In reply to Albert W. Merrick (msg # 31):

Janet slaps Zachary on the back of his head.  "Didn't I tell you to speak proper, boy?  Now, Mister Merrick, if you'd be so kind as to show this boy around while I freshen up?"

In reply to The Professor (msg # 34):

The Professor's new friends have all left the boarding house by the time The Professor makes his way back there, curse the luck.

But the house isn't empty. Five hard-edged Chinese men with whipcord muscles and a variety of wicked blades at their sides - machetes, cleavers, bowie knives, and the like - are waiting in the foyer. They all wear colorful shirts emblazoned with a logo of a green dragon:




The apparent leader of five, the only one wearing an actual sword, approaches the Professor. Of the five, he isn't the tallest, or the thickest, but there's something of a palpable aura of menace about him. He has the calm, collected air of someone who kills for a living.

"Ah. Forgive me, honorable sir." he says in lightly accented English. He does not look directly at the Professor when he speaks, keeping his gaze somewhere around knee-level. "Might I humbly inquire if you are a resident of this boarding house?"

In reply to Janet Weiss (msg # 35):

"Ow! Why..." Zach says, then stutters. "Er, um...yes Ma'am. Sorry, Ma'am."

Merrick stands there, a little bemused at the exchange. "Now just a moment...there's no need for that!" he hastily ushers the pair of them inside to forestall further violence.

The interior of the apartment is dark, but not particularly cluttered. It's well-appointed for a bachelor's apartment, and the only sign of clutter is a pile of newspaper clippings and photographs stacked high on a table near the fire.

"I'm sorry, you've caught me a bit by surprise." Merrick says. "I was just doing some...research. Trying to make sense of something. It's a delicate matter, so I'll respectfully ask you not to pry. And if I may make a slightly odd request...would you two kindly take a look in that mirror over there?" He points to a round mirror on the wall. "Just a glance."

Janet moved towards the mirror, but tripped.  "Oops.  You dropped a card."  She picked it up and looked at it.

It's the Four of Hearts. Nothing too special. Zach shrugs and wanders over to the mirror, looking in. "What am I looking for?" He asks.

Merrick, who was watching the pair intently, breathes a sigh of relief. "Just a simple precaution, Mr. O'Connor. Nothing to worry about." He looks at Janet. "Your turn, madam."

Janet looks at the corner of the room

Is the Epitaph camera pointed at the mirror, by chance?

01:29, Today: Janet Weiss rolled 3,4 using d6,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 3,4. Notice.

((OOC: Nope. It's pointed at the door. Of course, someone would have to be operating it...there doesn't look to be any sort of automatic picture-taking doodads set up, and the camera is on it's side as if left there somewhat haphazardly.

Oddly enough, it seems like Merrick wasn't watching Zach directly when Zach looked in the mirror...Merrick was watching the reflection itself.))

OOC - 20:24, Today: The Professor rolled 1,8 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 1,(6+2)8. Common knowledge. So with a -2 for the Clueless, it's a 6. Success!

The Professor recognized the symbol as the logo for the Iron Dragon Railway. It was run by a Chinese Warlord by the name of Kang and if the reputations of the Rail Baron was to be believed these men were not to be taken lightly. The Professor briefly wondered if Smythe was in some way behind this visit, but quickly dismissed the idea as a paranoid fantasy.

"I am indeed good sir." He bowed lightly at the waist. "How can I assist the honorable emissaries of the noble Iron Dragon corporation?" The Professor knew he was being a bit obsequious, but the Chinese were all about politeness.  At least he was pretty sure they were.

The enforcer nods at The Professor's politeness. "We are seeking a thief and murderess who may have taken lesidence here. The Most Honorable Huang Li is discussing this possibirity with the mistress of this estabrishment, but perhaps you may help us bring this criminar to justice quicker. Have you seen a woman with black hair and green eyes lodging here?"

That description fits Janet Weiss, the girl The Professor had met the previous evening...

"Black hair and green eyes you say?" The Professor paused as if pondering the description. "I'm afraid I just arrived last evening, so I really don't know who exactly is staying here. A thief and a murderess you say? She sounds frightful. What exactly did she do, if you don't mind me asking."

"The thief entered the depot under false plestenses and stole a crate," The enforcer says. "In the process, she caused the death of Chen We, a laborer who worked for the rairroad, and of Jacob Bomburg, the ticket taker. The Marshal will not hear the case, so we have been forced to investigate the matter on our own."

In reply to The Stray (msg # 41):

Janet quickly checked her hair in the mirror, then looked back at Merrick.  "Well now, are you going to show the lad around or not?"

The Professor considered the chinaman's words. "I see...well...if I spot this desperado, I'll be sure to be on my guard."  He wasn't sure if Ms. Weiss was responsible for those crimes or not, but it was certain that these men intended to do her harm no matter what the truth was. The Professor was not about to allow that to happen.

In reply to Janet Weiss (msg # 46):

"Now hold on." Merrick says, watching her reflection as she checks her hair. "I'm still a bit boggled about having an apprentice in the first place. Let me sort this out before anyone does any showing about."

"Well, if you're concerned about my ability to do the work, I have done some publishing before." Zach says. "My dad was a newspaperman. Maybe you've heard of Mitch O'Connor?"

"Mitch O'Connor..." Merrick says, thinking. His face falls. "Oh, yes. I know who you're talking about know. Tragic, what happened to him."

"That's one of the reasons I was hoping you were looking for an apprentice. I had hoped he'd worked with you. He was working on a story before he died...something to do with the murder of a man named Daughtridge. Did you work with him on that?"

Merrick nods. "Yes, I remember that. What a perfidious deed that was. A vicious attack by the Sioux...I think I still have the notes I provided him. Let me search my files."

"If you would, could you bring me any materials you have on my father's own death?"

Merrick's face falls. "Are you sure about that, lad? It's gruesome stuff."

"I have a right to know, don't I?" Zach says, a hint of steel in his youthful voice.

"Yes, I...I suppose you do. Stay here a moment." Merrick trundles down the stairs into the offices below. Cabinet draws open and papers shuffle down below.

Zach give Janet a grin. "How'd I do?"

In reply to The Professor (msg # 47):

The enforcer nods, and turns curtly away from The Professor.

A few minutes pass, then voices can be heard from the balcony.

"...so you see, Mr. Huang, this was just a terrible misunderstanding. I hope I've cleared everything up." Mr. Sebastian says as he steps out onto the balcony, followed by a stocky, severe Chinese man with hair cut in Western fashion and a trim goatee. The man is dressed in a well-tailored grey suit that doesn't have so much as a fleck of mud on it, a rarity in Deadwood. The man sticks a sheaf of files underneath his arm.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Sebastian." The Chinese man--Mr. Huang, presumably--replies. His voice is low and faintly gravelly. "This will reflect well on you and your organization. A warning, though--in the future, you will approach me before you see fit to intrude on my business."

"Of course." Mr. Sebastian says with a smile. "We have mutual enemies, after all. It's best we try not to step on each other's toes."

The well-dressed Mr. Huang walks quickly downstairs. The enforcer steps up to him and bows. [Language unknown: "Ilng Sa pa o k tho papaof ica ndenc tic sa oulareich ngtrng?"] he says. [Language unknown: "Nc acted ilev k se sa ugh stiol a follus?"]

[Language unknown: "Deren hastedoer was alatstit."] Mr. Huang says. [Language unknown: "Urne di einti, us temofo. Lin eento res simo any perat lltaic. Un rutch o ie wacahaei ndnawi hi mance son enc. Elholl as ssev."]

The enforcer stiffens. The muscles on his face twitch. The Professor can tell he's not pleased, but he doesn't say anything more. He simply follows Mr. Huang as he brushes past the Professor. The rest of the Iron Dragon thugs follow along.

Mr. Sebastian watches them leave. Then he looks down. "Ah! Professor!" He smiles. "A pleasure to see you again. Finished with your businesses so soon? Would you care for a game of cards?"

The Professor waves a hand dismissively at Mr. Sebastian. "Not at this time, I'm afraid. I need to meet up with my compatriots.  Perhaps another time when my schedule is not so pressing."

There was no time for leisure given that Dr. Smythe was in town. The man was always involved in one scheme or another and The Professor needed to figure out what his current one was.  But to do that, he needed allies. People he could trust.

"Mr. Sebastian, what was all that with the chinaman? I didn't realize that you represented an organization especially one that is apparently enmeshed in politics. Aetheric manipulations AND Rail Baron connections. You are quite the complicated man, Mr. Sebastian."

"A pity." Sebastian says as he shuffles his cards absently. He looked at the door and smiled absently at the Professor's question. "Oh, that? Just clearing up a misunderstanding. Something about some files that were stolen. Apparently there was a murder. Mrs. Weiss was running an errand for me near the depot last night, and must of been mistaken for the robber. I was just explaining things with Mr. Huang. Wonderful gentleman, Huang Li. Very important in the Celestial community here. He's been working tirelessly to see that his people get a fair shake here in Deadwood. Did you know that the current Marshal won't even bother investigating any crimes that occur in Celestial Alley?" He shakes his head and scoffs. "And he calls himself a patriot. Isn't justice for all written into the very founding documents of our nation?"

He walks down the stairs and takes a seat in one of the lounge chairs in the foyer after pouring himself a drink. He laughs when the Professor calls him complicated. "Well, I should certainly hope I am! I do hope I didn't give you the impression that my only means of support was through gambling and fortune telling. Yes, I represent the Societas Erudita Lunae Lacrimandi,  a brotherhood forward thinking men and women seeking to bring light to the darkness. have you heard of us?"

((OOC: Roll Common Knowledge (-2, with an additional -2 from your hindrance), to see if you've heard of these folk before.))

"I'm afraid not. Then again, there are many fraternal orders about. Hardly surprising that I have not heard of yours, Hmm?"

The Professor reconsidered heading out to try and track down the others. Perhaps waiting here for them to return was the most expedient method of finding them.

He took a seat opposite the odd man. "I think I have reconsidered my day's activities. Perhaps a game of cards would serve to pass the time. Oh, and you could illuminate me as to the nature of your society."  The Professor couldn't help but smile at his terrible pun.

17:26, Today: The Professor rolled 4,3 using d8,d6, rerolling max with rolls of 4,3. Common knowledge -4.

I know nothing ;-)

"Indeed." Roger says, shuffling the deck before passing it to The Professor for the first deal. "The Society has been around for over eighty years, but it's largely been confined to the East Coast. We've only started expanding westward for the last dozen years or so. Why, we don't even have an established lodge in Deadwood yet...that's part of why I'm here."

He chuckles politely at the pun. "Providing a guiding light is what the Enlightened do, my good Professor. You see, the Society is a gathering of like-minded individuals who have noticed the growing fields of Spiritualism and New Science, along with the growth of Aetheric theory. Much of what the uninformed might call magic or superstition has kernels of truth within them...things once thought of as 'magic' that are revealed to have sound scientific principles behind them. The Society works to uncover the truth behind the superstitions, and then use the knowledge gained for the betterment of mankind. Putting magic to work for the masses, you might say."

As he dealt the cards for a traditional five card draw poker game, The Professor commented, "A noble endeavor to be certain. Bringing light into the darkness as it were. People are so afraid of things that they do not understand. Although in some cases they have a right to be. The tools are never the problem, but how they are wielded is. That, my friend, is the cause of many of society's ills."

He paused after the cards were dealt.  "We are playing just for sport, yes? I do not wish to risk my money against a professional."

In reply to The Professor (msg # 54):

"Of course. Just a game to pass the time and keep in practice." Mr. Sebastian says. he nods at the Professor's musings. "Indeed. Capital horded is capital squandered and worthless. With a large enough lever, one can move the world, but just as important is the path on which the world is moved. Our Society has made some remarkable progress already. One of our chapters operates a prison in Wyoming, employing radical breakthroughs in the area of psychology to reform the incorrigible into truly productive members of society. In Texas, a lodge of ours has been working to repair the beef industry, and has found a method to inoculate his stock against the ravages of Texas Fever. The Society operates a number of non-profit venues, from orphanages to soup kitchens to workhouses for the poor to find gainful employment."

"Well, it sounds as if your Society is truly making a difference in the world.  You are to be congratulated, Sir."  The Professor picked up his hand and perused it. <blue>

Matthew Broaddale was tired. This house...it was getting to him.

Two nights ago, he'd gotten lost heading to his room, and had wandered into a section of the house that had been ransacked...broken furniture, blood splashed on the walls, and an unnatural chill in the air. He'd gone for help, but by the time he'd gotten Mrs. Fairchild to some with him to investigate, he couldn't find his way back.

The other day, he'd seen what he could swear was a skeleton walking down the hall to the washroom, but when he'd gotten there...nothing.

This morning, his door wouldn't open. No matter how hard he'd pounded, no matter how long he'd screamed, no one came for him. He'd been trapped.

Eventually, Mrs. Fairchild had come to check on him, opening the door without the slightest shred of effort. She scolded him for making noise and "disturbing the other guests," then left him to his own devices.

And then there were the dreams. Every night he'd been here, he'd dreamt of things watching him. A malevolent presence hanging over him, pressing down on his chest, choking him...only he'd wake, and find he'd gotten tangled in his sheets.

So he was tired, and cross, and he'd missed breakfast. He heard voices as he approached the foyer. It sounded like that creepy Mr. Sebastian was talking with someone he didn't know.

Matthew yawned and stuck a hand out to catch the doorframe, swinging himself into the foyer. He stopped and took in the sight before tipping his hat to the...interesting Mr. Sebastian.

"Mr. S, how's your morning? Hope you slept better than I did", he said. Matthew turned his attention to the other gentlemen. Had he seen him before? Maybe in one of the bars? He couldn't remember, but that was no reason not to get to know someone.

"Don't think I've seen you before, sir. Or if I did, I was probably too drunk to remember." Broaddale laughed, deep and resonant, especially for his lean frame. "Are you staying in the house?" he said plainly, conversationally, "Name's Matt Broaddale." He tapped the badge on his belt. "Marshal Matt Broaddale. Don't worry. I don't work while I'm on vacation."

"Good morning, Mr. Broaddale." Mr. Sebastian says, looking over his hand. He's a moderately handsome and well-dressed man in a charcoal suit and stovepipe hat, but there's just something off about him. He's got pale skin, wavy jet-black hair, a trim mustache, and the most remarkable green eyes beneath his dark blue spectacles. There's something wrong with the way his shadow moves, as if it's not quite following along with him. He discards two cards. "Would you care to join us for a friendly hand of poker before your morning constitutional?"

The Professor's hand consists of the King of Spades, the Jack of Spades, the Nine of Spades, the Seven of Clubs, and the Six of Clubs. Two cards away from either a straight or a flush, but no guarantee for either.