8am
Sunday Morning
March 15, 1925

The London morning dawned cool and clear.

Everyone had a restless sleep, seeing the mind-shattering images in Miles Shipley's paintings playing in their dreams in a kind of horrifying narrative. Sometimes they were observers, sometimes they were participants in the blood-curdling rituals, rites and murder that Shipley had committed to vivid oil and canvas.

Even those who'd not seen his collection of many foul paintings were affected, having seen the painting that those who had gone the day before to 6 Holbien Mews purchased from the insane artist.

Everyone groggily met for breakfast at the Hotel, people straggling in as they could. After a while it became obvious Phil was missing.


Keeper's Note: I assume Howard's suite, if not that the Hotel dining room is more than sufficient.

In reply to The Keeper (msg #1):

The Detective arrived at 8am, as expected.

He looked grim and serious, and came straight to the point after some perfunctory pleasantries.

"Blimey! Nang morning. Oi 'ope yew lot slept well. Oi didn't, kept seein' what 'orrifyin' paintin' done by Shipley. Know what I mean?"

"Speakin' ov what unpleasan' bloke, are yew lot aware what 'is entire block wen' up in flames last night? Quite a coincidence, Oi should say."

"In other news, last night Oi dropped by da Blue Pyramid club ter 'ave a chat wiv aaahr infawmant, Aiyesha. She's gone missing, as well as 'er cousin, Rashid. Tewfik was around, too,  no one'll say mawer abaaaht nuffink. I'm worried abaaaht what 'appened ter 'em, nuffink' good, Oi should fink."

As he spoke, he had Simmons pour him a cup of tea. He did look more than a little concerned at these turns of events. He looked around, noticing Phil was missing. "Oi note what mister Webley is absent. Still asleep? Sorted mate. Oi should quite loike to 'ear where the lot of you were, last night."

"I should like to attend services today, but I think finding Phil takes priority. Mr. Singh, would you be so good as to check on his room? Perhaps he's simply failed to wake up. Again. Did he leave last night?"

"He and Mr. Lampton went out to a pub, Miss," replies Singh. He turns to Simmons, "Francis, did Mr. Lampton return last night?"

In reply to Imran Singh (msg #6):

"Yes sir. He's still in the bath, and sends his apologies."

Simmons poured tea for the group.

Singh leaves Simmons to setting out the breakfast things in the sitting room of the suite. He goes down the corridor and knocks on Phil's door. Receiving no answer, he uses his key (having gotten keys for all the party's doors from the desk, explaining that he had to keep things tidy).

He enters the room, calling to Phil as he does.

In reply to Imran Singh (msg #8):

He opened the door to John-Marc and Phil's room. They now shared a suite, Dr. Weston having moved into his own private room elsewhere in the hotel.

John-Marc came out of the bathroom, drying his face after his morning shave. Phil's
bed looked slept-in, but was empty.

"Good morning, Mr. Singh! I'm a little late, but I'll be over to your suite in a moment to have breakfast with Phil and the others, eh?"


OOC: Lee/JM hasn't been on in several days so he's being NPCd. Imran would know they are sharing a room so could have knocked, but no harm, no foul and it's not an issue.

The Count rose somewhat earlier then usual and dressed in a conservative black suit. He did not take breakfast and left for the short walk to the only Orthodox christian church in London. It was a combined congregation of Eastern Churches and even though he had been brought up in the Romanian branch of the faith the differences were only subtle.

He stopped at the entrance of the Church it had been heavily modified for it current use but signs that it had been an Anglican church remained. It was built by the Duke of Westminster for his own use and was a large building. As he assented the steps he greeted the priest at the door and entered, he crossed himself and knelt before taking a seat on one of the back rows.

The scent of the incense was still in the air from the Matins service at dawn. Third Hours was not his families usual worship time but given that he is all that survives of his line he felt it was a tradition he needn't keep. He did not believe any more but this was the last link to his homeland and its people he could not give it up. He took a carte vista photograph from his jacket pocket, it was of his sister.



The service took it usual form of readings and Chanting and finally the priest gives the final blessing and offers the Little Dismissal. The Count rises from his seat and takes his usual place on the left hand side at the top of the stairs outside the Church. He watches the people as they stop to talk or greet old friends as they leave. Before he has time to settle into position a middle aged man greets him with a curt nod and hands him a small envelope, he quickly followed by an elderly gentleman who also hands the Count an envelope. Finally as the crowd has started to disburse and the Count is donning his jacket to leave a young girl who wears the shawl of a ethnic Romanian asks him

”Count Bathony I have this for you.”

The girl was new, but the Count accepted the envelope with a thank you. He had just began to move down to the street when he heard a familiar voice.

”Count Bathony.”

He turn and saw a middle aged woman and her children

”Baroness Rothschild, what a wonderful surprise. Ah .. and this can't be Liberty and Nica, grown so much.”

“So good to see you Count my father would be pleased. It must be over a year, how are you settling in to London ?”

“Very well Baroness. How is your husband as you know we dined at the club not to long ago. How has the season been for you ?”

“Long... what with all the parties and concerts, Liberty will have her debut next season so she has taken a more active role this year. But that's by the bye you must come back to Waddesdon for the end of season house party, Charles did insist. The invites go out this week but now we have run into each other you must say yes ?”

“Of course, I would not miss it, such fun last year.”

The Baroness face then took a sombre tone and the Count guessed what she would ask next

“And no word from home ? Such a tragedy so very brutal.”

The two girls had looked away as their mother spoke and with a forced smile he replied.

“No nothing, but there may still be hope.”

She patted him on the hand

“Of course Sigismund there is always hope. But to brighter things, we will see you had the end of the month.”

With that she descended the stars and the two girls gave the Count a wave as they left that he returned. There seemed to be no other customers this morning so the Count caught a taxi to his club for breakfast.

Sitting in the taxi he read through the letters he had received. The Eastern European community of London saw the Count as a sort of fence, not for stolen goods but for the sale of precious things. They would make first contact with a list of the items they wished to sell quickly and a way of contacting them. In most communities he would be reviled as a vulture of sorts but his customers saw him as a god send for items that would not get a good price in such a western market. They liked to deal with one of their own who knew the value of what they offered.

So as he sat eating the Count studied the letters again. The usual jewellery Russian manufactured, Fabergé Marchak and Bokh. Several books mostly religious texts, he would take them all and a library to look at. No art this time but some archaic objects Roman and Egyptian he would look at these.
Once he was done he would meet up with Perkins and then to meet the others at the hotel.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:44, Sat 06 June 2015.

In reply to The Keeper (msg #9):

"Sorry to disturb you, sir. Have you seen Mr Webley this morning?" He glances at Phil's bed to see whether it's been slept in.

Like the Count, Prof. Fulty, Major Storm and Dr. Weston attended church as well, then breakfast after.

After the Mass, conducted by Father Teodor, the Count took his breakfast. He read in the paper about a structure fire that raged among a row of mostly-deserted houses in Soho, and was shocked to recognise the address as being that of Miles Shipley and his mother.

As planned, he met with Perkins, then drove to the hotel.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg #5):

Darlington nodded at her comment.

"There is a reason I'm askin' abaaaht aaahr friend, Philip. There is a possible witness who says she can place 'im in da neighborhood abaaaht an 'aaahr befawer da fire started. She's a whawer, but it's da only lead da bobbies down there 'ave."

While they waited he commented,  "Oi suspect Tewfik might 'ave 'ad a 'and in da disappearance ov da dancer an' 'er bartender bruvver at da Blue Pyramid. Maybe 'e decided ter strike a night early, yeah?"

"I'm sorry, fire? 'whawer'? I feel like I'm stepping into the middle of things."

As he sat in the morning room of the Athenaeum Club taking a light breakfast. He nearly chocked on his coffee. The Count was not accustom to places and people he had interacted with and been inside a matter of hours ago appearing in the morning news.

He left the club rather abruptly and without checking his pigeon hole. He turned left out the door and after 10 minutes walk arrived at a local pub call the Red Lion. This was the usual meeting place for Perkins and the Count if either had been away on a job that concern both of them.

As he entered the main bar he removed his top hat and made his way upstairs to the lounge bar nodding to bar keeper as he pointed up stairs. In their usual booth sat Perkins nursing a pint. The Count took his seat and ordered a small shandy, reading from a notebook, Perkins gave his report.

"Well, sir, nothing strange to report regarding the Penhew Foundation. Generally nothing in the way of after hours activity, other than Gavigan and some staff staying after hours, but not too late. Not past the evening. However, there was activity there last night, which I shall detail below."

"Last night, please sir, you must accept my apologies. A Bobby accosted me sometime before four. He thought I was a drunk. I wasn't able to return before dawn, and by then the fire was well under way with the fire brigade in full attendance."

"As well, I received word from my associate, Carlysle, who I detailed to maintain surveillance on the Penhew Foundation. He reported a delivery van from Tewfik's Foreign Spice Emporium made a late delivery, around eleven pm. Very noteworthy. It approached from the south along Tottenham Court Road, stayed a few minutes, then left, traveling in a northward direction again along Tottenham Court Rd."

Before he left for the pub Sigismund pasted over the letters for Perkins to deal with when the shop opens on Tuesday and also their standard fee for such adventures.

With it being Sunday the Count decided to walk through Green Park and Hyde Park to the hotel. On the route he spied the The Naval and Military Club on Pall Mall, he continued on.

Once at the hotel he allowed the reception desk to announce his arrival and waited for someone to collect him.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:33, Sat 17 Mar 2012.

"Sorry, I haven't. I thought he went down before I got up. Damnedest nightmares I had, I tell you. Some kind of ceremony. I tell you, that devilish painting of Shipley's got in my head. Like a curse!"

As JM finished dressing, Imram examined Phil's bed. It had been slept in all right. Phil's hat, coat and shoes were missing.

"You know, I seem to recall him getting up some time last night. I don't recall the hour. Honestly, I thought he was going to the loo."

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg #15):

Taking the lift, Francis quickly made his way to the lobby and found the Count.

"Iffen' you'd like to follow me, sir, I'd be much obliged."

They headed back upstairs to Howard's suite, where breakfast was served.

He fixed a cup of tea while Simmons was away.

"Blimey, Miless Shipley's 'ouse burned dahn. that an' 'is 'ole block. Went up in smoke, it did. All them row 'ouses."

"As far as we know, not a soul made i' aaaht alive. Oi 'ope yaaahr friend ain't inside, yeah? Th' fire brigade is waitin' fer da embers ter die down befawer searchin' fer those who perished."

"Ah... the "witness". She's somewhat disreputable, you understaan'? A bird aaaht on da streets at wot ungodly 'aaahr, let's just say she's well known ter da police."

"Aside from yaaahr friend, a Bobby repawted runnin' off a derelict malingering down da road, around two firty. Yaaahr friend en'ered between free an' faaahr. The 'ouse wen' up sometime after faaahr."
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:45, Mon 06 Feb 2012.

As the Count made his hellos he was eager to divulge what Perkins had told him in the pub. Once he had told his story and learned that Mr Webley may have been at the Shipley house he made a suggestion;

"Should we return to the Shipley house, or at least what is left of it ? Sometimes the basement stays largely intact during such things burned of course. We maybe able to ascertain if anything was unto wards down there or not."

The Count made himself a coffee and took a seat.

"Do I understand, Darlington, that some woman says she saw Webley enter the house? How could she recognize a total stranger? How was the man described?" Howard scoffs openly at this story.

"The Shipley's must have admitted whoever was seen. They seemed very certain to keep their doors locked. They didn't even meet Webley yesterday. Why would they let him in in the middle of the night?

"None of this makes the least sense."

In reply to Howard Lampton (msg #20):

"Awright geeezzaa! I never said 'e wen' in, did I? Just a witness can place 'im in da neighborhood at abaaaht what time."

"Dis bird claims she spoke ter a geezer wiv an american accen' abaaaht two blocks away. She never asked ter see 'is passpawt awer nothin' but from 'is general descripshun an' da fact 'e was in da area I made a reasonable deducshun as ter who dis "mystery American" might be."

"I've kept dis infawmashun close ter me vest an' Philip ain't a suspect at dis time. Sorted mate."

"This is ... terrible. Although I won't cry for the loss of those other paintings. Is there any way we can help the fire brigaide in their recovery efforts? Even if it's just bringing sandwiches, I'd like to see what sort of things they bring up."

Cynthia immediately reconsiders her words. She really might NOT want to see what sort of things were contained in the Shipley house.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:12, Mon 06 Feb 2012.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg #22):

"I agree a visit would be warranted. We now seem to have two missing persons associated with the house."

"Mister Darlington, is this possible? If so, I think we should leave immediately."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg #24):

"Detective Sergeant Darlington, at yaaahr service."

He looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Ge'in' yew close shouldn't be an' all difficult ter accomplish. The investigatin' detective is a friend ov mine. So far there's no suspicion ov foul play an' I advised da witness ter keep mum abaaaht da "mystery American" what she saw. If there's a criminal investigashun (and there'll be, if bodies are found) I can rule yew aaaht ahead ov time because I've gotten yaaahr statemun's an' alibis."

"Pardon me fer asking, Miss, what do yew 'ope ter accomplish? Wouldn't i' make sense wai' until da fire's died down an' there's less eyes about?"

Anticipating they would be leaving soon, Darlington moved towards the coat rack.

Storm sipped his strong black coffee.

"No reason for me to go, Phil's resourceful enough to take care of himself and too many "Lookie-Lou's" would look rather odd."

"I'm also worried about the dancing girl and bartender you met. They're missing. Tewfik showed up at the club, then according to the Count his delivery truck stopped at the Penhew Institute before continuing north. Where could he have been going at that our? his shop and home are south."

"Did Tewfik and his mob kidnap them? Are they in danger? Did they somehow get Phil as well? Seems unlikely, as the Count's man says the truck made it's delivery at eleven pm and Phil was seen in the neighborhood of the fire several hours later. Assuming Phillip was involved."

"I'm worried what we're looking for might not be there after the firemen go over it. Our competition is well-placed, and they already know about this fire too. I'd like to see if that picture frame is still there, or what else they were hiding from prying eyes, and I don't think Gavigan is likely to leave it lying around."

In reply to Major Charles Storm (msg #26):

"I know, I'll give the telephone number a call. The one the Imam gave to Howard the night you want to the Blue Pyramid? Anyone have that handy? Perhaps he can shed some light on the situation."


OOC: Several people should have that, including Howard.

In reply to Prof. Ralph T. Fulty (msg #28):

"Just a moment, old bean, have that right here."

He pulled out his trusty notepad and read off the number.

Using the telephone in Howard's suite, Ralph rang the number that the Imam had given them.

It was clear whoever answered on the other end of the line spoke little English. With some difficulty, Ralph was able to communicate he wanted the Imam (and/or Aiyesha, Rashid) to ring the hotel as soon as possible in order to contact them.

"Well, that was rather frustrating," he said after hanging up. "Nothing to be done but wait, I suppose."
This message was last updated by the player at 23:06, Sun 12 Feb 2012.

Walking to the coat rack Det. Sgt. Darlington got his coat and bowler hat. He was wearing his customary dark suit, high-collared shirt and straightened his paisley tie in the mirror, brushing away some crumbs.

"Blimey! Now, who's comin' wiv me ter da unfortunate Shipley residence? Miss 'Olloway, Mistah Singh. Th' Count. Anyone else?"

"Let's best be goin' now. Nuff said, yeah?"

11 o'clock.
Overcast, rainy.


Ralph wanted to wait at the hotel for a return ring from the Imam or an associate. He would wait at the hotel for word from those investigating the Shipley home and would not unwisely venture out alone.

Dr. Weston wished to do some sight seeing rather than poke around some charred rubble.

As it seemed that they were still under a degree of surveillance or even danger, Maj. Storm therefore agreed to accompany Dr. Weston. He took his Colt M1911 concealed in his overcoat pocket.

DS Darlington suggested Weston and Storm hail a taxi from the hotel's main entrance on Piccadilly. Then, the rest of them split into 2 groups and hail taxis from different side entrances to throw off surveillance.

Having previously procured the correct police permits, DS Darlington also made sure everyone had the right papers on them for any firearms they should be carrying.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:25, Sun 12 Feb 2012.

Indeed inspector, lets go."

With that the Count rose from his seat and collected his scarf and hat. He then absent-mindedly played with his cane before saying:

"Last night I had a sort of recollection in regards to our friend Mr Crowley. I was at a lecture some months back that was given by a member of the Royal Geographical society. He had just returned from Tibet and had an interesting story. I spoke to him after the talk as I had been a keen Alpinist in my youth in my homeland.

It seems he had accompanied Mr Crowley on an expedition some years earlier to Kangchenjunga. They made the summit attempt in 1905, it took them two weeks to get to the base of the mountain. They spent 70 days there and made it to the highest elevation on the peak for the time. I believe Alexis Pache and several porters died in an avalanche at which Cowley stated "The demon of Kangchenjunga was propitiated with the sacrifice" he then called off the expedition."

"I only mention it because this man stated in his lecture that on the Geographical expedition he had seen a yeti or wild man that the local people called the Kangchenjunga Demon."

"Funny the connections one can make"
This message was last edited by the player at 23:44, Sun 12 Feb 2012.

Cynthia grabs her hat and coat and follows on out the door. "That's a fascinating story, Count, but not the least bit comforting."

With misgivings about the wisdom of going to the scene of the fire, Imran follows Miss Holloway. He leaves his revolver locked in his luggage.

Howard chooses to remain at the hotel with Fulty and Weston, hoping to hear from Phil. He occupies his time with continued reading.

12 o'clock
Light rain


The group of investigators arrived close to the former location of the Shipley residence. Even a couple blocks away there was a strong smell of smoke.

Darlington went ahead to send the constable guarding the scene away for his lunch. He came back and notified the group the coast was clear.

The location was very much a former location, the entire block having burned down. The skeleton of the brick walls remained, but floors, roofs and furnishings were all consumed and had seemingly collapsed into the basement. Partially-burned and soaked furniture littered the sidewalk where the fire brigade had pulled it out to extinguish any remaining sparks.

Water stood in pools from the fire hoses. Adding to them, a drizzle of rain spattered down, hissing as it touched some charred bit of still-hot wood. Although the stench of burning was almost overwhelming, it looked like it was quite possible to enter the brick shell of the building. The front door was smashed in by a fireman's axe.

The space beyond contained the remains of the basement, main floor, first floor (where it seemed Mrs. Shipley had her sparse room) and the garret under the eaves. They could not determine the status of the upper floors from outside on the street, save the roof looked caved-in from the fire.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:37, Fri 17 Feb 2012.

In reply to The Keeper (msg #37):

"Not so bad. Evry geezer's oray for the next 'our and an 'alf. The Fire >arshall 'as yet ter perform an examination or make a determination on the nature and possible cause."

"No bodies 'ave been found. Yet."

"I'll stay in front if yer wish ter enter."

Darlington lit his pipe, keeping an eye out for anyone coming around the front, so as to send them away as soon as possible.

"Thank you Inspector, I believe this won't take long."

With that the Count entered the former Shipley homestead. The smell was nearly to much and he visibly staggered at the front door. Steeling himself he walk in and tried to make his way to the kitchen again.

He made for the area where the basement door had been and tried to make his way down.

Imran detains Cynthia at the front doorway.

"I advise we let the Count inspect, Miss. The structure is probably quite unstable, too dangerous."

Before she proceeds to the house, Cynthia asks, "Does that mean all the residents have been accounted for? Or are some perhaps missing?"

This is far worse than Cynthia expected. Even something as large as a body would be likely completely concealed by the debris. Finding something as minor as a picture frame would be almost impossible. Still, Cynthia will peer over the edge, looking for anything curious, especially anything shiny.

"Very well. But should he find the stairs passable, I would appreciate your help in descending. I don't plan to poke far, but more eyes are certainly better than fewer, and I'm concerned about threats far greater than a fall off a flight of steps."

DI Darlington clarified that no one (Miles, Mrs. Shipley or possibly Phil) had been accounted for, either alive or dead. So, technically, all were "missing" at this point but one or more remains were expected to be found buried in the rubble at some point.

Inside the front door, the Count could see the remains of the timbers supporting the first floor above them. Intact portions of the ceiling remained next to the brick exterior walls. Most of the roof above them was completely gone, collapsed onto the middle of the first floor which then collapsed onto the ground floor and quite possibly into the basement.

The stairs to the right of the front door led up to nowhere, ending in charred runners outlined above against the grey sky. Inside the door, a massive mound of charred wood and brick barred further further progress into the ruin. The basement door was in the kitchen in the back, perhaps access could be gained from the rear door through the garden?

Going around to the back via the alley, they gained entry to the ragged overgrown garden through the open rear gate.

The kitchen door was also broken in, and there was an inch of standing water from the fire brigade's hoses. Some of the ceiling above the kitchen and much of the walls still remained, as did a portion of the roof. Across ten feet of knee-high charred debris the Count could see the basement door, still intact.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:01, Sat 18 Feb 2012.

"Please, allow me, Baron," murmurs Singh.

He edges past the other man and begins carefully picking his way across the rubbled space toward the door. He watches where he places each step, testing the integrity of the underlying structure, before taking the next step.

It takes several minutes before he has reached the door.

"Indeed Mr Singh, by all means"

The Count rested his right hand on the grip of the revolver in his jacket pocket. He moves to right of Mr Singh so he may cover him and provide himself with a clear shot if it was needed.

Again the smell threatened to overwhelm him with emotion and memories. He had to undertake a similar task when his ancestral seat had been burned by the anarchists and Bolsheviks that had rebelled in his fathers lands.

His family had been impalement in the central courtyard and the castle set alight. He had risked his life to search the library for a ledger that his father had put together of the conspirators and their supporters. His retribution had been terrible, added by the loyal servants who survived he had killed every person on that list including several connected to the Royal Family.

The library, the smoke and the waste...

As they prepared to get to work, DS Darlington came around to see what they were up to.

"'Old on a minute, I 'ave some fings that might come in 'andy." He left, then returned a few minutes later bearing thick leather gloves, a pry bar and an electric torch.

"I were finkin' of 'avin' a 'ave a look meself so I came prepared. Yer lot would be advised ter do the same in th' bloomin' future! Struth!" Darlington handed the items to Imran with a wink, then pulled out his watch on its fob.

"Yer 'ave about forty five minutes left, don't tarry." he said, then returned to the front.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:04, Mon 20 Feb 2012.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg #44):

It was a truly horrifying, filthy task, clearing the debris in front of the basement door enough to allow it to be wrenched open. There was a constant risk of injury from nails and broken glass, and soon Imran became covered in soot and ash.

Rain continued to spatter down, and they splashed about in the water as the dirty task was performed. After a quarter-hour of effort, Singh was ready to open the charred door, Bathony covering him.

"Thank you, Mr. Darlington."


Singh manages to rap his elbow very smartly on a protruding beam, causing him to stop work for a minute as waves of pain wash over him. The arm is considerably weakened after that and he has trouble exerting enough force to open the door.

Twenty minutes pass as he tries again and again without success, cursing in Hindi toward the end. Finally, frustrated, he takes the prybar to the hinges.

In reply to Imran Singh (msg #47):

Finally, after much effort, Singh pried the locked door open. There was no key in the inside lock. A foul smell of burned and singed hair and meat wafted out at them.

Pooled water from the kitchen drained down the wooden steps down into the cellar with a splash. At the bottom of the steps the weak sunlight glinted off black water. It wasn't quiet down there, oh no, water dripped and drained down into the partially-flooded basement, echoing. Something bobbed in that foul nightmare fluid.


Keeper's Note: Singh and the Count must make SAN checks due to the smell. Singh, the Count and Cynthia (if close enough) can all make Spot Hidden checks to see more details. Include your rolls in an IC post, or post to the rolls thread.

The Count raised his hand to his mouth, the smell was familiar. He took a second to compose himself.

"May I Inspector.."

The Count took the offered torch and gave the room and stairs a sweep of light before descending. He removed his revolver from his pocket and with it pointing in the direction of the light beam cocked the hammer.

Letting the Count take the lead, Singh follows the nobleman's example in drawing his own revolver. His nose wrinkles at the stench wafting from below. As the Count's light darts from place to place, Singh finds it difficult to see anything clearly.

I must get some pocket torches for Miss Cynthia and myself, he notes.

Cynthia waits, a little frustrated and watches for any other prying eyes as the gentlemen descend ...

"My pleasure, sir. Daan't worry, I'm just a Detective Sergeant, I answers to a Detective Inspector. Cor blimey, I 'ates that smell!"

He handed over the items before heading back around to the front.

Slowly moving down the steps, the Count noted that the ground and first floor had collapsed into the basement, filling it except for a space at the bottom of the stairs, and off to the left.

There was about a foot of black water, sprayed onto the fire and then drained into the basement as the floor above collapsed. The shape appeared to be that of a corpse at the bottom of the stairs. It was wearing the slightly scorched remains of a flowered dress, mostly intact (resembling the dress Mrs. Shipley wore yesterday).

No other details were visible, save the body was lying face down and the yellow beam of the torch gleamed off her bald head, perhaps the hair had been singed off.



OOC: To clarify, while most of the basement is filled with rubble, you can still kind of work your way around to the left. You have to step over the corpse and of course will be up to your calf in very yucky water. If Cynthia sees the corpse she will need to make a SAN check too.

The Count did not trust Mrs Shipley in life and even less in death, so he kept his revolver pointing in her direction. He stepped into the water and began to search the basement. He tried to push her body away with his cane after handing Mr Singh the torch.

He was looking for the trunk the woman had mentioned as to containing the books she had wanted him to look at. He was also looking for any other bodies and if anything is hung on the walls.

Regretfully, Singh immerses his boots and trouser legs in the dark water. Taking the torch from Bathory, he tries to keep it pointing a few feet ahead of his companion.

"What are you seeking here, Count?"

"To be honest Mr Singh I am not sure. The late Mrs Shipley mention the basement on two occasions when I was taking to her. She also kept the door locked, I don't know if that is common in London houses.. It just seemed strange."

"They seemed a strange pair in many ways, Count."

"That they where Mr Singh. I would also like to find our missing pair for good or bad. Lets see what the furthermost extent we can move through this rubble and lets examine the walls as we go."

If the inspector has not noticed the body the Count points it out.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg #58):

Foul water dripped down around and on them from the ground floor, echoing in the basement.

Both their eyes were drawn to the corpse. It had slumped over when the Count stepped over it, allowing them a better look at its face.

Contrary to all possibility and reason, the corpse did not have a human face. It was the face of... a large snake? Did some mammoth snake, perhaps an Anaconda or Reticulated Python, crawl into the basement and into Mrs. Shipley's dress? It was impossible to determine the exact species. The head was clearly reptilian in nature, not human. A narrow forked tongue drooped out of the lips, small beady yellow orb-like eyes with vertical slits stared up at them. With mounting horror it was clear a snake hadn't crawled into the dress, oh dear God no, the head was fused to the body, it grew naturally out of the neck. The skin on the head and neck was not the expected pale flesh but a diamond-like pattern of iridescent scales reminiscent of the Asian Reticulated Python.

This was sheer madness, quite impossible!


OOC: Singh and Banthony must make SAN checks again, please.

As the torch light passed over the corpse and its true form was revealed, the Count gave a visual start.

"My God Mr Singh look at this. Is it.... it, it looks like a Nāga, Hindu mythology I believe."

To the people listing to the Count his voice has an air of belief. He does not find this completely out of the realms of possibility that such things exist.

After a couple of minutes looking at the corpse, he adds:

"This really does not look good for our companions. Also given the circumstances of the fire why would this thing come down here ? Wouldn't it try to escape."

He continued to search, revolver at the ready.

Cynthia can only hear murmuring voices down below, and frankly, she's getting antsy. "Everything alright down there?"

"No! Everything is all wrong down here!" Singh's voice floats up the stairs to Cynthia. There is a quaver and a pitch to it that she has never heard before.

In the darkness, in the water, Singh tears his gaze from the imposibility of that face, that head. Doing his best to keep the light steady, he bites the knuckle of his revolver hand to stop the awful moan that tries to escape his throat.

Cynthia considers that for a bit. "Do you .... do you need something?"

From further in the room the Count tries to offer reassurance at hearing the change in Mr Singhs voice.

"Everything is in hand here Mr Singh if you would like a breath of fresh air I am sure the inspector could hold the torch."

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg #64):

The Detective Sergeant had, however, declined to enter the basement. In fact, he had walked around to the front of the house to make sure no one disturbed them, like the PC (Police Constable) who was stationed there but currently having his dinner. Because these were row houses, Darlington was forced to walk around the end of the alley, then back down the street.

Cynthia was quite alone upstairs in the charred remains of the kitchen in the destroyed house. She heard a noise out in the lane, as if someone had banged into a rubbish bin. She couldn't see the lane because of the high 9 foot wall that surrounded the rear yard.

Singh silently repeated a mantra that had never failed to calm him in the trenches. Obviously, the heat of the fire had terribly disfigured the old woman's face.

"No, sir, I am quite well," he forced his voice to sound normal, "Where would you like the light?"

As always, he would do his duty.

Cynthia steps a little closer to the hole and waits. The men downstairs should be done soon, the Detective would return in a moment. The banging was almost certainly just a stray cat anyway.

"To the back if you wouldn't mind, or you could try defusing the light off the ceiling to see if that helps."

The Count continued his search of the basement.

Fortunately, Bathony avoided impaling a foot on a nail or jabbing himself with a sharp object. Unfortunately, it was clear that whatever secrets Mrs. Shipley had been hiding were buried here, under the rubble. It would take a crew several days, if not weeks, of hard work to clear the debris.

Upstairs, Cynthia heard an engine sound as a vehicle drove up the rear lane. It stopped by the rear gate, and the gate opened.

"Are we finished down here, Count?" Singh wonders where the artist Shipley might be. He is relieved that they didn't find Phil, but knows he could be buried in the rubble. He is anxious to return to the surface.

Cynthia perks at the sound of the intruder. Wanting to avoid alerting the visitor, she tosses a heavy rock into the hole (not at the gentlemen, but somewhere they'll hear it), then ducks behind the remains of one of the walls, beside a pile of rubble.

Scanning the mountain of rubble before him the Count says back;

"Yes it would seem so Mr Singh, I don't believe I can move further in. Now what should we do with Mrs Shipley ?"
This message was lightly edited by the player at 22:07, Sat 03 Mar 2012.

As a rock ricochets off a step to ker=ploonk in the water, Singh turns and looks up toward the kitchen. "Leave her," he says and starts up the stair.

The sound of an idling engine filled the rear garden as the gate opened.

John-Marc stuck his head in the door. He called out, "ah hello? Anyone here? Cynthia, Mr. Singh, Count?"

A vehicle door slammed behind him in the alley, indicating he wasn't alone.

The Count makes his way back to the body of Mrs Shipley. He examines it checking any pockets, he then makes a final scan of the basement. As he waited to exit up the stairs he turned to Mr Singh;

"Thank you Mr Singh your help was steadfast."

Hearing John-Marc, Cynthia steps out from hiding. "Oh, thank goodness. You had me jumping at shadows. The men are just finishing up their search downstairs. They've found something, but they haven't told me what."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg #76):

John-Marc advanced into the overgrown garden, Webley drawn. He carefully checked over the area, searching for anyone or anything.

"Did you see anyone around? I thought I saw someone in the alley when we came around, I can't be sure."

He put away his pistol, looking dubiously at the high surrounding walls. "I can only imagine whatever they found, it's pretty bloody dreadful."

"I've taken it upon myself to bring my friend Karlhienz into London, along with my truck. We've been looking at flats and houses to let all morning, a friend of mine's been looking on my behalf for the last couple days. We've found a couple that are somewhat expensive but should prove handy, in case we want to move to someplace safer and less exposed than the hotel. If people are tailing us, maybe even grabbed Phil, that might be advisable, eh?"

Singh steps aside and keeps the light trained on the stair. Once the Baron is past, he follows, sliding on the safety of his revolver and placing it in his overcoat pocket.

He is grateful to emerge into the comparative openness of the ruined kitchen and to see Falcon talking to Cynthia. He extinguishes the torch and places it in his other pocket. Balance, that is the key.

"No, I haven't seen anyone." As the two gentlemen come up from below, Cynthia waits eagerly for new. "What did you find? Any sign of Phil?"

Back in the fresh air the Count let out a long breath:

"No sign at all, but even if he was there it would be near impossible to recover him, sorry"

John-Marc went out the gate to talk to Karlheinz. The truck still idled.

In a moment, Detective Sergeant (DS) Darlington came into the yard.

DS Darlington entered the ruins of the kitchen in the rear of the ruined house.

Nodding to the investigators at the top of the stairs, he took possession of the torch and shined it down to the dankness below. The beam played over the corpse of what they could only assume was Mrs. Shipley, or a Naga that decided to play cross-dresser in her clothing.

"'Ello, wot do we 'ave 'ere? Narsty stuff. Did you lot make an identification of that poor soul... wot the devil.... OH MY DEAR GOD! It's a monster! It's not bloody 'uman! WOT IS IT?"

In shock and fright, he continued to play the torch's yellow beam on the misshapen corpse in the brackish water at the bottom of the stairs.

"I believe the fire and heat have horribly disfigured Mrs. Shipley, Detective. What else could it be?"

The Count said nothing to Mr Singh, he had found in the past it was better not to force people's perceptions of reality.

"Well if there was anything hidden down there it will stay that was for some time."

He looks down at his shoes and the muck covering them. Mite be recoverable he thinks to himself.

Cynthia looks at Mr. Singh and arches an eyebrow, but bites her tongue. "Anything else you think we can accomplish here? Or should we be going?"

In reply to Imran Singh (msg #83):

"If you say that's Mrs. Shipley, I'll take yer word, mate."

"Cor, whatever you think it is, we can't leave it for a Doctor to cut into. Too many questions!"

He looked around and found a burned carpet in the massive debris pile, pulled it out, dislodging burned wood.

"Mr. Falcon, be a chum and ''elp me get the body in 'ere. Some poor fireman or Bobby daan't need ta see this a-tall, be driven bonkers wonerin' wot the old bird really was."

"Naa sign of Mister Miles, eh? And yer friend Phil wot disappeared, 'es gone, too. Probably buried in the rubble. 'Course, they'll dig it out some day, build anuvver 'ouse 'ere."

John-Marc assisted DS Darlington in getting the corpse into the singed carpet and up the stairs. He seemed quite shaken as well by the horrifying sight of Mrs Shipley, but managed to keep his emotion in check, finding some inner steel.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg #87):

Karlheinz assisted them in getting the carpet into the back of the truck. He was uncomfortably aware that it was a body, even without being told.

He didn't introduce himself to the other investigators. He seemed like a scruffy young man wearing mechanics overall, speaking (grunting, really) in a German accent.

DS Darlington addressed Singh, Cynthia and the Count.

"Right. I'm gaaang ta dispose of, ah, th' remains, wid Mr. Falcon and his mate."

"You lot can foind yer way back, Roight. Cor, luverly day, innit?"

Somewhat shakily he lit his pipe.

Singh raised an eyebrow, very surprised that a policeman would be planning to destroy evidence in what could well be a capital crime. It was none of his business however. He was simply glad he wasn't asked to lay a hand on the thing. He turns to Cynthia.

"I believe we should depart, Miss. Let's get out of this alley and see about a cab. I'll be glad to get back to the hotel and get out of these wet boots." Perhaps a bath could be arranged; he feels befouled by that experience.

"Yes. And on the way, perhaps you can tell me what was so unusual about Miss Shipley, and what that means for our investigation."

Before the inspector wraps the body and while no one is looking the Count removes a pen knife from his jacket pocket and removes one of the creatures claws lower finger. He then helps with moving the corpse.



"Of course, Mrs Shipley looks to have been burned and disfigured as Mr Singh has said. I have seen no other sign of the others though."

"If you want to look at the body I am sure the inspector can uncover it."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:54, Mon 12 Mar 2012.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg #92):

DS Darlington observed but didn't object to the Count's evidence collection. He noted the splintered door frame as he moved through it.

A few minutes later, having transported the loathsome cargo out into the truck, Darlington walked over to the others as they stood in the alley.

"Cor Blimey! That was pert 'orrible but necessary fing, I'll wager."

"I sees yaa lot forced th' door, but I daan't see naow key in th' lock. That means yer friend Phil might 'ave locked that fing daaan there. Thaat's murder most foul in any Magistrate's Godforsaken eye. Naow, no one will 'ave ter explain why they was forced to lock an auld bird daan in 'er cellar while 'er 'ouse burnt daaan around 'er 'ead, yeah?"

Darlington checked his pocket watch for the time. "Well, best be off. Mr. Falcon, kindly wait for me a block daan and around th' corner. I'll fetch the Bobby and we'll be on our way in yer truck."

"Meet back at Mr. Lampton's suite at th' 'otel in one 'our, right?"

"That is a very good point inspector, there may yet be hope in the case of Mr Phil. As for the reporter I hope she also appears."

He the accompanies the others as they set off to find a taxi. When the chance arises he makes a comment to Mr Singh;

"In the secret, dark and forgotten places in the world there be dragons."

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg #92):

"Goodness, no. Do I look like a doctor?

"Why would Phil try to murder the old lady? She was certainly unfriendly, but hardly threatening. Something doesn't add up. And if Phil had killed her and escaped, wouldn't he be free to contact us? By phone or letter, if nothing else? Something doesn't add up. And frankly, Phil isn't the only, or even the first person I'd chalk up to killing the two of them. Phil had no motive. The only person who would be driven to that point is someone eager to keep his secrets and his supplier under wraps."

Singh secures a cab and helps Cynthia to enter. He doesn't respond to the Count's comment and merely nods in reply to Cynthia's observations.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg #95):

Detective Sergeant Darlington grudgingly conceded Cythia was right, something the obviously didn't come easily to him.

"A burglary gone tragically wrong is by far th' easy answer, but Oi wouldn't put it beyond a bloodthirsty character loike th' Soho Slayer to tidy up all 'is loose ends an' all."

"We can discuss suchlike at our leisure, but alas, I must fetch my Constable."

With that he tipped his bowler and was on his way.

In reply to Imran Singh (msg #96):

DS Darlington left, as did the truck with it's grisly load.

A cab was shortly summoned, ready to take them back to the hotel.

OOC: I assume that's where you're heading?

Cynthia sits in the car on the ride back, pondering for a while before speaking. "Mrs. Shipley died from the fire, didn't she? That's not how the Soho Slayer operates. At this point I wouldn't put it past the slayer being involved somehow. A collector or someone tying up loose ends maybe."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg #99):

"Given the types of people their work attracted and that they where moving in occult circles the outcome does not surprise me."

"It is a shame that our loose ends could not also have been tied off. To our other business in the case of your missing contacts. Is there some significant event coming up ? If they are collecting captives it may be very soon."

Park Lane Hotel
London
2 PM

Following a short ride to the hotel, the group entered through the side door, in order to shake off the eyes they could somehow feel following them. Singh and the Count were filthy, and Cynthia not a lot better.

After the wet burned mess of the house, and the horror of the basement, it was time to get cleaned up, perhaps even take a short bath, then take a late supper.

The answer to Cynthia's question was that it was suspected the Soho Slayer was somehow related to or was a part of the Brotherhood of the Dark Pharaoh. This was due to the similarities between the fatal injuries suffered by victims (clubbed with the killing stroke of a spike to the heart) and those described in Life As a God. As in the loathsome diary the pattern seemed to be the victims, while kidnapped a week or two earlier, were ritually sacrificed at the time of the new moon. This would occur on the 24th, just over a week hence.

In reply to The Keeper (msg #101):

Fulty related his and Storm's experiences during the day:

"I called and left a message with "Abdul" at the Woking telephone number. The Imam we talked to outside the Blue Pyramid Club contacted us and we met him at his Mosque. Which is not surprisingly, also in Woking."

"He confirmed that Ai'yesha and the bartender (her brother, Rahman) did not show for work last night, as Darlington reported yesterday. The Imam said they lived in a flat above the club. They felt unsafe so they made arrangements to relocate with fellow parishioners at the Mosque in Woking yesterday, but never showed."

In reply to Prof. Ralph T. Fulty (msg #102):

"The Imam said he and other volunteers at the Mosque were willing to be of assistance, seeings how the police were declining to get involved (the good Detective Sergeant excepted, of course). I said we'd consider all offers and contact him in good time but couldn't promise anything."

"So, what are our options and leads?"

"We've scoured Tewfik's warehouse and found some articles that we have little idea how they fit into the puzzle. The Blue Pyramid is merely a watering hole where our predator chooses and takes his prey, to possibly be killed at Gavigan's estate (al Misr House) up north. Our aerial reconnaissance of Gavigan's estate (al Misr House) was reasonably successful, but we only saw the surface."

"That leaves the Penhew Foundation as our only to-be-examined lead in or around London. The Derbyshire Monster is also a possibility, but damned if I can see how it's related."

"I suspect of the two remaining places to be searched, the Institute will prove easier. Is it occupied at night?"

Howard joins the others, making his bath available to Count Bathory and offering to provide clothing, should their sizes align. Once everyone is bathed and changed, he has Simmons serve cocktails.

"Given the brutal nature of the murders, an isolated location, such as Misr House, would seem a likely site.

"Miss Holloway, are you suggesting we burgle the Penhew Foundation? Are the offices extensive?"

In reply to Major Charles Storm (msg #103):

Ralph slapped his forehead in bafflement at his own stupidity.

"My word! I almost forgot! The London City records also showed that the Penhew Foundation and Gavigan hold title to another warehouse, a different one, in Limehouse on the docks!"


Keeper's Note: I forgot to add that in. In fact, I'll post some more notes to the clue thread regarding properties.

When he returns to the group refreshed and suitably attired the Count listens with interest as Professor Fulty relates the information he has acquired.



"On this point I think I can be of assistance. As you know when I understood my manuscript to have been stolen I and my colleague Mr Perkins took it upon ourselves to watch the foundation building as my two encounters with Mr Gavigan had proved unsuccessful."

"The building is in a upper class area and as such my usual sources for observation where absent. There are no beggars or other street people and most foot traffic dies down about 9 o'clock. As the area is somewhat well-to-do the police presence is minimal.”

"There was also that night delivery by truck so it would not be unexpected that people are around and in the building late in the evening.

At this point he asks for a Mint Julep from Simmons, heavy on the Bourbon.

"I don't recall hearing about a night delivery. What was delivered? Might it be a portrait? Or perhaps a body?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg #108):

Professor Fulty sipped his tea.

"I recall something along those lines. Your man Perkins, wasn't it? Good fellow for keeping watch all night for you."

"Some history there between the Count and Mr. Gavigan; a couple years ago, someone purporting to be acting on behalf of the Penhew Foundation and the Carlyle Expedition swindled the Count out of a valuable manuscript, "Africa's Dark Sects". Old Gavigan disavowed all knowledge of the blackguard, and that was that."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:57, Mon 19 Mar 2012.

"Well. I imagine we can't go skulking around during the day, but would we have a way to get in at night? Another friendly rogue who might happen to 'find' a door unlocked?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg #110):

Storm looked embarrassed. "I, ah, know something of how to get through locked doors. We were always getting the keys lost on post, so I decided to learn something of the art of lockpicking. Got pretty good, too, although I am admittedly a little rusty I think I could be of service."

"I suppose we should let the Detective know our intentions. Sunday night seems the best time we could want.

"We won't want a taxi driver to know what we're about. Count, can you hire a car for us?"

In reply to Howard Lampton (msg #112):

"We have a small delivery van that I have access to. It should serve the purpose well."

"Well then! What are we waiting on? I mean, aside from nightfall."

"We should decide who will enter the building and who remain in the van. Also, what do we do, if we encounter Penhew employees? Do we go masked?

"Is the delivery van marked, Count Bathory?"

In reply to Imran Singh (msg #115):

"No it is just plain we have not had the time for sign writing. If I can use your telephone I can make the arrangements ?"

"So tonight, yes ?"

If in the affirmative the Count makes the arrangements for Mr Perkins and the small delivery truck.

"I would not go into this disguised as it would give us no leverage if discovered. Let us have another look at the plans you have."

After reviewing the plans the Count adds;

" I have been through the building and can attest that there is no where to hide people up stairs it is all offices and such. So we should focus our limited time frame in the lower levels. I doubt they are parading the captives upstairs."
This message was last edited by the player at 23:26, Mon 19 Mar 2012.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg #116):

"If we go tonight, I shall open the door. I'd like to stay outside, after, and keep a lookout. At the front, I guess. We'll arrange for a signal of some kind to warn of danger."

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg #116):

Fulty patted the hard leather case to his new German-made Leica camera. It was still amazing to think of a camera being so tiny it could be held in one hand, not one of the bulky monsters that were common before now.

"I should like to come inside, as well. I can use my camera to take photographs, record what we find so that we have some sort of proof of wrongdoing for later. I have great confidence that photography will be a great element in crime solving, one day."

He sipped his own tea and ate a sandwich.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:48, Tue 20 Mar 2012.

It was still early afternoon, tea time.

Darlington had not yet returned with JM or his friend, Karlheinz from their grisly errand to dispose of the most unpleasant Earthly remains of "Mrs. Shipley", if indeed that was her.

"Yes, I suppose disguises are just asking for more trouble if we're caught. But gloves would be a good idea, as well as some electric torches, notepads or carbon paper, and discreet bags."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:43, Tue 20 Mar 2012.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg #120):

"Aside from waiting for darkness, we may want to proceed with the assistance of the Detective Sergeant, sorry if that goes without saying. He may be able to tell us the police patrols, perhaps delay a response."

"Were I younger and more adventurous, I should like to be of direct assistance, but perhaps I may be of use in establishing an alibi here, at the hotel."

"I could also call my friend, Darragh, if we need his expertise, but it sounds like the Major wants to get into the fray."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:34, Tue 20 Mar 2012.

"Looking at the floor plans I would say our best bet would be the basement door, here at the bottom of these stairs."

"It looks to give access off the loading area at the rear. It would also be more discrete if the Majors lock picking takes longer then we anticipate. I believe the Inspector maybe able to clear the streets as it where before we arrive. A couple of extra patrols to pick up any extra sets of eyes would help."

Flipping through  notebook he had retrieved from his coat pocket the Count adds;

"Lastly, I don't think Mr Perkins encountered one but there is always the possibility the building will have internal security night watchmen etc..."
This message was last edited by the player at 07:11, Fri 23 Mar 2012.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg #122):

"Mr. Singh brought up the possibility of people being inside. It is worth considering. Mr. Gavigan's associate, Tewfik, suffered a break-in and theft this past couple of days, Miles Shipley's house burned down last night, they could be in a state of alert (whoever "they" are)."

"Accordingly, here is what I propose:

"One: we keep watch outside and when the last staff member leaves and there are no inside lights, the Major unlocks the door and we send in a single person to double-check. I propose Detective Sergeant Darlington for several reasons.

"Two: when the coast is clear, myself, Mr. Singh, Miss Holloway, the Count and perhaps Mr. Falcon enter and conduct a thorough investigation of the premises. Starting from the bottom up, as the Count advises. I don't want to take flash-powder so if I take photographs, the room lights will have to be on and so we should take that into account.

"There will be an outside watch set. Signals can be arranged to warn those inside. If need be we can set an alternate meeting location if we need depart in a hurry. Other than the Hotel. In fact, we should do what we can to avoid leading anyone here. Not the police so much as the beastly Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:21, Sun 25 Mar 2012.

"I can't very well let you all risk yourselves without doing the same."

"I shall keep a look-out on the front. Major Storm can effect access and then watch the rear."

In reply to Doctor Phillip Weston (msg #124):

"We must be careful as we're still under surveillance."

"We have two unmarked vehicles at our disposal: the Count's van and John-Marc's flatbed truck."

"Let's have them wait in separate places. We shall split into two groups, one per truck, then make their separate ways and meet the Penhew Foundation building."

"We could use whistles for signals. One whistle means all is clear. Two is an alert that someone approaching the front, three means the back, and four means get out of there!"

"If we run, we must meet somewhere other than here, it's the first place anyone will look. Police, Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh, even police, who knows?"

"John-Marc mentioned he was concerned that with people being followed, we were vulnerable here, so he was making arrangements to rent a house in Islington, not too far from the Foundation. I say if he has the place, let's be ready to move there in an emergency. I can travel light when I need to, I don't know about some of you people! Bags left behind here at the Park Lane can be picked up when we leave England."

"Will whistles attract the police? After all, that's how they signal to one another.

"Only the driver and perhaps two others can ride in the cab of Falcon's truck. It might be best to have a taxi standing by at one end of the alley, Falcon's truck at the other and the Count's van out front. Simmons will remain here and serve as a central point of contact.

"Certainly, when we go out on this raid, we must try to shake off any shadows, but I remain unconvinced that we need to move. We know that our opponents have been following us and know we are here. There are too many of us to avoid detection as we go about the city, especially since we have to go on our enemies' own turf.

"The hotel is a public place, full of porters, housemaids, and other staff, not to mention other guests. These are many eyes that will be alert to ruffians on the premises, especially -- forgive me Mr Singh -- foreign-looking ones. In a private house, we are much more vulnerable with no resources but our own to watch and ward, not to mention keeping us fed.

"I will volunteer to be in the cab at the end of the alley. Of course, if the police became involved, the cabbie is most likely going to heed their directions, rather than making a get-away."

In reply to Major Charles Storm (msg #125):

Major Storm thought for a moment.

"What else can we use, then? A flare from a Very pistol? Dispatch runner? Semaphore? Bugle call? Field telephone line? Those are the tools of military communication in the field. Until someone invents a portable wireless of some sort, we are restricted to an audible or visual signal of some sort."

"Does anyone have any alternatives? We could use flashes from electric torches which will aid for signalling out of the Foundation building, but those inside will have to station someone looking out a window or door to receive incoming message traffic. It would still be visible."

"I agree, the public nature of the hotel has served as a deterrent until now, let us pray that it continues to be so."

In reply to Major Charles Storm (msg #127):

"Er, I can imitate an alley cat. Here, let me try."

Professor Fulty then did a creditable imitation of a cat's plaintive meow, looking embarrassed.


OOC: Knowing how to make animal calls is a Natural History roll. Knowing a common animal within reason (dog, cat, owl, pigeon, etc.) would be a further Knowledge roll.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:35, Sun 25 Mar 2012.

"I am sure if the need arises we can communicate in some way, a runner probably or animal noises. As we seem to have a workable plan in place I must take my leave so I can prepare. What time should we meet and where, I would suggest 1am in Skye Pharma Place off Piccadilly. It is just down from the Naval and Military club."

He waits for a reply to his suggestion before donning his hat and coat.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg #129):

Before they left, Darlington and JM returned from their errand, the one they really didn't want to talk about.

"It's a wee short notice. Cor blimey guv, would I lie to you? Today is a right good day, bein' a Sunday and all. Right. I'll pop 'round the station 'ouse now and determine the foot patrol schedule for that area is tonight. I'll 'ave a word wiv the beat coppers, right, make sure the lads're nowhere near the Foundation between, say, two and four in the mornin'."

"Yer cop us inside the bloody Foundation, I'll 'ave a look. I'll also arrange for the taxi."

JM poured a stiff drink for himself and Darlington.

"Christ. Glad that's over with."

He listened to the plan.

"So, the Count's van will be at the Sky Pharma Place in Picadilly Circus at 1am. My truck will be waiting outside the South Kensington tube station, in the opposite direction. The tube stops at midnight so we'll leave a little early and kill time before heading to the Foundation to meet up."

"Karlheinz, myself and the Major will go in my vehicle. Ralph, Mr. Singh, the Count, his man, Miss Holloway in the Count's delivery van. Howard and Dr. Weston in a taxi from wherever convenient, probably not the hotel."

"Then we proceed to the Penhew Foundation and meet at 1:30. We do a reconaissance and then the main group enters and searches between 2 and 4 am. Any later is pushing our luck. Signals will be along the lines we've said."

"If it all goes to pot, I suggest not returning to the hotel, even staying away for the night if you can. That would be my suggestion, at any rate."

"See you tonight, Count, and do check in ahead of time to see if there's any change of plans."

He was rather relieved to leave. There was much he had to get done in the few  hours he had free before the continuation of their adventure. The Count hailed a cab after checking the front of the hotel for watchers and followers. He stopped at his club and asked the driver to wait as he popped in. He held onto his hat, coat and cane as the attendant approached saying he was not staying. Moving to the pigeon holes he found two notes.

The first was a reply to his gift and invitation from the curator he was eager for a meeting as they had “much to discuss in our common interest”. The Count turned the paper over and with his fountain pen wrote a reply asking if he was free Wednesday evening for dinner at “Rules”. The second was a familiar black envelope with gold ascents, the Count smiled as he opened it and read the note enclosed. It looked as if his Monday afternoon and night were full.

He lastly obtained a small box and some tissue and out of sight placed the claw and finger in it. He addressed it to a colleague at the Natural History Museum in South Kensington. He asked the curator to prepare the specimen, to contact him when it was done and to keep it in the strictest confidence. The Count then pasted the package to the attendant asking him to place it in the evening mail.

Back in the cab the Count went over what he would need for the break-in so once he was back in the shop it was a quick task to collect his carpet bag and begin filling it. He retrieved the small pry bar and hammer from the downstairs work bench and a small amount of rope. He placed two torches and a couple of candles and some matches. He also took the four canvas book bags he had for library moves.  Each could hold more books then could be carried by one man once fully extended. Finally he changed into a dark two piece suit and selected a matching Borsalino hat. He felt he was somewhat over armed with both revolvers and his automatic so he replaced the revolvers in their case in his room. The Count made a light dinner and ate it in the conservatory on the terrace.

He then placed a phone call to Sarah Evans asking her to lunch on Tuesday and asking how her day had been. He mentioned the Rothschild’s meeting at church and she said she had also received an invitation to the house party. She suggested they could drive up together or take the train, he replied that would be wonderful. Placing down the receiver after several more minutes chatting, he gathered the paperwork that Perkins had left on the side table and busied himself with the more mundane tasks of running a moderately successful book shop.

Finally when the time had arrived to leave he looked himself over in the hall mirror. Then retrieved his leather gloves from the hall stand, a double breasted black knee length coat from its peg and his cane from the shell case as he left.

Perkins was a couple of minutes late but the Count was glad to see the familiar outline of the Ford Model T panel truck as it weaved past traffic up the road. As he climbed into the passenger seat Perkins doffed his cap and the Count gave him a smile. He saw the lamps in the back so their house breaking kit was complete. They took a longer route to the hotel to shake any pursuit and parked some distance away in the side street of Mayfair.

"Well, this sounds like a straightforward plan. I don't imagine my alley cat imitation will convince any local toms, but if we decide a meow is our call, I shall meow."

Cynthia also writes up a shopping list which she passes on to her maid, Anna, to see to. The list includes electric torches, basic tools (pry bars, screw drivers, et al.), short lengths of rope, flares, and an additional camera. She lets anyone else put anything on the list they feel they need.

Singh, bathed and dressed in clean clothes, takes Cynthia's list from Anna, giving her his filthy clothes and boots to send down to the hotel laundry instead.

He goes out to make the purchases.

All purchases and preparations are made without incident. As evening waned into night, the rain slacked off and fog rolled in, muting the streetlights. Dark clouds hid the moon and stars.

The midnight hour approached, time to get moving. Trusting that evil cultists, ritual killers or merely unbalanced Egyptian spice merchants wouldn't have the time and resources to monitor the hotel's many side entrances at all hours of the day and night, they left in their usual circumspect manner (different times, different entrances, keeping their eyes open for watchers). They all met up with their prospective transport and made their way to the Penhew Foundation.