simmons. He's completely unavailable, sir. I shall be more than happy to take your card and make sure he gets it when he gets returns?"

"Very well then," Howard snaps. He makes a point of taking in the name on the deskplate, "When I finally do see Mr Gavigan, Miss Bulwer, I shall be certain to explain that this delay was your doing."

He turns and marches toward the door.

In reply to Howard Lampton (msg # 17):

OOC: Fast Talk?

Since Fast Talk is only 05, I'd prefer not to risk it. He's just covering his retreat at this point.

Once Howard is out of the building, he hails a cab and heads for the railway station.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:05, Fri 29 June 2012.

In reply to Howard Lampton (msg # 19):

Miss Bulwer's voice followed him out.

"Oh dear, but Mr. Simmons, Mr. Gavigan really isn't here, and how can I let him know if.... oh dear..."

The rest of her rejoinder was lost as he exited the building through the door held by the doorman, who bowed politely at him.

GM Note: Make a Spot Hidden check.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:48, Sat 30 June 2012.

Howard Lampton rolled 6 using 1d100. for Spot Hidden 35.

After a short drive down Tottenham Ct. Rd., the cab pulled up to Goodge St. Station. It was painted red with doors leading to the "entry" lift on the left, and doors for the "exit" lift on the right. Between them was a door into the station building itself.

At that time, Howard noticed two cars that were following them, packed to the brim with grim-faced dark-skinned fellows. They were about five cars behind them, one after the other. The traffic was slowed in front of the tube station, but in about ten-fifteen seconds the road would clear enough for the pursuers to pull up behind them.

The red-painted brick station was to the left.

"Right, guvner, that'll be five pence for the ride."

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/G..._Street_tube_station
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:07, Sat 30 June 2012.

[Howard actually wanted the train station to board the next train to Southampton to board his ship.]

"No, driver, I want Waterloo Station, please. Do hurry."

"Cor, blimey if you ain't right! My apologies, guv'. Right sorry, I am! Right away, ten minutes at the outside." He clicked down the meter again, continuing the fare.

As the driver pulled away from the kerb, one of the pursuing cars tried to pull out to the right into the lanes more to the centre, perhaps to get ahead of them, but failed and was stuck behind a truck. The other one managed to dart around two cars, then get in behind the cab and speed up as if to ram from behind...
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:05, Mon 02 July 2012.

Howard opens his valise and takes hold of his revolver.

In reply to Howard Lampton (msg # 25):

The car behind them sped up and rammed them from behind, making contact with the Vauxhall's rear bumper.

"Bloody 'ell!" exclaimed the driver, slamming on the brakes. "Are you orright, guv'ner? Bloody maniac, 'E was!" Setting the brake, he opened the driver's door, starting to get out.

Behind them, three dark-skinned men jumped out the car jammed against their rear bumper and rushed towards them.

Howard abandons the valise and exits the cab on the opposite side to the driver, angling toward the sidewalk. He keeps his revolver inconspicuously tucked down by his leg, amid the tails of his mackintosh. He runs back in the direction from which they had come.

If any of his pursuers gets within about ten feet of him, he will shoot.

[They must keep cars full of guys lined up along the curb just waiting to go after anyone who shows up without an appointment. Must be hell on door-to-door salesmen! =P ]
This message was last edited by the player at 10:44, Tue 03 July 2012.

In reply to Howard Lampton (msg # 27):

Keeper's note:

Well, I imagine the discussion went like, "only a fool would go back to the Institute now, but who knows what we're dealing with? Take a few men, wait in back by the loading dock and if someone comes in acting strange, deal with them. Be on the lookout for people matching this description... even with a disguise, there's a chance he would be recognised walking into the lion's den!

Tactically speaking, there is a car behind you, and one behind and to the right. In England, the driver is on the right side. If Howard gets out on the driver's side and runs back, he will basically run into them if they get out.

This is the course you want?

At the very least, give me a Luck check to see if there is a Copper around. If you succeed, there is.

   |      _
_
"
 
"
 
_
 
_
 
 
T  |   _
u  |  |"|T   |=| T
b  |  |_|   |   |r
e  |   |"|  |   |u
   |   |_|  |   |c
S  |    1   |___|k
t  |        |"|
n  |        |_|
   | _       2
 
"
 
_
 
 

T = Taxi
1 = Pursuing Car #1
2 = Pursuing Car #2

Tony
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:02, Tue 03 July 2012.

I had assumed we were going 'south' and the taxi pulled into the curb on the driver's side so that getting out on that side put Lampton on the sidewalk. I'll edit my post to have him exit on the left, but he does run back the way they came. That makes it very difficult for them to pursue in their cars.

Howard Lampton rolled 59 for Luck 65.

In reply to Howard Lampton (msg # 29):

Ah, I don't know if you are quite grasping this, but running back the way you came will lead Howard directly between the pursuing cars as they were behind him (that is, back the way you came).

Perhaps this corrected map will clarify things, although relative positions are basically unchanged.

Yes, exactly. Run past them and they cannot pursue me in the cars. Howard only has to get past one cultist on the left side of the left-most car and then it's a footrace.

Maybe the cop and the cabdriver will tie up a couple more and two will have to stay with the cars or abandon them. It should cut down the odds quite a bit.

And if Howard can flag down another cab, he drives away, leaving them on foot.

Worth a try.

In reply to Howard Lampton (msg # 31):

GM Note: Okay, let the chips fall where they may!


"Hey, you! Look at that damage, you sodding wog bastard, just look at it, eh?" The driver, apoplectic, pointed at his rear bumper. He grabbed at one of the men as he pushed by him.

Deciding against getting out the driver's side, Howard opened the passenger-side door and exited onto the sidewalk, sprinting back the way he came. Three men jumped out of the second car, rushing along with the other three to intercept him whichever way he proceeded.

A woman had been advancing to give her witness to the event and her eyes met Howard's. Her glance flickered down, eyes widening as she saw the Webley Bulldog and realised he was armed. Recoiling from him in fright she screamed, "Dear Lord save us! He has a pistol!"

The nearest man went in to grab Howard, so he spun and shot at him with his revolver. The bullet struck the man in the chest, and he stumbled and fell forward as his legs gave out. The remaining five men seemed determined to press on towards him, while Howard dimly heard a shrill police whistle sounding from across the street and heard, "HALT, I say! In the name of the law!"



GM Note: Howard didn't get as far as one might hope as the man was already basically within 10 feet. Howard had to stop and shoot (or else make an unaimed shot) and while this didn't take a lot of time, it did take some time, which allowed the others to get around the rear of the car.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:45, Wed 04 July 2012.

[This is fine.]

Howard puts his back to the wall and brandishes his weapon, prepared to shoot the first that comes within ten feet.

"Get back, you diseased curs of the filthy sewer," he growls in Arabic.

[He will fire unaimed shots at the closest two, if two or more rush him at once, since the pointblank benefit will largely offset the unaimed shot penalty. When the policeman arrives he will surrender his weapon and submit to arrest.

Are the men armed?]
This message was last edited by the player at 13:20, Wed 04 July 2012.

In reply to Howard Lampton (msg # 33):

People scattered at the sound of the first gunshot and the screamed warning.

Hopping over the ignored body of their fallen comrade, the attackers were men possessed with some kind of other-worldly fervor, eyes bright with a divine or perhaps Satanic madness. As they ran they all drew clubs sporting a wicked iron spike sprouting from the tip.

They ignored the revolver pointed directly at them, as well as the shouted curse in what Howard naturally assumed was their native tongue.

Howard's first shot went wide, as did his second. The assassins moved in, swinging their clubs at him. He avoided most of the blows, although on did score a glancing hit on his shoulder (-2 HP). Howard unloaded his weapon at them, firing again and again, he believed at least one bullet struck home but couldn't be sure. The fifth man, no longer encumbered by the driver, moved in and struck at his head like a cobra, and he wasn't able to dodge away in time (-7).

Bright stars exploded behind his eyes and then everything went dark...

Keeper's Note: You can get in a last post as Howard goes unconscious, but his quest is now ended. My apologies!

As a house rule, I allow most repeater firearms (except single action) to empty the magazine or all chambers during "panic shooting". In this case I assume Howard will be going down in a blaze of glory, or at least fighting desperately for his life. His point blank to-hit is 100%, and 1/5 of that is 20%, so he hit only once with rolls of:

05:06, Today: The Keeper, on behalf of Howard Lampton, rolled 53 using 1d100.
05:06, Today: The Keeper, on behalf of Howard Lampton, rolled 19 using 1d100.
05:05, Today: The Keeper, on behalf of Howard Lampton, rolled 73 using 1d100.
05:05, Today: The Keeper, on behalf of Howard Lampton, rolled 32 using 1d100.
05:05, Today: The Keeper, on behalf of Howard Lampton, rolled 63 using 1d100.

I allowed Howard to get in all his shots, although he technically would be rendered unconscious (took 7HP damage, reduced to 2HP) after the first two shots.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:40, Thu 05 July 2012.

Howard hears the now-empty revolver clatter across the pavement. His world seems to be spinning in three dimensions as blackness replaces the pain and every other sensation.

Then... nothing.

[No apologies necessary.

Pity he didn't get at least one of his primary targets and that the goon squad was quite so 'on the spot.'

He is carrying his passport, so should be identified pretty readily.

Ave atque vale, Howard.]

In reply to Howard Lampton (msg # 35):

Slowly, Howard became aware that he was lying down, in a dark room. It was quiet, peaceful. Howard knew he was himself but didn't know where he was, and his memory seemed hazy as to how he got here. In fact, it all seemed perfectly muddled, something about gunfire, violence and pain, but now the pain was gone.

There was a tunnel stretching away from him. At the end was a bright light. Other than that, this place contained nothing but darkness.

Howard heard a familiar voice, as if from afar... speaking to him...

"Mister Lampton.... you gotta get up, now! This ain't foolin' around, sir, this is serious! You gotta snap out of it! There's no time to be sleepin' in, you hear me? Wake up!"

Howard licked his dry lips and opened his gummed-together eyelids, thankful for the dim light. His head felt like it was stuffed with old rags and throbbed; the left side ached abominably.

Very slowly he sorted out his extremities, determining where they were damaged and whether they were restrained. All his movements were slow and subtle.

In reply to Howard Lampton (msg # 38):

Slowly, consciousness returned. Along with it, a throbbing pain. His limbs were manacled, a rusty chain clinked as it moved through a ring stapled to the floor.

The light resolved itself as the barred window of a steel door. The rest of the small chamber remained in shadow but safe to say it was likely brick or stone. He heard movement nearby. A familiar voice...
This message was last updated by the GM at 09:05, Thu 02 Aug 2012.

"Ohh... brother... I could really go for a chicken dinner right now..."

"web- webly?" Howard croaked through a throat parched as a dusty hallway, "Is...is that you?"

The effort made his head throb the worse, but he turned toward the voice.

In reply to Howard Lampton (msg # 41):

"Howie? Thet you? Brother, Ah'm so thirsty. Got anything to drink?"

Howard could hear a buzzing drone coming from somewhere. It sounded a little far-off, perhaps way above?

For a long minute, Howard stares into the blackness, wondering what has roused him from his torpor. Then he hears the sound again, a muffled crash, followed after a moment by another.

"phil," his voice creaks into the dark, "hear that? explosions?"

In reply to Howard Lampton (msg # 44):

"Don't know. So dang hungry. Hope it's dinner."

It was true, they'd been kept shackled in chains, shivering in the unheated stone cellar for over a week (since Howard was tossed in). They'd been fed and watered once a day, their wood bucket latrines emptied at the same time. A single electric bulb hung out in the corridor lit their cells.

Phil and Howard were imprisoned in different cells within sight of each other. Howard also knew that Rashid and Ai'yesha (cousins, both worked at the Blue Pyramid and had been kidnapped by the Brotherhood) were there too, somewhere close, but their cells were not in direct sight.

The (unseen) iron door to the upper level banged open. Footsteps descended. The three regular gaolers (the same ones that fed and guarded them) came into sight, opened Phil's cell, unlocked the shackles that bound him, and carried him off. Screaming.

"Nooo! Nooo! Where are you taking me? Noooo! Take someone else!"

They disappeared upstairs, and the iron door at the top of the stairs clanged shut.