If the outside decor of the Blue Pyramid wasn't sufficient to set it apart from the traditional London establishments, the interior certainly did. There was a light and pleasantly perfumed smoke coming from hookahs that dotted the area. The smoke infused the air and smelled of fruits and spices, and it sometimes intermingled and overlapped with the smell of food that was more localized to where it was being consumed. Scantily clad women danced on stages and near tables entertaining their guests, nearly all of whom appeared to be of Middle Eastern descent. There did not seem to be a bar.

As the sun fell from the sky above, Tommy and Millicent meandered through London in to a slowly awakening Soho. By the time they arrived the bustling city offices had spurned forth their busy workers and the previously quiet bars were gently thrumming with life.

Intrigued and thirsty the pair entered the Blue Pyramid. Tommy nodded approvingly at the stage dancers and gestured to an empty table to the side. "Shall we?". Acting the gentleman he pulled out a chair for his freind before settling down to catch the eye of a waiter or waitress.

A water comes by, and asks in heavily accented English, "May I help you?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:58, Fri 13 May 2016.

Tommy grinned to the waitress.
"We'll have two of whatever you recommend. Surprise us.".

He looked around the bar and leaned back in their booth cheerily. "Nice place you've got here. We're on vacation and didn't expect to find an Egyptian bar in downtown London. Would love to see the Pyramids some day.

You been here long?".

Tommy nodded toward Millicent and continued conversationally. "You've worked abroad right Mill's? Imagine it must be nice to find a friendly bar with folk from your own end of the world. I aint missing New York quite enough to go looking for a burger joint yet though!". He looked back the waitress. "You guys do food?".
This message was last edited by the player at 16:43, Fri 13 May 2016.

The table that Tommy and Millicent sat at was near a few of the stages, though it was set apart from much of the rest of the restaurant.

"I recommend the Koshary tea," the waiter said.

"It is not a bar," he clarified very strongly, as the young reporter seemed to ignore the absence of any kind of bar and of any kind of alcohol being served. "If you want to drink the alcohol, you may ourchase on your own and bring from outside, but we do not sell it here. And yes, of course we serve food. If you do not know Egyptian food, I can just bring out something I recommend as well." The man's accent was heavy, but he clearly had command of the language.

"Two teas it is then!" he smiled, wondering how Bo and Vincent would feel about the absence of alcohol.
"We've a few friends who might join us later, so perhaps we should save food till then.".

"Have you been open long here? Like I said, we didn't expect to find a slice of Egypt in central London!".

"A few years, I have been here," he said in answer, before departing to bring their tea.

As the waiter departed Tommy lent back to study their surroundings. He supposed it wasn't out of place to watch the dancing girls and happily eyed their fluid forms.
"I suppose its fair to say those gals are better dancers than me.", he winked to Millicent before changing the subject.
"I wonder what time the others will arrive? Think Leo would approve of a Hookah?".

His eyes swept over the other groups that were dotted around the place, looking for a friendly face to strike up conversation with. He was intrigued to explore what the community might say about the killing's they'd heard of.

15:50, Today: Thomas Cotton rolled 78 using 1d100 with rolls of 78.  Anthropology vs 1% ;)
This message was last edited by the player at 15:01, Mon 16 May 2016.

Moretti studied the facade of the Blue Pyramid before pulling open the door. As he entered behind Bishop, the first thing that struck him were the smells mingling in the restaurant's hazy air. He paused, taking a moment to appreciate the array of exotic scents before taking in the room.

No bar. Well, that made things a lot less welcoming. Had he known, he would have asked the Sabinis for a bottle of Irish for the road. As his eyes slid over the girls on the stages, he couldn't help thinking that Joe the Boss would have a field day in this place. Masseria was always content to be distracted by whatever pretty thing crossed his path. Moretti had always hoped against hope that he'd end up like Anthony DeLuca with a wife that stuck with him through thick and thin. When he was in the old neighborhood, Moretti sometimes just came up with excuses to pay the DeLucas a visit. He loved spending time with them, listening to their comfortable banter. But, he recognized what they had was rare. There just weren't many women out there who could conscience a husband who regularly did things that were monstrous. And who could blame them, really?

He spied Cotton and O'Connor and made his way to their table. Finding a seat, he said, "Interesting place. Inspector Barrington didn't do it justice with his description. It definitely doesn't feel like London in here."

As he spoke, he scanned the room a second time, his eyes hunting for anything unusual, anything that didn't belong.

11:30, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 6 using 1d100 with rolls of 6.  Spot Hidden - Spot Hidden 60%
This message was last edited by the player at 17:05, Tue 17 May 2016.

  Millicent took in the atmosphere as she entered the strange club. She noticed the lack of a bar as well as the dancers, which amused her some. As she took her seat, she nudged Tommy.

  "Remember," she said teasingly with a grin, "we're supposed to keep an eye out for anything odd, and that does not mean the dancers."

 When the waiter came over to take their order, Milly's job dropped when he mentioned the lack of alcohol.

"Are you serious? Are you telling me there's no booze in this joint; though I guess the lack of a bar should have been a tip off.  Christ, I kept from drinking too much at the pub thinking there might be some interesting hooch here. Oh well Tommy, noodle juice it is then; at least it will be different."

 She gave an eye raise when he mentioned the hookah. "Really? I wouldn't mind trying that myself. As for the good Doctor, you never know about those stuffed shirts sometimes. Off duty, they can be pretty wild chaps sometimes from what I've seen at the places I've worked." She gave a chuckle, "maybe we can gode him into it for a lark."

  Milly, turned her eye to looking around the place some more when she saw Vincent approach their table. She gave a friendly wave in greeting.

 "Welcome Mr. Moretti," flinging her hands up in mock gesture, "to the land of no hooch but plenty of dolls to cast your eye on. We were just talking about trying to get Dr. Elias to partake in a hookah when he gets here; what do you think, want to take odds he'll do it? "
This message was last edited by the player at 00:40, Fri 20 May 2016.

Moretti chuckled and slowly shook his head. "Sorry. I only gamble on cards and then only when I think I have a fair stab at taking the pot. To tell the truth, I'm not that hard to outplay. But I've learned a few things here and there from some of the card sharks I work around."

He shook his head. "If Dr. Elias says no, it will only be because he wants to keep his wits about him. Not because he's afraid. Granted, you're talking to someone whose first memories of the man were as a giovanotto, but I always saw Dr. Elias as someone who wasn't afraid of the devil or anything else. Did whatever he had to do to hold his family together. To keep them safe. It's why my Papa held him in such high esteem. He's what my people would call an uomo di rispetto: a man of respect."

Moretti grinned. "Sorry to get off the subject. My guess would be he'll say no, but only because he wants a clear head."

He gestured to Cotton. "What about you, Mr. Cotton? You strike me as the adventurous type."

Rosalie gave the exterior of the Blue Pyramid a glance when they pulled up, speculating on the type of establishment they'd be visiting.  Once inside, she found out that her guess had been extremely wrong.  She actually smirked at the sight of the dancing girls, watching them as she paused just inside the door to wait for her uncle.  "It looks as though we've found ourselves in yet another interesting place," she commented.  It certainly was very different from anything in New York, though she recognized the hookah from time spent with her father in Egypt.

Spotting the others, she started forward, weaving through the tables to join them.  "Good afternoon, all," she said in greeting.

Leo paid for their ride, then preceded his niece to the door. He held it open for her before joining her inside. His gaze swept about the place, taking in sights, sounds, and smells. "It does appear interesting, as you say. I now have some doubts about the connection between this place and our work. Perhaps it's just a way for your cousins and Mister Cotton to relax and enjoy the view?" It's not like Leo didn't enjoy it himself, but it wouldn't be proper to say so.

Leo followed his niece to the table and noted lack of strong drink, but there was tea. It was England, so of course there was tea. Leo nodded at Rosie's greeting, but then moved to pull out a chair for her before taking a seat of his own. He looked around at the others. "So have you found anything interesting here?" He looked over at the nearest of the dancers, then back to Tommy. "Besides the obvious?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:24, Fri 20 May 2016.

   "Oh poo," she said to Vincent, "you're no fun, but you're also probably right. if anything is a bit odd here, maybe it's good this place is dry."

  she sighed looking at her tea when it was brought, wishing she had had the foresight to bring something to spice it up a bit, when the Elias's walked in.

  Glad for the interruption, Millicent smiled and waved at the pair as they came over. She noticed with some amusement Rosalie's reaction to the dancers.

  "Glad you could make it, I hope your little venture fared better then what we've been doing. So far, except for the lovely entertainment," gesturing to the dancers, "the place has been a bit a bore. I mean honestly, tea, at night." she shook her head in disapproval.

Tommy waved the others over as they entered the club. He was glad to see them and grinned at Vincent's question. "I do get bored easily. So yes, a little adventure is always fun.".

He looked up as Roaslie and Leo arrived too. "Afternoon all! We've just ordered some tea, would you like some? And someone will share a Hookah with me right? I've never tried. Doc, you are in right?".
He winked toward Vincent and Milly in anticipation of Leo's response.

Found anything interesting...besides the obvious?
Tommy chuckled at Leo's words.
"I'm studying the situation to see what develops. Indeed it may even require a closer look at some stage.". He shrugged. "Apart from what you see here though, we've nothing to report. Not been here too long really, so I suggest we take the opportunity to unwind and think about what's next.

How about you? Any news from the museum?".
This message was last edited by the player at 12:00, Fri 20 May 2016.

Leo nodded at the greetings. "And hello to you all as well." He turned his gaze first toward Tommy. "I'd enjoy some tea, yes. And if no one else will share a Hookah with you, I'd be happy to do so. Might help to relax a bit."

He looked around at the others. "We didn't find anything particularly interesting at the museum. There was a lecture on Egypt by a man who had done field work there and is now a professor. He didn't really tell us much we didn't already know or suspect. We looked through some artifacts from other areas of Africa, but nothing really jumped out at us."

Moretti grinned at O'Connor, giving her a quick "what do I know" shrug.

As the others spoke, he shifted his attention back to the restaurant's occupied tables, taking a long moment to study the Pyramid's other patrons.

Once a group had gathered at their table, before long, a dancer came up to the small stage beside their table during a break in the music. She had eyes like black diamonds and hair that fell down her shoulders in silky waves. Her graceful, lithe figure showed both lean musculature and sensuous curves and was decked in the traditional garb of a belly dancer. She wore a veil over her face that they had seen on many of the women here, though thy were eventually removed, sometimes along with other layers. Pound notes were tucked into her waistband, something they had observed happening at other stages.

When the music started again, she began to dance for them.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:28, Fri 20 May 2016.

Delighted by Leo's indulgence the young reporter flagged down their waiter to order a sweet smelling Hookah. This was a nice place and he was relaxing in to the surroundings that enveloped them. Quite a change from the busy streets of London outside.

As the dancer came over he welcomed her with a smile. "You might have guessed this is our first time here. I apologize in advance if our etiquette needs work - dont hesitate to set us straight. I would be honored if you would dance for us.".

He shuffled, suddenly self-conscious as the music began. Her dark eyes seemed to flash in his direction as an air of tantalizing mystery made the rest of the patrons seem to float away. Glad to have something to do with his hands he sipped at his tea watching in silence, reaching to his jacket pocket to place a few notes on the table in appreciation.

If a break in the music came he would lead forward, engrossed and intrigued to speak to the young woman. "That was wonderful! What is your name? You make me wish New York wasn't so far from the Pyramids!".

   Millicent's eyes widened a bit when Leo agreed to the hookah and made a slight face to Vincent's reply. "You surprise us Doctor," she finally said; "we were sure you wouldn't. But, it's nice to see you're not adverse to having a little fun now and then," she said with a pleased smile.

  When the dancer came over, Millicent watched the performance, amused and delighted. "My, I don't think my hips could move like that if I wished it," she said with a chuckle. she sipped her tea, it's wasn't bad, but it was no scotch.

  "Sounds like you kind of wasted your time then," she said to Dr. Elias, commenting on his task "But it was probably good to be through anyway in case you had found something. What does that leave us then? This place I suppose, but nothing seems out of the ordinary so far, well if one can call this atmosphere ordinary."

The dancer leaned in, her hips writhing to the seductive pulse of the music. She eyed the notes that Thomas had placed on the table and slightly pulled at a band on her waist to indicate that he should put them there. It didn't reveal anything that wasn't already exposed, but it was a provocative gesture all the same.

She smiled at his question and said "Zubaida."

Tommy bit his lip-he wasn't a sheepish boy, but here before this enchantress he suddenly felt very warm. He didn't dare look at his comrades, imagining a gleeful smirk on the lips of Millicent or warm hearted chuckle from Vincent. Instead he leant forward to slide his notes into Zubaida's garter. Her skin was warm to touch and his eyes met hers.
Trying to act casual he leant back "Zubaida.". He tested the name, molten with foreign mystery. "I'm Tommy. This is quite the place...".

The club might have no bar, but in most places so long as the staff kept the clients drinking, the ownership would be happy. "Can I buy you a drink? I'm here on vacation...but back home I'm a reporter for the New York Times. I have never met a woman from the land of the Nile before-and a reporter always has questions whenever he spies a beautiful mystery.". He reached to pluck a few more notes enticingly, raising an eyebrow to see if she would accept his offer.

He didn't use it  often, but with budding actresses or dancers the reporter line always seemed to tempt. After all, what better way to fame and fortune?

Rosalie was trying her best to keep a straight face, but Tommy made it extremely difficult.  She couldn't help but wonder what experience he had with women.  From the lines he was throwing, it sounded like he was still a reporter conducting an interview.  Glancing to the others, she sat back in her chair, hands resting in her lap as she tried to relax.

Zubaida stepped down from the short stage, dancing on the floor level, closer to where Thomas was. She laughed musically at what she perceived as discomfort by Thomas, but continued to dance, shaking her hips in rhythm to the music. "Maybe," she said. "What questions will you ask of me?" As she moved closer, he could see that Zubaida looked not quite twenty years, but close to it, and her body looked correspondingly untouched by the years. An experienced dancer, every twist of her hips was sensuous and at the same time casual, seeming at once a possible invitation but at the same time also perhaps just an afterthought or a coincidental music in time with the melody.

Unable to banish the smile on his face, Moretti stood. "Don't worry, Mr. Cotton. This is a situation that's easily remedied. Bishop and I passed a pub just a short piece down the road from here. I'm sure there's a bottle of spirits they'll be willing to part with. I'll return momentarily." He nodded to Zubaida. "Ma'am."

With that, he departed the Blue Pyramid, walking briskly in the direction of the pub.

Rosalie couldn't hide her smile as Vincent slipped away.  "Yes, what questions, Thomas?"  She leaned forward on the table, chin resting in her palm.  "Tell us all."  Her eyes glittered as she looked from the voluptuous dancer to the reporter.

Questions? Arrgghh!
Tommy felt hot under the collar as all eyes fell on him. Somewhere he heard the merry jingle of Rosalie's voice and the calm reassurance of Vincent, as he struggled to focus on the task at hand. A bottle would be welcome...those swaying hips were quite distracting.

Calm down kid, questions are what you are good at.

Adjusting his position he watched the dancer, appreciating her display. "I suppose it's too soon to ask you to marry me?". He grinned, a twinkle in his eye as he relaxed.

"I'm just intrigued. I'd heard London had a Chinatown, and the Brit's think their Empire rules the world right? But an Egyptian club in the heart of Soho - is there a large community here? Have you worked here long?".

For a moment he allowed himself to admire her curves, her sway, her intoxicating allure. He could have sworn she was dancing only for him, the rest of the club a coincidence, an afterthought. Wishful thinking kiddo.

"My friends and I were seriously considering a trip to Egypt at some stage.". Tommy nodded toward the side of the table where the Elias duo watched. "Rosalie here has more than a little expertise in Archaeology and I'm told has been visiting both the British Museum and some other place this afternoon with Egypt on the mind.".

Walter pays off his cab and walks into the Blue Pyramid. He takes in the place as his eyes adjust to the dim light, then sees his friends, Tommy talking to a dancer.

He makes his way between tables, snags a chair from an adjacent table, and places it behind Leo's and Rosalie's. He straddles it back to front and leans forward to whisper to his cousin, "How's the kid doing?"

Leo waved over to Bo as he arrived, then scooted his chair a little to make room for him. "Hello Walter." He looked over to the 'kid' and then back to Walter with a smirk and his quiet, frank assessment. "Flailing around like a drowning man that doesn't know how to swim. How was your visit to the restroom?"

"Yes, yes, yes, and yes," she said to him, giving a twirl, her dress whispering and small bells quietly chiming along with the hypnotic allure of the Arabic music that played in the background. "But these are boring questions, no? This is all you have to ask?"

She removed her veil, revealing an alluring face showing sharp, aquiline features, the piece of cloth disappearing somewhere in her outfit as easily as a magic trick.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:12, Tue 24 May 2016.

In reply to Dr. Leonardo Elias (msg # 29):

"Nothing to report, sir."

  Millicent was thoroughly delighted by the interaction between the beautiful dancer and the flustered reporter. She could see Rosalie trying to not to laugh, but she had no problem showing her amusement.

 "Oh come on Tommy dear," Milly said laughing gaily, "this is your chance to shine though I think a bit of alcohol reinforcement might be needed." She looked towards the entrance' "oh I hope Vincent won't take too long, and he brings back enough for all of us."

Moretti returned momentarily. Doing his utmost to emulate a discreet waiter, he deposited one of the bottles of scotch he'd obtained on the table, in easy reach of most of the gathering. He opened the second bottle and poured two fingers of liquor into each of the glasses he'd purchased, setting both, along with the opened bottle, in front of Cotton.

That done, he took his seat, one corner of his mouth raising in a grin as he reached into his jacket for a cigarette, interested to see what transpired between the reporter and the dancer.

She grinned back at Walter and gestured to the scene before them.  Thomas' questions spoke for themselves.  Leaning toward Vincent after he took a seat, she asked quietly, "You think it'll really help?"

As Tommy seemed momentarily too flustered to say anything, she gave a low, soft laugh and continued to dance, making her way around the table.

---

OOC:

I don't want to restrict the interactions of others, so she can go to whoever is next to Tommy - that'll be whoever pipes up first.

Of course, Tommy is still close enough to talk to her. If he has any interesting questions.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:37, Wed 25 May 2016.

Moretti did his best to swallow a chuckle at Rosalie's question. Keeping his voice low, he answered, "With his eloquence? No. With his courage? Maybe."

Tommy laughed at the enchantress' words. "Yes yes yes? Does that mean we are married?" He grinned, glad to see the return of Moretti and the gift of alcohol to hand.
"I'll drink to that!".

Taking one of the offered glasses he took a deep gulp, revived and encouraged by the rush of the harsh liquor to his gut.
"Ahhh, but the most interesting questions take time Zubaida. We've just met, and so many prying nosey folk near by.". He gestured dramatically to his friends, leaning forward as if to confide in the dancer. "There are such rabble around these days!".

"Still, the best questions depend on the tale of the one who is to be asked. You are the keeper of so many mysteries - which shall I pursue? The reporter in me would ask about the news. Can you tell me the secrets of the Pyramids? Do they hold the magic that has captured the public's imagination? Or perhaps politics. What will Egypt do now the Brits have given up their unwelcome rule? Or current affairs. Why the gutter press tells conspiracies of mysterious murder?".
He shrugged, watching her closely for a reaction, but trying to act as if those questions were a simple distraction.

"Ah, but these questions are nothing compared to this: what is your story? What brought us together today? The best tales always begin with people.".

Walter signals a waiter and asks what he would recommend for a group of hungry people to eat and drink.

A waiter returned bringing tea for the new arrivals and offered them a selection of recommendations, including lamb kebab, shawarma, falafel, hummus, dolma, and moussakka, and once again offered them the option of a hookah.

---

Zubaida continued to dance and said simply "Yes, it is too soon, so no," she clarified for Tommy, and was silent until the waiter left, continuing to dance while listening to the littany of the young man's questions, though she caught his eye at the mention of murder. She leaned into whisper something into his ear, and then walked away, hips swaying to the beat of the music while she took up a dance for the next table.

As his beloved pulled away Tommy slumped back on is chair and reached for another whisky. "Phew.".
He raised the glass to her departing frame and chuckled quietly. "I think I'm in love.".

Grinning sheepishly he turned to his friends in mock innocence.
"What are you all laughing at?".

As he spoke he pulled out his notebook and began to write, careful to ensure there was no one behind him who might overlook. To those that knew him it was clear that while he spoke in jest, there was a sudden keenness to his eye as he scribbled.
"You know, I might skip that Hookah after all...".

I guess Millicent must be sat beside Tommy (since we arrived first together), and Vincent (since he piped up first after Zubaida in post #35

Rosalie grinned at Vincent and straightened in her seat as the food arrived.  Throwing Thomas a glance as she helped herself, she shook her head.  "Oh, absolutely nothing, Mister Cotton.  I think you scared her off with your questions, though.  Especially when you asked her to marry you.  Perhaps, in the future, you might share a hookah with a girl before asking for her hand in marriage." 

Walter chuckles as he turns his chair around and scoots it in between Rosalie and Leo to get at the food.

"Have some food, Tommy. It'll help clear your head."


He fills a small plate with food not all that different from what he ate in Africa.

Tommy reached for the bread on the table, impressed with the generous dishes scattered before them.
He grinned to Rosa. "I imagine she gets three or four proposals a day. All part of the fun.". Lowering his voice a little he added conspiratorially "We can talk more about the questions later on. You'll see why...".

The reporter nodded appreciatively to 'Bo. "Nice ordering buddy. This stuff is good!". He gobbled down another chunk of the addictive bread. "So what's the plan tomorrow?".

Leo gave Thomas a surprised look at his proclamations. "In love Thomas? That was quick. Perhaps we should have a talk about that later as well." He paused and considered the question of what next. "I think we should do any planning for tomorrow back at our hotel. Maybe just some general sightseeing - lots of great things to see in London."

  Millicant glanced quickly at what Tommy wrote then commented, snatching a piece of the bread that was offered to him.

"I think that little scene alone made this little outing more than worth it," she said with a laugh before popping the bread into her mouth. "If you ever go out to meet more strange women, I'll be sure to tag along."

  She smiled in delight at Leo's suggestion. "My that sounds delightful, I've been here a few times, but other than the clubs, never really got the chance to see much of the sights." She checked her watch, "how much longer do you want to stay? Maybe we should get an early start tomorrow? Plus I'm sure Tommy's had enough excitement for one night," she jested.

Bishop had arrived shorly after Moretti, as the others chatted on he has sat quietly by drinking the thick coffee popolar in Egypt. In his time as a marine Bishop had picked up some Arabic as well as some understanding of their culture. So as the others chatted he just watched and listened to see if he might pick anything of interest.

With a chance to relax, and with the talk of love, Bishop let his eyes fall upon Rosalie from time to time and even smiled.

Tommy chuckled at Millicent's devilish delight. "I'm glad I'll always have a reassuring chaperone with me Milly. But isn't Soho famous for its cabaret girls and strip clubs? We could do some sight seeing there tomorrow night.". He winked, relaxing in to his chair.

"For tonight though, I think you are right. An early start in the morning so we aught not drink too much.".

Casually he tore off the page in his journal he'd been scribbling on. "Here, I've made a list of places I'd like to see. What do you think?".

Written beside a list of London landmarks, people who examine the offered page will note the words:
Be discreet. Midnight. York Minster. Zubaida meeting.

"I was thinking of heading off with one or two of you? Perhaps someone else would like to see it from a different angle too?".

As requested, the waiter returned with a hookah, which offered a light and airy perfumed smoke that smelled of exotic fruit, flowers, and spices. It had a selection different tubes for ease of use around the table. He presented the bill also for the meal, tea, and drinks.

---

OOC:

So far, indications are that Leo and Rosalie want to go to the hotel.
Tommy seems to want to leave with someone.

What about Walter, Millicent, Stanley, and Vincent?

Moretti poured a single finger of Scotch and drank it. "I'll come with you, Mr. Cotton. I didn't get to see too many sights last time I was here in England. Too much business to attend to." He grinned as he set his glass down. "Besides, you need someone to help keep you out of trouble."

Walter wipes his fingers and lips on a napkin and finishes his tea.

"I'm ready to go back with you, Leo. Sight-seeing tomorrow sounds like a fine idea, but Millicent brings up a good point: How much longer do we stay in London before getting on with...things?"

Leo shrugged at Walter's question. "I don't know. I think we're mostly playing it by ear - we'll see what is discovered later tonight and discuss next steps back at the hotel. Once we're out of next steps in London, we will move on."

"Awww, thanks Vincent. Good to know I'll have someone to watch over me. Though I'm pretty sure it's a date.". He winked.

He glanced at the time, eager to explore the Minster area ahead of the meeting and not to be late.

Moretti smiled. "Don't worry. If that's what it turns out to be, I'll slip away like I was never there in the first place." He clapped Cotton on the shoulder. "Last thing I want to do is get in the way of your good fortune."

  Millicent nods at the list, "I think what you wrote sounds just dandy, count me in. I'm sure they will be... um, interesting."

  She looked with a bit of surprise at Bo's remark.

  "Well Mr. Brandon, I meant how long here in the club, but you have a point. "We need to decide how to go about things now, but as they say, tomorrow is another day. Speaking of which, it's not too far from that, shall we head out and make plans for then, never too early to plan,"

"I would not a bit of sight seeing, been a while since I've been to London." Bishop said absently. He was impressed by Tommy turning up a lead. But concerned it might have come too easy and could be some kind of trap.

Truth be told he would rather have gone out dancing with Rosalie.

After enjoying the delights of Egyptian cuisine, their tea, Scotch, dancing, and the hookah over conversation, most of them departed for the hotel. Tommy, Vincent, and Millicent decided instead to wander around Soho, making for the York Minster, just a couple of blocks away from the Blue Pyramid.


Flags of both the United Kingdom and France flew outside the pub, and a few folks milled about chatting outside.

  Having a slight buzz from the booz, hookah, and the anticipation of what was to come, Millicent was in a pretty good mood. She hummed a little tune as they wandered.

  "This has been a rather enjoyable evening," she said to her companions. "And I wonder, is the best yet to come? This little meeting of yours has me intrigued Tommy dear, though a bit late isn't it? I wonder what her reason is, despite your obvious charms",giving the man a mischievous smile.

"Her reasoning is obvious! Hotshot reporter T.dog Cotton is in town!". He laughed, enjoying the cool evening air.

With a frown, he turned more serious. "Still, as much as I hope she only wants me for my looks, she mentioned 'information' after I touched on the subject of the killings. I expect she is hoping more media attention will help encourage Scotland Yard to crack the case.".

Seeing they still had a little time before the meeting he gestured to the others that they take a stroll around the block. It would do no harm to be familiar with the streets near by incase Zubaida wanted somewhere more discreet to talk.

"Two questions. First, do you guys want to sit with me, or watch from a short distance? If she is looking to draw attention to the story I dont think she will mind you being there.
Second, are we agreed that if the matter arises we will be honest about what we are doing in London? Investigating the ritual murder of Jackson Elias...who was himself investigating these killings?".

Moretti was quiet for a moment. Shaking his head, he said, "There's no real reason for Ms. O'Connor and I to try and conceal our presence. The young woman saw us both with you at the Pyramid. If she's halfway perceptive, she'll see us in the pub. If we're sitting elsewhere, it might make her skittish, wondering if something else is going on. I honestly don't think she'd be surprised to see that you didn't come alone."

He frowned. "I think we need to get a sense of your new girlfriend before we drop Jackson's name. Maybe initially just leave it at we have a 'missing relative' who we learned had been looking into the killings. She may have known Jackson if he paid more than one visit to her workplace. But let's just see where the conversation goes before we mention him."

Moretti grinned. "If this is just about your looks, I'll make sure to spot you cab fare before we leave you and Zubaida to your evening. Just be sure not to drink too much."

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 56):

[Great picture!]

 Millicent nodded, "I agree with Vincent here and stick together, though I hope she doesn't think us as kind of odd as wanting to stick around on your little get together. But if it is all innocent like, we'll leave you two to it," giving Tommy a wink.

 She then became a bit more serious. "if this odd woman is going to tell us something, I do hope it's just information and not getting us involved in something more sinister, like taking us to the place of the next killing or something. I really would rather not have my evening ruined by a dead body;" giving a grimace at that.

Tommy grimaced. "A dead body? That's not the sort of date I'm hoping for. But still, if Jackson was investigating these murders, it was for a reason. We owe it to Leo to follow up whatever lead Zubaida may have for us.".

He gestured toward the pub as the rounded the corner.
"Come on, lets get settled. I'll buy us all a 'pint' while we wait.".

They sat at a quiet table at the York Minster that gave them a view of both the front and the back door and the bar itself. Over the new few hours, they shared a few drinks. When the appointed hour came, Zubaida entered, dressed more properly for English society than she had been inside the Blue Pyramid. Looking about the place, she looked to the table where they sat, finally finding it with her eyes, and came to join them promptly, taking the fourth empty seat.

"Thank you for waiting," she said. "You ask about murders?" she said to Tommy, though she took in both Vincent and Millicent. She kept her voice low and quiet, and her eyes swept past the group to survey the rest of the bar's patrons before looking back to them.

Tommy waited for Zubaida to settle, noting that even in this more casual setting bereft of the allure of her dance, those dark eyes still sucked him in.
"I'm a reporter - I ask about alot of things. But yes, we saw the story of the murders, vicious as they are. The police don't seem to be making much progress. Do you, or the community know something?".
He leaned forward to listen carefully.

Before speaking, she looked around cautiously once again. "Yes, bad people. Brotherhood of Black Pharaoh, my. boyfriend called them. They kill my boyfriend," she said.

"Once a month after midnight near Blue Pyramid, a truck comes and maybe twenty customers get in. I don't know where they go. I think outside city," she said.

"Do not mention my name in newspaper story or they kill me also," she said.
This message was last updated by the player at 18:27, Tue 20 Dec 2016.

The Black Pharoah
There was that name again.

"I'm so sorry Zubaida. I didn't know you had lost someone you loved.".
He looked carefully between Millicent and Vincent, choosing his words carefully. They'd agreed not to give too much away.
"You are sure about this? Why did your boyfriend go with them? Is it always the same customers who take the truck?".
Tommy looked around the pub cautiously, suddenly looking for faces he might recognise from the Pyramid, concerned Zubaida may have been followed.

"And don't worry, your name won't appear anywhere. More than that, I'll only write what you feel is safe. But first we need to get to the bottom of this thing. Why has no one told this to the police?".

Moretti took a sip of his stout before speaking up. "And if I might also ask, ma'am, the arrival of this truck. Does it happen on the same night of each month?"

  Millicent gladly accepted the offered drink from Tommy, she had a feeling she might need more than one this night. Soon the woman arrived and took a seat with them. Millicent listened to the conversation with interest sobering at the mention of the cult and their dealings despite the feel of the alcohol in her system. She REALLY didn't think a couple of drinks were going to cut it, not at all.

  "I take it you've seen this happen, many times from the sound of it, and no one from the club thinks it's odd, your fellow dancers, anyone? HAS anyone ever said anything about it?" She kind of suspected if anyone got a bit nosy, it would be one of the last things they did.

"I am certain. He did not go with them...I do not know why they kill him. Maybe he is asking many questions about them. I do not look to closely at those going on the truck. Also it is dark in the club, hard to see all the faces. Perhaps some same, some different," she said. "Only one I recognize - the spice merchant. Tewfik al-Sayed."

Turning to Vincent, she answers him in turn. "It happens early in each month. Not the same day every month, but not to different."

"Nobody ask questions or calls police. Everyone is afraid," she said to Millicent.

It's the twenty-ninth of January, Moretti thought soberly, Not long until the truck makes another appearance.

Silently, he repeated the name Zubaida had given them to himself, committing it to memory. Although he kept his expression neutral, inwardly he felt a cold horror settle over him. Everything that madman Crompton had claimed was true. He had brought the cult to England and somehow, they had managed to survive to this day, keeping to the shadows, committing the same kind of atrocities described in Life as a God.

Had they known that Jackson was aware of their existence?

Glancing around the room, Moretti was suddenly aware of how far away from his home he was. And in the same instant he knew, with dark certainty, that he would never see it, or his family, again.

Returning his focus to Zubaida, he asked, "This merchant, al-Sayed. Does he have a store or an office somewhere? Maybe a warehouse?"

Barrington's name crossed his thoughts. At some point, when they had uncovered enough solid evidence, they needed to involve the Inspector.

  Millicent frowns, "That doesn't help much, it means we'll have to watch that place for at least the next week for the truck if we want to follow up on this. I don't know if the others will want to spend that much time here."

  Taking another long swig of her drink. Milly gave a sigh; for not the first time since arriving, she really wondered what she was getting herself into. Grey better pay one hell of a bonus by the time this is all done.

  In the meantime, it sounded like they were going to be spice shopping. Just great, the stuff always did make her sneeze.

"How about voices," she asked the dancer, "although it's dark, sometimes talking can give someone away. Anyone sound distinctive?"

"He has a shop on Wardour Street, not far. Soho," she said. She didn't respond to Millicent's comment on this not being helpful, but shook her head in the negative to the question about whether she recognized any voices.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:54, Wed 22 June 2016.

Moretti nodded at the information. "Zubaida, I know people are afraid. With good reason. And I know it took a lot of courage for you to talk about this with us."

"Do you know of anyone else that's been affected by this Brotherhood? Anyone that might be willing to share what they've experienced?"

She certainly did look afraid. "No, I don't know anyone else. He is reporter, yes? Maybe if he writes the story police will know where to look. Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go." She stood up and left them, making her way quickly for the door.

Tommy had been listening with interest, entranced by Zubaida. She seemed to him at that infatuated moment so brave...and he couldn't help but notice that even in her less provocative clothing she was awfully curvy. But he was a reporter with a job to do. Time to hunt some facts.
As she stood to leave he stood to assist her, hurrying to clarify.
"You said you don't see the people...but do you know anything more about them? Are they all men? Can you say if they were Egyptian, or were English men amongst them?". He began to scribble down notes on any answers she gave.
His brow furrowed.
"The owners of the Blue Pyramid must know about it too right? Do you think they are involved? Or is the Pyramid just the meeting place for another group?".

"All men," she said quickly and quietly before hurrying away from them.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:57, Tue 28 June 2016.

Moretti was quiet for a long moment after the dancer departed. Taking another drink of beer, he said, "We need to drop by this spice shop. Have a look around. Maybe talk to the owner. See if anything unusual grabs our attention. It's late. It'll have to wait until tomorrow."

He reached into his jacket, retrieving a package of Modianos. He took one of the cigarettes, lighting it with a match. "But before we get too deep into this, I think we need to give serious thought to contacting Barrington at Scotland Yard and letting him know what we've learned. This isn't New York. Barrington's predecessor that was looking into these murders was killed. The police here are genuinely invested in seeing the people responsible for these crimes stopped."

He exhaled a thin stream of smoke."Barrington even said he was on the edge of taking Jackson's theory about the Brotherhood seriously. I think he'd listen to what we have to say."

Tommy nodded at Moretti's surmise.
"I think you are right, lets hope Leo agrees.

I've no doubt I could get a story like this published - hell even the Scoop would jump on those nuggets. But I dont think that will help Zubaida. The Egyptian community have stayed quiet about this thing, and that means they are scared.".
He glanced toward the door she had vanished into the night from, sighing with admiration.
"She's brave, but if we publish what she told us...if there is any truth in it...someone is going to wind up dead.".

His voice lowered conspiratorially.
"'Problem is we think Jackson already told Barrington about the 'Black Pharaoh' though right? Why hasn't he hit that lead harder? Maybe that means we need to dig this a little deeper before we talk to him.".

Tommy took a long drink of his beer. Thinking about cults made him feel darkly sober.
"We should probably get back to the others.".

  Millicent watched the woman leave, well looks like they weren't going to get anything more from her and poor Tommy wasn't going to get a date.

  "Do you think she'll be ok," she asked with some concern. "If anyone suspected her of prying, they might try to silence her. And Tommy's right, going to the cops with this will probably get someone killed."

 She gave a sigh, holding her head for a moment; "Boy, we're in a real pickle aren't we. We have this knowledge and don't know what the hell do do with it. If we meddle, WE might be the ones to get something bad to happen to us. If we go to the Yard, someone innocent might die. But if we do nothing, people will continue to disappear and die. Whatever we do, death seems to be inevitable. God, if I didn't need a clear head, I would get plastered right about now."

Taking another draw on his cigarette, Moretti shrugged. "Truth is, Mr. Cotton, I think he didn't look at the Brotherhood angle hard because he didn't believe it. Not at first, anyway. Barrington thought Jackson was sincere, honest, despite what he heard from other quarters."

"See, it's not hard for us to buy in to the idea of a cult, based on what we saw in New York. But it's not an easy sell to the guy on the street. Honestly, a hundreds year old secret society sacrificing people right under everyone's noses? Come on. No one wants to believe that."

He exhales slowly."Barrington didn't say what angles he tried first, but he had to be thinking gangland." Moretti smiled self consciously. "With the way the murders were done, he was probably assuming it was some outfit within the Egyptian community. A group that gives protection, demands tribute. Punishes those who don't fall in line. That's a lot easier to swallow than the Brotherhood of the Black Pharoah."

"It also has to do with the man himself. I've dealt with plenty of cops in New York. You get a sense of who's willing to bend the rules, look the other way on things, and who isn't. Barrington does things strictly by the book. He's the kind of policeman who always has one eye on the courtroom. Always thinking about how he's going to make his case against the guy he's chasing. He doesn't cut corners or ignore procedure."

He took another drag. "Guy like that, he's going to eliminate all the obvious possibilities before he considers anything outlandish. But now, everything he's tried has come up dry and he's still got a stack of unsolved murders, including one of a police inspector. He's at that point where he's willing to listen to a few weird theories. Like a cult."

He blew out a lazy stream of smoke, suddenly aware that the weariness of the day had found him. "Still, we'll have to be careful how we talk to him. If we do. Like Miss O'Connor pointed out, we have to consider all the angles. Last thing we want to do is get someone else killed."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:35, Wed 29 June 2016.

The reporter nodded agreement.
"Maybe you're right Moretti. I guess I'm just wary after New York.

What do you say; we head back to the hotel? We've got a tale to tell the others for sure.
Maybe walk down Wardour Street on the way. Get the lay of the land and all that.".

 Millicent nodded in agreement ad she finished off her drink. "Sounds good to me, I could use some fresh air. Pubs are dandy and all, but after a while the air just gets to you," waving her hand in front of her to show her point.

  "Oh, Mr. Moretti, if you do think of talking to Barrington about this, I hope he believes you and doesn't decide to lock you up for intoxication or worse. That's all we need on top of everything else."

Moretti shrugged into his long coat. He grinned. "I have it on fairly good authority that intoxication is pretty minor as British offenses go. The police offer bail pretty quickly and you usually end up with a fine. I've got the cash on hand to handle both. Wouldn't want Leo to pay for my legal missteps."

He took a last draw on his cigarette and crushed it out in the ashtray on the table. "Besides, London jail's bound to be better than Welfare Island."

Although he was trying to sound flippant, Moretti did not feel the confidence he was trying to exude. If they involved Barrington, presuming the Inspector was willing to seriously consider what they had heard from Zubaida, the fact remained that they would be handing partial control of their efforts to an outsider. And to Moretti, that would always feel wrong.

"But that's assuming the others feel that's a sound course. Regardless, I think we need to have a look at the spice shop first."

He nodded at Cotton's suggestion of a walk. At home, walks had always proven better than whiskey or aspirin at clearing his head. Perhaps the streets of London would offer comparable comfort.

Tommy heaved himself up from his seat, holding the door for Millicent before following her and Vincent into the cold dark evening.

Here in the heart of Soho the lights and sounds of late night revelry bathed the streets, with various gentlemen coming and going about their business. They ducked in and out of view into the narrow London alleys that met the main thoroughfare, perhaps heading home or to indulge in the darker seductions Soho was famed for.

The reporter tugged his jacket collar closer as a chill swept down his spine. Peering at the road names he continued the conversation from the pub. "I think we decided to get involved in this mess the moment we decided to come to London. Jackson thought the Pharaoh was important, so we should too right? Although", he mused for a moment "Jackson also didn't think it was important enough to stay in London and figure out either. He went to Egypt quickly enough right?
But he didn't meet the lovely Zubaida.".

Spying a friendly looking walker he flagged the man down.
"Which way to Wardour Street buddy?".

Moretti quietly took in the sights of Soho, appreciating the unique sights the neighborhood offered, even as he sensed that, beneath the surface, the place held many similarities with the streets he called home.

He grinned at Cotton. "This Zubaida has really gotten under your skin, hasn't she? I almost feel obligated to look into this for that reason alone. It may be my best opportunity to become a godparent."

He pulled his gloves on, one at a time. "But, you're right. It does seem that Jackson didn't pursue the Brotherhood. It's almost as though he felt that his report to Scotland Yard was enough. Maybe he was just too focused on the Carlyle Expedition to devote his energies elsewhere."

He frowned, pausing to look up at the night sky. "I have to admit, part of my concern may just be due to the way I think. My business, you're always looking for angles. Connections and weaknesses. It just seems...well, incredible that Jackson found evidence of an ancient cult here in London, even as he was chasing the legends of another one in Africa."

"Not to sound foreboding or anything, but speaking professionally, on more than one occasion it's proven unhealthy, for myself and my associates, to overlook those kinds of coincidences. It may not always be obvious, but there's usually a reason such similarities exist."

 Millicent listened to the 2 men talk as they walked the darkened streets. Normally she would not be caught dead this late at night out here, but she felt safe enough with her 2 companions.

  "It make you wonder doesn't it, what in the world is in Africa that would make someone leave this mystery? Jeepers, wasn't ritualistic cult murders interesting enough for the man?" Milly shook her head in doubt; "Obviously not and it makes me both curious and not really wanting to find out what this other cult really is. God help us, New York, London, Africa, where in the world will the next one be, cause it sounds like they're all over the place from what we keep finding out."

  A look of horror came across her. "Oh God, you don't think there's one in Ireland do you?"

As they walked down an empty Ardour Street, they came upon a small, neat, two-story building. There was a spice shop on the ground floor, lettered prominently in English with Arabic subtext. The shop seems ordinary from the outside, but even from outside of it, the pleasant smell of strong spices lingers. The shop's door is predictably locked, being well after the posted business close at 5:00 pm.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:08, Thu 07 July 2016.

"This Zubaida has really gotten under your skin, hasn't she?"
The 'ace' reporter chuckled.
"You wern't sat where I was Vinny; of course she's under my skin!". He glanced at Millicent. For some reason he couldn't quite fathom the reporter found himself adding hurriedly "Though, I dont love her obviously.". Though why Milly's opinion might matter was anyone's guess.

Together the trio walked on and Tommy pulled the collar of his coat closer as the cool night air sent a chill down his spine. He followed Vincent's glance skyward, catching glimpses of unknown constellations half hidden by billowing cloud.

"Oh God, you don't think there's one in Ireland do you?"
"They cant be everywhere can they? We'd know? Somehow they would have been found out, made rumors...?". Even as he spoke he doubted himself. The evidence of New York and London suggested otherwise. "I guess we can only confront what we know...".

Turning Northward they saw the street name come in to view;
Wardour Street, and the conversation faded away. Being careful to take his time Cotton strolled casually by the shop, glancing inside and to the windows above.

OOC - Any homeless folk near by? Knowing the area I'm imagining the shop is in the middle of a terrace with no side streets to its rear or anything?

OOC:

No homeless folks nearby. It's not connected to the next building; there is a way around back should you seek it.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:28, Fri 08 July 2016.

Moretti studied the shop's windows for a moment. Satisfied that there were no lights on in the building, he looked up and down the street, making certain that the group wasn't being observed. Glancing at his two companions, he said, "I'm going to have a look around back."

Moving quietly along the side of the structure, he made his way to the rear of the shop.

12:45, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 10 using 1d100 with rolls of 10.  Sneak - Sneak 71%

Vincent moved like a wraith, slipping into the shadows as if he were a trained assassin. The back of the building was less well lit than the front, but the stars, the waxing crescent moon, and the glow from the front was sufficiently pervasive to allow him to make out a back door to the building.

Curious, Moretti approached the back door quietly. Pressing his ear to it, he paused, listening intently for any noises of activity within the darkened shop.

14:46, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 22 using 1d100 with rolls of 22.  Listen - Listen 25%

  Millicent glanced curiously at the shop as they approached. "So there's the infamous shop; looks pretty unremarkable, probably have to come back tomorrow to see anyone..."

 Her words died as she saw Vincent head to the rear. "Is he serious," she hissed in a whisper to Tommy. "Well if he gets caught, I don't know either of you lot."

Millicant gave a sigh, "I better keep an eye out, make sure no one curious or otherwise stumbles upon us. You want to go help him, be sure he doesn't get into trouble?" 

PM:

Hearing only silence, Moretti took a try at the lock on the door, hoping for a look inside. However, either because of the darkness that pervaded the back of the shop, or the composition of the lock itself, he was unable to open it.

Quietly, he sighed in frustration.

10:37, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 98 using 1d100 with rolls of 98.  Locksmith - Locksmith 70%

The pick Vincent was using snapped.

Moretti quietly made his way back to the front of the shop. He smiled at his companions ruefully. "Thought I might get a peek inside. Place is silent as a tomb, but I couldn't work the lock in the dark. Only way in is to strongarm the back door, and I don't think we want to risk that kind of attention."

He glanced back at the shop while he retrieved a cigarette from his jacket pocket. "Guess it'll have to wait until we can pay it a legitimate visit tomorrow."

  The relief on Millicent's face was quite plain. "Oh well, them's the breaks right? It's probably all for the best; as you say, we can check out the place in the morning and if we need to try this again, we'll be more prepared for it."

  She gave a look around and checked her watch. "Well, shall we head back or is there more you want to check out? Might be good to get some sleep before the morning."

Trying to look as innocuous as possible Tommy ducked into a shadowy doorway as his troublesome friend went to work. While Milly watched the road he looked up toward the Windows and offices overlooking the place for any sign of twitching curtains.

"for Christ sakes Vincent, I thought we were only walking past the place!". He grinned devilishly, relishing the excitement. Vincent was a do-er. "You sure the place is empty? If we believe Zubaida, whoever works there is a murderer. We might not get a better shot at this.".

Moretti grinned at Cotton's excitement. "After having a look at the windows, I took a long listen at the back door. Silent as a tomb in there." He paused, considering. "I couldn't get the door open. Out of practice, I guess. But you might. You got us inside the shop in Harlem. And you're right, we might not get another chance."

He looked to O'Connor. "Miss O'Connor, if you happen to see someone coming, I'd be obliged if you whistled a few bars of 'Everybody Loves My Baby' before you depart. That will give Mr. Cotton and I fair warning that trouble's brewing."

As he and Cotton moved back to rear of the store, Moretti said in a hushed voice. "One thing I need you to promise me, Mr. Cotton. If the law somehow does show up, you've got to swear that if there's a way for you to make an escape, you'll take it. If I can make a run for it, I will. But if anyone gets pinched for this, it needs to be me."

"I'm the guy you expect this sort of thing from. I get tossed in jail here in London and someone sends a telegram to the D.A. in New York, that office is going to send one back saying, 'Yeah, Moretti's a thug.' I work for Joe the Boss, Mr. Cotton. The only time anyone is going to admit they know me is when they have a problem only my people can solve. Capisce? I end up under arrest, Leo and everyone can point to my record and deny they knew what the hell I was up to."

His expression becomes serious. "You see, you may not fully understand it, Tommy, but the Eliases need you to help unravel what happened to Jackson. You say 'The New York Times', even over in Africa, and I imagine it opens doors. Your paper, your profession, it's respected, paisan. You can get people to talk to you that the rest of us can't. Look at what happened with Zubaida. We wouldn't know what we know now if she hadn't opened up to you. And she did it because of what you do for a living. So the last thing you need to be is locked up in a cell."

"The cops show up, you run. Like the wind. Find your way back to the Savoy. Someone comes asking, I was drunk and insisted on going off into Soho on my own.  You have no damn idea what I did. We clear?"

He clapped Cotton on the shoulder. He could have said more, about how much respect he had for the reporter for risking his safety and leaving his life behind to help them solve this mystery, but that was for another time. When they reached the back door, Moretti lit a match, cupping it in his hand to hide the glare, but holding it over the lock so Cotton would have light to work by. He hoped the reporter could succeed where he failed.

"Ain't no one getting caught today buddy.".
Taking a swift breath Tommy followed Vincent and vanished from the Main Street. Above them clouds rolled accross the moon, and as he stooped to examine the lock he began to feel luck was against them.

Carefully he knelt before the door, taking a pick offered by Moretti and trying to massage the lock open.

09:54, Today: Thomas Cotton rolled 77 using 1d100 with rolls of 77.  Lock vs 57.

 Millicent looked a bit bemused, "You mean you're still going to try this? Saints preserve us, you two are going to be the death of me. Fine," she relented, "I'll watch and try to keep you two out of trouble tonight."

  As the two men got to work, Milly did her part watching for anyone that might stumble upon them.

OOC: any roll i need to make?

After a few minutes of struggling with the lock pick, the lock on the back door doesn't show any signs of giving. At times, Tommy felt something push as if he was almost there, but never managed to actually hear the longed-for click that would signify the unlocking of the door. .

Moretti could see that Cotton came close to success once or twice with the stubborn lock, but ultimately couldn't get it open. The difficulty they were encountering made him earnestly wonder if there was something within the shop that someone had worked hard to keep secure.

When Cotton was finished, Moretti knelt in front of the door, to see if he could build on the progress the reporter had made, but to no avail. No matter how diligently he tried, the lock simply wouldn't yield.

Frowning, Moretti stood, taking a quick look back down the narrow corridor to the street. All seemed quiet. Returning his attention to the door, he weighed their options, earnestly wondering if breaking it down might prove worth the risk.

21:48, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 85 using 1d100 with rolls of 85.  Locksmith - Locksmith 70%.

Tommy swore under his breath as the pin slipped back in to place. So close!
Easing aside he switched places with Moretti, straining to listen for any hint they might have been found. Quickly it became clear that his crouched companion was struggling too.

"Come on, leave it. We've been out here too long. Aint no sense pushing our luck when we can try again tomorrow night.". His voice was low, and his eyes continued to scan the windows above.
Christ it was tempting to have one last go.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:50, Tue 19 July 2016.

As the pair started to pull away from the shadows of the door, Tommy gave a frustrated growl and swore. "Damn it, we are so close. I'm sure I can do this sucker.".
His adrenaline beating faster Tommy knelt against the lock again. He knew they should be moving on, he knew it was a mistake to linger. And yet, those wide dark eyes of Zubaida begged him to try. Or was it the subconscious desire to impress someone else on the scene?

Almost holding his breath he slid the needle of the pick into the lock and tried again...


Yay!
23:21, Today: Thomas Cotton rolled 23 using 1d100 with rolls of 23.  One last go at that darn lock (vs 57).

Moretti grinned as he heard the tell-tale click of the lock. Gently clapping Cotton on the back, he spoke in a hushed tone, "Tommy, you ever want to give up reporting for a less honest career, I can promise you some gainful employment."

Narrowing his eyes against the gloom, he turned the doorknob slowly and quietly pushed the door open.

OOC: Outstanding work, sir!

With a soft 'click,' Tommy managed to pry the lock open, and the door knob would finally turn and allow them entrance into a dark, fragrant room. The scant light from the outside showed that it was some kind of storage room, with shelves filled with large bins, boxes, and jars.

---

What sort of light sources are you guys working with?

After pulling the door closed behind them, Moretti withdrew a small flashlight from his coat pocket. Cupping his hand over the top, he switched it on, slowly guiding the beam across the storeroom in a slow arc, trying to get a better sense of the room and its contents.

The light of Vincent's flashlight revealed that they appeared to be in a storage room of some kind. The shelves were lined with crates, barrels, and jars that were labeled as spices of different sorts. Some of the lettering was in English, while others appeared to be in curving foreign scripts of various sorts. He could make out cinnamon, cassia, cardamom, ginger, pepper, and turmeric among other names, and the smell in the room was singularly unidentifiable but exotically perfumed. For a moment, it recalled the spice traders of Arabia in the days of old, conveying spices from India and beyond to Europe via the Levant. Even in the modern day, spices that sent explorers the world round were still being sold here in the West.

The room ran the width of the building as observed from the outside, some eighteen feet wide, and six feet in. On the opposing wall, there was a gap between shelves for another door.

Letting Moretti take the lead the reporter poked his head around the corner to hiss toward Millicent. "Pssst! We're in.".

Adrenaline was flowing now and Tommy hurried to slip into the waiting darkness of the shop, quietly closing the door behind them. Fingers crossed no one would know they were inside.
Door closing after Milly enters if she chooses to.

The scent of the spice hung heavy in the air. The alien smells were distracting, unexpected, starkly warm compared to the cold London street air. When Vincent plucked a flashlight from his jacket Tommy muttered under his breath "I'm glad someone is planning ahead.". Cotton glanced to the walls of the building to make sure there we no windows, and to ensure that if there were, the curtains were pulled snug and tight. There was little more suspicious than a flickering torch inside a dark building. As he scanned the place he look out for a gas lamp, or whatever the proprietor would use for light.

With the first sweep complete he hurried to make sure the place was secure. Deftly he tip-toed to the internal door and knelt to listen carefully.

Tommy couldn't hear anything from the other side of the door.

The silence was at the same time reassuring and unsettling, unknown. Still, it meant they had time to explore further.
Turning his attentions back to the store room he scanned the names of the spices, prodding the sacks with scoops that sat beside to check there was not some other hidden content. Remembering the Juju house he looked down at the floor for any hint of a cellar or trap door, before nodding to Vincent that he'd follow his lead.

Keeping the beam of his flashlight low, Moretti circulated through the crates and shelves, examining the stencils on the shipping containers, curious where all of the imported spices had come from. He naturally imagined that many originated in Egypt, but wondered if other countries in Africa were represented here as well. For a moment, he regretted that neither Bo nor Rosalie were with them. Both were far better traveled than he and would have a greater understanding of the exotic inventory.

Following Cotton's wise example, he studied the floor of the storeroom momentarily before moving over to the door. Once he understood that the reporter had heard nothing, he pressed the lamp of the flashlight against his chest, to conceal its beam, then quietly turned the doorknob, pushing the door open.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:30, Thu 21 July 2016.

Neither of them were able to discern any trapdoors in the storage room floor. In Vincent's examination of the spices, he can see shipping labels from as far east as China, but also from India and Persia, as well as Egypt.

He found that the door readily opened before him. The flashlight showed that the walls of this area were lined shelves that were filled with sealed jars of spices in neatly ordered rows. While the storage room was something of a mess, here everything was well in order. In the middle of the room was a counter with a register. To their right, they could see the telltale design of a staircase that sloped downwards towards the front door of the shop.

Mindful of the flashlight's beam, Moretti slipped behind the counter, looking in any shelves or cabinets that were present for ledgers, documents, or other items of interest.

And not seeing a damn thing that might be concealed back there.

22:00, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 78 using 1d100 with rolls of 78.  Spot Hidden - Spot Hidden 60%

Vincent got his hands around a ledger. Turning his flashlight upon its contents, he saw numerous entries for bulk spice purchases, periodic transactions of sales, and deposits. Tucked into the front pocket of the ledger were various purchase orders for different spices.

Well, it looks like the books are in order, Moretti thought, sliding the ledger back in place, At least the ones in the front of the shop.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:18, Fri 22 July 2016.

OOC:

Here's the layout of the spice shop:



At the top is where Tommy, Vincent, and Millicent entered the place - the storage room. The bottom section is the main area of the spice shop.

The staircase isn't going down from this level anywhere. Instead, the staircase is going up, starting from the front of the shop.

With his hand still cupped over the top of his flashlight, Moretti moved from behind the counter to the stairs. Careful to ensure his footfalls made as little noise as possible, he ascended the steps, remaining watchful for any hint of movement in the gloom.

09:58, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 20 using 1d100 with rolls of 20.  Sneak - Sneak 70%.

Vincent quietly ascended up the staircase to find himself in what appeared to be a living room. It was furnished with couches, pillows, incense burners, rugs, low tables, a hookah, and unlit hanging lamps, all in muted shades of yellow and blue. A sizable oil heater kept the room warm. In a prim glass case stood statuettes of Egyptian gods.

Prominently, piously displayed on a table in the living room is an open copy of the Koran. On one wall of the living room is an ornate mirror with a golden frame. The frame is subtly asymmetric, and strange figures have been worked into it.

A large roll-top desk dominated the living room, the flashlight revealing a glint of metal where the desk was locked.

In the back of the room, an opening lead into a short hallway with a door at the other end.

 Millicent jumped slightly as Tommy hissed at her. She gave a doubtful look, hissed, "are you serious?" Then sighed, looked around and hurriedly went in closing the door as to not arouse suspicion.

  Now in the shop, Millicent looked around with the others. The scent of spices tickled her nose and it took a moment to get used to the mix of odd scents. A bit surprised and envious Vincent had brought a flashlight, she watched as it's light played to and fro around the shop. Without some kind of light source, she doubted either her or Tommy were going to be able to see much here. She moved over and whispered to him. "You would think he planned this; how the hell are we supposed to see anything?"

   She saw Vincent going up the stairs and seeing he was the one with the light, followed gingerly behind the man trying not to make noise. She blinked in the dim light trying to focus on the room in the dimness. She glanced down the hallway, bedroom maybe? If so, she really hoped they did not wake the owner up if he was here.

 Going to the mirror, she looked into it at her own reflection and examined the curious carvings.

Moretti paused at the table where the copy of the Koran had been placed. For a moment, his thoughts drifted to Our Lady of Mount Carmel in Harlem and the innumerable times he had knelt in the church in prayer and attended mass and confession there. He examined the book for a moment, certain that it was in a language he couldn't hope to understand, but drawn by the reverence with which it was displayed.

As O'Connor approached the mirror, he glanced at the desk, wondering how quietly he could bypass the lock to get a peek at what was inside. Before he could pursue the idea further, his eyes were drawn to the glass case with the statuettes. He stepped over to it, looking closely at the figures arranged within.

Vincent found the Koran to be in Arabic, as he had likely suspected.

As Vincent's flashlight uncovers the various figurines one by one, they all note the various figurines that are present there seem to be somehow familiar from various texts they had read on the Egyptology craze. Names like Ra, Anubis, and Bast seemed to come to mind, and others looked familiar too, but none of them had studied in the field enough to make positive identifications. Still, they all seemed of a set, and none was markedly out of place.

15:13, Today: The Keeper, on behalf of Millicent O'Connor, rolled 35 using 1d100 with rolls of 35.  Knowledge (55).
15:13, Today: The Keeper, on behalf of Thomas Cotton, rolled 29 using 1d100 with rolls of 29.  Knowledge (65).
15:12, Today: The Keeper, on behalf of Vincent Moretti, rolled 25 using 1d100 with rolls of 25.  Knowledge (80).

Lingering downstairs for a moment Tommy took another look at the area behind the counter for anything Vincent might have missed. He examined the ledgers carefully, taking a moment to scribble the names of the most frequently seen suppliers or customers, with a special eye out for the Blue Pyramid. Flicking toward the oldest entries, he wondered absently if there were any mentions of one Jackson Elias...

When he was done Tommy crept upstairs with the others. Milly seemed to be examining herself in that mirror (after all, why not?) and Vincent had moved to some strange statues. That led Tommy to the desk.
Carefully he tried to slide it open and peek at what lay inside.

Millicent examined the mirror, finding it to be a large, asymmetric grey-white metal mirror held in a gold frame. The front surface of the mirror was extremely smooth and highly polished, while the reverse bore a series of markings hammered into the surface. Several sections of the inscription had been damaged, likely intentionally due to the precision of the chiseling. The gold frame was made up of warped or possibly melted inhuman faces. These faces appeared to be misshapen, elongated, and sometimes demonic. While the work appeared to be of a high quality the faces had an unsettling, almost shifting, quality that left a most unwholesome impression.

Millicent strangely recalled an obscure fact that she had learned as she looked at the marking and characters inscribed along the frame. They appeared to be in Cuneiform, an ancient system of writing developed in Mesopotamia some three thousand years or more before the birth of Christ.


Tommy attempted to examine the ledgers below, but in the absence of Vincent's flashlight, an impenetrable darkness hung on the room like a cloak, and Tommy could make out neither head or tail of anything he was looking at.

He did much better in the room above, as the light from the flashlight did offer some residual illumination even where it was not directly pointed. His attempts to roll back the top of the desk failed, as it seemed to be locked.

OOC:

08:12, Today: The Keeper, on behalf of Millicent O'Connor, rolled 38 using 1d100 with rolls of 38.  Knowledge (55).

Silently offering his flashlight to either Cotton or O'Connor, Moretti retrieved his memo book and pen from his overcoat. Striving to work as quickly as possible without sacrificing accuracy, he reproduced the the markings on the back of the mirror on paper, hoping that Rosalie or one of her contacts might be able to translate the characters. Being no artist, he did not attempt to sketch the faces, simply doing his best to commit their unsettling qualities to memory.

  Millicent blinked in surprise. What in the world did she just see; her eyes had to be playing tricks on her in this dimness, right? Between that and those odd faces, this strange mirror unnerved her more that she liked and she quickly moved away from the thing. Did she did recognize the strange writing though even though she had no ides what it said. Cuneiform, damn this thing was old if it had that ancient scribble on it.

  As Vincent approached with notebook in hand; Millicent took the flashlight from him and held it up so he could copy down the ancient writing. "God this thing gives me the heebie jeebies," she whispered;  "what in the world would a spice merchant be doing with it?" 

Moretti shook his head. Responding in a thin whisper, he said, "I don't know. Everything in this room fits what you'd expect in a household like this, except for this mirror. Since we know the owner is tied to the Brotherhood somehow, I suspect this sinister looking thing is as well."

He nodded at O'Connor as soon as he finished transcribing the ancient characters. Putting his memo book and pen back in his pocket, he returned his attention to the desk. Glancing behind him to ensure there was no movement or sound from the short hallway, he knelt in front of it and gently tried to open the lock with his remaining picks, working as quietly as possible.

11:41, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 1 using 1d100 with rolls of 1.  Locksmith - Locksmith 70%

Tommy looked up from the desk, confused as Milly studied the ornate wall piece.
"What's up? Its just a mirror right?".
He moved closer to examine it, leaving Vincent room to what he did best with the desk lock, examining the strange carvings in its frame.

Remembering the other door he looked around for something reassuringly heavy to palm and crept toward the as yet unopened portal. A kitchen or bedroom would surely lie beyond and they still didn't know for sure that no one was home...

18:52, Today: Thomas Cotton rolled 59 using 1d100 with rolls of 59.  A listen by the door vs 65
18:52, Today: Thomas Cotton rolled 72 using 1d100 with rolls of 72.  Sneak to be extra quiet vs 50.

In the quiet of the home, Vincent found a new calm that he hadn't been able to summon while outside the establishment, and the locked roll-top desk unlocked with a click so soft that it seemed the proper key had been turned in the lock. A cursory search within it revealed only shop records, invoices, account books, paper, pens, and the like, but as he chanced to pull one of the books out to have a look he felt some resistance and heard an audible click.

A large hidden drawer opened lower down on the right side of the desk.

In the drawer were two red-brown sandstone vials with caps, a folded silk robe, a black inverted ankh on a metal chain, a crumbling papyrus scroll, a black skullcap embroidered with inverted ankhs, and a pair of scepters made out of a black metal. Each scepter was a foot long, with a crook at one end and an inverted ankh at the other.




OOC:

22:01, Today: The Keeper, on behalf of Vincent Moretti, rolled 67 using 1d100 with rolls of 67.  Luck (75).

Seeing himself in the mirror Tommy hesitated. Confused he waved his hand up and down slowly, watching its counterpart in the glass pane. His brow furrowed - something did seem off about it.

Resisting the temptation to examine it further he continued his original plan to head to the next door. They needed to know there was no-one else in the property.

ooc: Is there a key hole or anything by the next door to peer through? If its silent Tommy will glance back toward the others to check if they object to him trying the handle. For now hes protecting against the chance of someone erupting through there.

By the time Tommy reached the hallway door, he noticed there were two other doors which had been initially out of view, one to his left and one to his right, though he couldn't make out much more. Stopping to listen, he heard nothing.

---

OOC:

There's no keyhole on any of the doors that Tommy can make out, but without a light source of his own, he they wouldn't do him much good anyway.

"Cavolo," Moretti muttered under his breath as he studied the contents of the hidden drawer. His hand hovered over the inverted ankh on the chain, his mind returning to the details of Crompton's horrific memoir, recalling that the reversed ankh served as the sigil of the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh.

Zubaida was right. The cult was still roaming London, preying on the innocent. To all appearances, this home was the dwelling of a simple merchant, a devout Muslim. But just beneath the surface, cunningly hidden, was proof of who he truly was. Moretti took a slow, deliberate breath, pushing aside thoughts of the atrocities that this man and his ilk were responsible for.

Quietly, he collected the scroll and vials, carefully placing both in one of the inner pockets of his overcoat. He also took the necklace with the inverted ankh, folding the chain slowly to avoid noise, before slipping it into another pocket. Committing the appearance of the rest of the objects to memory, he gestured for Cotton and O'Connor to join him at the desk.

Pointing to the clothing and scepters, he whispered, "The symbol on these robes, and at the end of these scepters, it's the sigil of the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh. I'm guessing the man who lives here is a priest of some kind in the cult."

He glanced over his shoulder at the quiet hall. "I've collected a couple of things, but I think we should get out of here. My guess is that the owner is asleep in one of those other rooms. We shouldn't try to press our luck."

He looked at both of them with a frown. "Since we know who this man is, I think we might consider keeping watch on him. Track his movements for a little while. See if he leads us to other members."

Briefly turning his attention to the mirror, he shakes his head. "That thing is damned unsettling. I noticed that my reflection...it didn't match my movements. It moves...more slowly."

  Holding the light so Vincent could examine the desk, Millicent watched as he went through the items he had found. "Christ, well there's our proof. Shouldn't we take it all," she whispered asking. "I mean, if he doesn't have this stuff he can't perform any of whatever he does. Cults are usually sticklers for pomp and circumstance, right? And plus," she gave a smirk, "I really don't think he'll report them stolen to the Bobbies."


 She turned to look over at Tommy and the unexplored door then turned back. "I think you're right, it might be best not to press our luck, get these things back to the others to examine."

Moretti considered O'Connor's suggestion. His instinct had been only to collect those items that were a simple matter to pocket, but on reflection, he had to agree with her idea. It was probably best simply to take it all.

Tucking one of the scepters under his coat, he waited for Cotton and O'Connor to collect the other scepter and the garments before quietly sliding the drawer closed.

Pausing before he returned downstairs, Moretti regarded the mirror curiously. Stepping over to it, he gingerly touched the glass with the fingertips of his gloved hand.

  Seeing Vincent having his hands full, Millicent took the other scepter and garments, draping them over her shoulder to keep her other hand free for the light. She turned to go but paused when she saw Vincent touch the mirror. "Come on," she hissed, "don't mess with that thing. Let's get out of here."

Tommy hesitated.

Maybe Vincent was right - they shouldn't push their luck. But...
He swore under his breath, caught by indecision.

"This stuff proves Zubaida was right. Once we take these things, whatever this cult is will know we are on to them. Then what?".
He grimaced, hurrying to speak as the seconds ticked on.

"Maybe we leave everything where we found it and watch this guy day in day out, to find the rest of the cult.".
Anxiously Tommy rubbed the back of his neck, trying to think straight.
"Better, we set him up some how. Plant something...do something to give the cops an excuse to raid this place and find something incriminating. Problem is, I aint got no idea what we can do that will stick.". Sure they could fake some dodgy book keeping, even plant a weapon, but nothing that would send the man to jail for life.

As the mirror watched them, their reflections seemed languid, distant, off. The strange glass reminded Tommy of things he didn't understand...and brought with it darker memories of New York. The reporter didn't want to say it, but at last he looked Vincent in the eye, his voice a dangerous whisper.
"Or...maybe we have to bring this place burning down. You remember the Juju house.".

OOC:

Vincent, please make a Luck roll.

Not today.

07:02, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 97 using 1d100 with rolls of 97.  Luck - Luck 75%

Is this mirror like a certain pair of goggles I'm remembering? ;)

As they examined the mirror, all three of them could hear through the floor and the walls the familiar creaking and thudding of a heavy door being opened and closed somewhere on the floor below them towards the front of the building.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:28, Tue 09 Aug 2016.

Moretti blinked, pulling his hand away from the mirror as though he had just touched a hot stove. Reflexively, he reached up to touch his own face, his fingers seeking reassurance that the features there remained familiar to him.

He was drawn from his brief trance by the noises from downstairs. Glancing at Cotton and O'Connor, he reached down and opened the hidden drawer, leaving its emptiness visible to others that entered the living area. Leaning close to the others, he whispered, "There's a fire escape at the rear of the building. We should make a try for it. See if we can get out without being seen." Even as he spoke, his right hand went into his coat pocket, finding the brass knuckles that were concealed within it.

Moving as hastily as quiet would allow, Moretti moved to the short hallway and approached the doorway at the end of it. Gingerly, he tried the knob and, provided it was not locked, gently pushed it open.

OOC: Wasn't sure if you needed any rolls at this point, Keeper.

OOC:

Both of you give me a Sneak roll please.

Done.

10:39, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 93 using 1d100 with rolls of 93.  Sneak - Sneak 71%

I was very tempted to add some additiona narration to this (and still can, if needed). I was thinking of something along the lines of:

"Suddenly, all of the alcohol that Moretti had consumed earlier in the evening hit him, his vision abruptly going double. He staggered drunkenly through the living area, bumping small objects from shelves and knocking furniture askew. Lurching down the short hallway, he scowled at the door at the end of the corridor, making three attempts to reach for the knob before he was finally able to grasp it. Muttering incomprehensibly, he turned it, falling forward into the next room when the door swung open."

Or something to that effect. :)

With a swift nod Tommy moved to follow Vincent.

ooc: 18:29, Today: Thomas Cotton rolled 87 using 1d100 with rolls of 87.  Sneak to be extra quiet (vs 50).

  Millicent gulped when she heard the noises downstairs, that wasn't good they needed to get out of there, like now. Moving after the others, Milly sheltered the light to make it as unnoticeable as possible, or at least try to. They still needed some to see their way around this place.


15:22, Today: Millicent O'Connor rolled 59 using 1d100 with rolls of 59.  sneak 40%.
We are a noisy bunch, I think the place needs burned down. :P

Vincent's hand found an unlocked door, and as he turned to push it open something must have startled him - likely the sound of Tommy and Millicent attempting to hurry to join him but making far too much sound in the process - and he stumbled, knocking over something in the darkness of the room as his flashlight momentarily spun out of control.

By the time he righted it, and the three of them had found quiet purchase again, the flashlight's beam spilled onto a window directly in front of him. They were in a small room with a luxurious feather bed, a chest with clothing bulging out of the drawers, and little else.

There was calm and quiet for a moment that seemed almost unnatural in the wake of the ruckus the three of them had briefly made, but it didn't last long. It was quickly followed by the sound of footsteps rushing through the house and up the stairs!

---

OOC:

Well, at least it wasn't a critical fail. What do you do now?

Moretti bit back a curse at the noise he made, silently angered at his own clumsiness. Taking a quick survey of the small bedroom, he motioned Cotton and O'Connor inside. Scowling at the sound of footsteps below, he quietly pushed the bedroom door closed.

Pointing to the bed, he whispered, "Someone grab a blanket or sheet. Be ready to throw it over him." His gaze went to the chest of drawers. "Check and see if there's something that can be used as a weapon." He paused. "If he goes for another room first, we can try the window. Maybe we can all make it out quickly."

Moretti flexed his fingers in the brass knuckles, making a fist around the weapon to ensure that his grip was firm. He stepped over to the side of the door, positioning himself so that he would be behind it when it swung open. Rolling his neck and shoulders, he listened for the sound of the newcomer's approach.

OOC: In case I wasn't terribly clear regarding Moretti's position, this is what I intended (apologies for my limited drawing/mapping skills):

 Dropping the stuff, except for the flashlight she was holding, Millicent said in a quiet voice to Tommy; "Get the sheet ready, I'll check the chest."

  Hurrying over to the chest, Milly opened it and peered inside to see if there was anything useful. "Come on," she muttered under her breath, "have something useful, or we're stuck relying on a sheet."

Millicent attempted to quickly scour the chest, but all she managed to find were various clothes, a mix of western wear and traditional Egyptian ethnic garb. The chest was poorly organized, each drawer a mix of various items of clothing. Before she could examine all of the drawers, they could once again hear footsteps pounding towards the door and then come to a stop right outside of it. The door knob turned, and it pushed inward slowly, a man walked into the room.

---

OOC: 

The plans as outlined will entail an opposed DEX check on the Resistance table. I'll need a d100 roll from Vincent (for slamming the door into him as he enters). I'll also need a d100 roll from Tommy for throwing the sheet over him. As Millicent is searching the cabinet, she doesn't get a roll.

But since you both have planning and some element of surprise with your plans, I'm going to borrow a concept from another system and let you roll with advantage: you get to roll twice and keep the lowest of the two rolls. 

His jaw clenched, Moretti waited for the newcomer to step into the doorway. The moment they did so, he slammed into the door with his shoulder, using all of the speed and force he could muster.

09:35, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 25 using 1d100 with rolls of 25.  DEX x 5 - 75%

09:35, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 73 using 1d100 with rolls of 73.  DEX x 5 - 75%.

  Millicent's face twisted into a mix of frustration and disappointment as the search proved fruitless. The sounds coming from outside told her she had run out of time. Turning to look at the two men, she really hoped that this crazy plan of Vincent's would work.

A man cried out in pain as Vincent savagely slammed the door hard on him, pounding him with the wooden door.

---

No roll needed from Tommy any longer necessarily, unless he is still going to throw the sheet.

Vincent, roll 1d6 + 1d4 for damage.

08:46, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 5,1 using 1d6,1d4 with rolls of 5,1.  Damage.

Total: 6

Staggering into the doorway, the man called out something to them, though it came more in the form of a chant that sounded at once both precise and malformed, which was at the same time wild and barbaric and yet at the same time planned and laced with meaning. It was the sort of sound that they couldn't quite recognize, but that would give them chills for nights to come.

He thrust out a hand towards Millicent, his eyes keen on her as he chanted.


Millicent seemed to visibly stagger backwards against the chest, her body splayed back against it and a look of utter horror consuming her. After a moment, she was mindlessly screaming in pure terror.

---

Tewfik casts Mindblast on Millicent. Millicent loses 5 Sanity.

Also, we're in Combat now. Vincent is next, followed by Tommy, at which point it comes back around to Tewfik, and so on.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 21:43, Thu 25 Aug 2016.

Instinct brought Moretti into a boxing stance as he stepped around the door. Even as he recoiled internally at the strange chant spoken by the shop owner, his fist curled around his brass knuckles and he aimed a straight right at the merchant's jaw.

16:16, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 47 using 1d100 with rolls of 47.  Fist (Brass Knuckles) - Fist 70%

16:18, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 1,4 using 1d6,1d4 with rolls of 1,4.  Damage - Brass Knuckles.

Total Damage: 5

Heart pounding Tomy lunged toward their assailant. From the corner of his eye he saw Millicent falter and felt a surge of rage toward the man they faced.
With little time to think the reporter took two deft steps sidewards and flailed with his fists, the blows barely connecting.

10:01, Today: Thomas Cotton rolled 83 using 1d100 with rolls of 83.  Fighting time! (Vs 50 fist?).

By the time Vincent's brass-knuckled fist struck the spice merchant, he was still reeling from the bloody gash in his head caused by the door slamming into it as he had entered the room incautiously. The brass knuckled caused his head to jerk back with something of a nasty snap, and another gash in his cheek. It would be hard to see in the night with that room, but as the light caught his eyes they seemed to blaze with cold fury, and his voice reached an ululting crescendo as he called out to what could only have been some dark and foul power, as what other type of being would answer such a call?

As neither Vincent nor Tommy seemed quite taken by the spell, Tewfik turned to flee into the room he had come from.

---

This is a new round of combat, but we keep the same order. Tewfik, Vincent, then Tommy.

That leaves Vincent up next.

For your information, Tewfik is not close enough for an immediate attack, but if you make an opposed DEX check, you can catch up to him. Because he's been badly hurt, I'll let you roll with advantage - roll twice and keep the best result. If you succeed (less than a 40), go ahead and make an attack.

Oh, please keep in mind that Millicent has been screaming like a banshee this whole time!


This message was last edited by the player at 03:30, Thu 01 Sept 2016.

With O'Connor's screams filling his ears, Moretti immediately moved to pursue the shopkeeper as the man tried to make a run for it. Rage already had a strong hold on Moretti, but hearing Tewfik's chant only served to deepen it, perhaps due to his comprehension of precisely what the merchant was a part of.

Snagging the shopkeeper's shoulder as he fled, Moretti tightened his grip on his brass knuckles, aiming a rabbit punch at the base of Tewfik's skull.

08:20, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 34 using 1d100 with rolls of 34.  DEX x 5 - Dexterity Roll for Pursuit.

08:21, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 17 using 1d100 with rolls of 17.  Fist (Brass Knuckles) - Fist 70%.

08:22, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 4,1 using 1d6,1d4 with rolls of 4,1.  Damage.

Total Damage: 5

In the low light Vincent was like a shadow as he surged forward seeming to engulf the fleeing shopkeeper. Anger and adrenaline were surging through Tommy's veins when suddenly Milly's screaming seemed to cut through his conscious. She was still screaming.
Moretti could take care of Tewfik.

"Milly. Milly!". Tommy spun to face the girl, searching her eyes, reaching out to clasp her shoulders. Was she injured? It didn't look that way. He held her firmly, somehow trying to reach her as he spoke urgently.
"Quiet!".
That noise would wake neighbours. Bring attention.
They had to get out of there.

More to follow pending Milly's reaction

In a few quick strides, Vincent caught up to the staggering Arab as he was about to descend the stair case and delivered another powerful blow to the nape of his neck, throwing off his momentum as he fled the room and sending him tumbling down the stairs in an ugly fall. At the end of that fall, he lay lifeless in a twisted contortion. 

Moretti stood at the top of the stairwell for a moment, gazing down at the broken body of the shopkeeper. Just long enough for him to be certain that the merchant was dead and to recognize that he felt nothing, not even a twinge of guilt, for ending the man's life.

"I'll see you in hell, Stronzo," he muttered.

Almost immediately, his mind shifted to problem solving. It wasn't the first time he'd had to manipulate a scene where violence had occurred.

Moving swiftly, he returned to the bedroom where Cotton was trying to calm O'Connor.

"The merchant's dead," he told the reporter flatly. Pointing to the window, he said, "See if you can get Miss O'Connor to come with you down the fire escape and get the hell away from the this place. Head back to the hotel as fast as you can. Capisce?"

He gestured toward the stairwell. "There's just a couple of things I need to take care of. I'll be right behind you once they're done. But don't wait for me. Get going."

Moving quickly downstairs, Moretti knelt close to Tewfik's body. Tightening his gloves, he quickly went through the shopkeeper's pockets, doing his best to disturb the corpse as little as possible.

23:38, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 55 using 1d100 with rolls of 55.  Spot Hidden - Spot Hidden 60%.

He then paused to study the position of the dead man in relation to the front of the store, trying to determine if Tewfik could be easily seen from someone looking through any available windows. If that was the case, he dragged the body behind the counter.

He then searched under the counter and in the storeroom for a small bag or sack. Once he located something suitable, he opened the cash register and emptied it into the bag, leaving the drawer open. Entering the storeroom, he pulled a handkerchief from his coat pocket and wiped down the doorknob and lock on the back door before securing it. He doubted Cotton had ever been fingerprinted, but better to be thorough.

Circulating back through the store, he wiped down anything he suspected that Cotton or O'Connor had touched, then headed back upstairs, hoping that the reporter had been able to calm O'Connor and get them out of the building.

  Millicent didn't see what happened with the fight, she was in her own little world, one where she was gripped with terror and she couldn't escape. Suddenly she heard something distant, a voice calling her name. It sounded familiar and it allowed Milly to slowly get out of this horrible place.

  Blinking, she tried to focus her eyes on the person in front of her. She tried to speak but found her throat so horse for some reason. "T...T..Tommy?" She finally got out. The effort made her cough and she gripped the young reporter to keep herself steady, There were tears in her eyes as she struggled to regain some sense of where she was and she finally remembered.

   "Oh my God Tommy," she said with a sob, "it was horrible. What did he do to me?" She looked around; "where is he, did you get him? Please, help me up." The poor woman shook as she struggled to rise to her feet.

As Milly seemed to find some token of focus Tommy looked at her with anguish.
What did he do to me? The reporter had no idea. And right now they couldn't pause to talk it through.
As calming as he could he tried to bolster her spirit "You're ok. It's over.".

Helping the girl to stand he touched a hand to her cheek, forcing her to look into his eyes and concentrate, to stay with him.
"Yes we got him. But we need to get out of here. Ok?".

For a moment the reporter lingered. The feisty spark that had shone in Millicent's green iris seemed for now lost and replaced by some haunted emptiness. Wrapping an arm around her shoulder he tried to comfort her and reassure her she was protected. "Come with me. Lets get you safe. Vincent will clear up here, but we need to move, quickly. You up to that?".

With a nod to Moretti Tommy steered Millicent toward the fire escape. He could feel her trembling, her shoulder almost cold as he tightened his grip to steady her.
"Good luck Vincent.".

As quickly as she could manage Tommy led Milly out of the building into the cold dark of the London night. Glancing both ways along the street he urged her South, hugging the shadows as they fled the scene.

Pleased that Cotton had managed to calm O'Connor, Moretti returned the reporter's nod as he watched the pair move to the fire escape. A pang of guilt tugged at his thoughts, the inescapable feeling that, if anyone was going to get hurt doing this thing, by rights it should have been him.

Knowing he would have plenty of time to ruminate on the night's events later, Moretti returned to the living area. After wiping down anything he suspected his companions had touched, he rifled through the papers on the desk, deliberately giving them the appearance of having been roughly sorted through, then made certain the hidden drawer was standing open and empty. When the police saw it, he hoped they would conclude that it had held a hidden stash of money, while anyone from the cult that came calling once the store remained closed for a few days would know what had actually been discovered.

He opened the case full of figurines, dropping a pair of them to the floor, to give the impression that they had been considered and then carelessly rejected by a thief. Moving swiftly back to the hall, he opened the two closed doors, giving each room beyond them a quick scan, just to ensure there was nothing important being overlooked and to verify that the home was as unoccupied as it appeared.

13:51, Today: Vincent Moretti rolled 4 using 1d100 with rolls of 4.  [b]Spot Hidden - Spot Hidden 60%.

He paused only to examine anything significant, ready to head for the fire escape and put the place behind him.

Millicent nodded to Tommy and let him lead her outside. It was hard at first but with him supporting her, they were soon out of the place and escaping into the shadows.

 "Is this what it's like", she asked in a softened voice as they walked. "What you've encountered, the horror of what these people do." She gave a shiver, "O God, I need a drink. I want to drink so much that I forget this night and I never remember it again. Ho..How are we supposed to fight against things like that," Millicent asked Tommy in confusion; "deal with them?"

She didn't expect he had an answer, didn't know if anyone did.

At any moment Tommy feared he would hear some shout of alarm or the wail of sirens haunt the night. They had'nt been caught yet, but that didn't mean they were safe.
Hurry up Vincent. Get out of there.

The fleeing pair hurried through the shadows, seeming more akin to drunken lovers than fugitives as the reporter held his arm supportivly around Millicent's waist until she felt steady enough to move with her own purpose. The reported scanned the windows above and behind them, hunting for twitching curtains or witnesses. He held a hand across his face in a loose effort to make himself harder to identify, urging Milly forward.

When it seemed they were far enough away from the scene their pace slowed and the pair ducked into a dark alley to recoup.
"We both need a drink.". He looked the irish girl up and down, checking her again for wounds. "We can worry about how to fight them another time. Right now, are you ok? Are you hurt anywhere?".

 Stopping to rest, Millicent shook her head in a negative response to Tommy's questions. "No, not hurt, just still a bit hoarse. My head though," she held up her hand to it. "Feels like I have a pounding headache. I don't remember what I did, but it was bad wasn't it?" Suddenly she looked around nervous and a bit twitchy, then turned her attention back to Tommy. "Do you think they're out there, looking for us and where's..." she trailed off for a moment, trying to remember. "Vincent, did he get away?" She looked around again, trying to see anything in the gloom.

Vincent found that the two remaining rooms were a washroom and a small kitchen. A cursory examination revealed nothing of import, and a quick attempt at a more detailed study of the two rooms confirmed the same for him.


Vincent didn't leave but a few minutes after Tommy and Millicent, though those minutes would have felt much longer to him. He arrived at the hotel not long after to find both the young reporter and the young lady at the Savoy's bar, whiskey in hand.

  Millicent stared into her whiskey for a moment then drained it in a gulp and set the empty glass down. It was her third but the effects had not barely begun to help her forget the events of the night; it would take more, maybe a lot more. She signaled the bartender for another then turned and saw Vincent. Whatever business he was doing seemed to be completed and he looked no worse for wear.

   "So," she said, the smell of alcohol on her breath filling the air; "I see you made it ok, what happened to that bastard that attacked us and did you find out anything more about that damned cult?" She sounded bitter, tired, and slightly confused, nothing like her old self.

As moretti entered the bar there was an almost visible release from Tommy and Milly who had sat there anxious and helpless, clouded by dark thoughts and worry, inviting the dark oblivion of whiskey.

Tommy stood, clasping his arms around the 'fixer'.
Earnestly he held the man close, his voice quiet and spent.
"Thank god!. I'm glad to see you again.".
Brother. The word unsaid but true.
There was so much Tommy wanted to say but couldn't. Vincent had defeated their foe. Vincent had empowered their escape. Without his bravery...
New York had been tough, but tonight the young reporter felt a surge of loyalty he'd never felt before. He owed this goon.

His brow furrowed with concern as he stepped back to examine his freind in earnest. "You ok?".  Without speaking the threat Tommy watched the empty lobby behind Vincent half afraid the police or some fiend would come galloping in with pursuit. With no initial threat emerged he listened eagerly instead to any news Vincent would give, relieved as the trio seemed alone.

The night at least seemed to have spent her terrors though...and for the moment safe, Tommy felt exhaustion rise. He slumped back into the booth they lingered in.
"What we found can wait, the others need to hear it too. I'm just glad we got out of there.". He looked Milly in the eye, full of concern for her invisible injury. More whiskey wouldn't help that.

"Come on, we all need rest.".
This message was last edited by the player at 00:38, Fri 09 Sept 2016.

After he had checked the kitchen and washroom, Moretti had wiped down the chest in the bedroom, along with the door and window. Moving out onto the fire escape, he had shut the window, then punched out one of the panes of glass that would put the inner latch within reach of an intruder. Buttoning his coat closed, he had moved down the ladder and into the London night.

He had walked quickly, pausing only once when he was well away from the shop to organize the few bills from the store into an orderly stack and to drop the sack into an unused waste barrel in an alley, where he burned it up with a match. That done, he resumed his stroll to the Savoy, his pace more leisurely, smoking a long craved for cigarette as he made his way back.

---

Moretti was surprised when Cotton stood and embraced him. He was accustomed to such demonstrations of affection from his own people in Harlem, but from the reporter, the gesture caught him off guard. He grinned broadly and clapped his friend on the back. "I'm alright, paisan," he replied, "A little worn out, but no worse for wear. I'm so glad the two of you made it back here without trouble." Though he tried to swallow his emotions as a matter of course, he couldn't conceal his relief at finding Cotton and O'Connor safe in the familiar environs of the hotel.

Taking a seat, Moretti ordered a double of Jameson, neat, and lit another cigarette. He regarded O'Connor for a moment. "I'm truly sorry for what happened back there, Miss O'Connor," he said, after a pause, "It was my idea to go in the shop. I should have been the one to suffer the consequences. Tomorrow, after you've had some sleep, you might...speak with Stanley Bishop. Back in New York, I think he went through something very similar to what you faced this evening. Talking it out with him could be helpful."

He took a deep gulp of whiskey, scanning the bar and the area nearby to ensure they couldn't be overheard. His voice low, he said, "The man who attacked us is dead. I sent him headfirst down the stairs." He patted his chest, indicating the inner pocket of his coat. "That parchment we took. In the morning, I'm going to give it some study. See if I can make sense of it. Hopefully, it will tell us more. We can have Leo and Rosalie look at the rest of the things we grabbed. They might have some ideas...or insights."

He noticed Cotton eyeing the bar's entrance. "I won't get into detail, but the way I left it, it looks like a burglary that went wrong. If the police get involved, they'll go looking for hoods hungry for a some quick cash. If the cult stumbles onto it first...I'd be surprised if they involve the police at all. They have ways of making people disappear. They'll probably do the same with the spice merchant. They'll know what's been found, but I'm hoping they believe some thieves just stumbled onto it by accident. People who didn't know what they discovered."

"I doubt that anything unusual will happen at the shop tomorrow. Being closed one day probably won't alarm anyone. But by the second day, people will start asking questions. We'll have to figure out how to watch the place. See who comes to investigate. It's something we can put together in the morning." He finished his drink and took a slow drag on his cigarette.

He nodded at Cotton's wisdom as he crushed out his smoke. "No argument. We could all use some sleep."

  Millicent listened to Vincent's explanation while downing another of the drinks. She didn't say much, mainly just nodded to his suggestions.

 "I'll do that" she finally said when he mentioned Stanley. "Better than getting drunk every night I suppose," she quipped, a trace of the old humor coming back probably thanks to the Whiskey. "And don't blame yourself Mr. Moretti, you couldn't have known what he would do and that he could do that."

  Stopping after 5, she got up and prepared to leave with the two men. "Sleep would be welcome and I really hope it comes to me;" Millicent responded when it was mentioned. She felt a bit tipsy but regained her balance and left with the others.
As she waited for the elevator she thought, what a day, I really hope tomorrow goes better.