The bustle of the Red Alley bazaar seemed strangely muted as they made their way through the crowds towards the Street of Scorpions. Strangely, the shadows grew and the noise of the city seemed blotted out. There were still a few people, though not as many as in the bazaar proper. Merchants in white ankle-length shirts wearing red tarbooshes carried bales and boxes, women in variously-coloured robes carried jars and baskets to and fro.

Beams of sunlight slanted downwards, indirect due to the shadows cast by the buildings leaning over the narrow street and sheets hung across to block the sun. Finally, they came to a red door. It was open, leading into a hot darkness.

Cynthia cranes her head to peer in through the doorway. "Helloo?"

The Count waited for a response to Ms Holloway's call from the doorway all the time checking to see if anyone was interested in several Westerners in a obvious very Egyptian area.

JM moved so that he was between the door and Molly.  He reached into his pocket and readied his pistol as Cynthia called out.

It took a moment for eyes to adjust to the gloom inside. They could see it was a clothing shop, both with finished Egyptian garb folded and stacked along the walls, as well as racks holding bolts of cloth. There was an ancient sewing machine in the back next to a tailoring dummy. A woman in a dark robe with head covering her head so that only her eyes showed had turned to look at the door but did not say anything, just stared silently at Cynthia and JM.

A portly middle-aged man with a beard and typical Egyptian style ankle-length white robe (thobe) and red tarboosh (fez) came through a beaded curtain at the rear of the shop. He said, in Arabic, "May I help you, good and kind sir?" Clearly he was talking to JM and not Cynthia.

Outside, Bathony could see a few people, men and women, paying attention to them in a curious but bored way. A couple children ran up shrieking something in Egyptian and holding out their hands.

At the car, nothing seemed especially suspicious.

The Count stepped into the shade offered by the building facade and waited until they are able to enter or he is called for. He continued to watch the street for signs of danger.

Mr Perkins continues his repose in the shade. He places his handkerchief back inside his jacket and resist the newspaper he had brought with him from the estate. In the shade he again started to feel himself and he took a quick drink from the small canteen hanging at his side. After yesterday he had rustled the metal water carrier from out of his luggage.

Not currently being the subject of any attention (while JM clearly is), Cynthia slides into the shop to examine some of the wares. She makes her way towards the woman, and watches her reaction, if she seems more guarded at the presence of another woman, or if her focus is on the men.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 5):

As she entered, the man shifted his focus to Cynthia, then back to JM. He continued to speak in Arabic.  The man didn't seem upset, just curious.

JM took in the man and the woman, especially that she was heavily shrouded.  That was unusual in Egypt and would bear some careful consideration to avoid possible insult.  He bowed slightly and courteously to the man and replied in Arabic.

"Greetings and peace be on you sir.  I apologize for intruding on your shop.  I am seeking a Frenchman by the last name of Besart who we were told lived in this area.  The woman is my sister traveling with me.  She is interested in the clothing of the lands that we visit."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 10):

"And you as well."

At the mention of Besart's name, the man glanced back towards the bead curtain.

"I know of no one by that name. If you come to buy clothing, I have many fine wares to sell."

He indicated to the woman to go and make some tea. Wordlessly, she nodded and left, going into the back.

JM followed the man's glance for a moment and then returned his gaze. He continued in heavily accented but passable Arabic  "You are most hospitable.  Your name will be praised at the gates of the city." When the woman departed JM motioned toward Cynthia.  "I am interested in clothing.  We do not follow the custom of the burqa as do many of the Faithful but perhaps scarves or head dresses to garb my sister more modestly."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 12):

"We do not carry the burqa here. That is more common among the peoples of Afghanistan and Persia so there is little demand for it in this part of the Arab world. As you can see, my wife wears the niqab."

The shopkeeper showed off his wares, a little indifferently. As if he was hoping they would become bored and leave.

Said wife reentered a short while later, bringing a tray with a teapot and tea service.

Outside, the market seemed normal now. No one made a threatening move at the car or outside the shop. Still, it was crowded and a threat could materialise at any time from the shadows.

Perkins looked over the top of his paper as the crowds continued to move. He was looking for cult members or there associates. How he would tell was another matter.

The Count stayed by the doorway as the Captain and Ms Holloway handled the situation. He watched both directions along the street as he rested against the wall. He was glad of the shade even though he had dressed appropriately for the weather.

The flower in his button hole was letting off a wonderful scent and he tried to remember to ask Alexander its name once they had returned to the estate.

JM glanced at the woman and then back.  "Either the niqab or the burqa would be inappropriate for my sister."  He stepped over to Cynthia.  "If you pardon me, I must provide guidance for my sister."

Pulling Cynthia to the side he spoke softly in English. "They know something but claim ignorance. I think there is something behind the curtain."

Cynthia brings over a few items, and points at a few more on the shelves as she talks, casually and in English. "I agree, but unless you want me to play the bathroom card, I don't imagine we will have access. Perhaps if you mentioned why we have business? That we wish to rent some of his time for his valuable knowledge? We could even speak via letters, given what we are looking for. He is well-justified in hiding. If we are leaving, be sure to pick something. I especially like blue."

JM looks casually at the items as Cynthia speaks.  "Go ahead and pick out what you want while we're at it.  If nothing else when we leave it will look like we were here for something other than information.  I'll see if the more direct approach can work as you suggest."

He turned back to the shopkeeper. "There are several items we would like to purchase from you if the price is right of course.  But first perhaps we might engage your services in a more direct way.  You are a prosperous, well regarded man of the community and have great knowledge I am sure of the comings and goings of the community.  We would like to reimburse you for your time to help us understand where we might find our friend the Frenchman or perhaps where he might be."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 19):

"Again, I know nothing of this Frenchman. Now, this cloth. A fine Persian weave..."

He turned and held out a bolt for examination.


Keeper's Note: Psychology tests to detect lying.

The Count having stepped into the shop looked at the stack wares the man and his wife sold. He strolled down the isles looking at the goods.

At his explanation of his knowledge of the Frenchman the Count was skeptical, though the man so showed no outward signs of a lie.

JM didn't believe the man but had no firm reason to doubt him other than a hunch.  He reached over and ran his hand over the bolt of cloth.  "Sister, come here and look at this fine material.  It would be quite nice to bring a few bolts home." He turned to the Count and on a whim spoke in French;  "I think there is something going on behind the curtain in the back."

The Count nodded at Mr Falcon's suggestion as he looked the shop keepers wares over. He moved towards the bead curtain, taking his time and strolling with his hands clasped behind his back. When the opportunity presented itself he would pull back the curtain.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 23):

The man must have had fantastically sharp ears, for he hears the rustle of beads from across the room while in conversation. His head jerked towards the back and he spouted more Arab gibberish, sounding excited.  However, he didn't move from where he was located. His wife, so far silent in her black chador and niqab looked up from her sewing but uttered no sound.

Behind the curtain was a small kitchen, hot and dingy. There was a partially opened doorway to a storeroom, and another closed door, likely to a stairs up or down.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 24):

With not so much as a look behind at the store keeper the Count walked to wards the storeroom and pushed the door open. His hand on the revolver in his pocket he looked to see if anyone had been spying on the party.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 25):

The store-room was empty of people. There was a fragrant smell of tea and spices, and other dried goods. This was obviously where the shopkeep's wife had gone to get tea and coffee.

"Oh, don't mind him. He's just looking for a restroom." Cynthia didn't expect the man to understand a word, but it wasn't the message as much as the tone of voice that was important. She hefts up a niqab and steps close to the shop keeper. "I would like to try this on? Where can I change?"

JM gives a slight nod to the Count as he takes the initiative.  When the shop keeper began spouting off in Arabic he pretended not to understand.  Seeking to add a bit to the confusion he spoke up.  "The bathroom I think he seeks."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 28):

Looking a little annoyed, man babbled something back in Arabic, nodding towards the back and then to Cynthia.

Cynthia points to herself, then to the doorway. "You want me to go with him? You're saying I should go with him? Yes?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 30):

Still yammering, the man shook his head and waggled his finger in a clear "no" fashion. He motioned for her to stay away from the doorway. However, he stayed where he was. For some reason he seemed more excited by Cynthia's actions rather than JM or Bathony's.

From where he was Bathony could hear the man's voice gain in pitch and volume.

The Count stuck his head in the kitchen and then through the door where he thought the stairs would be. If he saw no one he would make his way back towards the shop front having another look in the store room as he passed checking behind the door.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 32):

The door to what he assumed were stairs was locked. There was nothing of interest in the storeroom-cum-pantry.

Bathony emerged back into the front of the shop from the rear room.

Shrugging as he returned the Count looked at the others then made his way to the front door of the shop and took a look outside.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 34):

The shopkeep sat in silence, wondering what was going on with these foreigners.

Outside, the marketplace bustled as the early afternoon heat grew.

"It occurs to me there is a very real possibility he put down a false address with the police. Maybe we should go."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 36):

The Count nodded; "That is of course entirely possible and without storming through this mans house there is no way to find this French man. If he is even here."

Back at the cars, those waiting and watching tried to keep alert despite the early afternoon's blast-furnace heat. Still, nothing occurred that was too out of the ordinary.

As he rustled through his pocket looking for a light the Counts hand brushes his wallet. He pulls it out and takes out several notes which he offers to the shop keeper. "The French man where is he ? Captain would you mind translate?"

It was probably a futile gesture on his part but perhaps they would know for sure if they were in the wrong place.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 39):

The man's eyes light up at the sight of the banknotes. He reached out a hand, then stopped, unsure what Bathony was asking for.

JM spoke up in Arabic as the Count took action.  "This Frenchman, can you help us find him.  We seek only our friend and perhaps some samples of your fine wares such as my sister has selected."

The Saudi sighed and looked at the money. He replied,

"Yes. He is upstairs. The door is on the right past the curtain, it should be unlocked. His room is the first on the left. He is... not well."

The Count handed over the money and followed the others upstairs to the French man.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 43):

The shopkeep didn't move, instead just sitting there and looking at Bathony.

Cynthia takes the niqab she was looking at, bows thanks to the shopkeeper, and follows the baron upstairs.

Bathony and Cynthia headed upstairs while JM continued to haggle downstairs. The stairwell was narrow and of tile and plaster construction, grimy and hot.

At the top of the stairs was a landing. There were two doors at the top, one on the right and one on the left.

The only light was from a high, narrow window behind them.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:19, Mon 03 Aug 2015.

Cynthia presses her ear against the door on the right to listen, before stepping back and letting the Count take the lead.

The Count opened the door the shop keeper had indicated would contain what they sort. Hand on his revolver he hoped the man would not be silly and try and run.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 48):

The tiny room was dim and smelled foul. There was a layer of dirty clothing on the wood floor, books were stacked along the walls. Most of the space was filled by a bed, and there was a naked man lying there, motionless.

"Oh! Oh dear. I think we may need a doctor. And a tailor."

Molly listened to JM haggle and was quiet impressed.  He went over to him and pointed out some bauble that had caught her eye.  "Try to get for me too dear will you?  I quite like it."

Then smiled at him as she went around and looked at other things.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 50):

"Let us hope it is not that bad." The Count gave the man's shoulder a shake to rouse him. Looking around the room as he move towards the fellow.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 52):

The man stirred and mumbled something in French. It was not easy for Cynthia to make it out at this distance.

Keeper's Note: Cynthia can make a Listen Check. Bathony can make a Spot Hidden check.

Bathony noted various opiate-related drug paraphernalia on the floor beside the bed. Most notably an opium pipe.

Cynthia heard the man mumble in French, "who is it? What do you want? I don't have it anymore, whatever you are looking for. Do you understand? I don't have it!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:52, Wed 05 Aug 2015.

Removing his glasses again Mr Perkins rubbed them clean with his handkerchief before mopping his brow. He removes his pipe and a small pouch of tobacco containing his favorite blend. Gawith, Hoggarth & Co's Brown Irish X had not changed since Napoleonic times. It still ships twisted into a rope like length and Mr Perkins made sure to dry out enough for each day.

It was a robust smoke especially in his pipe so he sat back and savored it with his paper sitting upon his crossed legs.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:32, Thu 06 Aug 2015.

With his hand still on the butt of his revolver the Count stood having seen all he needed. "Did you catch what he said Ms Holloway ?" These drug addicts could be unpredictable so he stayed close if he needed to shield Ms Holloway.

JM watched as the Count and Cynthia went upstairs to check on the man.  When Molly spoke he nodded and turned to the man.  In Arabic he asked; "How much for the item for the lady?"  Leaning close to Molly he spoke softly.  "We should head upstairs as well soon and see if help is needed."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 57):

The man named some inconsequential price in Egyptian piastres for his goods.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 57):

Molly nodded  to JM and waited for him to buy her the new bauble.  She did so love baubles.  Almost as much as Mungo loved snooping into things.

"He says he doesn't have it."

Cynthia steps a little closer and responds in French. "Who did you give it to? What did you do with it?"

JM nods to Molly and motions up the stairs.  He waves her up and then follows after handing the man a much larger sum of money that he had asked for the bauble.  "Let's go see what is going on upstairs."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 60):

The man mumbled, "...the things... the accursed items... I gave then to Roger..."

He then coughed and seemed to wake up. He continued in French, "what? Who are you? What do you want?"

Molly nodded and looked at JM to see if she'd get her pretty bauble.  It was Mungo who led the way upstairs to join the others, going as quietly as she could so as not to disturb (and possibly get shot or worse) when they made their entrance.

Cynthia changes her posture and kneels beside the man, pulling his blanket up to cover, well, no reason to go into detail about it ...

"You've been very ill. You've been speaking in your dreams. It sounds like you've been haunted by nightmares. Would you like some more water? You are so very hot."

JM smiled and handed Molly the pretty trinket she's selected.  After that he led the way through the curtain and up the stairs.  "Let's see what they've discovered Molly.  From the sounds of voices I would guess they've found our man."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 64):

Molly and JM mounted the stairs, past the passive shopkeep. At the top of the stairs they encountered a small landing where Bathony was standing. There was a closed door, Cynthia was inside the room behind the open door on the right. They could hear her quiet voice, murmuring in French.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 64):

He sipped gratefully, then said,

"Thank you, I... who are you again? Are you real? I do not recognise you."

JM leaned close to the Count. "Did you find Besart?  I take it miss Holloway is speaking to him."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 68):

"Yes, just ahead. He is in a wretched state though. Here let me show you."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 07:29, Mon 10 Aug 2015.

JM stepped forward and swung the door open.  He moved aside so that the Count and Molly could look or go inside.  "Thank you Count."

In reply to Warren Besart (msg # 67):

"My name is Ms. Kelly. I'm here through the embassy. Can you sit up? Have you eaten recently? If you're feeling well enough, I'd like to talk with you for a little bit. I know you've had a difficult time. How are you doing? Are you looking for work again?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 71):

Sitting up, Besart looked groggy and confused. A dirty towel covered his private parts. "Ms. Kelly? What kind of name is that? You are not French! And what kind of woman sees a man in this condition?

"No, I have not been looking for work. I seek only to forget."

OOC: I'm assuming she spoke in French. As a note, the honourific "Ms." would be unheard of in those days! As I recall, "Madame" would be the typical default aptelation.

May as well try a Fast Talk roll to see if he does buy her story after all!


This message was last edited by the player at 08:16, Wed 12 Aug 2015.

"Well, you can take that up with my grandfather.

Mr. Besart, we need to take you out of here. This is terrible! To find a strong, handsome man, an adventurer, at the end of an opium pipe. We will take you back to the embassy. I'm sure we can arrange travel for you to get home, to leave all this behind. Where are your slacks?"

Cynthia uses the excuse to glance through his possessions for any clues as to where he's been (beyond the obvious), any trauma he may have suffered, or any magical treasure he hasn't gotten around to pawning yet.

JM steps into the room.  He understands enough French, albeit a Canadian version to follow the conversation.  "Excuse me M. Besart, perhaps I can aid you to a more presentable condition."  He looks about as well for a sheet or blanket to throw over the man.  As he speaks he nods to Cynthia with approval for her work.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 73):

Besart looked thoroughly befuddled at this point, but seemed to be believing her. Dumbfounded, he wrapped the sheet around himself to cover his nakedness. He shook a cigarette from a crumpled pack of Galoises and lit it using a match he struck on the side table.

"What? Come with you? All right. Mme. Kelley, I insist you must leave. To allow me to dress. Then I shall accompany you. From the embassy, you say? How very odd."

Blue cigarette smoke curled up around his head as he exhaled deeply.

Aside from dirty clothing, rotting scraps of food and books, it didn't seem to Cynthia that he possessed anything exceptionally occultish or out of the ordinary. At least in plain view.

JM remained inside the room.  "Let me assist you M. Besart."  He had no desire to see the man slink off.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 77):

M. Bessart shook his head, angrily.

"No! I can see to myself. I am not helpless! Like a child, or an invalid! Exit this room at once, M'sieur, or I shall toss you out."

He stood up, remembering to clutch the sheet to his scrawny body. His body was emaciated and emanated a foul odour.
This message was last updated by the player at 05:25, Sat 15 Aug 2015.

Molly didn't need to be told twice.  She stepped out after glancing around for possible exits from the room.  If possible she'd try to position herself to be able to see if anybody exited the room and could alert the others.

"Very well. We'll wait for you outside. Take your time."

With that, she will leave and wait outside. She rather wishes she had nabbed one of those cigarettes while she had the chance. The Dragon of Al Misr is one thing, but that man's emaciated corpse ... The image will haunt her to her grave.

JM regarded the man for a moment and then bowed slightly.  "Of course monsieur.  We will be right outside." As he spoke he glanced about the room for a window and a possible way the man might escape from them.  They could go outside and wait there as well in case their quarry chose to flee.

Departing the room, JM shut the door behind him.  "We should watch the window below in case he bolts," JM spoke softly to the two women and the Count.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 81):

Mungo walked up to JM and smiled.  "Don't forget me out there.  It's not the best place for a woman to be."  With that said she tucked her hair into her hat more and tilted it in a more masculine fashion, slouched a bit to hide some of her curves and went to stand outside under the window.  On the way out, she changed her walk to that of a younger man, a walk that she had used back home more than once to slip out in the middle of the night.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 81):

"Perhaps but given his state of mind I don't think he was looking for an exit. That being said caution is always the best course." The Count waited with the others.

JM nodded to Molly with approval and headed out to watch at the window.

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg # 82):

True to his word, Besard exited a few minutes later. All he'd done was throw on a stained djellaba to cover his nakedness. On his head he wore an Egyptian style turban and on his feet were sandals. He did not lock his door.

"All right. I am ready. Where are we going?"
This message was last edited by the player at 08:45, Mon 17 Aug 2015.

JM rejoined the Count and Cynthia as Besart made his appearance.  He escorted Molly back inside ahead of him.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 86):

As Mungo walked back into the building, she readjusted her outfit and posture again so by the time they met up with Cynthia and company she was back to being Molly.  Right before going into the room, Mungo tipped her hat to JM and Molly gave him a wink.

JM returned the wink and nod with a set of his own.

JM and Molly found the Count and Cynthia at the top of the stairs.

With them was a man they guessed was Warren Besart. he was dressed in a dirty djellaba and turban.

Outside, there was no sign of danger or anything suspicious. Perkins and the others were beset by crowds of children begging for money but Mahm'ud sent them on their way with some harsh words.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 89):

The boy explained to Perkins, "they were thieves. Hoping to slash your pockets and rob your things. They are gone now. I said I would kill them all and leave them in the desert for the jackals to feed on their corpses. They believed me! But of course, I would never do that. Leave their corpses in the desert to be fed upon by wild animals."

JM stepped up.  "Come downstairs then with us M. Besart.  We can take you now to the Embassy."

In reply to Mah'mud (msg # 90):

"Why thank you Mah'mud very reassuring to have you on the job." Mr Perkins folded his paper again and took another swig from his canteen as he remained in the shade.

The Count followed the other down the stairs and out into the street. He placed his hat back on his head and took a position at the rear as they made their way back to the cars.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 91):

"Quoi? D'accord. Allonz-y"

Wearily, still only half awake, he followed JM down the stairs.

Cynthia follows down, letting John-Marc take the lead. As they approach the car, Cynthia pulls Mah'mud aside. "Mah'mud, I hate to put your tiny immortal soul at risk, but... do you think you would be able to acquire a small amount of opium? I hope not to use it, but... well, everyone has their price. We can meet at the coffee shop by the antiquities professor we were at yesterday. Is that alright?" She hands over a small amount of money.

With that business done, she joins Besart in the back. Hopefully keeping the French speakers on either side will insulate him from any signs of misdirection.

"It's good we caught up with you when we did. There are investigations going on. It would be unfortunate if you were the target of them. But we should be able to get you cleaned up and to safety before any unwanted attention settles on you."

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

The street urchin nodded, took the money, and then left. He melted in the crowd and was gone in less than ten steps.

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

Getting in the back, Besart nodded, dumbly.

"Do what you will. My life is an unending horror. If you think you can help, I welcome it. But I do not think you are from the Embassy, yes?"

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

Nigel seemed to be taking in the scene. He smoothly asked Cynthia, also in French, "right, we shouldn't go back to the Embassy. Instead, I know of a small apartment where we may keep this man safe. It's not far from the Ezbekiah Gardens, in the European quarter. He shall be unobtrusive there while we attend him."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:25, Sat 22 Aug 2015.

"No, I suppose that was obvious. Tell us what happened. What did you find?"

Cynthia gives a nod of assent to Nigel regarding the apartment.

JM nodded, speaking also in heavily accented French. "No we are not from the embassy but are here to see to your health and safety."

Nigel waved at Mah'mud, and Perkins, signalling them that they were about to leave.

Besart looked around as he was led to the vehicles.

"What? No. I am not about to tell you anything here, not in the street. If you are not from the Embassy, who are you? Why do you want to know?"

In reply to Nigel Wassif (msg # 101):

Materialising from the crowd after a few minutes, Mah'mud met them at the vehicles. He slipped a small cloth-wrapped packet to Cynthia. "Opium. And a hashish ball. Is this what you wanted?"

Cynthia accepts the ball, "oh Mah'mud, you are a little angel of... terrible things. That's good though. Thank you." Cynthia slips the ball in her pocket and gets comfortable next to Besart. Once she's sure the doors are closed and no one outside can hear, she'll begin.

"We are friends of the late Mr. Carlyle. We know he was targeted by powerful forces. And we know they are pursuing you as well, because of what you found. You're fortunate to have survived this long, but your luck won't last forever. We want to help, but we need to know more about what you found. In exchange, we can arrange for your safety. That's not an option you can expect anywhere else. What did you recover? Where did it go?"

JM motions toward the car.  "Certainly M. Besart, this is not a safe place to talk about such things.  It would be best to go somewhere, eat and drink and speak in more privacy."

Following behind the group the Count watched the man in front as they made their way to the car. He saw Mr Perkins sitting in the shade and gave the man a nod of greeting as they approached indicating they had found their man.

Mr Perkins raises his folded paper as a form of greeting as he rises from his seat in the shade. As the group gets closer he asks; "All good I trust. All very quiet here." He straightens out his jacket and checks his pocket watch and finally puts away his pipe having somewhat over indulged in the strong tobacco.

With Nigel's guidance, the vehicles wend their way back to the European quarter by the Ezbekiah Gardens in central Cairo. Nigel directed them to park on a tree-shaded boulevard that could have been in Italy or France, save for the baking heat and blazing sun.

They brought Besart into one of the apartments. Those who wished to waited outside. With some coaxing, and opium, Besart began to tell his story.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 108):

Besard rambled along, in French and English. He sometimes lapsed into reverie of his childhood, occasionally breaking down altogether.

Finally, they were able to piece together the following statement.

“A lawyer contacted me. I agreed to act as purchasing agent for Mr. Roger Carlyle of the United States, who was represented to me as a wealthy American. On written instructions from Mr. Carlyle, I purchased certain artifacts from Faraz Najir, an antiquities dealer, and illegally shipped them out of Egypt to Sir Aubrey Penhew in London. I know the artifacts were ancient, but nothing more.

“When the Carlyle Expedition came to Egypt, I arranged for all their equipment and permits. Their main site was at Dhashur, in the area of the Bent Pyramid.

“One day at Dhashur, Jack Brady came to me and told me that Carlyle, Hypatia Masters, Sir Aubrey, and Dr. Huston had entered the Bent Pyramid and then vanished. Brady was excited and suspected foul play, since the diggers already had fled the site and work had cnme to a stand-still. We did not know what to do, so we drank.

“The next morning, Carlyle and the others reappeared. They were excited by some tremendous find, but what it was, they would not say, nor did I learn, for Sir Aubrey was a fiend for secrecy. All of them had changed in some inexplicable way, and a way not for the better; I did not ask further.

“That evening, an old Egyptian woman visited me. She said that her son had been one of the diggers. She said the diggers had fled because Carlyle and the others had consorted with an ancient evil, the Messenger of the Black Wind. She said that she could recognize that the souls of all the Europeans but Brady and myself were lost. If I wanted proof, I should go to the Collapsed Pyramid at Meidum at the time when the moon is slimmest—the night before the dark of the moon. God help me, I went!

“I took one of the trucks, pretending to leave for a night in the pleasure quarter of Cairo. But instead I drove the twenty miles south to Meidum, and secreted myself where she advised. There in the midnight blackness I saw Carlyle and the others disport themselves in obscene rituals with a hundred madmen. The very desert came alive, crawling and undulating toward the ruins of the pyramid. To my horror, the stone ruins themselves became a skeletal, bulging-eyed thing!

“Strange creatures emerged from the sands, grasped the dancing celebrants, and, one by one, tore out their throats, killing all until only the Europeans (and one other robed celebrant) remained.

“Something more loomed out of the sand, the size of an elephant but with five separate shaggy heads. Then I realized what it was—but it is madness to speak it! I saw it rise and in a great ravening swallow as one all the torn corpses and their hideous murderers, leaving alive only five pcople amidst the stench of the blood-soaked sands.

“I fainted. When I recovered. I wandered into the desert. There further horrors awaited me. Stumbling up a rise before dawn, I saw beyond hundreds of dark sphinxes, rank upon rank drawn up and waiting for the hour of madness when they will spring to devour the world! I fainted again, and this time I left the world for many months.

“A man found me; for two years he and his mother cared for me—me, a man mindless and returned, I came back to Cairo. But I began to dream! Only hashish helps now, or opium if it can be found, My supply is low again, and my life is intolerable without it. Will you gentlemen please contribute some more? Only strong drugs keep me from insanity. Everything, gentlemen, everything is lost, There is no hope for any of us. Everywhere they wait.

"Perhaps you will join me in a pipe?”

Cynthia listens intently. This is the first time she's seriously considered that Carlyle might not be the victim, but rather the perpetrator, and the idea is not comforting.

"Dr. Huston... I don't think I'm familiar with that name. What can you tell me about him?

"And who was the other celebrant who was spared? Was it an African woman?"

JM listened quietly, translating the French for those that did not speak the language.  He shudders at the story but dares to ask one question.  "Which five were spared in the end when the five headed creature swallowed all?  Also, what artifacts did you purchase and send to London?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:51, Sat 29 Aug 2015.

Besart answered, hesitantly, in a mixture of French and English, "I do not know who the fifth person was. I believe it was a woman. They were clothed in flowing white robes, no hint of skin visible... but it was a shorter person, yes? And slender. Perhaps a slender man. But a woman, I think.

"Dr. Huston, I know, was a noted psychiatrist from New York. He was Roger Carlyle's analyst. It seemed to me the poor boy was lost, and Dr. Huston was guiding him to nefarious ends. Manipulating him. He and that filthy negresse, M'Weru, of course!"

Suddenly, Cynthia did in fact recall the name Dr. Huston. He was of the Jungian school. There had been some kind of scandal from not long before the expedition departed. It was rumoured he had had an affair, both were married. His wife committed suicide when word got out. Then his lover also took her own life. Dr. Huston had largely withdrawn from his practice by the time the expedition sailed. Carlyle himself had been a frequent item in the Manhattan gossip sheets and had lived a wasted and dissolute lifestyle until his recovery under Dr. Huston's psychiactric care.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:59, Mon 07 Sept 2015.

"And the artifact? What was the artifact?"

JM translated the scattered French for the others as Besart spoke.  "Who is this other person, this M'Weru?  Did they meet her here in Egypt?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 113):

"Artefacts? Yes. A bust of a pharaoh, a tambour with mystical symbols and a circle that was the crown of the Black Pharaoh and the key to his triumph over death."

These sounded rather like the artefacts that Faraz Najir had stolen from the cult leader Omar Shakti.

"M'Weru? From Kenya. She came from Kenya. First to New York, where she met and seduced Carlyle and brought his circle of friends under her control. Then to London, and finally here to Cairo."
This message was last updated by the player at 19:25, Fri 11 Sept 2015.

"And you handed them off to Carlyle. Most likely, they're still in their possession.

"The crown, how do you mean it let the king triumph over death? It made him unaging? Impervious to harm? Or something else altogether?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:25, Fri 11 Sept 2015.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 116):

"I imagine s'ey are still in 'is possession. It could be s'ey had s'ose items with s'em at Dashur, no?"

He rambled on a little about keys, and crowns, and the Black Pharaoh. "S'e crown, it was a simple band with s'e crystal set in it. Otherwise, was simple, yes? S'e Black Pharaoh was killed by Sneferu with s'e help of s'e goddess Isis. S'en imprisoned in s'e bent Pyramid at Dashur. What else does one use to open s'e locks of s'e jail cell, but s'e key?"
This message was last updated by the player at 19:42, Fri 11 Sept 2015.

JM frowns; "Kenya... and that is where the massacre occurred.  This M'Weru came from Kenya to prepare this entire expedition, lured them here to awaken the Black Pharaoh and then went to Kenya to enact some last ritual it would seem."  He turned back to the Frenchman.  "What else do you know about M'Weru?"

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 118):

He shook his head, trying to see if he could remember anything.

"M'Weru... M'Weru... I am afraid I know nossing more about s'is she-demon. I was not invited to come to Kenya with s'em. Perhaps I should be glad."

JM nods, taking note to investigate this woman more.  "The party suffered an apparent catastrophe in Kenya.  You are better off here."

"What about Jack Brady? He traveled with you as well, didn't he?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 121):

"You mean s'e "Brass" Jack Brady? Yes, s'e Australian. Former soldier. S'ey met 'ere in Cairo when s'e expedition arrived. S'en, 'e was arrested for s'e killing of a fellow former soldier from s'e war, 'ere in Cairo. For some reason Carlysle saved 'eem, paid to 'ave 'is charges dropped. Brady remained very loyal to Roger after s'at.

"Brady was concerned for Roger's safety. 'E died in Kenya with Roger and s'e rest. I feel s'at per'aps I should 'ave died as well. I would say s'is torment it s'e punishment of a just God, if I were not certain such a kind and omniscient being is a lie, or as Nietzsche said, dead."

However, this was not quite true. While investigating the alleged deaths of the expedition on safari near a mountain in Kenya, Jackson Elias had run into a friend of Brady's in Nairobi who swore he personally seen the man, alive, in the British colony of Hong Kong. This was over a year after the massacre and had led Elias to theorise that maybe Roger Carlyle, and perhaps others, were still alive.

In reply to Warren Besart (msg # 122):

Nigel, the newspaperman, chimed in, "I do recall this case. Quite a scandal here, actually. Both "Brass" Jack Brady and Andy "Legbreaker" Brown were ANZACs during the war. But only "Legbreaker" was Australian, "Brass Jack" was really a New Zealander. Apparently, there's some kind of difference. Both ran into each other, and not in a friendly sense, whilst serving in Gallipoli. Brass Jack in the infantry and Legbreaker as military policeman. The latter had a reputation as a debased, corrupt fellow. smuggling contraband, narcotics, extortion and thievery. All sorts of trouble a dirty fellow like that can get into if he has the mind to. They had some kind of violent confrontation then, Brass Jack ended up in hospital after and then the stockade for a stretch. Brass Jack served in the Levant and Orient after, Legbreaker returned to Cairo.

"After the war, both were demobbed and found themselves back in Cairo. Brass Jack met Roger Carlyle after he arrived and was hired as his bodyguard. Not long after, Legbreaker wound up dead in an alley in the Old City and Brass Jack was the prime suspect. Roger arranged for his defence. While awaiting trial it was discovered by investigators that Legbreaker was a partner in a brothel that catered to all sorts of despicable tastes and perversions. Not just homosexuals but pederasts and paedophiles. It is rumoured that those who had a taste for non-human or even non-living partners could be indulged, for the right price. Never proved, of course. But suddenly there were far more attractive suspects to choose from, non-European ones to be specific, and the charges against Brass Jack were dropped. Several of the usual suspects were rounded up, tried, convicted, and shot. Maybe it was them after all, or it could be Egyptian revolutionaries. Every week or so an English officer or official is killed by terrorists. At any rate, European-style justice served, life in Cairo returned to normal after."

JM jumped in. "Didn't Elias report that he'd talked to a friend of Brady's who swore he had seen him in Hong Kong after the supposed massacre?"

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 124):

Nigel shrugged, unsure. "I don't know. The news said he died in Kenya along with Roger Carlyle and the rest of his party. If that's the case, why would he be in Hong Kong after?"

JM returned the shrug.  "Reports said he was dead.  I'd suggest that the reports of the massacre may have been faked."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 126):

Molly muttered something about "wouldn't be the first time that happened" and then settled down to listen to the discussion again.

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg # 127):

The disheveled Frenchman closed his eyes, then passed out.

In reply to Warren Besart (msg # 128):

"And... that is about, what is the saying. Oh yes, our lot." The Count watched the unconscious man before adding "He was at least informative."

JM shook his head.  "Let's get him to the car and then somewhere safe at least.  We owe the poor man that much at least."

"Poor? He may be the wisest of us all. At least he gets to forget about these horrors now and again. Regardless, perhaps a small, accommodating restaurant. We can slip some money in his pocket and pay off the cook to see that he's fed his fill. He looks like he could do with a proper meal.

"I suppose the only leads still open to us are those three men the crazy bookseller mentioned. It's getting late though; it may be worth holding off until tomorrow, I imagine."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 130):

Nigel said, "he can stay here for now. I can make sure he's fed. A friend will watch over him. But yes, I think we have gotten all we can from him. Very... odd. Nothing I think I can use in my paper. The ravings of a madman!"

JM shook his head.  "Sometimes in the ravings of the madman lies the seeds of the truth Nigel."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 133):

Nigel scoffed as he lit a tailored cigarette from a silver case.

"That's just something madmen say, I'll wager."

In reply to Nigel Wassif (msg # 134):

"It is the ramblings of a madman but that doesn't mean that it doesn't have some truth in it.  The mind's defense mechanism is strange at times to allow us to cope.  That still doesn't mean there isn't some truth in what is said.  The skill comes in trying to figure out what is truth and what is horror/fantasy."

Molly then realized that she was telling more than perhaps she should so she settled down again.  Molly had to maintain some semblance of the modern woman who looked good, had shocking manners at times but underneath it all was still the soft female that men loved to protect.  Mungo, on the other hand, was the woman who looked good, had shocking manners most of the time and underneath it all wanted to bash some male teeth in when they started to be condescending.  She was happy that this group had all their teeth, even after inviting her to run around with them.

JM laughed heartily at Nigel's quip.  "Very true Nigel, very true.  Madness does bear a certain circular logic at times." He turned back to the others.  "Is there time to track down those other three?  If we have daylight left it would be best to make haste."

"He gave streets. Great Market, street of gold sellers, street of antiquities sellers. Do you think we will have time?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 137):

Nigel's ears perked up.

"Streets? I am familiar with those streets. Did he give names, names of people, as well?"

"Yes; Ahmed, Sayid, and Mahmoud ibn Mohammed, although I'm not sure what sort of information we might expect from them."

In reply to Nigel Wassif (msg # 138):

He looked taken aback, asking her to repeat the names to be sure.

"Good God! Dead, all of them. Normally the murder of such no-account scoundrels would hardly be of note to one of my station, but the details were gruesome. A police captain of my acquaintance related the story. Their bodies were mutilated and left in the desert near Giza, to be picked apart by carrion birds and jackals. I shan't relay the gory details. Too much for such delicate ears!"

Nigel nodded towards Cynthia and Molly.

In reply to Nigel Wassif (msg # 140):

"A sign for others. I am somewhat familiar with such things." A somewhat pained expression crosses the Counts face and is gone in seconds. "Do not steal from the cult it would seem."

Cynthia curls her lip in a scowl, "we should have guessed as much. Is the location of the cult so well-known that shopkeepers can attempt to burgle it?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 142):

Some more questioning of the befuddled Besart provided some clarification.

First, Carlyle asked Besart to procure these items for them when the Carlyle Expedition reached Egypt. Besart went to a man he knew was a local "fixer" and provider of less-than-legal artefacts, Faraz Najir. Najir engaged these men to get the artefacts. However, it seems the man they stole the items from, Omar Shakti, was a powerful cultists (allegedly). This error eventually led to the doom of the three burglars and the fiery destruction of Faraz Najir's business and death of his family. Either way the cultists from England received their items upon arrival.

There were some puzzling elements. Mainly, both Omar Shakti and the Carlyle Expedition were associated with the cult of the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh, the latter through Sir Aubrey Penhew and the Penhew Institute. After the present investigators' arrival,, Faraz Najor was contacted by Tewfik al-Sayid in the recent past. Tewfik was an associate of the London Brotherhood group, but he warned Faraz not to speak to any investigators that might begin asking questions. The oddness here being why one group of the Brotherhood would steal items from another group? Perhaps it was Carlyle's fault, in that he seemed to be a recent addition to the cult and was perhaps acting on his own.

"If Shakti was a member of the Black Brotherhood, why would Carlyle have to steal it from him? Are they not all bound by the same bonds of wickedness? And if Shakti bears a grudge against Carlyle... Might he be willing to assist us in retrieving them? I don't imagine giving these items to a cultist is in any way desirable, but we've danced with the devil before and will do so again. At least this would be on our terms."
This message was last updated by the player at 22:43, Fri 25 Sept 2015.

JM shook his head.  "I would be quite careful about making a deal with that particular devil.  Shakti sounds powerful just himself alone and may decide to betray and destroy us if he feels his loyalty is to the higher cult."

"Perhaps you're right.

"I don't know of any more leads we have here in Cairo. Am I missing anything?"

"Can we track down those three men or did they die?"

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 147):

"The three men are very dead.

"From what you've said, Faraz Najir has fled.

"Warren Besart is a wreck.

"There is still the Clive expedition, currently at Dashur. You could visit them. You would need some kind of excuse or ruse.

"A member of the Clive expedition, Jan Vanhuevelen, is still here is Cairo. I am trying to locate him fro a friend of yours, Bahadir Sahin. I won't know until tomorrow his whereabouts as his address is not up to date."

"That settles it. If you can reach Jan, that would be our in with the Clive expedition. Otherwise we'll have to be... a bit more aggressive. Regardless, it sounds like we wait until that news tomorrow. It would be good to get some more information on him before we go. I'd like to have my lies in order before I have to open my mouth if I have the choice."

JM nodded.  "Yes, this Vanhuevelen is probably our best bet for now.  What do we know of him?"

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 150):

Nigel seemed remarkably well-informed. He took out a reporter's notebook and began reading some notes.

"I daresay not a lot. He is a Dutchman, of course. Studied at Amsterdam College, in archaeology. Joined the Cive Expedition here in Cairo, where he'd been stranded by a French expedition just over a year ago and did not had the funds to return to Holland. Kicked off the Clive Expedition a month after they arrived here for drunkenness and incompetence. He moved out of his flat without notice within the last week or so. I do know he still doesn't have the funds to leave Egypt and is likely here somewhere in Cairo.

"We should know his whereabouts tomorrow."

JM listened to Nigel and then sighed.  "Well, do we proceed with further investigation today or what to meet this Dutchman tomorrow?  I think that there might be yet more we can do once we have the Frenchman settled."  He turns to the reporter.  "Nigel, make sure you leave our names out of any inquiries as the longer we keep our presence here a secret the longer will be our life expectancy."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 152):

Nigel laughed, dryly. "I daresay that the social pages are my bread-and-butter. I shall stay away from reporting on these matters in my paper. You have my word.

"I see it's getting late. Would you like a ride back to Alexander's estate?"

Mungo almost snorted when JM asked Nigel to keep their names out of the papers.  Imagine such a thing!  Molly, however, smiled and nodded knowing that is was a wise precaution to take.  A good reporter could still report the news without mentioning names.  While society was his bread and butter that still wouldn't mean he couldn't pass off the information to others.  She hoped he wouldn't but one can never tell with those reporter types.

Molly shook her head at her own thoughts and hoped Mungo would stop laughing at her last mental comment.

"Yes, I think it would be wise to return home while we still have a sliver of sunlight. There seems to be no advantage to hunting the man until you have more answers."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 155):

At this point the sun was setting.

The call to prayer of the Mohammedians sounded from countless minarets around them in the ancient city of Cairo.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 155):

Nigel lit some candles and a lamp.

He then talked briefly with a bearded man in a brown robe who knocked on the door.

"My friend Brother Teodore is here to take Mssr. Besart to safety where he may be looked after.

"Come, let's make our departure."

JM nodded.  "Thank you for keeping our names secret from everyone Nigel, at least until we've departed.  It could very well mean our very lives."  He looked around as it grew darker.  "I'd say we return now as well."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 158):

"Yes indeed, it looks if we are loosing the light." The Count did not like their chances if caught in the dark.

To the west, the setting sun was a giant ball flooding Cairo with orange light and pitch-black shadow. Lights spilled warmly from countless coffee shops and restaurants. The crowds were still numerous, if anything, the population of beggars increased.

The trip back to Alexander's estate on its island in the Nile was quick and uneventful.

After a quick nightcap for the road, Nigel bade them all a good night.

Alexander was away on an errand and should be back within the hour but otherwise, things seemed normal at the estate.
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:55, Sat 17 Oct 2015.

JM had a gin and tonic and then went to walk in the cool of the gardens for a bit before turning in.

It's about time. It's been a rough day, but they'd come away with a lot. Cynthia isn't quite sure what she'll do with the hashish ball yet, but she's sure she can find a use. But right now, it's time to think of dinner and a bath.

She'll eat light, something cold if possible, and take up the bathroom for an hour before checking in on the evening discussions and tea.

Alexander arrived not too long after dinner.

The group was having after-dinner drinks on the rear patio. Insects buzzed in the darkness. Entering behind Alexander was a familiar figure!

"Everyone! I have a wonderful surprise for you! Your dear friend, Ralph, arrived in Alexandria on the steamship SS Egyptian Prince this afternoon. I received a telegram from him over a week ago announcing his arrival but, not know what to make of it, decided to keep this close to my chest in case it was some kind of ruse or trap. But it wasn't, and here he is!

"Ralph, something to drink? I'll have a gin-and-tonic."

"Oh, my dear friend. A drink would certainly be pleasant."

Looking around, Ralph took in the sight of his friends.

"I am so glad to see you all safe and together. I could not bear the thought of travelling back to Wisconsin and trying to forget all that I had seen."

In reply to Prof. Ralph T. Fulty (msg # 164):

Dr. Weston clapped him on the arm.

"By Jove! It's splendid to see you! Please, join us for a drink and a cigar? How was the trip? I honestly thought that we'd seen the last of you for some time!"

The Count had been focused on the liquid at the bottom of his glass when the Professor arrived. Looking up he was genuinely surprised and happy to see him and stood offering a hand to the professor. "How good to see you Professor and very timely. I think we will have need of your expertise."

He moves to refill his glass and retakes his seat again.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 166):

Alexander served some drinks.

"Indeed, it will be a pleasure to work with another archaeologist.

"Right now, our plan is to try and visit the Clive expedition, somewhere south of the city in Dashur. The area known as "the city of the dead", or the "Necropolis" for all the burials conducted there in ancient times. The Clive expedition is sponsored by the Penhew Foundation, and very strange things were going on there. They had a mummy stolen, and several staff have quit, died or gone mad./

"Aside from that, we are trying to locate Jan Vanhuevelen, a Dutchman that was fired from the expedition for being a drunkard. He is still in Cairo and might have something to say about the Clive expedition.

"Also, here are the artefacts you brought from England."

The various arcane scrolls, statuettes and other items had been stolen, er, recovered from the cultists of the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh. There was the mirror (the "Mirror of Gal") and various powders (that was said to provide a view of distant places and/or kill a man by thinking about them), two scepters, more powder that is said to reveal that which is hidden (the Powder of ibn Ghazi), a soapstone sculpture of the Elder God "Great Cthulhu" (said to impart mystical energy and indeed sometimes gives a strange shock when touched) and a brass figurine of the "Bloated Woman", a woman's head crossed with... a sea anemone? There was a painting of Africans performing some kind of hideous sacrifice by night at the foot of a mountain which almost looked like the Bloated Woman.

Alexander also told Ralph of a local scholar they'd met, Bahadir Sahin, a Turk (or all things) working at the world-famous Cairo Museum in the Antiquities department. His boss, Dr. Khafour, seemed to have a lot of knowledge of the occult and had fought the Black Brotherhood here in Cairo, on their own turf, and survived.

All-in-all, it seemed like the conversation was dying out and perhaps it would be best to take up matters in the morning?

Everyone said their goodnights.

Some time later, it was morning.

The group gathered for breakfast and a conference on their next moves.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 169):

Over tea and breakfast, Alexander asked, "is your plan for the day to simply wait for news on locating the Dutch scientist, Jan Vanhuevelen? If he can be found, my friend Nigel will find him!

"Or, are you heading out to Dashur to interview the other members of the Clive expedition?

"I guess we can just have a day off, if no one has any desire to do anything." He didn't seem to think this was a productive use of time, but it was still an option.

The Count had risen early and had watched the sun rise as he dealt with some correspondence he would not post. This was mingled with periods of quiet reflection as he tried to process the past few days.
Once the hour of breakfast had arrived he dressed in a rather sharp linen suit and made his way to the table. As he poured a large black coffee he listened to Alexander's assessment before adding "Well I really don't like sitting around so I would like to visit the Clive expedition if we are able to come up with a passable excuse. It will no doubt clue our enemies to our being in the country given one of the cult members from London is here and perhaps in contact with them, but it seems the only current lead."

"I concur. I don't care to stay here longer than we need to, no insult to Mr. Mahfouz's hospitality. The Black Brotherhood is looking for us, and we haven't always been quiet in our investigations."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 172):

Alexander sipped his tea and looked thoughtful.

"I can presume on Dr. Khafour for a letter of introduction for your group. Professor Fulty is a well-known Egyptologist, it would not be out of the ordinary at all for him to visit an ongoing archaeological site while he is visiting here."

The Professor up until this time remained quiet and pensive. It had been a very encouraging thing to see his friends again, but with the new day, the challenges - and dangers - ahead weighed heavily on his mind. He listened to the others.

At Alexander's mention of the dig, he responded, "Yes, I would be glad to pay a visit to the Expedition. I can definitely imagine that my credentials will give me to clout to intrude a little, find out what they're up to. The matter of the missing sarcophagus still weighs on my mind."

"Then that would be excellent. We can set out right after breakfast, and hopefully this afternoon we will have the necessary information to follow up on the last lead. With a little luck, we can leave Cairo on a good note!"

Alexander made a telephone call to the Museum.

"Dr. Khafour at the Department of Antiquities promises that he will write a letter authorising Professor Fulty and his companions to examine the Clive Expedition digs at Dashur on his behalf.

"It should be ready to be picked up at the museum by 10 o'clock. I will make the touring car ready for a trip out to Dashur by then."

"Do we know anything about these people before we go in? Is there any reason to expect danger?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 177):

"The Clive expedition? Quite a lot, really.

"It is sponsored by the Penhew Foundation. That implies a connection to Gavigan and the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh off the bat.

"They recovered a mummy from that frightful chamber in the pyramid. Where you seemed to "lose" hours of your time. The mummy (possibly that of evil Queen Nitocris) was stolen, two Egyptian police disappeared. After, they moved their dig site to Dashur, south of the city.

"Now at Dashur for a month, much strangeness has occurred. Porters and guards disappearing, not showing up for work. Tales of drink and even drugs running rampant. One researcher went mad, another committed suicide. One "bad apple", Jan Vanhuevelen, was given the sack, and things started to improve. But Nigel said the locals still regard the expedition is cursed in some way.

"Sir Clive hiself is a noted archaeologist and archaeologist. Studied at Cambridge. Old family, but not a lot of money, you know the story. Some funny business there, I don't quite recall."

"And Jan we just interviewed. He said an old woman say something in his spirit? And in another individual as well? I worry that the expedition is a den of vipers, funded by our enemies, serving our enemies. If we could find a place to start in making safe contact... otherwise, I frankly don't know how we will be able to interview them without putting ourselves in mortal peril."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 179):

"If I may?

"My pardon, Cynthia. The wretch you interviewed was Warren Besart, Carlyle's agent. We are waiting on Jan's location. The old woman said something about Besart's soul, and that of "Brass" Jack Brady, Carlyle's bodyguard and batman. Brass was supposedly killed later in Kenya along with the rest of the expedition but he turned up safe in Hong Kong, suggesting that Carlyle is also alive.

"As for the Clive expedition, allow me to share some insight into the character and psyche of the late and unlamented Edward Gavigan. He was the cult leader in England, as far as we know. He viewed us as a threat, yes, but I don't think he would have shared that information with his compatriots here, or made an effort to alert his crony, Dr. Clive. There is a certain amount of risk but I don't think Clive will see you as a threat.

"If, however, you are uneasy about visiting the Clive expedition in Memphis, there was the unknown item that Faraz Najir was asked to steal from the Mosque of ibn Tuln by Tewfik al Sayid on behalf of the Brotherhood cult leader, Omar Shakti. Najir did not know what this items was. It's possible that Dr. Khafour might have an idea?"

Weston sipped his tea.

"I'm sorry, of course. I've been so short on sleep lately."

"Well... I open it up to the group. Dr. Clive may not view us as a threat--yet. But depending on what he does know about the purpose of the foundation, he may deem us such once we start poking around."

"Quite all right. And yes, these egomaniacal cultists might not wish to cooperate, even with their own brothers, but they are also often paranoid as well."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 181):

"Yes that will be very true. Hopefully he may be taken in by the tourist ruse that has worked before. Seeing a working dig and all that. The ruins themselves would probably warrant a visit by some tourist groups and the chance to see a working dig may be enough of a pull to the area they are in ? There is also the matter of what was Faraz stealing from the Mosque, did he say ? "

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 183):

Alexander shook his head.

"Faraz never said what it was he was asked by the cultists to steal from the mosque of ibn Tulun."

In reply to Alexander Hussein Mahfouz (msg # 184):

"Perhaps we could ask him before we pursue that avenue of inquiry then. Seems it may give us some idea whether they may have something useful that the enemy is unable to obtain." Mr. Perkins pored himself a glass of water and took a seat at the table.

"Agreed. I'm inclined to avoid the Clive expedition altogether. But should we go, I want to have done everything feasible prior.

So where do we start? The mosque itself?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 186):

"Yes let us go to the mosque and make inquiries. I don't feel in the mood to acquire more hard drugs to get an answer." He also pored a glass of water and then turned to their host "Alexander what do you know of this place anything useful or interesting ?"

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 187):

"The Mosque of ibn Tulun is the oldest and largest mosque in the city, at least in original form. It was completed in AD 869 of 256 in the year of the Prophet, praise be upon him.

"It is south of Ezebikia Gardens, the park in the heart of the city. It is on the edge of the Necropolis, the City of the Dead that stretches south of Cairo.

"I have been there many times. As well, there is a small museum there. It is constructed as a square around a large courtyard, with minarets and other buildings around the sides.

"Other than that, I can't say what would be stored there that would interest the Cultists. I know some of the teachers there and could come with you.

"As well, before we visit the Clive expedition we could look up the mother and son that rescued Warren Besart when he had his nervous breakdown after the cultist ceremony that snapped his mind."

"How would you possibly look up the mother? He mentioned them in passing--I had assumed their relationship was only brief contact. Regardless, he didn't give us much to go on."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 189):

"He mentioned the general area, and it is out in the countryside. It is not like the city. People here see things. I think we stand a decent chance of tracking them down, insh'Allah."

In reply to Alexander Hussein Mahfouz (msg # 190):

"Let us try the mosque first before we venture on another road trip to either the dig or the mother. It is closer and we may find a more receptive audience if we are able to identify a sympathetic ear."

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 191):

With that, Alexander summoned his touring car. He would accompany the group on his motorcycle, and keep watch on his car while they were at the mosque.

It was yet another slow drive through crowded Cairo streets. They passed through the splendor of the Ezebekiah Gardens park area. Eventually, they arrived at the southern edge of the city, not far from the start of the Necropolis.

The mosque of ibn Tulun was an immense tan brick and mortar structure not far from an ancient fortress on a small hill. Built in a massive open square, it had a minaret and several outbuildings. Over the centuries, many houses and buildings had been built around and abutting the mosque's outer walls, so much it was actually hard to see anything other than the minaret.

They parked near the front entrance. To either side were masses of old buildings and houses, which from close up seemed to be in poor repair and little more than slums.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:52, Tue 22 Dec 2015.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 192):

"That's as close as we can get." He wrinkled his nose. "What a beastly smell. Even for Cairo! The government is planning on leveling these wretched structures, soon, they say. Who knows? But at least you would be able to see the mosque after!"

He pulled up part of his fact covering and with that, looked like any other Bedouin.

Cynthia adjusts her hijab and waits for the men to leave first, to escort her.

She's actually starting to feel eager for the desert; when she doesn't need to worry about anyone's eyes or judgment except for the camels.

"Count, care to do me the honor?" she offers her arm.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 194):

The Count had just finished adjusting his jacket "Of course Ms Holloway." He helped her out of the car and then took in their surroundings. "Shall we ?" The Count watched the immediate area as they moved towards the Mosque.

If the cult were interested in something inside it makes sense to think they would still be watching the place. He gave Mr Perkins a glance and his friend returned it as they made themselves ready to move off.

It seemed a slum of sorts had grown up around the walls of the ancient mosque. All that was visible was the minaret.

The gates were open, the entrances shadowed with brilliant sunlight on the far side. Alexander concealed himself in a shadowed nook of a tenement where he could keep an eye over the car and motorcycle.

Passing through, they were in an immense square courtyard. They could see the minaret on one corner, with more buildings in the other corners and another building in the centre.

One man, dressed as an imam, approached. He welcomed them (in Arabic) and asked,

"What may I say is your business here?"

JM stepped forward and bowed respectfully.  [Arabic]  "Please be upon you.  My companions and I are historians and seekers of the truth.  We wish to visit the museum in the mosque and pay our respects to the elders here."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 197):

"In the name of the Prophet, peace be upon his name, I welcome you to masjid Ahmad ibn Tulun. Most definitely, I will be glad to show such learned ones as yourself."

He showed them inside the covered walkway beneath one of the side walls, eventually coming to an ornate wood door set into the base of the wall with a lattice window.

Opening it with a key, he showed off the artefacts inside the small room. The walls were covered in Arabic script (praising God and the Prophet.) They didn't seem to be out of the ordinary, a various collection of ceremonial cups and plates, ornate and probably valuable but excessively. There were also cases full of books and scrolls, most very old and all obviously scholarly or religious in nature (and not occult).

"This is the oldest surviving mosque in Cairo. Much is here that has survived for many centuries in this ancient land."

The Count moved towards the crates of books and scrolls looking them over as the others conversed. Always the book seller he looked for any hidden gems within the boxes all the time wondering if the Imam would part with any of them.

There was a limited market for such things back in England, but anything of an age was likely to sell. He was unlikely to find any of the classics that were pulled from the monastery by that German fellow, but you never know. No great uncial codices for him or at least not whole ones, he had dealt in pages on occasion of course.

JM bowed again and replied in Arabic; "May the peace, mercy, and blessings of Allah be upon you.  Thank you for your welcome.  I am John-Marc." He turned to his companions and spoke in English.  "I've asked to show us the museum and then meet their learned elders afterward."  JM followed the imam and gazed about him in appreciation as they walked through the gorgeous building.  When they reached the small room he looked about briefly and then turned back to the imam as the other examined the books.  "It is beautiful as well, a fitting place of worship.  May my friends examine some of your scrolls and books?  They are respectful and diligent seekers of truth."

Cynthia takes her time, carefully examining the objects, keeping an eye for anything about the girdle, or the (nearly) stolen objects. During a lull in the conversation, she will ask the imam, "do you speak English?" and if the answer is negative she asks in French, "do you speak French?"

The imam returned JM's bow.

"It is a deep pleasure to meet a learned person such as yourself.

"I am afraid you may not touch these items. They are for the faithful only.

"As for learned elders, I am not so old but I am an imam. Is there something I may be of pleasure to help with? Some question I may answer?"

The Count's examinations revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Many of these items would fetch a good price in the right market.

"Madame, I speak English, and French as well." His English was good but not perfect, with a British accent.

JM maintained a calm expression as the imam replied to him and then continued in English.  "You are a learned man yourself as well as a man of god.  I am afraid that I can only claim a simple background.  My compatriots are men and women of books and learning."  He motions to the others.  "May I introduce Sigismund, Cynthia and Molly."

OOC: I know we have an NPC with us but I can't figure it out.  I will introduce him as well unless I am dreaming...

As the others were talking with the Imam, the Professor walked in. He stepped in behind as John-Marc was introducing the others, and stepped up and introduced himself in Arabic,  "And I am Professor Ralph Fulty. We have not met, but I have been acquainted in the past with your collection." before turning to John-Marc he quickly apologised for having arrived late.

Molly kept her eyes out for anything out of the ordinary while the others talked to the locals.

JM stepped aside as Ralph approached.  "This gentleman is truly a scholar of note, blessed by Allah with wisdom and discernment."  A warrior and man of action rather than letters, JM started to fade back toward Molly to allow the more learned members of the expedition to ask their questions.

The Count nodded as his name was mentioned, kneading his hands behinds his back as he tried not to show a reaction on his face. He stepped back from the various books satisfied that there was nothing of note or that he would be able to purchase anything.

"Oh, excellent! My Egyptian doesn't do the language justice.

"We were visiting Dr. Khafour just yesterday. He'd mentioned this mosque was especially important, due to its history and outstanding collection. And for other reasons. Specifically, a more unusual collection of items, from the 6th dynasty."

The Imam's eyes narrowed.

"The 6th dynasty? That is far before the time of the Prophet, blessings be upon him. An accursed time of wickedness and infidels. Few of the ulama, or learned teachers here, know of this time."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:59, Fri 15 Jan 2016.

JM listened intently.  "We mean no disrespect to the Faithful in our inquiries but any assistance would be greatly appreciated."

"A wicked time indeed. But you know filth grows best in darkness. As I mentioned, we heard about an attempt at theft. Fortunately your guardians here have a fearsome reputation. We have no plan to remove the item in question. We seek only to understand those who would desire to use it for foul ends. Your sanctuary is not the only place they target, and the righteous should not be forced to fight in ignorance."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 211):

The middle aged man shuddered and shook his head.

"That was an evil time of unclean rulers and an infidel people.

He looked at the group, judging their appearance and seemed to come to a decision.

"You seem learned and respectable, even for foreigners. Perhaps it would be wise to take you to speak to the ulamas, the wise and learned ones. What I believe you seek is being guarded against theft from those who would misuse it. Come with me, this way."

he led the group outside the strong-room, towards a different part of the hollow square of the mosque complex. The imam left them in a room. A servant poured them tea. Time passed.

JM bowed in response to the compliment from the imam.  He followed with the others and settled himself with a cup of well sweetened tea.  As they waited he looked about.  "Do you think they will continue to cooperate?"

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 213):

A group of older robed imams were escorted into the waiting room.

The first imam stayed to act as translator. The oldest of the ulama spoke in a slow whisper, which was translated.

"It is said that the most holy among the faithful are sent visions by Allah. It has been shown to me that an ancient evil is awakening. Recently, I have seen in my dreams Shaitan himself arising from a watery grave to walk the Earth. That which we guard here must be kept safe lest great evil be unleashed upon the world. We do what God commands."

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 214):

Molly pushed Mungo aside so she could listen better and concentrate on what was said.  This was not the place, yet, for Mungo's push aside all thinking and go for the gusto attitude.  Molly was quiet but listened to every word and let the men talk knowing that it was more respectful for them to do so.

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg # 215):

The oldest of the ulama paused, then continued.

"We here at the mosque guard something of ancient evil. It is the cursed Girdle of Nitocris."

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 216):

Molly couldn't control her gasp and put her hand to her mouth, trying not to interrupt.  She remembered what had been said about the Girdle.

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg # 217):

The younger imam looked at the group, then at the older imams.

"The ulama have other things to do and talking about this upsets them, somehow. If you have nothing to add, then we are done here, yes?"

In reply to The Imam (msg # 218):

"Please express my sincere well wishes to them.  I have heard of what they guard and I am sure it is not an easy task they do.  They have my thanks for doing it."

Molly smiled and bowed low to them as she spoke. It was at times like this that she wished she could speak their language but on the other hand they might have objected to such direct statements coming from a woman.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 216):

"Were you able to discern who the thieves were working for and why they wanted the object you protect ?" The Count clasped his hands behind his back as he waited for the reply.

Cynthia will wait until the Count gets his response before putting in her own questions.

"The girdle, you are certain it is still secure? What happened to the thieves? Do you know anything of the Carlyle expedition, or the disappeared sarcophagus?"

The translating imam consulted with the ulama.

"These thieves... they were in the employ of a wealthy businessman. Someone above the law of the state, if not the law of God. That is all I will say."

This individual fit the bill for being a lot like Omar Shakti, wealthy businessman and head of the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh.

"We are certain the girdle is quite safe. Have no worry. The thieves have not come. When they do, we will be ready for them. We have heard the Carlyle expedition were all killed. If so, perhaps this was God's justice, as they were accused of many cruel acts. We believe the sarcophagus held the mummy of Queen Nitocris, if not now then at one time."

"Why is it that the girdle is kept? Would it not be better to destroy such a foul object?

"How could the sarcophagus have been moved? And for what purpose?

"Do you know anything of the Clive expedition? Is it safe to contact them?"

JM shakes his head at the mention of the girdle.  He looks a bit dubious at the confidence of the imams to guard the cursed relic but keeps his peace.  "The entire sarcophagus was removed without any signs of effort.  It was as if some evil force moved it whole.  Some evil seemed to linger in the place."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 223):

The imam scowled.

"We heard of the theft from workers there. It was moved by some evil blasphemous sorcery, no doubt.

"I cannot say if you will be welcomed at the Clive expedition. We do not maintain contact with the Europeans that command it. If I were you, I would talk to the head of Egyptology at the Cairo Museum, Dr. Khafour. He would know all about them, and he is a respected and pious man who prays often here."

Having actually met the scholar in question the group could of course form their own opinions on him.

"We have prayed many times on what to do about this accursed artefact. So far, God has refused to give guidance. Perhaps this is a message in and of itself? Until we receive a sign from God we will keep it safe the best we may."

JM shuddered a bit at the memory of the tomb.  "Allah preserve but I felt the workings of evil in that empty tomb.  I hope that He might guide and protect you in his beneficence as you guard these terrible things from those that would work great evil."

He considered their advice and looked to the others. "I could go myself and speak again to Dr. Khafour on this topic.  He was civil to me at the end during our last talk."

"Perhaps that would be wise, Mr. Falcon.

"This wealthy man who hired the thieves, do you believe he may have reach outside of Egypt? Is there nothing that can be done to act against him directly?

"We believe the tomb was stolen, and the girdle sought, for some sort of necromantic ritual. A demon summoning, or returning a corpse to life. I don't know if I should believe it, but I do know that wicked magic is a true threat, to the faithful and the wicked both. Please, is there any guidance you might lend us on how to protect ourselves from this, or to prevent it? Or perhaps where or when such an act might be attempted?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 227):

"We do not know of the reach of this person. He has much wealth and many acolytes. Surely, he and his wicked cultists have spread far if they are able to thrive here in the heart of the Islamic world? We have complained to the British and Egyptian authorities many times but they merely laugh this off as mere mumbo-jumbo."

Typically, people would think that the Kingdom of Sau'd was the heart of the Islamic world, as the holy sites of Mecca and Medina lay there. But Egypt also lay claim to that title due to its long and deep history of Islamic scholarship and other holy sites.

"As for how to protect yourself, I urge you to embrace the one True Faith of God and the teachings of His prophet, Mohammed, a thousand blessings be upon his name. There is no God but God, and Mohammed is his prophet."

"While not to disparage God and His great works, we have seen many of the faithful already brought low. I am not yet married, and not prepared to meet paradise yet. I would ask that you pray for us, that God may take notice of us and bless our mission."

"I know this may be overstepping bounds, but... would it be possible for us to see the girdle? I do not care to touch it, but I am hoping by seeing it, we may better understand our foe and the trap he lays for us."

The Count waited for a reply as to the "viewing" while he was somewhat sceptical that the object was "magical" he never turned down a chance to see an historical object held in reverence.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 229):

While the Imam never actually said the item was "magical", it was clear it was held in great esteem. They conferred for a while.

"Yes. We will allow scholars such as yourselves to view the girdle of Nitocris. Be warned it is of great evil. It is stored in a safe plafce indeed."

He got up to lead the group.

"This way."

Cynthia is frankly quite surprised they'd permit them to see it. But indeed, never turning down the opportunity to see either ancient magic, or expensive fashion, she falls in with the group to see.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 232):

The Count gestures forward with his hand "After you Ms Holloway." He then follows along after the Imam. The Count takes in the surroundings of the building as they walk along looking for any interesting architectural features.

Amazed to see the Imam grant them access to such a rare and nefarious artifact of Egypt's dark and mysterious history, the Professor follows the others.

In reply to Prof. Ralph T. Fulty (msg # 234):

Molly was unsure if she was happy to go see the girdle or not but Mungo wanted to go see it so she found herself following Professor Fulty and the others.

Part of it was good that Mungo was happy to go see such an artifact as well as to see how well it was guarded.  Molly did think it would be interesting but she'd have been happy to see it from the behind an Iman and just peeking through her fingers.  Somehow she didn't think that Mungo would go for that.

Mr Perkins his bowler hat in hand follows the others to see this belt. He would usually be quite sceptical of such things, but now it probably held some power. Given that they are somewhat on their own in Egypt it is always good to make friends.

JM considered what he would say to Dr. Khafour as the others spoke.  He looked back at the conversation when mention was made of seeing the girdle.  A quick look of surprise came over his face and then he followed after the others.  "After you miss Mungo..."

They are brought to the office of the highest-ranking cleric at the mosque, Imam Achmed Zehavi.

The younger Imam acting as their interpreter left, after pouring yet another round of tea.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 238):

The old cleric spoke with the other Imam for a short time, then dismissed him. He only spoke Arabic, forcing JM or Ralph to translate.

"You wish to see the Girdle of Nitocris. I am not sure this is a wise idea.

"We know why the infidels wish to have it. But they will not.

"My colleague says you are to be trusted with this knowledge as well. Heed my words: if the Brotherhood infidels can obtain the girdle much sorrow will be visited upon the land, and the world.

"Do not worry yourselves. The Girdle is well-protected by the lives and faith of the holiest among us here at the mosque."

JM trailed after the others.  When they reached the office he bowed respectfully and offered his politest greetings.  As the conversation started JM translated such as he could, turning to Ralph for help with certain phrases.

"Your pardon excellency, for what blasphemy do the infidels wish to use the girdle?"

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 240):

"Allah preserve us! With the Girdle the infidels can resurrect the bride of the Black pharaoh, Queen Nitocris."

He closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Then why not destroy it? Does it have another purpose for which we are unaware? And why would it be unwise for us to see it ourselves? We are aware of the infidels, and intend to interrupt their plans at every turn. But only with knowledge can we act with wisdom. Wouldn't it then be wiser to see and to understand, than to move blindly?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 242):

"We have tried to destroy it. First we tried melting the gold with the hottest fire in the largest forge in Cairo, the links would not melt. Nor would the smith's hammer damage them on the anvil in the slightest. The most skilled jewelsmith (non-Jewish, of course) in the city was unable to remove or cut the precious stones, his tools broke. Acids would not dissolve the metals or even effect it at all. We did not try explosives but I doubt they would be more effective.

"Much prayer has been given unto God to guide us in what to do. So far our prayers remain unanswered.

"As for you, our honoured guests, I am not as hopeful as my young colleague you will be of much assistance. I doubt you are among the faithful. Are you even fellow people of the Book? That is, Christians?" He eyed her and her companions quizzically, if skeptically.

In reply to Imam Zehavi (msg # 243):

"Have you managed to find references to the item in the most ancient of texts ? Do you know who made it or where it came from ? As for our religious leanings, I was brought up in the Eastern Church and still follow it rituals weekly."

JM paled a bit as their suspicions about the girdle were confirmed.  "I have the honor of being a follower of the prophet Jesus of Nazareth."

"Like JM, I am also a follower of Jesus and his teachings. I will say, our recent investigations have given us some new perspective on some of those teachings.

"This is not our first skirmish with such foul things. I don't believe though we've encountered as strong bulwarks against them as yourselves. Through faith and strength, you have held off the enemy directly. Anything you can share to assist us in our own fight will be taken to heart."

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 244):

"It is a shame you are not of the Faithful, but neither are you infidels.

"Alas, we do not know of the Girdle's origins. Some say it was a gift from the Black Pharaoh to his would-be Queen centuries after his death, kept by a secret cult of foul sorcerers that lived in the Kingdom of the Nile. Other stories say it came from the swamps beyond the Fourth Cataract.

"The Girdle is protected by the faith of the most Holy among us, and many prayers from the most pious guard it. Other than that, I suggest be true of faith and spirit, and guard your hearts from wicked temptation."

If the old ulama knew of any spells, holy signs or pagan wards he was careful not to elaborate.

"Kingdom of the Nile? The Fourth Cataract? I'm not familiar with these. By the former do you mean the ancient Egyptians, before the time of Christ?"
This message was last edited by the player at 10:42, Tue 16 Feb 2016.

"Very interesting..." Ralph thought about the references, and nothing seemed to clearly relate to anything he had every really knew much of. It would definitely warrant some archaeological study. "I don't think I have ever heard of these kingdoms that you mention. Do you have any thing in your library here that would shed light on their history?"

In reply to Prof. Ralph T. Fulty (msg # 249):

The imam frowned. "The "Kingdom of the Nile" is what you would call ancient Egypt. The Girdle may have been passed down from the Third Dynasty, the time of the Black Pharaoh, unto to the Sixth Dynasty of Queen Nitocris. Or else it came from the lands beyond the Sixth Cataract (my apologies, I misspoke) which is to say, Nubia or Kush."

These regions would be considered southern Egypt and Sudan, and sub-Saharan Africa.

"Any library will tell you about these things. Our own writings here, alas, are more concerned with the coming of the Prophet and not secular history, although some writings do mention the rumours I have just passed along to you."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:57, Tue 16 Feb 2016.

"But it sounds as though you have no way to definitively date it. Could it have come from as far south as modern Kenya?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 251):

The old man chuckled at the idea of asking holy men specific questions.

"Date it? All is seen by the eye of Allah, we are but ants scurrying hither and yon under his merciful and benevolent gaze. We are priests, not historians. If the Girdle came from Nubia or Kush, it might have originated much further south, this is true. Many riches of the ancient kingdoms of the Pharaohs did come from there, I imagine."

"There are hints suggesting this cult that has been plaguing the city, or whatever the source of this foul power invested in the girdle, is linked to a mountain in Kenya, associated with demonic winds. Has anything been shared with you about this wickedness? Its name or location, that we might best disrupt whatever awful plans they have in motion?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 253):

Consulting with the other wise ones, especially one imam that seemed intimately familiar with the occult, imam Zehavi nodded.

"The cult of the Black Pharaoh worships their god-king, who goes by another name, Nyarlat-hotep. This hellspawn is also known as the Bloated Woman."

One of the statuettes they located in London was called "The Bloated Woman"

"This evil god is said to live upon the Mountain of the Black Wind, in what is now called Kenya. There, it is worshipped by a foul cult."

As well, the painting they had obtained from Miles Shipley featured African cultists dancing in front of a vast and eerie mountain in a night ceremony. Behind the peak hovered a faint but immense and bloated figure. This is supposedly the God of the Black Winds and the cultists could be the Cult of the Bloody Tongue that Elias wrote about (and you fought in New York).

"How might one identify the Mountain of the Black Wind? Surely it doesn't go by that name in the modern day, does it? And what else do you know of this demon, Nyarlat-hotep? Is this an Egyptian god?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 255):

"The Mountain of the Black Wind? I would suggest consulting a geographer."

The ancient imam chuckled.

"Nyarlat-hotep goes by many names. It is worshipped by many people in many lands. In Egypt he went by the name of the "Black Pharaoh". It is said his origin is beyond space, beyond time, and before the reign of the Gods of the Nile. But he is not of the Land of the Nile, he is an outsider."

They had first heard of the name "Nyarlat-hotep" from Dr. Khafour.

(Message #52)

link to a message in this game
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:57, Mon 22 Feb 2016.

In reply to Imam Zehavi (msg # 256):

Mungo grimaced at the name.  "Oh him.  Wasn't he was the one that the Queen Nitocris wanted to use the girdle and resurrect him."

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg # 257):

The imam replied, "the Girdle can be used to resurrect Queen Nitocris. That would be an act of great evil. Therefore, we must protect it."

In reply to Imam Zehavi (msg # 258):

Molly bowed to the Imam and nodded.  "Yeah, that girdle.  I am glad that you are guarding it.  The is the name of the one that she wanted to resurrect wasn't it?  Her mummy had disappeared I believe?  Do you think they will try to resurrect her and then the Black Pharaoh?"

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg # 259):

The imam shrugged to indicate his lack of knowledge.

"We do not know about whether the Black Pharaoh has been or will be resurrected, Allah preserve us. We believe that yes, the Girdle could be used to resurrect the cursed Queen Nitrocris."
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:29, Wed 24 Feb 2016.

In reply to Imam Zehavi (msg # 260):

There being a lull in the conversation, more tea was poured.

The imams conferred among themselves. Finally, imam Zehavi spoke up. "Do you have any more questions for us?"

The Count look at each of his companions. He did not and it seemed unlikely that they would get to see the item or be able to help the Imam. The Count took another cup of tea and waited in case someone else had more to say.
He was going to take out his cigar case and then decided it was not appropriate so he stood and waited.

"I would still be interested in seeing the artifact itself. Some of us are archaeologists, and we have struggled with these foul Satan-worshipers before. It is my hope our experience might permit us to recognize something a conventional expert may have missed."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 263):

There was more murmured discussion. After a few minutes, a consensus was reached.

"Thank you for talking to us. I have decided that your hearts are pure and what you say is genuine. I believe you are sent by Allah, the most merciful and beneficent in all the universe to help us. In what way, I cannot say.

"If you follow me, I will show you the vault where the Girdle of Nitocris is kept for safekeeping."

The old cleric tottered to his feet, and motioned the group to follow him past a privacy curtain in the room where they had been received by the ulami.

Slowly, the group was led down white-washed stone corridors and stairs until they were deep in the ground0 under the mosque. Their way lit by torches and lamps. Eventually, they came upon an iron-bound door.

The old cleric spoke at the window slot, and there was a sound of heavy bolts being withdrawn. With a creak of metal hinges the portal slowly swung wide. Inside was a small room, but not where the Girdle lay. Instead, there were four old men inside, all armed to the teeth with ancient scimitars, wickedly curved knives and muskets. They sat around a small table, and again the lighting was from candles and lamps. It was clear they were guards for the artefact, perhaps an honour guard by their advanced age.

Like the corridor, the low ceiling was soot-stained with white-washed walls.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:13, Tue 15 Mar 2016.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 265):

"Please. Inside here you will find the answers you seek."

The wizened imam stood aside for them to enter the chamber. The air in the corridors under the mosque were cool and a little damp, perhaps oppressive.

"Why do these men carry such antiquated weapons? Shouldn't such important men carry the finest arms now available?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 267):

The oldest of the ulama guards, a man of ninty if he's a day, replied through a translator that they are the holiest men of the mosque and their lives are forfeit to their task of guarding the girdle, if need be. They have the finest of weapons, including the "Sword of Akmallah". The blade in question was a beautiful but ancient scimitar. It will cut anything under Heaven and Earth, or perhaps of neither.

OOC: Everyone may make History checks to know more about the sword.

"Ah... you will have to excuse me. I just need some air." The Count moves outside the room and uses his hand to hold himself against the wall. He takes a series of deep breaths as he stands close to the wall.

Count Sigismund Bathony rolled 31 using 1d100 with rolls of 31.  History = 85%.

Mr Perkins was looking at the men sat around the table. He felt they could have easily been the combatants Kitchener faced in the Sudan. He does not miss the Count until he has stepped out of the room and then not for a couple of minutes. Noticing his friend had walked outside Mr Perkins went to see if everything was all right.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 269):

After a moment Bathony's unease seemed to lessen once he entered the corridor, if not go away completely.

With no further comments, the imam opened the iron door in the far side of the small chamber. "Through there. If you please."

Seeing the passageway does not seem harmful in any way which would beg a man's presence, Cynthia will follow instructions, moving slowly and pausing in the doorway a moment to catch her bearings before proceeding in.

In reply to George Perkins (msg # 270):

The Count continues to hold the wall though slowly he was starting to feel like himself again. "I am fine...go... go have a look at the object I will be fine... go." He stood in the hall breathing in the slightly cooler air wondering what had just happened.

Mr Perkins looked at his friends and then turned and went and viewed the object with the others. He did not dally and after a brief look rejoined the Count in the hall were he went into detail about the object.

The chief guard, an ancient imam of 90 or more named Nessim Efti, nodded in respect to Cynthia's bravery. She noted the ancient blade he carried was mainly unadorned but the steel had a curious bright swirling and wavy "water" pattern to it.

Inside the innermost chamber were two more ancient guardians. Their treasure was a narrow belt made of fine gold links set with gems, a "girdle" in ancient parlance. Not a girdle made for torturing women into a warped Victorian image of beauty but something like a chain that girdled (went around) one's waist. She felt it was beautiful and thousands of years old, but nothing further.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 275):

Molly had been uncertain if she should go and look at the girdle.  Mungo said yes but Molly said no.  99% of the time Mungo won and actually Mungo had taken a couple of steps to follow when Molly asserted herself and stopped.  Molly just stood there breathing hard torn between indecision.

Cynthia leans in close to examine it. Beautiful. She could imagine it as the centerpiece in a museum in Washington, or the crown jewels of a mogul's personal collection. Instead it was here, hidden and feared. The moment of covetousness comes and passes, and she leans in closer to examine it, searching perhaps for inscriptions or words, taking note of the shape of the ankh, smelling it. She moves to touch it, then looks over to the guards for assent before daring to brush a finger against it.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 277):

The girdle, a waist-chain decorated with gems and with an ankh centrepiece, was beautiful in the candle and oil lamp-lit chamber.

One of the guards looked at her, then nodded. The metal was cool, but there was no shiver like some had reported feeling when touching the octopus-headed batwinged statuette. If there was power here within the girdle, it was not for the likes of her.

Otherwise, the metal links and ankh were devoid of characters or Egyptian pictographs.

"It doesn't look evil. It doesn't even look supernatural. I wouldn't even know it special if it hadn't been pointed out."

After a moment's consideration, she carefully takes the most delicate looking portion she can find, a piece of filigree or edging with minimal reinforcement, and she tries to bend it.

Once she's satisfied it's at least Cynthia-proof, there are no other clues falling out of it, and it's not available for purchase, she nods to herself, at least trying to give the impression this is part of a greater purpose, and backs out of the room.

"Thank you." She will wait with the group until they're ready to be led back upstairs.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 279):

Indeed, the ancient chain seemed impervious to Cynthia's proddings.

The aged imams nod at the thanks, satisfied they can go back to guarding the Girdle.

Once the group had gathered in the corridor, the Count looking rather out of sorts relayed the vision he had when the other entered the chamber. "It was very intense and I still can plainly see the girdle surrounded by a frame of some sort, maybe even the mirror."

"A mirror? How do you mean? Like the mirror we have?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 282):

"Perhaps, perhaps. It... was very... unsettling."

"There is definitely a dweomer at work here. I wish we could identify more about how. Is there anything else you want to do while we are here? Or to inquire before we go?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 284):

"No, I think we may have exhausted all avenues of inquiry. Let us thank the Imam and be off."

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 285):

With little else to occupy them, the group made their way to the surface up the stone block stairs. Soon, they found themselves exiting a door close to the head imam's office.

Through a translator Imam Zehavi asked them. "is there anything else you'd like to see? Or is there some way you could help us safeguard the Girdle?""

"No, you have been very helpful. I ask that you pray for us as we move forward. We will be facing great dangers, and will certainly need Allah's blessing, peace on his name.

"The people you guard against, they use foul magics to extend their reach. We have seen them able to spread foulness even to distant places they cannot go in person. We are not students of their methods, and we do not know how it is done or protected against. Perhaps Dr. Khafour knows more. I apologize I can't be of more help."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 287):

The old man nodded in agreement.

"We shall take your counsel into consideration. We have heard that Dr. Khafour at the museum is a wise and learned scholar. Allah blesses those who seek knowledge for His glory and that of His children.

"One thing we must ask you... we are not worldly men. Could you contact Dr. Khafour on our behalf? We would be most grateful."

"Of course! We would be most pleased to do so. Given how he spoke of you, I had assumed you were already in contact. Thank you again for all of your assistance, and again, please do pray for us as we set out."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 289):

Once they climbed up from underground they noticed the change of temperature from the cool stone tunnels to the sun-baked surface.

The Ulamas thanked them, assuring them they would be waiting for word from Dr. Khafour regarding whether he would aid them or not in protecting the Girdle. Such a loan would not be permanent, at least they hoped not.

Alexander awaited with the touring car, parked outside the main gate among the shanty town that had grown up around the mosque's sturdy stone walls.

Cynthia glances up at the sky, "strange how I felt like time stopped in there. I imagine it's nearly tea. Do you think we have time to pay a visit to Dr. Khafour, or should we delay until tomorrow."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 291):

"Let us give the good Doctor a few more hours out of our presence given the situation that developed last time. Let us find the cars."

They found the touring car where they left it, Alexander standing guard dressed in mufti (disguised as a native).

"Where to, sirs?"
This message was last updated by the player at 05:48, Mon 25 Apr 2016.

"Home it is. Tomorrow we can visit the good professor and make final preparations. That is, unless anyone else has business in the city."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 294):

It was getting on towards late afternoon when they arrived back at the estate.

Tea was served.

Alexander sent word to the Museum and they were informed Dr. Khafour would see them the next morning.

They had a visitor after tea time. It was Nigel, the newspaperman.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 295):

Accepting a gin and tonic from a servant, Nigel joined the group on the patio.

A cool breeze wafted from the Nile. Dozens of small and medium sized boats with sails tacked upcurrent, barges and other craft floated downstream.

"Good new, friends! I located the Dutch gentleman that recently was let go from the Clive expedition. Jan Vanhuevelen, remember him? He is located in the Old City. I think we may visit him tonight, if you wish."

In reply to Nigel Wassif (msg # 296):

The Count held his cup of tea with both hands somewhat still put out by the event in the crypt. He watched the boats on the Nile and found some comfort that even with strangeness in the world it still keeps revolving.

Looking at Nigel he replied "That is good news... Yes tonight sounds fine."

"Perhaps a foolish question, but... is the Old Town a safe place to visit at night? And what is the fellow's condition? No opium addiction, I trust?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 298):

Mr Perkins put down his cup of coffee "Anywhere is safe as long as you have enough armed men, but perhaps it is best left to the morning. Although he would probably be home." He raises the cup to his lips again.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:23, Sun 01 May 2016.

In reply to George Perkins (msg # 299):

Nigel looked at the sun's position, then checked his pocket watch.

"We have a couple hours until dark.

"But Mister Perkins is quite correct, even the police fear going into parts of the Old Town at night unless they are in force. Some places are quite safe, like the cafes, smoke shops and restaurants where the elite of Cairo gather. But not where Mr. Vanhuevelen lives.

"I do not believe he has sunken into a completely dissolute lifestyle but he does have a reputation of being a drunk. If Sir Clive is to be believed, which I am beginning to doubt."

He lit a cigarette in a long holder with a sophisticated flourish using a gold lighter. "Perhaps we should wait until morning, yes?"

Cynthia considers for a moment longer, then "no, the people pursuing us care not if it's night or day. And I don't care to shake information out of a drunk the morning after. We should go now."

Cynthia will find her hijab and wrap it around her, wondering if she could, or should, bother trying to hide one of her sporting guns underneath. Unfortunately, they are large weapons, and fitting it would probably be impossible without forcing her to limp.

They made it into the car and then home to the estate safely.

From there, they drove through Cairo's crowded streets to the bridge over the Nile. Along the way they passed not just pedestrians and innumerable animal carts but gangs of workers sweeping and washing the streets.

Arriving back at the estate they were in time for dinner. White-attired servants served them drinks before they were seated for dinner.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 302):

Alexander was curious about any progress.

"So, what was it that the Brotherhood was looking for at the mosque?"

"An ornate belt, if you can imagine. The imams there were kind enough to let us see it, the nosey tourists we are. Frankly, I was rather unimpressed by the thing, to the point that I'm still not absolutely certain it's the real one. But how does one ask that without coming off a boor. 'I'm sorry, is this the real girdle of queen Noctis? I thought it would be nicer.' But they insist it is, and they do enough work over it, I took their word for it."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 304):

Dinner was served.

After, they retired to the patio for drinks.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 305):

"So what is your plan for tomorrow?

"Nigel located that Jan Vanhuevelen fellow.

"You can also look for the Egyptian worker who found and nursed poor Warren Besart back to health.

"Either way, you have an appointment at the Museum to see Dr. Khafour regarding the Girdle of Nitocris. If it's the real one, although I suppose Dr. Khafour can give you a definitive answer on that."

Alexander accepted a gin-and-tonic with a smile of gratitude from a passing servant.

In reply to Alexander Hussein Mahfouz (msg # 306):

The Count refilled his glass as he spoke "Well it is probably a good idea if myself and Mr Perkins do not meet the good Doctor again so we can wait outside or perhaps meet this Egyptian worker before we make our final appointment ?"

He takes a sip from his glass.

"That seems reasonable. I hope I didn't antagonize him too very much, although the work we've done may at least be a sign of good faith. I'd like to visit the dutchman first, before he has a chance to get caught up in his daily routine, and while the local crooks and scoundrels are still snug in their beds. Dr. Khafour we can find easily enough."

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 307):

"If you are interested in finding the labourer, please give me some time. He doesn't live in Cairo but to the south of the city. It will take some time."

"I am alright with paying him a visit. I don't know that I expect to learn more than we have already, but I also don't expect him to sell our name to the Black Brotherhood.

"So did we decide where we are going next? The pyramids further south, or perhaps directly to Kenya? If we're driving, perhaps we should visit this worker en route. No offense to your hospitality, Alexander, but I am eager to leave the city. Too many big powers, and too many cat's paws for me to feel safe staying long."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 310):

Lighting a cigar, Weston commented, "yes, we should visit Sir Clive and his expedition. Wherever they are. I daresay we not leave until we find out what the blackguards are planning on doing with the mummy. The one that is supposedly Queen Nitocris."

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 310):

"I can take the Count and his man to look for the labourer who rescued Warren Besart. That might take most of the day. We might not be back until late afternoon. We can meet to have a look at this Dutch fellow?"

"I suspect the mummy has left town. Regardless, it would seem much more difficult to track one quiet corpse than to identify the locations critical to these peoples' operations. But if some more information happens to shake out, I agree we should follow it up."

With a plan of sorts for the next day, the group retired to their rooms. They were cooled by the breeze coming off the ancient Nile.

Most slept soundly. Some did not.

"What better way to stay under the radar than to be unadorned.  Most grave robbers will overlook such an item thinking it is of no consequence and it can hide in the shadows when it suits it.  It is still hard to say if it is the true thing or not but some things we need to have faith in.  If nothing else it would be rude to say against them.  You did right."

Molly was quiet for a little bit but then continued on.  "I am not fond of the city but I think if nothing else, we should visit the pyramids.  It's the thing to do here.  We don't have to stay long or look at it long or in detail but it would, I believe, be more suspicious if we don't go."

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg # 315):

In the morning, Alexander prepared to chauffeur them around Cairo. "First stop was the Museum to talk to Dr. Khafour. Then to the "Cairo Bulletin" to get the Dutchman's address from Nigel.

"After, we'll have to see. Dr. Khafour can write us an official letter on behalf of the Museum that will allow us to visit the Clive expedition's camp.

"As for the girdle, if it was made of woven gold inset with jewels and gems, it would hardly be as plain-seeming as you imply. No matter, it's probably safer under the museum's care.

"Shall we depart?"

In reply to Alexander Hussein Mahfouz (msg # 316):

The Count nodded as he finished his coffee and folded his paper. "Yes Alexander let us get going it will be a long day by the sounds of it." He rises from the table and adjusts his suit before making his way to the cars with the others.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 317):

Molly adjusted her hat and followed the others.  Onto another adventure!  Although it might be more accurate to say another issue of the same serial.

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg # 318):

He smiled. "As for the pyramids, you weren't there when we inspected the the chamber where Nictoris' mummy was hidden in the pyramid of Menkaure, the smallest of the three Pyrmamids of Giza. It was disorienting for those of your friends who went inside. They thought they were there for but an hour at most, but when I arrived to fetch them perhaps six hours had passed!

"We can, and should, visit the others."

The morning went quickly, and the heat climbed.

At this point the crowds of Cairo were almost taken for granted. The beggars were omnipresent. As were the teams of cleaners washing the streets in the hours after dawn, the hordes of farmers driving their carts to market laden with produce, fishermen displaying their wares on long wooden tables.

The visit to the Museum went well. They were able to gain Dr. Khafour's assurances that he would contact the imams at the ibn Tulun mosque to transfer the Girdle of Nitocris into his safekeeping. He also gave a letter to Alexander that assured them entrance to the Clive expedition's digs under the Museum's auspices.

In reply to The Keeper (msg # 320):

At 11am, Nigel met them at his office. He took the group to a sidewalk cafe for an early lunch. He poured tea and coffee for them, then lit a tailored cigarette in a holder.

"Good news! I have located the elusive scholar Jan Vanhuevelen. The one that was let go from the Clive expedition.

"He is currently located in a flat off the Street of Moths in the Old City. Beastly place! Not surprising, our boy has fallen on hard times. Unable to find work here, unable to afford the fare home. And the people, they say he suffers from a curse! What rubbish.

"Shall we?" He stubbed out his cigarette and adjusted his tie as he stood up.

"Splendid find, Mr. Wassif! Absolutely, I would prefer we leave immediately. The noon-day sun should keep any jackals at bay. Tell me though, what sort of a curse do they claim is at work against him?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 322):

Molly was just about ready to ask what kind of curse when Cynthia spoke up.  She'd make a good reporter one day!

"Yes, please tell us what kind of curse.  Does he think he is cursed or is it just the people think that?  What makes them say such a thing?"

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg # 323):

Nigel laughed. "Please, ladies! All I know is when I mention his name, all people say he is the "cursed foreigner". They weren't more specific. You know these Arabs, so superstitious. Evil Eye and all that rot." Nigel was part-Arab himself but it was obvious which race he considered himself to be a part of.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:00, Sun 29 May 2016.

In reply to Nigel Wassif (msg # 324):

Molly smiled at Nigel as she secured her hat upon her head a little more securely.

"Oh dear.  I had hoped for something a bit more specific.  Do you know how many times I've heard "cursed foreigner" cast about?  It does seem to be their favorite explanation for most anything these days."

Of course it could also be that "cursed foreigner" was one of the only phrases that Molly knew in the local language.

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg # 325):

"I had great success talking to Dr. Khafour before. I'll be happy to talk to him again now, about the Girdle of Netrocris and about the letter to the Clive expedition. I'd like to borrow your motorcycle, Alexander. I can see him first, then meet you at the Dutchman's apartment."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 326):

"You can if you wish, sir. But I wonder if you could find the apartment on your own?"

In reply to Alexander Hussein Mahfouz (msg # 327):

"I can go with him, effendi! Please? I can ride behind him. I would love to ride on the motorcycle!"

In reply to Mah'mud (msg # 328):

"All right. If anyone can find that apartment, you can.

"Well then, who's coming with me to the Dutchman's? Nigel?"