As you enter through the surprisingly unlocked door, you find yourselves in a rather dusty and cluttered warehouse. You can't help but pause for a moment, for this place would look abandoned if it were not for the lit lanterns placed here and there, giving off far too little light. Across the room in the darkness a figure stands up from where he had been sitting. He grabs a lantern and strides towards you with purpose, though he manages to put an almost lazy swagger into his walk. He seems, confident and easy going just by his mannerisms. As he approaches into better light you see it is a tall young man of about thirty. He has brown hair and appears to have not shaved in a couple of days, making him look rugged. He is dressed in gray slacks and vest with a white shirt underneath, the sleeves partly rolled up. He does not appear to be comfortable in these clothes as he still manages to look somewhat rumpled in spite of the fine quality of the material. Penny in particular notices that he is extremely handsome and he likely knows this judging by the grin he gives her. You can't be sure, but you could swear you saw a wink along with it...

Ah! Looks like most of you are here. Good! He says with a thick Scottish accent. He puts the lantern down and pulls out a pouch with a silver dagger and a flask of something. I don't mean to be rude before proper introductions are made, but if you wouldn't mind....just want to be sure there are no stowaways so to speak. He hands the knife and flask to Penny first, pointing to the flask. Just a bit of holy water. Drink it or pour it on your skin, whichever suits you. And I do apologize about the knife. It will be a shame to mark such pretty skin. He shakes his head.

"Wait," Simon said, "Holy water isn't for drinking. Please allow me." Simon takes the flask and pours some into his hand. "I bless the in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit." He draws a cross with the water on each of their foreheads in turn.

"Does that satisfy? Holy water should be treated with a bit more reverence, my son." He handed the flask back to Ian.

'A nom de guerre, actually.' Penny clarified for Father Cole. She referred to an old French military practice, a 'war name' granted to soldiers to distinguish them. It also was adopted by French slayers to disassociate their real lives from their work, and to protect their families from retribution. Penny had adopted hers to shield her family from scandal brought about by her peculiar occupation — and, perhaps, to shed herself of their own dark reputation. 'I'm afraid I'm not much of a writer, but I have been known to wield a pen.'



'It was a pleasant voyage, thank you, though ocean travel does not particularly agree with me.' Neither did the mermaid. 'I trust you enjoyed yourself too, sir?'

As they entered the warehouse, Penny closed her umbrella and shook off the water, then removed and folded her shawl. There was, of course, no cloakroom to hang them up, so she carried them with her as she ventured further into the warehouse, looking about at the lanterns in the darkness. A fine place for an ambush.

She observed the cocky fellow as he approached, but he must have misread her scrutiny by the sly smile and wink he returned. Penny quickly glanced away lest she be embarrassed.

She let Father Cole take the holy water and perform his ritual. She was a little reluctant to undergo it, though, but not for being a demon. Having been raised Anglican by default, she was a little wary of Catholic rites. But she submitted and was found pure.

Otherwise, she took the silver dagger in her left hand and extended her right. 'It would be more of a shame if I were something inhuman.' Without hesitation and watching their host, she pricked her thumb on the callous formed from regular needlework and sacrificial bloodletting, and a drop of red blood welled up. Otherwise, she suffered no great pain or unnatural effects. She passed the silver knife onto the next person, then put her finger to her lips to lick away the blood, tasting iron.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:40, Sun 13 Oct 2013.

In reply to Penny Dreadful (msg # 14):

Stefan gave her a sad apologetic look. "I am sorry to 'ear dhat. If I 'ad known I vould a given you sumdhing for dhat. I carry plenty a potions for all sorts a dhings, I 'ave found dhat ancient remedies do vork very vell even in dhis modern times."

Stefan removed his hat and slowly knelt down letting Father Cole perform his task. When Father Cole was done he made the sign of the cross and slowly rose. "Dhank you Fadher Cole."

Stefan then looked the young man. "I do 'ope dhat 'elps konvince you."

Kate Piper:

On the dusty wall before you there is a strange symbol that you've not yet run across in your years as a hunter. Perplexed, you lean forward to study it, tracing the outline with your hand. Suddenly, to your shock, there is a flash of light and you feel a great force pushing you forward into the wall. Expecting to collide you brace yourself, but rather than falling into the wall you find yourself pitched to the ground where the wall should be. It is cozily lit and the air is colder than where you just were. You know in that instant you are not in the same room anymore. In fact, you have no idea where you are, but upon closer inspection you see there are bookshelves and fine antique furniture indicating it is some kind of study or library, albeit a small one. Perhaps someone's personal office? That's odd, considering you were just in an abandoned ruin in a Connecticut mausoleum....There is an antique lantern lit on the desk, and what looks like some very fine single malt scotch in a square bottle. An open journal of sorts lies next to it, though the writing appears to be interrupted. The cursive is so fine and small that it is hard to read at first glance, but it seems to mention some plans for some kind of meeting. You'd have to really pore through it to understand the context. Needless to say, you are having a hard time not freaking out right now.

Penny returned her attention to the scruffy fellow, taking in more details of his appearance. Although she was uncomfortable looking at people too long or too closely, her brief, careful glances allowed her to scrutinise them rather more surreptitiously. And if a lady shyly observed a handsome gentleman, then what was particularly unusual about that? This man was becoming an open book to her deductions. 'While I am sure our host is not a demon or other inhuman, I'm afraid I cannot rule out vampirism. Father Cole, if you would be so good as to perform your blessing on him too?' she suggested, resting the iron tip of her umbrella against the warehouse floor before her and looking the man in the eyes. 'Carefully now, the officer has been under a great deal of stress these last few days.'

Stefan listened to what Miss Dreadful had to say and his eye brow raised slightly, but he did not act as though he was concerned. He moved a hand inside of his satchel until he felt the stake wrapping his hand around it, as he touched a button on the cane, which unlocked the case from the sword.

Stefan just stood there calmly waiting to see how this played out.

Kate let out a string of curses under her breath and snatched the journal up with shaking hands. The little office appeared to be empty for the moment but since the writing appeared to be interrupted it was obvious the author would be returning soon. "Okay let's see where we are here," she was doing her best to remain calm as she flipped through a few of the pages. The handwriting was annoyingly small but that was not what caught her attention. It was the date at the top of each page. "Eighteen Ninety?" So she must be in a museum of some sort, or a collectors office. Wherever it was she had a feeling she probably wouldn't be welcomed warmly if discovered poking around. Putting the journal back she reached into her pocket and found her can of pepper spray. She liked to have something non lethal on hand for those times when pesky security guards got in the way. It was easier than trying to explain what wouldn't be believed anyway.

Her plan was simple. Get out of the building and find out where the heck she was. If it wasn't Connecticut anymore then she'd haul her fanny back and see if she couldn't figure out what the heck happened. Finding the door she nudged it open cautiously her pepper spray raised and ready.

Ian looks a bit sheepish at the small reprimand, and gives Father Simon an apologetic smile. He allows for whatever tests anyone wishes to give to him and submits with a look of minor amusement. Upon Penny's words he gives a slight start and then starts to laugh. They told me you were sharp. Looks like they were right. Yes, I am, or rather was an officer. First with the Pinkerton agency, then with the New York City police department. He explains amiably. Things got a bit too corrupt in both places for my liking. When I became a hunter and the men of letters took notice of me, I was only all too happy to quit. I still have my friends in both places though. Comes in quite handy. His grin widens. Now, if everyone is satisfied, I think it's high time we meet with your host. He has much he wants to fill you in on.

 The man leads you deeper into the building, passing out a few lanterns for everyone to light their way. He makes conversation as he walks. He seems to be a very friendly and amiable fellow, answering questions with blunt honesty. You heard of Alfred Beach's underground transit system a couple of decade's back? Well, maybe you wouldn't. 'Specially you foreigners like me. Well, he started construction on some tunnels for his project, but he didn't get far. They are only just starting to get back to it now. He explains as you continue further in the building. Well, the point is that back when that was first attempted, the men of letters thought it was a great idea and secretly built a few tunnels of their own....and by a few I mean a lot actually. He laughs. By now you see where he is going with this as he opens up a trap door that had been covered by a large carpet. You see a ladder going down into blackness.

ooc: I'll give you a bit to decide if you want to comment on anything he said before I go further. There's really no need unless you think you would have questions or such. I tend to like to keep the story moving, so don't feel like you have to comment on everything an NPC says unless you think it relevant. Hence, if everyone seems ready by a day or so, I'll continue the story. Thanks!

Kate: You open the door to see you are in a hallway with a rounded ceiling and walls made of bricks. A tunnel of some kind, not unlike a sewer or subway system actually, but this was obviously meant for habitation. The floor is clean and made of cobblestone, the walls are lit with electric lights, albeit very antiquated looking ones. If this is a museum it is a very accurate one. So far there is nothing and you go a little ways with no sign of anything or anyone. Eventually though, you hear voices coming from around a corner. At first you panic, for there is nowhere to hide. Then you realize they are stationary and locked in their conversation. You cannot help but overhear some of it. Ian should be bringing them in shortly. Do you think they will help us? The other voice, a woman's answers back. If they are as good of hunters as their reputation would suggest, I think they will. After all, no one wants to do nothing when the world is about to end. Still, I need to read them. See what I get. The woman's voice pauses suddenly and your blood freezes as you hear, There is someone around that corner. Listening to us. I can sense them. She says it very calmly, but the sound of someone running towards you jolts you into panic.

Penny wasn't nearly as proficient as Holmes at the trick, so she was pleased that her estimation of the Scotsman had proved correct. She would have been quite happy to explain her whole chain of observations and inductive reasoning, but sadly didn't have the time. Her observations satisfied her as to the man's humanity. Regardless, she made certain that he was touched with both silver and holy water, and the iron tip of her umbrella, just to be safe.

She was impressed at his credentials, with the prestigious Pinkerton National Detective Agency. 'The Pinkertons? Excellent! I was hoping to work with them while I'm in the States. I may trouble you for a reference later.' The Pinkertons, she knew, had been the first to hire woman detectives, with the late, great Kate Warne.

Walking with him and the other hunters, Penny glanced curiously around the warehouse, shining her lantern in dark corners. Then, as the trapdoor was opened, she shined it down the hole that descended deep into the earth. 'No stairs?' she sighed. Since she was wearing a skirt, she elected to climb the ladder first, before the men. Draping her shawl around her neck and crooking the umbrella over her arm, she carefully manoeuvred herself and her skirt into the shaft without revealing too much leg. If I'd known, I would have worn trousers.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:41, Tue 15 Oct 2013.

 Every nerve in Kate's body urged her to run and hide but one step back away from the corner was all she allowed herself. It was a little creepy the way the woman sensed that she was there. She was used to creepy.

Kate flipped the little red safety tab on her pepper spray to the on position. The canister was small and fit comfortably in the palm of her hand. It was a new can, and she hoped the lever wouldn't stick. This was the perfect place to use it as there were no stray winds to blow it back into her face again. That had happened once. It had been very unpleasant.

The two had been discussing Hunters and something about the end of the world. It seemed now was as good a time as any to see where she was and what was going on. She'd wait to use the spray until she saw who it was that came around the corner and what their reaction would be.

Simon did as Ms. Dreadful asked, applying a blessing to the former police officer. As he finished he thought of how his earlier prophecy was already coming true. It seemed to him that Penny Dreadful was a natural leader. It was not so much that Simon could not lead, but more that it did not come naturally to him. Faith came naturally to him, as did intuition. An example would be his intuition about Penny's leadership ability.

The rest of the time they made their way through the tunnels, Simon spent in contemplation and prayerful supplication to God. He felt as though they were descending into a tomb. Italy had been full of such catacombs, and Simon never cared for them. He prayed through his nervousness, but it likely showed. He hoped not much, examples must be set for the flock to be properly tended. He went through his rosary quickly, and it made a feint click-click sound as he did so.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:59, Tue 15 Oct 2013.

Jacques stomped along at the rear of the group. The iron heels of his hobnailed boots made a solid thud on the floor with each step. He hummed the tune to his favorite reel as he followed the group through the dimly lit warehouse. When the trap door was opened, he peered down into the darkness and fiddled with the knife handle on his belt.

"Tunnels in de dark, bedder den paying de rents in Manhattan, Eh"

Jacob walks along with the others and was taking everything in , while the others were thinking about what was going on Jacob was paying attention to his surroundings. He rarely cared about the finer details as he the type that replied heavily on gut instincts. It had allowed him to survive this long as he watched and followed the others.

The man seems pleased that Penny has taken an interest in his history, though he doesn't have time to expound upon it. He laughs at Jacques joke and pats him on the shoulder as if they are already friends.

At the entrance, Ian grins at Penny's insistence of going first, doing his best to shine the lantern down for her as she goes down. As the rest of you follow, he goes last with the lantern handle in his teeth, closing the trap door behind him. He gives little mutters as he tries to maneuver down like this. At last though he reaches the bottom and you find yourselves in a large tunnel with brick walls and cobblestone floors. In the distance you can see lights coming from down the corridor. We're still working on getting electricity to this part. The rest of it is already wired and active, we just haven't quite finished yet. He explains, leading the way. Soon you are able to put out your lanterns for the electric lighting is more than enough for you to see by. He continues to talk as you walk.

Anyway, this is the headquarters for the men of letters in New York. So far we've done a good job of staying hidden and we have a surprising amount of resources down here. You are all welcome to stay with us whenever you are in New York. There have been rooms set aside for you. He says kindly. I am sorry I cannot be more informative about what's going on, but Mr. Westbrook would be unhappy with me if I started without him. He apologizes. By now he's led you down several tunnels and through a large room that appears to be some kind of armory. Past that is a massive library and you can't help but wonder how they got all of these books here. The place is buzzing with people, both men and women and people of all races. They look up at you with mild interest as you pass, but say nothing, instead going back to their work, whatever that may be. The Scotsman greets several of them cheerfully but does not slow. At last you find yourselves in a sitting room of sorts, finely furnished, even carpeted. A young woman appears to offer you tea and refreshments and Ian sits down, looking suddenly tired. You have a feeling the man has not slept much lately.

At long last your host appears. He is impeccably dressed in a navy blue wool suit with matching vest and tie. He has a silver pocket watch which he is scrutinizing as he enters, though he quickly puts it away. He looks to be around 50 years of age, and he has the look of a man who's seen and knows too much. He would be even more intimidating if he did not have about thirty pounds of extra flesh on him. Still, he has the air of a man who could more than handle himself if he needed to. He gives you a look of no nonsense satisfaction, clearly having expected you all to arrive without hesitation. As you no doubt have questions, I will get right down to it if you don't mind. He begins, looking at you all with an air of scrutiny. Our chapter has stumbled across something very important. So much so that we've kept it thus far from our sister chapters across the states and abroad. We have hand selected a chosen few to investigate our findings for us. That is where you come in. Before I impart any further information, I must have you swear to me your silence on the matter to anyone outside of this room. Even some of our own brothers will not know the extent of information I am about to reveal to you. He finishes firmly.

Kate:

As you hold your ground, a man suddenly rounds the corner, he has a small handgun drawn and looks very on edge. He is dressed strangely in antiquated slacks and shirt with suspenders and very shiny shoes. He appears to be in his forties and is very thin and tall with an angular face that does not exactly lend him appeal. He stops in his tracks at seeing you, looking confused at your appearance. You see him staring at your t-shirt and he mutters, ghost busters.....? confusedly, obviously reading your shirt. His attention snaps back though, his weapon still raised. Seeing your pepper spray and apparently not knowing what it is, he looks all the more threatened. Who are you?! What are you doing here!? How did you find this place!? He barks. He is clearly on edge for your appearance has thrown him.

In reply to Artemis (msg # 27):

Jacob looks around the room and is somewhat amazed at the amount of people down here in this place. As the man starts to speak the one thing that sticks with Jacob is the point of the rest of the order not being fully aware of what is about to be said right now. That causes a little concern with Jacob as he wonders the reasoning behind this , the only thing he can think of is that there are some in the order that can't be fully trusted.

Jacob cares not for why they are being told just that he has a chance to rid the world of evil and and try and attempt to find salvation of his soul. Standing to his feet once again Jacob looks at the man " You have my word it will not leave this room from my lips..."

Simon stopped in the room and looked around. He thought of how much money it must have taken to make this and how many people could have been fed with that money. Regardless of a need for secrecy, there was no need for opulence. The Church had its own problems with this very same thing, so he kept his views to himself. He folded his hands behind his back and continued to thumb his rosary in silent prayer.

The elderly man, very distinguished and statesmanlike, began by seeming to be in a hurry. A bored person watched the clock. If he was so bored why would he seem to want them to take this so seriously. Simon kept silent, until he was asked to forswear other contacts, even other Men of Letters. This was totally unexpected. Simon was not a good poker player and it showed on his face.

"Sir, If I may be so bold, you have asked us to forswear all others in favor of you and yet you have not even introduced yourself. I would make you this promise, outside of confessional I will reveal nothing I learn here today with anyone not within the sound of my voice. Does this satisfy?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:00, Wed 16 Oct 2013.

Stefan made his way down the ladder much slower than the others. Once at the bottom he followed along quietly his cane tapping along. When the stately looking gentleman asked for his promise and the good Father made his comment he shook his head in agreement. "I vill agree vith da good Fadher on dhis."

As they scaled the ladder and walked down the tunnel, Penny inspected the construction, occasionally tapping with her umbrella: brick and cobblestone, no doubt quite sturdy, but she found the sense of so much earth and stone above her head quite ominous. She was reminded of the dungeons and crypts beneath Darkmoor Manor, or the tunnel in the tor, narrow, dusty, deep, and disturbing. At the offer of staying here, she jested 'Forgive me, but if I can stay at the New York Hotel, then a hole in the ground does not particularly appeal.' Still, she found the Men of Letters' establishment to be surprisingly extensive and well equipped and furnished, with a surprisingly cosmopolitan population. It would be a good place to seek sanctuary from dark forces. 'It is warded, I trust?'

At last they came to the sitting room, sitting down and gratefully accepting tea and a biscuit from the maid with a 'Thank you.' The Scotsman's weary posture in his seat confirmed her observations of his sleeplessness: the slept-in clothes, the dark shadows under his eyes, the neglect of his toilet. The contrast of his current unkempt state against his officer's bearing and fine clothes made his situation clear.

Westbrook was another matter. Penny did not miss his examination of his pocket watch upon arrival, but found several possible explanations: impatience, as supported by the terse letter, either checking they'd arrived on time or having some schedule to keep; a habit or affectation, nervous or otherwise; or simple happenstance. Her conclusion would depend on what else she read off him.

'I am used to working with discretion and secrecy, sir, and you have my word I shall not willingly speak of this to those outside this room.' 'Willingly', of course, did not include under duress or desperate need. She was concerned that Westbrook felt the need to conceal this from his own people, both from the other chapters and from those in his own chapter. He also apparently required the help of outsiders. It all spoke to some great internal division or mistrust in the Men of Letters, or paranoia on Westbrook's part, neither of which were good signs. She sipped her tea thoughtfully to begin her concentration.

"Sorry, I can only answer the first question. The other two I have no idea," Kate said honestly. She eyed the handgun warily. It looked old but she had a feeling it probably still worked.

"My name is Kate and I don't appreciate people poking antique guns in my face. I mean who knows how reliable those things are these days?" She kept her pepper spray in her hand but lowered her arm. Clearly this  guy was feeling edgy and the last thing she needed was to get shot. "I'm a hunter by the way," she finished lamely hoping that might settle him down a bit. After all he and the unseen woman had just been discussing them...

Your host listens to your words with a grim expression. He arches a shrewd eyebrow in particular at Father Simon and Penny's words. He pauses a moment and sighs. That will have to do I suppose. He shakes his head. I don't have much of a choice. He takes his pocket watch out and fiddles with it distractedly as he begins to explain why you were brought here. There are dark forces at work. A new enemy, one we have not yet faced. It is a secret cult bent on bringing hell to earth. Literally. It is called The Hand of Baal, and it is followed by both human and demon alike. He paces slowly across the room as he talks, clearly the topic has caused him stress but he pushes through nonetheless. They are recruiting right now and we hope to stop them before they get more organized than they already are. They have members in high places, hence the secrecy. At the current moment, we do not think they know we are aware of their existence. They are extremely difficult to penetrate and we are hoping that we can learn more of their activities and where their headquarters are. We need to cut the head off the snake before it grows too powerful. He finishes firmly. I need a small group of people I can trust. Right now I don't have many around me that I can speak for without any doubt. Ian here is one of the few. I need a team to investigate this under his and my direction and then discreetly report back to me. That's where I was hoping you would come in....You have all been very useful to the cause in your own way. It is dangerous though, and as you know you may not survive such an undertaking. Still, I have to ask anyway if you would consider my request. He finishes grimly, yet there is a trace of hope in his face.


ooc: If you wish, you may roll knowledge arcane or religion to see if you know who Baal is. Also, if you are a man of letters, you automatically gain +4 to all such checks. You may as well add it to your sheet if I didn't already tell you to.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:00, Thu 17 Oct 2013.

Kate:

The man looks at you with confusion. Antique? Why this is only a year old. What are you talking about woman? And why are you dressed so strangely? It is hardly appropriate for a woman to be dressed in such rags, let alone trousers. And yes, it is clear that you a hunter by the writing on your shirt. Ghostbusters eh? A bit obvious don't you agree? I don't know where you're from, but around these parts, hunters tend to take a more subtle approach on our activities. You must be new at this. He shakes his head in disapproval but does not lower his gun. Still, he seems to have calmed down quite a bit. Surely you have some idea of how you got here. Did you wander in through one of the tunnels? Did someone show you how to find us? This place is meant to be secret, I'm afraid I will need answers miss. He finishes firmly.

By now the woman has caught up with you. She rounds the corner and walks towards you with a quiet confidence. She doesn't appear to be worried about you at all. As she approaches you see she is a beautiful black woman. One of the most beautiful women you've ever seen actually. She is dressed in a very simple almost peasant style; wearing a long brown skirt and a cream old fashioned blouse. Her eyes are fierce, intelligent, and unnervingly piercing. You could swear she could see straight through you. Her hair is in tiny braids and pulled back into a ponytail. She motions for the man to lower his gun. She doesn't know Frederick. She does not belong here. It was....an accident I think. She frowns in concentration. You get the sense she is reading you.

Jacob listens and he has no idea who this Baal is , looking around the room he can see that some of the others seem to know him as they expression changes once the name was mentioned. Jacob can't help but look overhead and around him and gets that uneasy feeling , he was out of his element and wanted to just get this over with and get out on the road again. Looking towards Father Simon he speaks in a hushed tone " Who is this Baal he is talking about ? I am guessing he is on the other side ...."