Colin:

The night air is chilly and the rain is certainly not helping matters. You walk down the street, struggling to light a cigarette in such wet conditions. At last you manage, but that doesn't shake the feeling you are being watched. It is well past 11:00 by now, and most sensible people are in for the night. Even the more unsavory people that walk the city this time of night have had the sense to go home. Not you though. You've heard too many tales of disappearances of late. Mostly amongst the poor in the cheap side of town. The poor were always the first to go, after all who would miss them? The numbers have increased of late, so much so that even the police have started to take notice. A serious situation indeed if the coppers have taken an interest in the plight of the lower classes. And so you keep walking, in spite of the cold and the rain and the late hour. The last disappearance happened not far from here. If there are any clues, the rain may have washed them away, but then why this feeling of being watched? You stop and look around you and between the rain and the dark you almost miss him. But there he is. A tall dark figure across the street and in an alleyway. It's impossible to see his face clearly, but he is standing perfectly still, staring at you.

Kimi:

You sit in your room still feeling a bit irritated. The headquarters of the New York Chapter of the Men of Letters was surprisingly well furnished considering it was underground. You have a fine soft bed, a beautifully carved dresser and vanity, and even your floor has a plush thick carpet. Westbrook made sure as always you were taken care of. It was a bit frustrating considering you owed him your life and here he was treating you so well on top of it all. It was enough to think you would never have the chance to repay him. You lean back against the pillows, though sleep is the last thing from your mind right now. How dare he invite Ian to the meeting and leave you out of it! Did he trust Ian more? The Scotsman was certainly capable, and a fine man at that, but you were his assistant. You were his bodyguard. How were you supposed to protect him if he didn't let you near him? "I have other needs for you." He'd said matter of factly. But of course he had not elaborated. The man kept secrets for as long as he possibly could. It was enough to drive one to frustration. The hour is late. You should be asleep, but your thoughts and mood have decided otherwise. To your surprise, you hear a soft tap at the door. It is Nicholas, a fairly new recruit to the Men of Letters. A bookish sort of lad, he always seems to be nervous about something, though what you can't imagine. Miss Noriko? He says the name awkwardly. I'm sorry, did I wake you? I-j-just need a minute of your time. He is blushing for some reason.

John Grant:

The streets of New York City are fairly silent this time of night. It's taken you longer to arrive than you had planned and you're a bit irritated at how hard it is to find this place. You are definitely not used to such big cities, and it has been difficult to maneuver with so many streets and shops and people. The rain drips on the letter as you pull it out again. It reads,

You have been selected. The time has come for your skills to be called upon. Signs are upon us. You are needed. Come to W 318 Pennbury Ave on the night of February 2nd at 10:30 p.m. to obtain your orders. Should you choose to decline this invitation that is your right, but the world may be forfeit. Cordially yours, The Men of Letters New York Chapter, Mr. John Westbrook.

You've heard about such organizations, but at this point you still know very little of them. Still, the fact that they tracked you down to send you this letter intrigues you. You find the address at last in the form of an old warehouse that looks to be abandoned. By now you are a good 45 minutes late. The door is locked upon closer inspection, but a figure across the street suddenly steps out of the shadows. It is a woman, dressed simply in a blouse and skirt. Her proud nose and tan skin identify her as an Indian, though her English is flawless as she says You're late. I'm assuming you must be John. She fixes you with a disapproving look. She's pretty, in a hard way. You get the feeling she has a temper though and she does not look to be the demure acquiescing type that society was so keen on turning women into these days. Are you always this unreliable, or is it only when the fate of the world is at stake?

Colin sneered at the man over his cigarette. It was never normal with this hour. Always creepy, always unsettling. He pointed at the man with his middle and index finger, the cigarette clamped between them. His other hand slipped by his side to the knife there. "Oi! We have a problem, boyo?", he said in his suitably heavy accent. The Irishman had never let his native accent slip during his times in the United States. While he wasn't sure the current man was who he was looking for, he was a good candidate.

Kimi pulled her silk robe up around her shoulders and body.  She bowed slightly. "Yes of course.  Please, enter."  She stepped back in small steps to allow the door to open, and let the boy in.  "Please make yourself com-fort-able.  Would you like tea?"

Kimi's (Keemee) long black hair hung freely as she held her robe closed.  She regarded the boy.

In reply to Artemis (msg # 2):

"Ah did mah best." The man replied in a heavy southern drawl as he adjusted his hat. "Ain't used to big cities and all their twisters and turns." He gave the woman a quick once over before his gaze met hers once more. "Yeh gunna let me in an explain what tha Hell's goin on here?"

Colin: The man does not respond, merely stares at you for a long moment, then he turns and backs into the shadows, slowly, never turning his back on you. He disappears around a corner quickly, but you see something drop at the edge of one of the streetlamps. Upon closer inspection your heart starts to pound. It is the remnants of a bloody hand. A woman's it looks like.

Kimi: Um-no t-thank you. He stammers. You get the feeling by the way he looks at you he has something of a spark for you, though he is the nervous type anyway. I just didn't know who else to talk to. If I'm wrong, I don't want to waste Mr. Westbrook's time. He shakes his head, pacing a bit. It's j-just, well, I think I saw someone acting s-strangely. They didn't see me, but they were acting suspicious- No. Nevermind. I'm sure I was just being presumptuous. S-sorry to have bothered you. He starts to leave as quickly as he came, but clearly the boy has some concerns about something, and what with Westbrook on edge about traitors, you can't help but be curious.

John: She looks you back straight in the eyes, her expression almost challenging. This is a woman who appears to have a chip on her shoulder. She actually looks a bit disappointed that you took her criticism so easily. After a moment though she seems to relax a bit and she gives a shrug. Well, I suppose some good should come from me waiting in the rain for an hour for you. She sniffs drily. Follow me. She leads you into the warehouse, which she unlocks, and after showing you down a secret hatch she leads you down a ladder into some remarkably well constructed tunnels. They have electric lighting and cobblestone floors. As she walks she talks, though you get the feeling if she had her way she'd be silent. Have you heard of Baal? Long story short, there is a secret cult that worships him and they are trying to literally put hell on earth. You, and some others like you, have been chosen to investigate and hopefully stop him. Sorry if this seems blunt or rushed, but you would have had the much grander presentation if you had been on time. She gives you a critical scowl.

"Mr Neekolus." She moved quickly. "I am hearing your concerns. Please speak." She did not touch him, but indicated a chair nearby. "We know that Mr Brook would not want things to be missed. It is our purpose to know these things, and face them." She looked concerned as she sat across from him, on her bed.

Colin grimaced at the hand as he moved closer. His voice was sad as he muttered to himself,"Looks like we do, boyo. Looks like we do." His butterfly knife came out in a twirling, practiced motion. He bent down, looking at the hand closely. If he was going to find out about this guy, he was going to need to study everything about the hand that might be relevant. He glanced around and made sure a street cop wasn't going to pick this time to come around the corner. Finding an Irishman with a hand of a woman wouldn't look too innocent.

In reply to Artemis (msg # 6):

John followed behind the Indian woman stooping when necessary to avoid bumping his head. "Ken't say Ah've heard tha name before. But it doesn't sound like somethin I want happenin. Though ah gotta ask, why me? What makes me so special?"

Kimi:

The young man does as you ask, sitting on the chair but looking mighty nervous. Well....I know I'm fairly new here so I don't want to falsely accuse someone if I'm wrong....but I was in the storage room sorting things like I was instructed. I was all alone for awhile, and as I was behind a big stack of crates, I was obscured from view. I heard someone come in, talking to someone else about getting a few things for a ritual. Something in me told me to keep quiet, so I hid and listened. It was a man talking to another person, though the other person was too quiet to make much out. They were keeping a lookout for him though and he took a few things and bolted. I did hear him say something about "this should be enough to get everything ready for the hand." The hand. That's what he said. I have no idea what it means but the way he acted sounded suspicious. I managed to take a peak before they left because his voice was so familiar. Miss Noriko....it was Ian Shaw. He finishes gravely. The hand. No doubt it was in reference to the hand of Baal, the cult that had Westbrook in such a worry. You knew there were traitors amongst you but Ian? You doubted that Westbrook trusted anyone more than Ian, except perhaps Victoria of course. The news comes as a blow.


Colin:

The hand looks like it's been gnawed on by some kind of creature, which automatically makes you think the figure you saw might not be human. No big surprise there. Her hand looks dirty, though if it were that way when she died or if it happened postmortem you're not sure. You do see calluses though on her fingers and palms. A working woman, lower class no doubt. You also notice a trail of blood leading down the ally way the figure darted down. Whether it is his or hers you're not sure.

John:

She turns and looks at you with calculating eyes as if trying to determine the answer herself. She gives a shrug at last. I have to wonder that myself. You certainly don't look like much. She says bluntly. But there was a hunter who vouched for you. Said he helped you get into the life. My employer, Mr. Westbrook must have taken him at his word. You see, we have traitors amongst us. Not sure who we can trust right now. Westbrook feels safer having outside help. Not everyone knows about all of this, so keep a low profile if you think you can manage it. She finishes drily.

Colin shook his head and rose from inspecting the hand. No sense in taking it with him. He would have liked the girl to be reunited, but that was unlikely. He twirled the knife again before heading off towards the mystery man. This shitehead was not going to get away with butchering working girls. They had enough problems. He almost snarled as he thought about the monster, whatever it was, chewing on the hand. He then had a thought that disturbed him. He had many encounters with the unclean horrors that stalked humanity. Which one of those cut off body parts and ate them? He wracked his brain trying to think of one while following the blood trail.

Kimi nods. "It is good you have said something.  I will approach the Mr. and speak with him on this matter." She stood, and moved to the door. "Please worry yourself no more."

Colin:

You quickly go through the usual suspects. The moon makes it unlikely to be a werewolf. Obviously not a vampire, or rather the traditional variety anyway, and it didn't appear to be any kind of demonic slaying as they were not likely to chew on people's limbs. You had a few ideas, but certain tests had to be done before it could be determined. You also had to find more of the victim's body in order to completely place it. In the meantime, you had a trail to follow. You do well at first, but the rain seems to wash away the blood after a while. The rain has picked up by now, and you are getting soaked. You are surprised to see a transient out in such weather. He is seated, leaning against one of the buildings across the street, seemingly asleep. Perhaps he saw something earlier since this appears to be the thing's hunting grounds.

Kimi: Nicholas gives you a relieved nod and stands up quickly. But please don't mention my name! I'd hate to be wrong and have Mr. Shaw angry at me for accusing him. Still, under the circumstances, I can't think that he would be doing something good if he were hiding it like that.... He shakes his head before bidding you goodnight and leaving. Many thoughts race through your mind. Ian? Really? It would explain how the hand was always one step ahead of the Men of letters, but could Westbrook's trust be so poorly placed? It was definitely worth investigating.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 19:01, Mon 28 Oct 2013.