*hack hack*

Jack spit the gob of mucus in the bedpan creating a dull thunk.

"I've never seen anything quite like this," said the veterinarian as he peered through his magnifying glass. He was examining the small pustules that had slowly began to spread across Jack's left forearm below the rolled up sleeve of his coat. The vet dabbed at one of them with a cotton bud causing Jack to flinch slightly. The vet pulled it away, a thin strand of mucus stuck to it. He placed it in a petri dish before placing a glass lid over it. "What is it that you do Mr. Flanigan?"

Jack pulled the collar of his coat tighter and cleared his throat. "Factory work," he said flatly without elaborating. Jack was beginning to regret handing over the stone to the father. Since then he had been plagued by dreams of a horrible leech-like... thing... with six long tendrils extruding from it's body, It skin jet black as if the antithesis of light. He could feel it trying to draw something from him, some essential part of his being. Each morning he woke up nauseated, heaving until there was not even bile left. And then there were the...

"I supposed it could be mercury poisoning, But this isn't really my specialty. A dog with mange, a cat with worms, that I can do. You should really see a doctor." Jack barely listens as the vet drones on.

It has all started on ship. It started at the first dinner as they passed around the dry rations. Taking a bite of the hard dry biscuit Jack nearly choked. It was like attempting to swallow a mouthful of mud. Sputtering and hacking Jack desperately tried to scrap the taste off his tongue.

"Aye, you'll have to be getting use to 'em laddie. The only thing else we got is this," said the ship's Bosun as he ladled a thick gray stew into a bowl and pushed it into Jack's hands causing it to spill onto his gloves. As soon as the putrid smell of the salted herring reached his nose Jack felt his mouth begin to water. He had never experienced such a delicious odor. Throwing aside his wooden spoon Jack dripped his fingers into the bowl and began to...

"I can give a call down to a friend at the local hospital," said the vet again interrupting Jack's thoughts. Thumbing through a small pocket book the vet absentmindedly reached for the phone on his desk.

"NO!!!" shouted Jack grabbing the veterinarian's wrist

A pained shriek fills the night as the vet jerked back from Jack's touch, clutching his wrist. Between the man's fingers Jack could see burned and singed skin. Turning his hand over Jack found more weeping pustules.

Jack barely felt the impact of the door as he burst into the night.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 1):

Mike
Not daring to push the limits of the battered truck, the drive to Newburyport takes a bit longer than expected. As rain splatters the window Mike keeps finding his eyes drawn away from the road towards the muddy puddles that dot the sides of the road. Each bump in the road seems to reverberate through his bones...

"Thud... thud.... thud... thud..."

While on the surface he had agreed they needed to take the stone to Europe, on the inside Mike is irrationally terrified. Swallowing deeply Mike pushes the feeling down and concentrates on the road. I'm going back...

The rain just begins to clear as Mike pulls into the port. Following the father's directions Mike parks in front of a mid-sized vessel with the name John Harvey painted on the side. Taking a deep breath Mike turns off the engine...

The sounds of waves and the cries of gulls fills Jack's ears. His head begins to spin. He can feel the course fabric of his uniform, the heavy weight of the gun slung across his back. The world begins to fade away to nothing but a dull thud

A strong grip on his shoulder brings Mike back. "We need you in the here and now my son," says the father as his grasps Mike's shoulder through the driver's side window.

Clarke
They had been whispering amongst themselves for almost the whole trip but Clarke dares not speak to them with the others around. Although he knew the truck was far too small, out of the corner of his eye he could see Lara and Zoe sitting between himself and Byron in the backseat in huddled conversation.

"You know what that was!*

"Yes but surely you can think that..."

"I do and if you don't you're a fool. This could mean that..."

Feeling Clarke's attention upon them the two fragments of his psyche sudden cease their discussion and fade away, the space between himself and Byron magically shrinking.

It didn't take a detective to figure out the topic of their conversation. The girl. Even in life Clarke had never seen Lara so shaken.... so terrified. What could possibly terrify something that wasn't there? But he could feel it too, a dark corner of his mind that wasn't there before, like the shadow you see out of the corner of your eye but never quite catch.

After Mike pulls the truck to a halt in front of a ship named the John Harvey, Clarke climbs out of the cab with the creaks and cracks of age. Without asking who should take responsibility for their otherworldly burden he lifts the lead box from the bed of the truck, its weight oddly comforting like holding a newborn to your chest. Looking out over the empty coastline of the port Clarke feels at ease. In his head Clarke can hear a soft girlish voice...

Home

Byron
Gently swaying with the turns of the truck as Mike deftly navigates the road, Byron could feel himself nodding off. His time researching was beginning to take its toll as he drifts off to sleep...

The bright light of the sun burns your eyes as you lift your hands to shade your eyes. You barely notice the weight of the manacles nor the weight of the chains. This is your first day outside of your cell since Pope Clement VIII declared you a heretic and sentences you to death. "Maiori forsan cum timore sententiam in me fertis quam ego accipiam (Perchance you who pronounce my sentence are in greater fear than I who receive it)" had been the words that seemed to rip themselves from your throat at the pronouncement. You had spent all of your time in the darkness of your cell since then.

Only by scratching numerals in the wall of your cell has you been able to keep track of the time so you knew it was Ash Wednesday. Campo de' Fiori was filled with onlookers as they led you towards the pyre, many of them shouting but thankfully none of them throwing rotten food or garbage.

Before the pyre you feel a sharp kick to the back of your legs and you fall to your knees. Your vision still swimming in the daylight, a blurred shape steps before you. You feel your mouth forced open and a wooden device forced inside before it is slowly ratcheted down until it painfully pins your tongue.

"May your tongue be imprisoned for thy wicked words," says a voice from behind you. A blow to the head knocks you prone and you feel your legs lifted into the air before being tightly bound together. The cobblestones dig into your back as you are slowly drug across the ground before being hoisted into the air.

"For the crimes of heresy and corruption we hereby sentence the accused..."

The sound of blood rushing into your ears drowns out the rest of the words. You close your eyes and listen to increasing roar of your pulse. The moment seems to stretch on for an eternity.

Whoosh

You feel a sudden and intense heat against your face. You begin to pray.

<i>Almighty and merciful God, who hast bestowed upon mankind saving remedies and the gift of everlasting life, look graciously upon us Thy servants and comfort the souls which</i>

Screech

Byron lurches forward as the truck comes to a stop. The sounds of doors opening and closing fill the air as Byron scrambles to gather his thoughts
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:24, Sun 11 Aug 2019.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 2):

Clarke hefted his bag on his shoulder and took a long look at the ship. It was not much, as far these things went, but it seemed sturdy and he hoped the crew were compatible. It would be a long trip otherwise.

This was the second time he had headed to Europe, but things had changed. In the first instance, he had sought to toil in the honour of a gentle god and wished to bring peace to those in trying times. Now he sought to cast the almighty from its heavens and splash the universe with its blood.

"Oh wretched man that I am," he mumbled to himself.

He tapped the truck's window to get Mike's attention. The priest had just finished saying something to him. "Do you want say a prayer before we go? Or are we still all anti-god?"

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 3):

Mike nodded to the priest and smiled as he said, "Thanks, Padre."

Then a gentle rapping at the window turned his attention to Clarke. "Do you want say a prayer before we go? Or are we still all anti-god?" his friend asked.

Mike opened the door of the truck with a loud creak in the morning dew. He stretched his arms up over his head, still sore but no worse for wear he supposed.

"Well, I'm not sure if I'm the prayin' type yet," He began, "But after everything I think we could use all the protection we can get."

He leaned forward and waved to Byron who looked like he had just awoken from a sleep, his eyes bleary and disoriented still. "Join us for some prayer before we push off?"
This message was last edited by the player at 20:45, Sun 11 Aug 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 4):

He could smell the sea air, and feel the gentle breeze from the ocean slide across his face. It had been a long time since he had visited a port town, but he couldn't remember why. Some delusion of safety the further he lived in land, he guessed.

"I promise to keep this crisp," he said to the slowly assembling group.

He selected an old one. One that had ritual and tradition. Whether it worked or not was immaterial. They were fighting something ancient, something that had crawled inside the Earth long before man had transversed the seas. They were fighting history, and to do that he wished to call upon language that had etched itself into the fibre of the dirt upon which they trod.

"Angel of God," he started, his head bowed and hands clasped together. "our guardian dear, to whom God's love commits us here, ever this journey, be at our side, to light and guard, rule and guide."

Lara let out a slow clap. "That'll bring the heavenly hosts running."

He opened his eyes and turned to the priest, "Would you care to run us through what we can expect from this moment forwards? It appears you have more intimate knowledge of these stones than you have let on."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:08, Mon 12 Aug 2019.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 5):

The father tugs at his white collar though it seems to provide little relief. "I doubt a full history would be useful at this point but I suppose I can paint the picture in broad strokes." He takes a slight pause. "The Church has been engaged in a long struggle with various cults and other forces that are inimical to all that is good and holy. I myself, with the blessing of the Lord, have been walking this path for years. I recently received information from a colleague of mine that leads me to believe that the only way to destroy the stone is to return it to where it came from." He seems to struggle for words for a moment. "It's like a puzzle missing a piece. As long as it's missing someone will be looking for it. Dr. Jones has informed me that he may have found the answer we are looking for. Unfortunately he is an ocean away. So I called in some favors and got us passage on this ship to England. Mind you we will have to disembark before its final destination."

As the father talks you notice various crates being loaded onto the stern of the ship. Apparently the John Harvey transports passengers and cargo.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 6):

Mike listened to Hennessy's explanation with his arms crossed. He could smell the salt water of the ocean and hear it lapping against the docks gently.

"So do we know that the stone is from Scotland or was it brought there from somewhere else?" He asked when the father was finished. He didn't much like the idea of having to travel even further abroad. He already had his fill of Europe and world travel as it was.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 7):

"To be honest my son, communications across the ocean are slow for obvious reasons. The situation in Scotland may have very well changed since I last spoke to Dr. Jones. He and his team are surveying a site that has a long history of cult activity. In his last letter he said that a few of the locals had gone missing and in the search for them he and his team found what the doctor believes to be a 'marker' stone. In his description of the stone he said that it was jet black and carved with strange symbols that he could not read. Hiram has always been a cautions type so he sent to me for advice. Too much of this seems to be coincidental that it my just be the hand of God guiding us."

The father pauses for a moment to reach into his jacket pocket, pulling out a page that seems to have been torn out of a book. "And there is this," he says as he hands it to you. It reads:

“One tale related to me by an old Scott spoke of a wild group of pagans who would offer their victims a choice 'betwixt the stones or the bog.' If the stone was chosen, the victims would be cast beyond our world, perhaps into a darker region of the Fey lands mentioned in some tales. If the victim chose the latter, they would be taken to a gruesome bog."

"The Scott told me that the victim’s very flesh would be inscribed with ancient marks of power. As a final act, the pagans would slice out the victim’s tongue so “that his cries and shouts might not offend the Taker of Sacrifices. Once the process was complete, the victim would be cast into the bog while the cultists went about their gestures in total silence. If all was well, the story goes, the Taker of Sacrifices would come from the slime and mud to take the victim. The Taker was reputed to be truly horrible and reeks of rot and death. Perhaps the most terrible part of the story is that the victims were sometimes seen again, walking at night. They were described as being pale white, with marks on their bodies. They were said to attempt to speak at times, but could only croak horribly since they had no tongues. People in the area still avoid the bog. In addition to its evil reputation, the footing is treacherous and over the years people have drowned in its dark and thick waters."

This message was last edited by the GM at 09:05, Tue 13 Aug 2019.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 8):

Clarke adjusted his glasses. To the precipice of darkness they went. This was their fate. Perhaps even beyond this realm and into the vast unknown upon which they would be rendered and desecrated by powers so dark God would forsake them.

"Do you wish to use the portal to place the stone on the other side?"

Clarke paused, and then asked the question he did not want an answer to, "What if it is not the hand of God? But the hand of the beast reaching out and demanding its soul be returned? We may be the harbingers of doom."

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 9):

"You have correctly guessed my intentions. Even if that should fail at least we can learn what we are dealing with." From the same pocket the father produces a worn rosary which he seems to absentmindedly rub between his fingers.

"I understand how you feel more than you know my son," he says addressing Clarke without looking at him. "Sometimes it may seem as if the hand of God and the hand of the Beast may be one in the same." Despite the grimness of his tone a smile spreads across his face. "It is at these time we need to cling to our faith the most."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 12:41, Tue 13 Aug 2019.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 10):

Clarke let out a sigh. The morning, which was like most others, appeared a shade darker than before. Faith. They had to have faith. In what? That their lives had meaning? That there was some plan they were born for?

If this thing was as monstrous as the tales claimed, what hope did three worn out soldiers have? The myth of Americanness endowing its citizens with some intrinsic superioirty had died the first day in the wretched carnage that had been Europe. He had nothing left to draw from. No fortitude to believe in victory. They were going to die.

"So we go," he said, talking to Lara, Zoe and his passion-spawn. The cawing of seagulls above him filled his ears. "To pay for all of our evils, and pray our folly does not spring forth anymore."

He turned to Mike. "My life ended when I was forced to take the life of my love. It has been an existence buried in shadow ever since, never full, always half. I have nothing left bar the seas and the void we head towards. You, however, have Shelly and a heart full of dreams. You would be no lesser of a man if you turned back and lived your life to its end. The priest and I will finish what Jack flummoxed, damning us in his wake."

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 11):

Mike was touched by Clarke's frank admission and concern for his well being. And though the thought of seeing his friends off at the port and getting back into his old truck to head back to he and Shelly's cozy little home tugged at his senses, he knew that the cards were dealt and that he would never forgive himself if he abandoned his friends now.

He nodded solemnly, "Thank you, Clarke, for the kindness. But we all started this nightmare together." He pulled down his jacket to straighten it stiffly, more to do something with his shaking hands than anything (though the fidgeting had subsided somewhat he noticed), "So we shall face it together."

He pulled out a cigarette after dusting off the front of his jacket and lit it. "So, once more into the hellish mud, comrades?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 12):

Clarke yanked his duffel bag closer. "And so we shall return to dirt, from whence we came. Thus it was written, thus it became."

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 13):

Leaving behind the battered truck the party walks up a rickety gangway that sways under your weight. At the top you are met by a burly bald headed man holding a sheaf of paper which he briefly glances down at before letting out a sigh.

"Name?" he says laboriously.

Behind him you can see a hectic bustle as crewmen are moving about the deck, some hauling cargo while others check various fastenings and rigging.

"Get him out of here!" you hear a voice shout from somewhere on the ship followed by a loud splash. "If you ain't on the list then you don't get passage." This is followed by raucous laughter.

"NAME!" says the man again, this time with a hint of exasperation. A small line has begun to form behind you.

The father pushes his way to the front. "Umm... I have special arrangements with the captain. If perhaps I could speak with him..." He is cut off by a loud shout from the man.

"Next!"

The father looks as you bemused.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 11):

"Good sir, my name is Clarke Walsh," Clarke started. "and bellowing out a word does not change the fact we are not going anywhere. The priest wishes to see the captain regarding business that is far too important for both me or you to try and thwart it. We need passage on this ship, and unless there has been an error of sizeable proportions, we were promised it. Now, will you let us see the man in charge or will you continue screaming a single word and hoping it means something to four tired souls only wishing to see their agreements fulfilled?"

Roll to persuade to see the Captain: 36 - pass

Clarke waited while noticing a slight shift in the man's demeanour. Perhaps fortune was about to break his way at long last.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 15):

A tense moment passes as the guard looks over you before he raises a whistle to his lips and gives a sharp blow. All the activity on the ship seems to stop as everything hushes to a murmur. Pushing through the crowd of people, the captain of the ship emerges. Tall and prim with a freshly pressed uniform, the captain appears to be a man well into his years. A number of navy medals hang from his chest.

"What's going on here?" he nearly shouts, his voice blasting across the deck of the ship. Before the guard can speak the father steps forward.

"Captain Smith, I believe you received my message. I am one who seeks the path."

The captain starts in shock. For a moment he seems lost for words. "Uh... Well... Let them on the ship you git!" he yells at the guard who sheepishly steps aside. In what can barely be described as a brisk walk the captain leads you to a set of quarters near the stern of the ship. Ushering the party inside he latches the door behind you. In a flurry of action he pulls the father behind him and pulls a pistol from his waistband pointing it towards you.

"Who the fuck are you?" he growls as the barrel of the pistol floats between each of you.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 16):

Clarke tensed. He had imagined the secret order would be edgy, but this was beyond what he had thought.

"I am Clarke Walsh," he said carefully. "Until a few days ago, I was a trader in rare and fine antiquities. However, our comrade in arms sent us a note and demanded we try to save him. I cannot stress enough that after this point my life has become much more exciting. I have seen demons, been attacked by radicals and set upon by visions that transcend my simple humanity. Your threat of the pistol, although theatrical, is honestly pointless at this moment. A quick, sharp end would be of great relief to me. Although, perhaps not to this group."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 16):

Mike put his hands up, "I'm Mike Hudson. My friend Clarke tells the truth of it. We've got important business to attend to in Europe. I suggest you put the piece away and we can settle this like honest folk. Though it'd probably be best if you honored your original agreement."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:40, Wed 14 Aug 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 18):

The father puts his hand on the captain's wrist and gently lowers the gun. "All is well my son. They are with me." The captain looks at the party once more though with considerable less suspicion before holstering his firearm.

"It has been years since anyone has contacted me," says the captain. "I had assumed you all had... I don't know... Gone to one of those 'mystical realms' you claim exist."

"These are dire times Captain," says the father. "Were you able to prepare everything as I requested?" The captain begins to rub the back of his neck sheepishly.

"About that Father, I wasn't able to secure you private quarters on such short notice. There are a few big wigs aboard that are making their way back to Europe so I'm afraid you'll have to bunk up with a few others. But I was able to get the items you requested," says the captain. Walking over to a large metal cabinet, he opens the door and removes a large canvas bag which he sets down on a nearby table with a heavy thud.

"Terrific,"says the father. He picks but the bag and slings it over his shoulder with a slight grunt. "My the lord bless you for your aid. I am afraid I do have one more request. I would prefer as few people know about our presence here as possible. If you hear of anyone asking around about us please let me know."

The captain's eyebrows raise slightly. "That might be a slight problem. You know sailors are a superstitious lot. A priest aboard is going to be seen as a good omen before setting sail. I'm sure many of the men will ask for your blessing or to lead them in prayer."

"I understand Captain," says the father. "I will do my best to accommodate them."

The captain raps his knuckle on the table. "Then that's that then. I'll have the first officer show you to your quarters." The captain strides past you and opens the door to the cabin shouting Murdock. The words barely leave his lips before the man appears as if from thin air. Standing straight as an arrow the much younger man has finely coiffed hair and a thick mustache. "Please show these men to their quarters," says the captain which is acknowledged by a firm Aye Aye Captain from the first officer.

The first officer leads you out of the small cabin and across the main deck to where the ship's accommodations are housed. Walking through, you spot a number of cabins, a recreation room, a galley, a salon, and a few other rooms you can't quite place. While the majority of people you pass seem to be sailors, you also pass a number of other people who seem to be fellow passengers, some of them women and children. There is a general air of excitement all about.

Before long you find yourselves in front of cabin number 13. With a curt bow Murdock departs as you push your way into the room. Well appointed but not quite luxurious, the cabin is mostly dominated by 6 bunks, one of which is occupied by a heavyset man whose snoring fills the room. In his limp hand is an empty bottle of whiskey while open on a small table is a tincture of reddish-brown color.

Setting the heavy bag down with a sigh the father looks around the room. "Looks like we will be calling this place home for awhile," he says. He busies himself with emptying the bag. The sounds of the sea mix with the murmur of your fellow passengers. "The ship shall set sail soon, be sure that you are ready," says the father as he sets a large cross and a set of rosary beads on top of his bunk.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 19):

Mike tossed his small suitcase on his bunk and took stock of the room. He looked at the large man passed out drunk and snorted with a slight smile. "Good company," he mused. He just hoped the man didn't piss himself and stink up the room.

"Well guys, it looks like we have some time. We should lay low and keep to ourselves as best we can for the trip." He opened his suitcase and pulled out a deck of cards, "Shall we?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 20):

Clarke sat down at the makeshift table, glaring at the drunken man as he did so. How did they not know he would turn into a swarm of bats in a minute?

"Then let us pass the time playing the devil's game. I believe I have quite a few sermons stashed away on how this destroys men's moral fibre, if you would like to hear one."

He patted the stool next to them, encouraging Byron to join him in wasting his last few pennies on a predictable loss.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 21):

The ship's foghorn announces the beginning of your voyage which quickly turn monotonous. Your first day aboard the ship passes with relative quiet. You play cards to pass the time and eat your meals in the galley. True to the captain's words, during dinner a few of the sailors ask the father to bless their meals.

That same night you finally learn the identity of your inebriated bunkmate, Ernest Rourke. Rarely in a state of sobriety, he claims to be on his way to visit family. And judging by the amount of liquor his is consuming you wonder which with run out first, the money in his wallet or the liquor in the saloon.

The first few days of the trip are uneventful but soon you begin to notice a change aboard the ship. The crew, at first affable and friendly, have become withdrawn and tense with more and more asking for the father's attention. It's the fifth day that you get the first sign that something is wrong. As the day progresses you watch as a small group of sailors, lead by first officer Murdock begin tossing each cabin, one after another. As the sailors approach cabin 13 the party and the father are asked to step outside while Ernest is forcibly roused from his stupor and dragged out of the room. Murdock posts himself in the doorway to the cabin imposing himself between the party and the room, partially obscuring your vision. Over his shoulder you can see the sailors lifting mattresses and searching cabinets. It is obvious they are looking for something and the father seems worried.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 22):

Of course they're tossing the rooms.

Mike stood with his hands on his hips and his mouth open in surprise. "Now Murdock, what's the meaning of this?" he demanded while his hands went for his cigarettes in his pocket.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 23):

First Officer Murdock's mustache bristles at being questions. "There is noting to worry about passenger, just a normal routine check for any contraband. No need to worry."

After a few long minutes one of the sailor emerges from the room and whispers something into the first officers's ear. Murdock looks back at the party, his eyes colored with distrust. "You"ll have to come with me. Captain Smith will have a few questions for you." The small group of sailors surrounds the party. While not quite threatening, they exude an air of no nonsense. However, they remain overly deferential to the father apologizing for the inconveniences and talking to him appreciatively.

You are once again lead back across the main deck of the ship but instead of entering the officers cabins like last time you are lead to the bridge of the ship which is empty. Before entering Murdock waves away the rest of the crew before at the last second grabbing one by the shoulder. "Go find the captain. I believe he is investigating Crewman Holloway's quarters." Sliding the door to the bridge shut he stands in front of it blocking any chance of getting out of the room. "I apologize but it seems you will have to wait for a few moments for the captain to arrive."

The bridge is filled with the clicks and whirls of machinery and you notice the wheel of the ship has been tied off, ensuring that it doesn't veer off its current course while unmanned.

Mike took a drag off his Lucky Strike cigarette. "I assure you," he said as he exhaled, "Our party has not brought any contraband on to your vessel."

He looked at the others, raising his eyebrows looking for confirmation.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 25):

Clarke took his glasses off and started to clean them. "This seems a mightily strange place to have a discussion of this nature. Would you care to elaborate on what type of contraband you are looking for? As my compatriot has advised, we have no known contraband. However, perhaps your religion or belief has put something in the taboo, which we are not fully aware of."

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 26):

"I'm not a liberty to say. The captain will be here in a few..." The First Officer is cut off abruptly as the captain slides open the door and enters the bridge.

"Dismissed," says Captain Smith without actually looking at his first officer.

"But sir?" responds Murdock.

"I said dismissed," barks the captain and for the first time you see true emotion on Murdock's face as a rosy blush fills his cheeks.

"Sir," he says before turning on heel and exiting the bridge.

The captain sighs heavily, finally taking in the party. With a soft snap he unbuckles his pistol from its holster and places in near the wheel of the ship, slightly out of reach.

"A sign of good faith he says," gesturing offhandedly. " I think its time you tell me why you are on my ship..."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 27):

Mike remembered that the Captain and the Padre had a history, and he got the impression that Hennessy trusted Smith well enough. He seemed to be willing to meet them reasonably, so after a moment's hesitation he made a decision.

"Well, as the Padre and I have told you. We have important business to attend to in Scotland. It is fallen on us to get there and find a way to banish some sort of stone from our world somehow." He realized suddenly how ridiculous he sounded. He shrugged and stubbed out his cigarette, "I guess that's the short of it."

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 28):

Clarke opened his mouth to add something, but then realised there was no point to it. Rather, he nodded fervently in agreement and let the silence between them birth what it may.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 29):

"A stone?" says the captain thoughtfully. "That might explain things. Let me show you something," he says as he gestures to the navigation console which is covered by a thick cloth. Pulling it aside, the captain reveals the ship's compass which is spinning wildly, seeming to start and stop at random.

"It started shortly after we set sail," says the captain quietly. "At first it was just veering off course but now its completely useless. We can still manually navigate but it has slowed are progress greatly. I hadn't used a sextant since the academy."

Silence fills the cabin as you watch one of the ship's most important pieces of equipment malfunction.

"And that's not all." The captain throws the cloth over the compass, breaking its hypnotizing hold on the party. "One of my ensigns has gone missing. And if that isn't bad enough, we can't find a number of passengers listed on the manifest. I don't know if they are missing or behind all of this. I've been honest with the crew but I've sworn them to secrecy so as not to panic the passengers."

"Now I'll ask again: what kind of trouble did you bring on my ship?"

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 30):

Mike scratched his beard as he considered the implications. Though the stone had the power to possess the dead, he was unaware if it would have an effect on the ship's compass. Moreover, he couldn't see how the disappearing ensign or the passengers had anything to do with the stone either. If it was the cult, he imagined that they would want to maintain a low profile. However, that didn't mean there wasn't cause for alarm, since if there was someone committing foul play on board, then they all could be in danger. The implications of someone with evil in their heart getting their hands on the stone was not something he cared to ponder for any length necessary.

Who can we trust?

"To be honest Captain," he began, "we brought an old relic that might have some effect on the compass that we were previously unaware of." He stopped as he gathered his train of thought, "But I doubt it has anything to do with the missing ensign or passengers. However, this is all a concern to everyone on board, including us. Perhaps we can help each other in these matters."

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 31):

The captain exhales, seeming to deflate slightly. "I was hoping you would have some answers. I can't tell if these two events are related or coincidence. We've had people just ship before but never this far out. A swim this far is surely a death sentence. I fear having the crew interrogate the passengers as its sure to only cause suspicion. Perhaps you could ask around and see if any of the passengers have spotted anything unusual or anyone acting strangely. We just can't let the passengers know we are sailing blind."

The captain picks his gun up off the table and holsters it. "I can't offer you the help of my men. They are on edge as is. I've had to issue extra liquor rations to keep them calm." Walking to the door of the cabin he slides it open. Before stepping out he pauses for a moment. "I don't know what you brought on my ship but it's your responsibility." He steps out onto the deck and moves to close the door behind him.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:25, Mon 19 Aug 2019.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 32):

As the Captain was closing the door to the bridge Mike held up his hand to stop him, "One request Captain," he sayid, "Would it be possible to see the ensign's quarters and belongings?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 33):

The captain pauses at the request. "I suppose it won't cause any harm. The ensign's quarters are below deck, last cabin at the bow of the ship. Just try not to... disturb things. I doubt that will go over well with the crew."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 34):

As the door closed, Clarke turned to Mike and said, "We have to assume this cult is much better connected than we had first thought. Leaving America did not, regrettably, leave them behind."

He patted his jacket. "Padre," he said to the priest, "you are the expert in these ruffians. What telltale signs should we be looking for to know whether the ensign was a victim or a perpetrator?"

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 35):

"Thank you, Captain," Mike said before Smith took his leave.

He turned to Clarke, "I think you're right. But it doesn't make sense for them to draw attention to themselves here. You'd think that they would want to keep a low profile so they wouldn't rouse the crew's, let alone ours, suspicions."

He leaned against a table and sighed while waiting for Hennessy to answer Clarke's question.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 36):

"The order is never careless, but they are arrogant," says the father. "If they are behind all of this they are bound to have left a calling card to claim their deeds. If we can find that, we will have the proof we need." The father pauses for a moment and he seems to say a silent prayer.

"My bigger concern is the other passengers. If the Order is truly here they have no protection." Worry creases the father's brow. "In such close quarters they will provide the perfect fuel for the evils of the Order. I fear the missing ensign may only be the first."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 37):

Mike stood up and straightened his jacket, "Well, we should find out what we can. Shall we investigate the ensign's quarters?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 38):

Clarke was grateful to have the priest with them, the more the better in these troubling times. However, he wished the padre could be less vague. A calling card? A sign? A symbol? A burned corpse with horns burning? Any of these would have helped.

"You used to love a good mystery," Lara said, tapping her foot. "Stupid fool that you were."

He shot her a look. They both knew times had changed.

"This seems to be the best course of action," Clarke agreed. "Let us make sure we watch out for more inquisitive eyes as well. It is likely they wish to see the audience's response as best as they can."

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 39):

The ensign quarters aren't far and as you climb below deck the whipping wind of the ocean disappears. While many of the crew look up suspiciously as you walk by, no one confronts you. It seems the captain put out the word that you were given free access to the quarters.

While many of the door remain shut, one is wide open though pylons have been placed in front of it, an effort that would only deter the honor bound. The room of ensign, the lower of the enlisted officers, its a single occupancy cabin. Most of the belongings seem to be in place. At first glance it simply seems to be a room that has seen little use.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 40):

Clarke looked around the cabin for anything unusual or out of place that indicated foul play.

Roll for spot hidden: 26 - Fail

If the ensign had been murdered or abducted by a lower sea life that dined upon human flesh, Clarke could not see it. However, just to make sure, he ran his hands around the room and searched for any occult markings or indentations that indicated uses of rune magic. The cultists seemed to be operating on blood and materials connected to living things such as trees or plants. Usually no one was careful enough to remove all traces.

Roll for occult: 76 - Fail

Once again, he came up empty. Whether this was because there was nothing, or he had grown too long in the tooth to notice trace elements was anyone's guess.

"You notice anything?" he asked Mike and Byron. He hoped that with them being on the younger side they might spot a detail he had overlooked. If possible, he would prefer not to search the bags. Upsetting the captain and crew by examining every detail had never been a good way to stay alive.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 40):

Mike made a survey of the room, walking in to the ensign's quarters slowly with his hands behind his back and his eyes casting about, looking at the wall, the bed, the footlocker, and cabinet. That's when he notices the floor.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 21 using 1d100.  Spot hidden. Pass

He walked over to the large wooden cabinet and leaned over, his face cast in shadow in the light. "This cabinet has been moved recently," He said as he pointed to the floor to show his friends the trail left from the cabinet being pushed to it's current location.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 3 using 1d100.  strength check. Pass

He leaned down and grips the cabinet from the side and underneath, and with a grunt he lifted the corner easily and moveed it away to reveal a mess of blood and gore. He almost gagged at the sight and smell of it. He dropped the cabinet and stood abruptly, bringing his hand to his mouth and nose to cover the stench. Darkness began to enclose around his vision, and he realizeed that he had stood up too quickly. He leaned against the cabinet to steady himself. After the darkness receded from his eyes, he swallowed a throatful of bile before leaning back down to inspect the gory mess.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 6 using 1d100.  fird aid check. Pass

Though it was hard to make out in the light, he could clearly see an eyeball. But what was strange was the blood that pooled around it. He had seen blood before, but this was different. As if there was some sort of oil in it. But instead of a reflective greasy appearance, it appeared to have small red bulbs. That's when he recognized the smell from the time Shelly had accidentally broke a thermometer from their truck's first aid kit.

"There's mercury everywhere," Mike told the party. He stood and his hands shakily reached for his cigarettes in his pocket. "What do you guys make of this?"

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 41):

Clarke took in the bloody scene and struggled to believe he had missed all of it. Age was not a kind mistress, no matter what those sitting on porch swings might say.

A murder most foul had been committed, that part was certain. Of course. The purpose of the desecration of flesh was the true mystery though and one he wished to discover. Thinking of the mercury, the eyeball, the way it had been hidden, he tried to recollect occult rituals that would've led to such an event.

Roll to remember occult rituals and effects of occult rituals on human experimentation: 4 - pass

An image of a page flashed into focus. It outlined the critical aspects of an event like this - including the why it might have been done.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 43):

While he can't be sure of the exact ritual that had been performed in this room, Clarke had a fair idea of its purpose. Judging by the fact that the blood stains were able to be covered by a cabinet and there were no signs of the victim being dragged from the room, no blood trails, so therefor victim's blood must have been used as a component in the ritual. The blood and mess the party found must have been where the ensign was initially killed, with the cabinet being moved later to hide the evidence.

On closer inspection Clarke is able to identify another component of the spell. In addition to the mercury Clarke is able to find iron shavings. While he couldn't be sure, that familiar itch in the back of his mind told Clarke all he needed to know: something had been summoned in this room.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 44):

"I have some unfortunate news," Clarke announced to Byron and Mike. "The Ensign was not murdered, but used. Something vile has been summoned aboard this ship. Therefore we have two villains to find: the monster and the magician."

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 45):

The father silently crosses himself and says a prayer. "Let us hope he didn't suffer much."

He sits wearily in a nearby chair and sighs. "What is our next step? We have some... thing loose on the ship, summoned by some unknown magic-user. The longer both are free the more danger the rest of the ship is in. Where should we look first?"

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 46):

"Father," Clarke started, "I do not mean to be impertinent, but we should tell the captain. He should take steps to prepare himself in every way for further loss. Unless, of course, you have cause for us not to do so. After all, there is a chance he may give us further access to tools or staff that we may need for additional follow up."

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 47):

"While I am sure Captain Smith is competent, I'm not sure this is something he can help with," says the father. "Outside from granting access to restricted areas of the ship, I'm not sure how he would handle the situation. We brought danger to his ship and crew, danger that has already claimed one life." He passes a hand over his brow. "What is to stop him from pulling into the closest port and forcing us to disembark. Or worse yet loading a lifeboat with a week's supply and jettisoning us?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:47, Wed 21 Aug 2019.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 48):

Mike sighed heavily, feeling the weight of the situation settle into his sternum. He lit the cigarette he had pulled out of its pack and paced away from the gory mess on the floor.

"If the ensign was killed here, then we need to know who else had access to this room and if anyone had seen anyone else enter this room." He took a drag and turned to pace towards another corner away from the gore. "A stranger would certainly be noticed by the crew," He said as smoke curled out of his nose.

"We shouldn't split up, but if we want to cover more ground then we might have to." As an afterthought he crossed back towards the cabinet and opened it to inspect what was inside.

"Maybe the visitor left something else."
This message was last edited by the player at 09:05, Wed 21 Aug 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 49):

As soon as Mike opens the door to the cabinet a faint humming noise fill the room, so faint that its quite easy to miss. Inside the cabinet is a metallic disk that is marked with odd symbols with a clear stone at its center. The edges of it seem corroded and a small line of ash surrounds it.

Noticing Mike's pause the father says "Find anything my son?"

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 50):

"Huh," Mike grunted in surprise as he looked down at the disk, "I did find something." He took a step back and out of the way so his friends could see into the cabinet as he gestured towards the occult fetish, "So what the hell is it?"
This message was last edited by the player at 10:51, Wed 21 Aug 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 51):

Clarke searched his memory for such a device. He was sure that it was linked to the occult in some way, but it was quite possible they had stumbled on something from the stars as well. Or perhaps a military-esque experiment they were not supposed to have seen.

"I only have conspiracy theories about what this could be," he said to Mike. "Byron, do you have any ideas?"

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 52):

The Keeper of Secrets, on behalf of novissimo, rolled 3 using 1d100.  Occult to ID the disk.

Throwing aside his normal cautious nature, Byron grabs the metal disk from the cabinet running his hands over the strange ruins. "I've seen something like this before While the ruins my seem chaotic and random they are actually part of a larger picture." Looking closer you see that some parts of the runes are elevated while others are depressed in a seemingly random pattern. Byron stops and he looks around the room, searching for something.

"How can I help you my son?" says the father filling in the silence.

"I need a sheet of paper and some form of wax." A few moments later the father produces the items from his bag: a sheet of paper and a crimson colored candle.

Taking the items from the father Byron places the paper on top of the disk before rubbing the candle across the surface.

"Beneath all this chaos," he says as he pauses from the effort of making the rubbing, "there is an image binding all of this together." The party lapses into silence as Byron completes his work. With a triumphant air, he turns around revealing a distinctly Icelandic image.

"This is a Vegvisir which derives its name from the words Vegur meaning way, and vísir meaning pointer. According to their beliefs this shows the holder the right way. All the runes traces over it are meant to corrupt its purpose. This is probably what is blocking the ship's compass.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 53):

Mike watched Byron's excited occult-anthropological glee with a barely concealed smile as he tried to follow his friend's ramblings.

After Byron finished his explanation, he said, "So, this thing is like a magic compass. Do you think it could be used to find the stone?" And as an after thought, "And can we turn it off?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 54):

"No," says Byron, looking at Mike as if were a complete surprise that he didn't follow his rambling. "This disk is passive... inert. If the ash in the cabinet is any indication the disk consumes itself as fuel. Depending on how long its been active, we might have days or minutes."

As if in confirmation the edges of the disk crumble into dust, a little more the a fingers width dissolving.

Mike scratched his beard, "Alright then. So we have an occult killer and possibly a monster on the loose..." Mike began. He stopped and looked to the party, "So where do we begin?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 56):

"Have you spoken to any of the passengers aboard the ship?" asks the father. "I've grown to know a number of the crew quite well and can't imagine one of them would put their fellows at risk. But if one of the cult were able to follow us on to the ship, they would most likely do so as a passenger."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 57):

Mike nodded, "I agree, Padre. Getting information from passengers is probably the best place to start. However, we need to do so without arousing suspicions."

Mike turned to leave the room back to the crews galley and as an afterthought turned back to add, "We should start with the crew first, to see if they saw any passengers enter this room with the ensign."

As he entered the galley he surveyed the crew members and took stock of the characters that populated the room.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:09, Tue 27 Aug 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 58):

The crew galley is sparsely populated with most of the sailors moving about from task to task. At one table two sailors are playing five finger fillet. Another is seated in the corner reading a book entitled The Mysterious Affairs of Styles. The last occupant of the room is a low-ranking seaman who is currently occupied with mopping the floor.

Mike looked at the few sailors who were enjoying their R&R and his eye fell on the sailor reading the Agatha Christie book. Though Mike had never been much of one to read Mystery novels, he had a feeling that someone who did might enjoy a bit of real life cloak and dagger. If not, well then perhaps they might have a good head on their shoulders for solving mysteries.

He approached the sailor and took a seat next to them. "Sorry to interrupt what looks like a thrilling read, but perhaps I might interest you in some real mystery?" He asked with a warm smile.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 60):

A few moments of silence pass the the sailor's eyes continue to move along the lines of the book. By his chevrons you can see that he is a petty officer. With a delicate touch he dog ears the page. On the thin side, his hair is closely shorn and he is clean shaven. "I take it you haven't read this book if you think you have a greater mystery," he says his voice rather reedy.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 61):

Mike scratched his beard thoughtfully, "Well, in that you may be right. But give it a chance. We're looking for a Sailor who served on this ship and was quartered over there," he jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the blocked off cabin, "And we're wondering what could make an esteemed sailor leave his post. Perhaps he accidentally went overboard, but perhaps it's something more. A lover? foul play?" He leaned forward conspiratorially and lowered his voice, "So how about it? See anyone with the Ensign or enter his cabin that isn't a member of the crew?"

Today: Jrodimus rolled 36 using 1d100.  persuade check. Pass.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 62):

While you have obviously peaked the sailor's interest, he seems hesitant. "We have a standing order to only discuss the situation with those with a need to know." He fidgets with the pages of his book. "But the situation has everyone on edge." He leans forwards conspiratorially. "The ensign was new. While some old hands are known to jump ship after some long campaigns, it rare for the new fish." He pauses for a moment. "Now you didn't hear this from me but the ensign was in some legal trouble back on the mainland and was seeking legal advice from anyone willing to give it."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:32, Tue 27 Aug 2019.

Mike nodded interestedly as he scratched his beard while the sailor spoke.

"I see," he said thoughtfully when the petty officer had finished. "Would it be possible to find out who here could possibly be an alleged lawyer or paralegal from the passenger manifest?"
This message was last edited by the player at 14:57, Tue 27 Aug 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 64):

"The manifest is private information and even if you could get your hands on it it wouldn't help. I has little more than names, nationalities, and special requirements," says the sailor, obviously happy to engage in gossip. "But I've heard that the man he was consulting with on the ship had brown hair and eyes."

He pauses again as he looks around the galley. "So what do you think it is? Some killer stowed away on the ship?"

Mike lit a cigarette and set his elbows on the table and leaned in closer as he offered a cigarette to the sailor.

"We can't say for certain yet. But between the two of us, I have a pretty good hunch that there was foul play. There's a good possibility that there is indeed a killer in our midst." Mike paused to take a drag before exhaling. "You know, we could really use the help of a natural detective like you. You're smart and obviously good at staying alert and observant." Mike extended his hand, "My name is Mike. What do you say?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 66):

While refusing the cigarette, he warmly shakes Mike's hand. "Frank," the sailor says. "I go back on duty in a few hours. How do you think I can help?"

Mike smiled, "Nice to meet you, Frank. As you know, the most important part to any investigation is information. If you see or hear about any gentleman that matches the description you told me earlier and claims to be a lawyer or such, we need to know immediately. Also," Mike stopped to look around and lowered his voice a little more, "If anyone has any strange or religious looking symbols on their person or possessions, then its of even more importance that you find us immediately. If they are indeed a capable of murder, then they are likely very dangerous. Do not try to confront them alone. And of course, secrecy is key to successfully solving the case of your missing shipmate."

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 68):

The sailor sticks a finger under his cap, scratching at an itch on his scalp. "You do realize our destination? I've been there a number of times and news of witchcraft dominates the headlines there. Folklore is their bread and butter. They still believe that if a stork builds its nest on your roof or chimney, you will live long and be wealth. Most passengers probably have some sort of charm on them."

"Of course, I meant someone who fits all three descriptions." Mike explained sheepishly.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:26, Tue 27 Aug 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 70):

"Passengers don't get back here much. We get a few that like to gamble but not much else. Captain Smith is never too strict. But I'll keep an eye open," says the sailor. "If you're looking for a lawyer you won't be finding anyone holding a law degree back here."
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:41, Tue 27 Aug 2019.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 71):

Clarke stumbled over to the crewman mopping the floor as Mike went about talking to the man with the book.

"I once made a grave error," Clarke started in a hush, "and ended up on cleaning duty for people with their heads in books." He gestured towards Mike and the other crew member. "I learnt a lot doing that - mostly people believe a person with a broom is invisible and let things drop they would never have said otherwise."

"I also learned a person's trash can tell you more about their whole life than long conversations under a moon." He took in the man - his form and his patience. "My friends and I are looking into an ensign that got a little flighty." He pointed to the empty bunk. "Plenty of reasons to do that on long trips, but we were wondering might have caused this one to do it. Hoping to avoid a repeat occurrence, you might say, so we can all get to our destinations without any stress or extra work."

Roll to persuade sailor to talk about missing Ensign: 17 - Pass

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 72):

"He was a bully," says the young sailor. Judging by his rank and appearance he must be relatively new to the ship. "I'm glad he is gone. Not until you complete your first tour this, and not until after your first tour that," he says in a mocking voice. The young sailer continues to mop the deck of the ship, though perhaps more aggressively now. "I don't know why he would leave though, he thought he was the cock of the walk around here. Always wheeling and dealing, making trades for things you can't get in the ports or onboard."
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:47, Thu 29 Aug 2019.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 73):

Clarke pulled at his attire, as if he hadn't worn a shirt for a long time. "Know plenty of those folks myself. Always think they are one step ahead of every one else. Often they are not." His accent had changed to something that might have been put on for appearance.

He leaned in slightly, rocking as he did so. "You, of course, know the problem with them types. Probably better than I do. They get everyone else in trouble as well with that cocksureness." He let a beat pass between them and subtly pulled at his collar to pretend it had been fitted a little too tight. "You think he might have gone and done something like that? Let his puffery threaten the hard workers on board?"

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 74):

"Maybe he finally found his 'golden way' off the ship. Wouldn't blame him. I've been on KP duty nearly since I came aboard." He forcefully thrusts the mop into the bucket of water. "Lord knows I'd find my way off if I could."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 75):

"Golden way?" Clarke asked, unsure of the reference. "How long have you been with this vessel?"

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 76):

"Golden way," says the sailor. "You know, his ticket off the ship. Rumor is that he was running from trouble and was looking for any way to make it shoreside. International waters means the heat is off your back."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 77):

"Ah," Clarke said. "Thank you. I hope his greed did not exceed his good sense. Especially as we are travelling to a place of ritual. Not all folk who dabble with gods are as harmless as they appear." He paused, feigning to leave, and then added as if he'd had an after thought, "Aside from his usually ill temper, nothing unusual stood out to you about him these last few days? No boasting or additional impetulence?"

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 78):

The young sailor seems slightly off-put. "Dabble with the gods? You mean the father? I know a lot of the crew is mighty glad to have him aboard."

With a slight grunt the sailor picks up his pail of water. "I don't know where the ensign might have gone this far out at sea but I say good riddance. Now if you'll excuse me I have to mop the rest of the deck." Stepping around Clarke the seaman exits the room.
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:33, Fri 30 Aug 2019.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 79):

Lara shook her head as her and Clarke watched the young sailor make their way out. "Monotheist," she spat. "Active ignorance is not a way to live your life."

Clarke looked at the two men playing cards. Did he wish to push his luck? Cards and the social pleasantries that went around them were not his strong suit. He decided against it. Luck had not been on his side for a long time, it was unlikely to shift simply because he needed it too.

Waiting for a reasonable amount of time, he headed out of the cabin and for the main deck. Seasickness had never bothered him, but being cooped in small spaces was not something he longed for. Plus, he argued, it would be less suspicious if they made discreet inquiries of the passengers at slightly different times.

Mike saw Clarke leave and excused himself from Frank. "Let me know if you hear or see anything, Gumshoe," he said as he casually waved goodbye.

He walked over to the table where the two men were playing the dangerous knife game. "You guys like to live on the edge? Is that the sailor's life or what? Perhaps you might have some stories you might want to avail me with?"

Today: Jrodimus rolled 47 using 1d100. Fail.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:06, Sun 01 Sept 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 81):

The two men look up from their game, scowls darkening their faces. Their arms are crisscrossed by thick scars and tattoos. "If you want to play with the big boys, you have to prove your meddle. Who knows, I might have more stories then your mum." He holds the knife in front of his face. "But you ain't hearing 'em till you play." With a flick of his wrist he tosses the knife which lodges itself in the table in front of Mike. "What's it going to be mate?"

Mike suppressed a grin as he reached for the knife, "Alright then. That's how it's going to be," he muttered. But as he gripped the knife's handle, he realized that it had been a long time since he had engaged in such feats of masculine dexterity. He spread his left palm and fingers wide on the table, and began to stab the knife between his fingers point down.

One...thuck...two...thuck...shit

The knife clattered to the table as Mike clenched his bloodied left hand. He looked at his middle finger, and though it leaked blood, it wasn't deep. He sighed and looked at the knife, "And that's how it was."


Today: Jrodimus rolled 76 using 1d100.  Dex check for knife game. fail

Today: Jrodimus rolled 6 using 1d20.  damage check. no damage.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 83):

With an appreciative chuckle the closest sailor retrieves the knife, wiping it with a small cloth. "Well, you did better than that pansy lawyer. Claimed he was above such undignified sports."

The other sailor sailor guffaws. "He was wasn't above taking a licking though," he says through a toothy grin half obscured by his beard. He takes the proffered knifed and splays his hand on the tabletop.

Mike chuckled as the bleeding subsided as he wiped his hands off, "Well you know what they say about lawyers. There aren't any jokes about them 'cuz all the stories are true!" He smiled at his own joke then asked, "So what was the bastard doing down here? You keep the devil employed on the ship?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 85):

The knife is a whirl as the sailor stabs between his fingers. "Came back here all full of himself. Looking for someone to lick his boots. Wanted special accommodations and privileges. We offered him some." His chuckle must have distracted him because he nicks a finger. With a curse he puts the wound to his mouth.

Without pause the other sailor grabs the knife. "My record is 20," he says with pride. Again the knife becomes a blur. "Only thing is, the only privileges we had available for him were sandwiches... of the knuckle variety." He stops with a yelp, the outside of his pinkie bleeding. "Bloody thirteen..."

Mike finished wiping the blood off his finger and stuffed the handkerchief in his pocket before pulling out his pack of smokes. He offered each of the sailors one before lighting his own.

"So was the lawyer visiting someone? Or just lookin' to make a show of himself?" He asked casually.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 87):

Both sailors take a cigarette, pocketing them, perhaps to barter with later.

"I don't know what he was looking for. Maybe an audience for his bunk stories," says one sailor.

"Bunk stories?" says the other. "You mean like that story about you and those girls at that stop in Indochina?" The two sailors are soon consumed in a spat of friendly insults.

Mike waited for the two toughs to quit their bickering, but when it seemed they had forgotten about him, he decided that that was likely all the information he was going to get.

A lawyer, huh.

Mike recalled his own time studying law at the University. Then he realized that he could perhaps leverage that to his advantage. Those of a certain feather might flock to one another. He stubbed out his cigarette in a ashtray on the table and then left the crews quarters to head to the some of the passenger common areas.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:24, Mon 02 Sept 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 89):

The passengers quarters are much more lavishly furnished then those for the crew. Plush lounge chairs and sofas line the walls with a stocked bar on the far side of the room manned by a single bartender who is currently preoccupied with polishing the bar.

At the bar are three men, one of which keeps glancing about furtively while he shows something concealed to his companions.

At the largest table in the room sits a family, the father lost in the newspaper while the mother seems to struggle to keep control of her three children.

At one of the windows stands a tall willowy blonde as she stares longingly at the sea.

At the door across the cabin, a large man leans against the doorframe, picking dirt out from under his fingernails with a small knife.

At a small corner table sits a well dressed man deep in conversation with a young women who seems to be hanging on his every word.

After taking a short look about, Mike approached the bar. "Barkeep, what do you got?" He asks while trying to catch a glimpse at what the three men were trying to conceal.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 86 using 1d100. Fail

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 91):

Catching Mike's inquisitive glance from the corner of his eye, the man snaps shut his jacket and sweeps his hat off the table before placing it upon his head and smoothing his thick goatee with one hand.

"Excuse me gentlemen, it seems I've caught a wandering eye. The two men return to their drinks nonplussed while the dapper man sweeps towards Mike.

"You must recognize me. I admit I haven't quite kept a low profile." He barely gives Mike a chance to respond before launching in again. "I know, I know. You're a little star struck. It's not every day that you meet..." The man takes a dramatic pause. "Clark Stanley!" he says boastfully with his hands on his hips and his chest puffed with pride.

Mike smiled, "Of course, I have a cousin that worked over in the plant in Beverly. Though I admit, I didn't recognize you immediately, but that choice of facial hair is one of a kind."

He turned to the bartender, "Two whiskeys, please."

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 93):

The man seems torn between dramatic offense and thirst. After the whiskey is poured he quickly downs it with a grimace and a bow. "I thank you for the drink sir, but as you fail to recognize my fame, I shall take it to where it is more appreciated." He turns back to the two man and tries to regain their attention.
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:21, Tue 03 Sept 2019.

Mike chuckled as he downed his own whiskey before turning to lean against the bar while surveying the room again. He looks around for anyone wearing any symbols that he might not recognize and perhaps of the religious variety.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 57 using 1d100.  Spot hidden check. Fail

Failing to notice anything, he turns to the barkeep, "Say," he asks, "Do you happen to know where I can find a lawyer?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 95):

The barkeep picks up the two empty glasses and wipes away their water rings and deposits them in the nearby sink, all in one smooth practiced motion.

"Most people cast out to sea looking to escape from the law? You my friend seem to be searching it out. Someone pilfer one of your bags? If it happened on the ship the captain can handle it," he says without actually pausing his work or making eye contact.

Mike ordered another whiskey from the bar before finding a seat near the well dressed man and woman. With his back turned to them he sat a nearby table and nursed the whiskey before lighting a cigarette. He listened for anything that might give up the lawyer or any clues to his whereabouts here.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 97):

Clarke arrived at the passenger's quarters after Mike. As he entered the room, he could see Mike make a snippy comment to a well-dressed man. Although he couldn't hear the exact exchange, it must have been a good retort because the man was soon dashing away with an embarrassed look upon his face.

Noticing the willowy blonde staring at the sea, he ambled over to her.

"Keep it in your pants this time," Lara said.

"Ma'am," Clarke started, "would you care for some company? Or would your soul prefer to left alone in this trying time?"

Roll to persuade woman to let him stay: 62 - pass

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 98):

The women barely registers a reaction to Clarke's presence as he joins her. Silence falls between the two of you.


The women's voice is barely distinguishable from the sound of the waves and the lapping of the ocean against the sides of the ship. She finally turns her gaze towards Clarke allowing him to notice their red tinge.

"What is it your soul seeks so far from its home?" She extends her hand as if to touch Clarke before pausing at the last second and letting it fall limply to her side.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 99):

"I fear what I seek Saint Augustine cannot assist me with," Clarke said, joining her. He stood next to her, but his gaze was directed towards the ocean. He could see its swell and crash as it heaved and sighed until calmed by the sky. "I seek redemption for all the sins and follies of man in this electric age. A feat beyond the power of a scholar." He paused, letting a brief silence slide between them. "May I inquire what it is you search for this far from the safe havens of our fleeting successes?"

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 100):

Clarke
"There is nothing I search for sir as I have already found it and lost it just the same. I lost my love in the Benwood disaster. It wasn't long till I lost everything else. Our house... Our things... It was his last wish to go home," she says as she pulls a silver urn from her purse. She seems to lose herself in the burnished surface for a few moments. "He went abroad to see the wonders and I lost him."

Mike
Mike almost immediately regrets his decision as he eavesdrops on the conversation between the couple.

"Well I don't want for much... At my villa in the countryside... Just imagine all the wonders you could experience if you..."

The man is laying it on thick, much to the delight of his captive maiden. Something seems to catch his attention as the conversation comes to an abrupt end.

"I hope you consider the offer my sweet," says the man. From his breast pocket he produces a key which he then places on the table. "I hope to see you tonight." With a flourish he exits the room.

Something in the back of Mike's mind tells him to keep his seat and act natural. After a few moments the large man that had been leaning against the bulkhead follows after the darling Romeo.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 101):

"This is a very convenient story," Lara said, her arms crossed. "Perfectly tailored to ensnare fools like you."

Clarke tried to brush her comments away. "I am sorry for your loss," he said. "It is impossible losing a loved one. I am decades on from my loss and still I pine for her touch."

He made an appropriate religious gesture with his hands and muttered one of the many catholic prayers taught to him for such an occasion. "I will leave you be," he said. "I find it best to be alone during these times of rediscovery."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:03, Thu 05 Sept 2019.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 102):


The woman goes back to staring out the window as Clarke doffs his hat and goes to make his leave.

"Be careful Mr. Walsh. You have so much more left to loose."

Clarke can feel Lara stiffen in shock behind him.

"Clarke! Your gun! Now!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:25, Thu 05 Sept 2019.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 103):

Clarke, despite his age, tried to drop and roll on the ground while pulling his gun out.

Roll to achieve task: 34 - pass

Surprising Zoe, Lara and himself - he achieved his task and turned to take in the event that had caused such concern from Lara.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 104):

Clarke's actions draw the attention of the rest of the room. As he pulls out his gun, one of the younger children of the family in the room sees it and screams in panic, only drawing more attention.

Noticing the commotion and seeing the firearm, the barkeep strikes a bell near the corner of the bar and shouts "HELP!!! HELP!!!"

The women, previously so meek, flounders as she attempts to back away from what must be in her eyes a madman waving a gun.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:02, Thu 05 Sept 2019.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 105):

Clarke spun around wildly, watching the chaos unfold.

Roll to spot hidden: 90 - Fail


He couldn't identify anything himself so he asked Lara. "What am I looking for?" he mumbled to her, realising how much crazier he looked.

"Where's the threat?"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:48, Thu 05 Sept 2019.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 106):

Silence

As Clarke looks around the room he sees nothing but startled and panicked faces as he wildly waves his gun about.

From the side entrance come two sailors carrying large billy clubs. "What's going on in here?" says the first one through the door, his voice little more than a bass growl.

Tell them one of the children was attempting to go through your pockets and startled you says a girlish childlike voice in Clarke's mind.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 107):

He ignored the voice, recognising the girl as his and Zoe's abominable spawn. Keeping his eyes on the sailor's, he lowered his pistol to the ground and placed the safety on. "I apologize," he said. "My sea jitters. I would appreciate it if you would relieve me of my forearm. Perhaps for the rest of the journey."

Mike watched the large man cross and leave the passenger lounge after the dandy and after a few moments rose from his chair and followed. As he turned out the door, he heard a crash as passengers gasped. He looked for his quarry.

Jrodimus rolled 97 using 1d100 for Stealth. Fail.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:25, Mon 09 Sept 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 109):

The narrow corridors of the ship makes navigating difficult. Dodging and weaving between people and obstacles, Mike is barely able to keep the burly man in his sight. However in his haste, he nearly bowls over a young maid burdened by a large basket of linens.

"Oh, excuse me sir. I beg your pardon," she says breathlessly as she struggles to heft the basket. As Mike tries to step around her she moves in the same direction causing the two to engage in a sort of impromptu dance. The maid blushes furiously. "I'm sorry sir!"

"Quick, get in here you oaf." There is the sound of a door clicking shut.

Looking over the maid and down the corridor, all Mike finds is an empty hallway with several unmarked doors.

Mike smiled weakly at the maid as he tried to get around her. When he finally did he realized that he had lost them.

Goddamnit. He sighed wearily, then deciding against trying to track down two potentially dangerous men alone was a bad idea. He back tracked to the passengers lounge to look for the woman the man had been talking to, hoping that the hub bub he had heard before hadn't scared her away.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 111):

The two sailors seem to be confused by Clarke's admission of guilt and meek resistance.

"Umm... Sure... Yeah, we can do that. We will put it in the armory." The sailor who spoke moves forward taking the revolver from Clarke. He holds it gingerly as if it might go off at any moment he hands it to his mate. "If you need access to it you'll have to talk to the Quartermaster."

Despite the commotion the room quickly returns to a sense of normalcy although some of the passengers continue to watch Clarke out of the corner of their eyes.

Mike walked in as the sense of normalcy returned. He exhaled in relief that he wasn't walking into a situation. He went back to the bar and ordered a whiskey for himself and scanned the room looking for the woman.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 113):

The barkeep pours a few fingers of whiskey into a glass before sliding it to Mike. As he surveys the cabin, Mike finds the woman still seated at the same table. Taking the time to look her over, the woman strikes Mike as overwhelmingly... plain. From the hue of her dress to the style of her hair, the women epitomizes middle of the road. Perhaps feeling Mike's gaze the woman looks over in his direction, giving a haughty sniff as she looks him over.

Mike did his best to casually saunter over to the woman's table, as he approached he smiled and said, "Sorry to bother you Ma'am, but after all the commotion I thought I could offer you a friendly drink to calm the nerves." He felt a little guilty offering another woman a drink, but what else could he do since the trail went cold out on the decks. Nevertheless, he did his best to maintain a friendly amount of eye contact without looking predatory.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 54 using 1d100.  Persuade check. Fail.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 115):

"I'm afraid you are sniffing around the wrong tree sir. I already have the most charming of suitors. A fancy city lawyer and everything. Mother will never believe it. Imagine me, living in the big city, going to plays, wearing the finest dresses..." The clearly smitten women continues in a dreamy voice, gushing about her marvelous fortunes.

Mike's eyes brightened in interest. "A city lawyer, do you say? Do you have his business card? I know some folk who could always use a good lawyer." He winked conspiratorially at her as if sharing a secret.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 117):

"Oh, I'm sure he is booked solid, him being such a fantastic lawyer and all. I mean he did apprentice at Hammond and Field with President Coolidge before he got into politics. The president still calls him from time to time when he is in need of some advice. Of course he doesn't like to flaunt all his connections be he knows all the well to do people..." The woman continues to prattle. "I can wait to see him again tonight. I'm sure he has the most romantic event planned. Maybe a fancy dinner under the stars. Or maybe he got the grandest cabin on the ship and...."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 118):

Clarke kept to himself for a while, watching his abomination dance gracefully through the sea of people as they tried to ignore him, but watch him at the same time. She was a pretty girl - her skin a blend of both Zoe's heritage and his own making her darker than Zoe, but lighter than him. She could've 'passed' if white people ever decided to expend their hatred on the Arabs in the U.S. rather than the larger black community.

"We made a person, Clarke," Zoe said, holding his hand. "It's not who we had intended, but she's a joy."

He had many things he wanted to say to Zoe, but this was not the time and place. People were watching.

She rested her head on his shoulder. "There's no reason to fight this," she said. "The stone gave me a new perspective. It showed me how small our existence is. How pitiful humanity has always been. The dark veil is coming for you, that is true. Yet, there is no reason you cannot enjoy it. There is no reason you cannot enjoy us. All your wishes granted. All your joys released. I can give that to you. What can Mike do? Byron? Lara? Take the stone, be with us. Be with your family."

Clarke said nothing and kept watching his daughter until her and Zoe faded from the room. Glancing around, he noticed the interest in him had significantly waned and Mike was trying his roguish charms on a woman that could've been found in the back row of a class photograph. He attempted to see if there was anything else of interest that could be investigated.

Spot hidden / Listen: 45 - Fail

Mike listened to the woman prattle on for a little bit longer, before putting up his hand, "Well enjoy your evening tonight." He took his empty glass and walked over to where he noticed Clarke daydreaming a few minutes before.

"That woman has never had an original thought in her entire life." He said as he gestured over his shoulder, "But, she's a lead."

He fished a cigarette out and lit it.

He looked around, "Have you seen Byron?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 120):

"I fear we are in much worse trouble than we imagine," Clarke replied, ignoring Mike's question. "Our man was a bully, but also a trader in rare goods. The kind that bring only misery. Worse, the forlorn woman knows about us. She knows we are heading into the depth of darkness. This ship might be our doom."

He looked over the young patrons of the bar with their jovial attitude and forgetfulness of the past. "Byron has once again gone off and forgotten us," Clarke added.

Mike stopped halfway to bringing his cigarette to his lips and looked at Clarke with a bemused expression, "So when you gonna write that romance novel? You'll be the next Poe." He continued and finally dragged off the unfiltered lucky strike.

He lowered his voice so only Clarke could hear him. "Anyways, this woman has a date with the lawyer who was last involved with our missing ensign tonight. It'd be a good idea to keep an eye on her until then. Who knows, maybe Byron will show up in the mean time. Care for a drink?"

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 121):

"As much as we can reasonably afford," Clarke said, heading to the bar.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 123):

Clarke and Mike while away the day in the saloon, nursing a few drinks and taking their meals there. As night creeps closer you begin to worry about the stability of the young women. As she has done little more than stare dreamily and occasionally fondle a small locket around her neck. As it becomes increasingly late the number of people in the room dwindles. Eventually the barkeep begins the process of closing for the night. Storing the various glasses and bottles in the nearby cabinets he makes his way towards you. Just as the barkeep approaches you the women suddenly stands up and exits the room.

Mike set his tumbler down on the table and nodded to Clarke to follow. As he past the barkeep he patted him on the shoulder, "Thanks for the drink and delicious dinner." And made for the door that the woman had exited from.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 125):

Mike and Clarke follow the love-struck women, careful to keep their distance. Strangely the women's route doesn't take her to a room but rather out of the ship's accommodations and onto the deck. A cold brisk wind sweeps across the deck causing you to draw up your collar around your neck and stinging your eyes. The young women seems unaffected, focused on her destination as she easily weaves between the cargo containers the line the deck. The night is eerily empty as Mike and Clarke follow her further and further across the deck.

As the women reaches the forecastle a voice calls out, "About time you arrived my love!" Clarke and Mike duck behind the cover of nearby cargo.

"I would have been here sooner if you hadn't demanded to meet at such a late hour," says the women in a pouty voice as she disappears out of sight behind a stack of wooden crates that have been lashed to the deck.

"My Dear, you know we must avoid the controversy and gossip that is sure to follow such a whirlwind romance!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:35, Tue 17 Sept 2019.

Mike stayed hidden against the cargo crate, but took a moment to look around to see if anyone else was in hiding in the area without exposing himself.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 82 using 1d100.  Spot hidden check. Failed

Not seeing anyone else, he stayed put and listened to the exchange.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 126):

Clarke followed Mike's lead and listened intently. He hoped that he would be able to hear if there were any other people, or demons, in the vicinity.

Roll of 22: pass

He could feel the world fade and his ears gain in their intensity.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 128):

Clarke
Listening intently the soft creak of the wooden beams that make up the deck of the ship Clarke is able to hear the soft scuff of multiple sets of feet alerting him to the fact that the man and women are not alone.

Everyone
"Oh, Daniel! I've dreamed of moments like this. Out at sea, under the stars, with the man of my dreams... Can't you just feel the magic in the air?" says the women.

"You have no idea Love. Of course, you didn't tell anyone of our romantic rendezvous did you?" says the man you assume to be Daniel.

"I would never divulge your secrets Daniel, I love you too much!" the woman replies.

"Good, good" says Daniel. *Clarke hears the unmistakable scrap of leather on steel, the sound of a knife being drawn* "The stone is as good as mine."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 129):

Clarke tapped Mike and whispered, "He's not alone and is about to murder her. We have seconds."

He readied himself to dash out and stop the crime.

"Sonofabitch," Mike whispered the exclamation as his hand reached for his grandfather's revolver, "So much for laying low for this goddamn trip. Call for help from the crew."

Mike stepped out from behind the crate with his hand by his side, hoping that the shadows would hide the fact that he had a gun in it. He walked towards the lovers and their hidden cohort without trying to hide himself.

Hopefully they're not willing to kill in front of a witness.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 131):

Mike's appearance from behind the ship's cargo causes the couple to gasp in shock. "You!" shouts the women, pointing a finger at Mike accusatorially. "Daniel, I promise I turned him down. He was sniffing around my skirts but I'd never betray you!"

The women practically leaps into the man's arms as he nonchalantly tucks a long silver dagger behind his back.

"Don't worry love, I shall protect your honor!" shouts the man dramatically, wrapping his arm around the women's waist, drawing her close.

The man, Daniel, turns suddenly serious. "I was wondering how long it would take you to catch on. Seems you're not as slow as you look," he says towards Mike. "Hand it over and perhaps I'll spare her."

The women looks at him in confusion.

Mike kept walking towards, but he slowed his pace, keeping the revolver down at his side. "Well, Daniel, is it? We can't all be strapping and refined big city boys such as yourself. But perhaps it's best if you step away from the lady. We're not the only ones looking for you. The whole crew is trying to find out who the killer is on the boat. I mean, you made a real mess of the ensign. How did you do that?" Mike stopped walking, "No, maybe I don't want to know. I'll tell you what, you and give up now and maybe they'll show you some mercy."

Today: Jrodimus rolled 96 using 1d100.  Persuade check. Fail.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 133):

"Mercy is for the weak," the man hisses. With one swift motion he draws the blade of the dagger across the women's throat. "I summon you for forth!" he shouts into the night.

The women sputters and chokes as the blade slides across her neck, but instead of flowing forth, the blood from the wound seems to smoke and burn. She drops to her knees as Daniel releases her.

"Now if you don't mind, hand over the stone. My friends aren't quite as patient as I am."

From the shadows step two large men, one of whom Mike recognizes from the saloon.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 134):

Clarke had started running for the crew as soon as Mike had told him, but he was old and his knees were creaking. He didn't yell at the start because he was afraid it would've tipped off Daniel. However, once he heard them start to mumbled, he yelled for his dear life. He did not concern himself with how he looked or the decorum of the day. "Help," he screamed. "Somebody help us, we have found the culprit!"

He tries to head towards the Captain's cabin.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:35, Fri 20 Sept 2019.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 135):

"After him idiot!" shouts Daniel, pointing his dagger in Clarke's direction. One of the men sets off at a lumbering sprint in pursuit.

The women, who has now fallen to the ground, reaches out towards Mike, her lips forming a plea that fails to make it past her ravaged throat.

"Oh I wouldn't worry about her quite yet," Daniel says gesturing offhandedly towards his former paramour. "I can't say the same for when she dies however, which is TAKING FAR TOO FUCKING LONG!!" he says flying into a sudden rage.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 136):

Clarke may have been getting older, but he was still a tall man. His legs lumbered across the hull of the deck as he attempted to attract people's attention. He hadn't heard the command even though the sound of a heavy-set man rushing towards him made him realise that the order had been given to take him down. He pressed down harder with each step and hoped it would be enough to put distance between himself and the pursuer.

Roll 17: Pass

His burst worked and he could hear the assailant fall further behind.

Mike saw the woman drop gasping and he felt the weight of another death on his conscious. Another soul lost to the blind and grasping fury that his life had become since the letter from Jack arrived not even a few weeks before. But alas, someone had to face the storm.

He heard Clarke take off after him and Daniel sent one of his hidden goons after him.

"Well, I guess it was bound to come to this." Mike said as he lifted his revolver and aimed it at Daniel. He squeezed the trigger.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 36 using 1d100.  gun combat. pass.
Today: Jrodimus rolled 1 using 1d8.  damage for revolver.

As the revolver discharged, smoke filled the hazy air and Mike flung himself to another crate for cover.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 138):

Mike

Mike shot clips Daniel's arm, causing the man to hiss in pain and grasp his bicep.

"Don't just stand there oaf, DO SOMETHING!!!!" Daniel shouts to his goon before taking cover behind a crate. The large man draws a knife and charges Mike. His first swipe goes wide, allowing Mike to easily dodge it.

The women is now only weakly moving...

Clarke

While not exactly a spring chicken, Clarke is able to avoid his pursuer. Chest burning from exertion, he barely notices the bark of Mike's revolver. The fact that he had handed over his firearm seems like a decision that is coming back to haunt him. Putting his head down he focuses on picking up his legs and pumping his arms as he sprints across the deck of the ship.

As the goon's slash went wide, Mike's instincts kicked in and he side stepped to the goon's flank, keeping the man between him and the crate. He backed off a few steps to lineup another shot, this time at his assailant, aiming center mass.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 92 using 1d100.  gun combat. fail.

The revolver cracked, blowing a hole in the crate, missing his target and sending splinters into the air.

"Oh for chrissakes!" Mike growled over the ringing in his ears.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 140):

Feigning a Mike a few times with his knife, the thug takes a step forward and thrusts at Mike's midsection and...

(failed roll)

Catches nothing but air which causes him to growl in frustration.

The women is now lying deathly still...
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:08, Sun 22 Sept 2019.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 141):

As Clarke dashes across the ship, he can still hear his pursuer dogging his footsteps. He again tries to summon a burst of energy.

Dexterity: Pass

Once again, he is thankful to his military service and the hell they put him through. He presses on, his legs pumping almost as fast as they did when he was in his prime.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:24, Mon 23 Sept 2019.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 142):

(Failed roll)

Hearing the lumbering footsteps behind him begin to falter, Clarke begins to gain heart. If he could rally the crew perhaps he could end this confrontation without anymore bloodshed. It might be too late for the women but he could save the rest of the ship.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 143):

Feeling the touch of success, Clarke recalls all the times he was yelled at for not trying hard enough, for not putting in enough effort. He showed them in the end, and now he's certain he can do the same.

Roll to escape: Pass

He finds himself picking up speed and barrelling across the deck as it was another sunny day on a sports field. With the assailant long gone, Clarke crashed through the hatch to the crew's quarters and yelled at them for help. "The lawyer's trying to kill my friend," he screamed.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:37, Mon 23 Sept 2019.

Mike heard the blade swish through the air as the goon took another stab at slicing him open.

Four more rounds. Let's make this count.

Again Mike took aim and squeezed the trigger.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 76 using 1d100.  gun combat. Fail.

Fuck. Three.

Mike hoped Clarke was moving quickly and would be back soon. He felt the steel of the knife in his boot as he took a quick mental stock of his inventory in case his luck ran out, if it hadn't already.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 145):

Clarke
Barging through the door and in to the cabin, Clarke's entrance causes a number of sailors to scramble to their feet.

"The lawyer's trying to kill my friend!"

First Officer Murdock rises from a nearby table, displeasure coloring his face. "Lawyers aren't much in the business of murder, what is this all about?"

Mike
Mike can feel his frustration rising as another shot goes wide. The thug's wide smile shows how much of a threat he views Mike. Attempting his usual thrust...

(Roll successful)

The goon suddenly reverses direction, the blade scoring a deep slash in Mike's side.

(3 damage)

The woman's body begins to tremble and shake...

Mike hissed in pain as the knife went into his side. He felt warmth as blood started to flow from the wound.

"You got lucky there, you sonofabitch," he taunted with what he hoped was fearsome bravado but likely sounding more pathetic.

He raised the revolver again.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 29 using 1d100.  gun combat. Hit.
Today: Jrodimus rolled 3 using 1d8.  damage.

The snubnose cracked and he saw the goon recoil.

"Now it's my turn," Mike showed his teeth in a grin, finally smelling blood.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 147):

Clarke was out of time, he had no knowledge of how Mike would fare against two competent murderers and one, perhaps, soon-to-be demon. He knew that Murdock and them had not seen eye-to-eye at the start of the journey, but he hoped this was because the man was a pragmatist and not some occultist in disguise.

He gathered his breath. "We have been looking into the missing persons as per the Captain's orders." He raised his hand, as if to silence their impending questions. "My group has certain skills that are useful in times of crisis, but perhaps not in moments of peace. This was one of them."

Sensing the crowd was slightly receptive to his answer, and perhaps, an explanation of why they had been granted special leave, he went for the request.

Persuade: 42 - Pass

"We found the abductor, my comrade, or friend, is with him now. But there is no time, they are on this deck and need your assistance. If you do not help us, then there will be more bodies in the 'morn and nothing I can do about it. Bring your pistols and your wits."

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 148):

Clarke
While the first officer seems skeptical he turns to his men and starts issuing order. "Johnson, Gomez. Open the armory and issue a half a dozen small arms and no more. Reid, Fowler, I need you to secure the passenger quarters. The rest of you with me. We will get to the bottom of this." As the dispatched men leave the rest form up behind Murdock. Clarke can feel seconds tick by as the men scramble to follow orders. Clarke didn't know how much longer Mike would be able to fend off his attackers...

Mike
Realizing the danger that Mike's revolver poses, the thug attempts to tackle Mike who sidesteps the clumsy lunge, causing the thug to sprawl to the deck. Trying to keep both Daniel and the goon in his line of sight, Mike can't help but notice the dead woman's convulsions have grown stronger and stronger to the point he is surprised he isn't hearing the cracking of bones as her limbs jerk and contort into inhuman configurations.

Stepping out from behind the crate Daniel raises his arms to the sky, which is roiling with clouds and thunder.

"And now you shall see the power of the Order unleashed!"

Daniel drops his arms and the world suddenly goes quiet. It's almost as if the air itself was pressing itself against Mike's ears. The women has fallen still. Out of the corner of his eye Mike can see the thug rising to his feet, almost as if in slow motion.

Cthulhu Fhtagn

Suddenly the women's body bursts apart as if struck by a mortar. In it's place is a swirling vortex of crimson, seemingly made of the poor women's blood. Floating inches off the ground it seems to randomly form pseudopodia that lash out around it, smashing crates and splintering the deck. Despite its lack of a face, Mike can feel a form of malign intelligence focus on him. Mike feels his mind seize as if gripped by a vice.

THUD.... THUD....THUD... THUD...
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:18, Mon 23 Sept 2019.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 149):

Clarke watched as the men moved with well-trained precision. They seemed to be a crew that had faced danger before and lived to boast about it in pubs and bars around the world. Whether or not they had faced this type of danger, however, remained to be seen.

Eventually, they formed up on him and he led them in silence across the deck. Whether it was his imagination or not, Clarke could not say, but he felt the world had gone a tone darker. The lack of voices let him hear the beating of the waves against the hull of the ship.

Crash, splash, whump they went.

As they neared the crates, Clarke could feel something was off. He felt it in his soul, it felt like he was about to pull the trigger on Zoe, he was being told Egypt was his next assignment, he was reading the manuscript and Laura was screaming. Worst of all, it felt the same as the cabin. Evil was here and he no longer knew how to vanquish it.

Mike's mouth filled with the brine and grit of wet dirt as blood hammered in his ears like gun shots. Endlessly firing over the embankment, smoke filling the air. The smell of carbon and the sticky dryness of soot in between his fingers.

Horror.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 72 using 1d100.  sanity check. Fail.
Today: Jrodimus rolled 3 using 1d6.  sanity damage.

The pounding in his brain blurred his vision, disorienting him, he squinted into the darkness searching, but saw nothing but the encroaching swirling dark haze. He did all that he could to avoid even the slightest glimpse of the tentacled slimy monstrosity before him.

It's all over, Mikey. Jack's voice in the distance. Wake up.

He felt the frays of his mind start to pull further apart as he was filled with overwhelming terror.

It's not just a dream. Nightmares are real.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:38, Mon 23 Sept 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 151):

Clarke
Rounding the corner to where he had last left Mike, Clarke's instincts are confirmed. Towering over a cowering figure is what can only be described as a cyclone of blood, lashing out indiscriminately about the ship.

A number of the troops following Clarke fall to the ground, clutching their faces, some digging at their eyes as they come upon the horror. First Officer Murdock falls to his knees but seems to be able keep at least a part of his awareness intact. He reaches a shaky hand into his jacket and draws a pistol which he aims at the cyclone and fires....

(Roll succeeds)

Splat

The bullet strikes the monster and while there doesn't seem to be any physical damage done the monster contract upon itself slightly. His aim wavering, Murdock looks to Clarke. "You need to get the fire..." he seems to struggle with his words in the presence of the horror. "The water might...

*GASP*

The thug that had been chasing Clarke sinks a knife deeply into the first officer's side...
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:11, Tue 24 Sept 2019.

Mike heard the commotion of the sailors running to the deck, some crying in panic while others stood staring at the abomination in shock. The cries shook him out of his own terrible nightmare.

Time to wake up.

He heard the blast of a gun, and saw the creature shrink slightly, but still appeared as hell bent as ever to wreck it's terrible vengeance on everyone. He took cover by the cracked and splintered crate and looked around for gasoline or a flammable liquid somewhere.

Kill it with fire.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 4 using 1d100. Success.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 153):

Looking about, Mike is unable to find anything that would start the conflagration that he desires. He is quickly distracted from his search as the swirling torrent rears up and lashes out....

(Roll Failed)

Scoring the wood of the deck next to Mike.

"The stone is the key to my rise. They won't be able to deny me any longer," shouts Daniel standing behind the monster, his clothes rippling in the wind that is coming off it. "I'll kill you and take the stone back!"

Mike jerked back in surprise as the wet tentacle slammed into the wood.

"Oh, yeah?" He called out in response to Daniel, "Not if we kill you first!"

He leaned around his cover and lined up a shot, aiming at Daniel.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 95 using 1d100.  gun combat. Fail

Mike cursed and laughed at the absurdity of it all wildly.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 155):

Rolled for Sanity: 14 - Pass

Clarke could not comprehend the mess of blood swirling in front of him. He knew it was a demon, perhaps a force of evil, but it could have also been a new technology that the broadsheets loved to write about so much. He did not know, and did not care. He simply wanted it to stop.

Looking around the deck, he attempted to find a source of water. Something. A fire bucket. A fire house. An extinguisher. If he could dilute the blood then he stood a chance. Otherwise he would have to search for fire and that would be in the engine room: a long way away.

Spot hidden: 69 - Fail

He could not see anything that immediately appeared akin to what he was looking for.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 156):

Mike
Mike found little solace in the fact that the knife wielding thug was warily backing away from the monster which seemed to whirl faster as it lashed out again...

(Roll failed)

Causing Mike to leap aside and the monster's strike smashing into the guardrails of the ship, heavily bending them.

"It's pointless to fight!" shouts Daniel. "Hand over the stone to me and perhaps I'll make you one of my playthings!"

Clarke
The thug grins widely as he withdraws his knife, causing the first officer to groan in pain as he stumbles away, instinctively firing off another shot at the monster that goes wide.

Glancing between Clarke and the first officer, the thug seems to make a quick mental calculation before lunging at Clarke with a wild swipe that barely misses its mark.

Mike got the impression that Daniel might be controlling the blood monster, or at least the monster was tied to him in some fashion.

The steel screamed behind him as another bloody tentacle slammed into it.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 78 using 1d100. Gun combat. Fail.

Mike's shot missed again and not for the first time he considered fleeing.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 158):

Clarke avoided the blade and moved over to the men screaming on the deck. He tried to soothe their trauma with some prayers and chants he had heard in his journey.

Roll: Fail

They did not work and the men continued to yell.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:51, Thu 26 Sept 2019.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 159):

Mike
"Accept your fate," shouts Daniel as the monster rears before him like a champion on the verge of attack. Lashing out again it...

(Roll failed)

Mike dodges and the monster again smashes into the guardrail, this time knocking it completely off the edge of the ship....

Clarke
"Just die already," says the thug through gritted teeth as he swings again...

(Roll succeeds)

His knife meeting its target as he slashes a swallow wound on Clarke's arm (2 damage)

Knowing that it was time to reload, Mike decided to pull back. He looked back over his shoulder and saw Clarke tending some of the shocked and injured crew.

Clarke always pulls through. Not sure how much good it will do...

Seeing the thug with the knife creeping towards his friend, Mike quickly grabs the knife from his boot and sprints toward the man, the blade leading point first.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 37 using 1d100. fighting. Pass.
Today: Jrodimus rolled 3 using 1d4.  knife damage.

He felt the knife enter flesh slickly as he collided with the thug.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:13, Sun 29 Sept 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 161):

The wound stung, but Clarke had had a lot worse. All he could think about was water. Water, water everywhere except where they needed.

With the barricade broken, he lunged at the monster and attempted to push it into the sea.

Clarke tried and failed.

Then, in a sudden burst of indifference to his life, he tried again. Once again, his strength and bravery did little to help him. As he held onto the monster, he could feel it peer underneath his soul and wish to skin him alive.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 162):

Suddenly whatever the substance that holds the monster together seems to dissipate causing Clarke to lose his balance and stumble. In what some would describe as a sort of cosmic irony, Clarke find himself falling towards the exact same hole he had been hoping to push the monster through. Flailing he tries to grab anything to keep himself from falling overboard...
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:15, Tue 01 Oct 2019.

Mike heard the thug moan in pain as he doubled over. Then out of the corner of his eye he saw Clarke sprint across the deck and try to barrel into the sanguine monster. Then inexplicably the form of the monster went liquid and split and time seemed to slow as he saw Clarke barreling towards the open edge of the ship.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 163):

Clarke shot his hands out, hoping to see anything remotely familiar and friendly he could latch onto.

Roll Dexterity: Pass

He found a solid crate with some rope close to the hole and grasped it. His fingers were still strong after all these years and he was able to hold on.

That still left him with the monster to kill, but he was alive for a moment. And if he was lucky then reinforcements would come soon either in the form of Byron, the Priest or a crew member.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 165):

As Clarke dangles from the side of the ship Mike is still faced with the monster, who fortunately the thugs seem to be afraid of getting too close too.

In a seemingly endless game of futility one of the vortex's limbs rises up to lash out...

(Roll failed)

Only to again miss the mark...

"Enough of this," shouts Daniel. "Seems the Elder Gods want me to bloody my own hands." He withdrawals a revolver from his jacket and takes aim...

(Roll Succeeds)

*BANG*

Mike more hears the shot than feels it as his left arm begins to turn numb.

Mike lifted his hand to his arm and drew it back, seeing red on his palm. He clenched his teeth and made the grim decision to murder Daniel or at least die trying.

Knife still clutched in his hand and bloody from the thug he had stabbed, Mike sprinted towards Daniel, avoiding the monster's reach as much as possible, and brandished his knife to take a slice out of the bastard.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 75 using 1d100. Fail.

Mike's blade went wide as he closed the gap.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 167):

Rushing backwards to create some space between himself and Mike, Daniel raises his revolver. "Enough of this futility. May the abyss take you!"

Moments before he pulls the trigger a shot rings out in the night and a slowly expanding crimson circle blossoms on Daniel's thigh.

Looking back, Mike sees that the first officer has risen to his knees, a pistol held in a shaky grip.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 168):

Clarke could feel water lap at his feet and the swell of the ocean as it rose and fall with each churn. He had hoped the journey to Scotland would have been uneventful, yet the darkness followed him still.

He attempted to pull himself up.

Roll to pull himself up: pass

He looked around, longing to see the priest arrive in heaven's glory. Perhaps even a chariot of fire at his heels with a legion of angels descending to fight the dark gods attempting to consume the Earth.

Roll for white knight: fail

Alas, all that awaited him was the monster and more wounded bodies.

Mike seized the opportunity and again rushed Daniel in order to take him down. He felt the deck sway under his boots as the smell of wet soil seemed to fill his nostrils. He leaned down and felt his shoulder connect with Daniel's gut. He heard Daniel's wind exit his lungs in a rough exhale as they both landed roughly on the deck with a THUD.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 2 using 1d100.  fighting. Critical Pass. Double damage(?)

Feeling the momentum in his favor, Mike remembered the knife still in his hand and attempted to push it against his nemesis' throat blade down.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 2 using 1d4.  knife damage x2 = 4.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 170):

While Mike's strike misses his foe's throat it does sink deeply into his shoulder.

"AHHHHH!" screams Daniel as he pushes Mike away, the knife dislodging with a sickening squelch. Holding the wound to keep pressure on it he stares death a Mike. "That is the end of you..." he says as he waves a hand at you. Feeling a whirling wind at his back Mike turns around to feel the blood cyclone looming over him....

(Roll Succeeds)

...Its tentacle lands wetly on Mike's shoulder and strangely there is no pain before a sudden eruption of blood spurts from the area.

(4 damage)

... Reeling Mike sees Daniel attempting to flee.
This message was last edited by the GM at 13:13, Mon 07 Oct 2019.

Staggering, Mike did his best to ignore the sanguine monstrosity behind him. Blood spurted from his shoulder and he was sure that he would need stitches and a transfusion after all this. If he survived. With one last ditch effort mike lunges at Daniel, brandishing his knife, attempting to stab him in the back as he turned.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 67 using 1d100.  fighting. Fail.

The blade went shy as Daniel twisted away. Mike stumbled as the deck swayed under his feet, his hands slick with blood he felt his fingers come around Daniel's jacket, he balled his hand into a fist to seize the fabric and plunged his knife into the occultist's side.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 18 using 1d100.  fighting - pushed.
Today: Jrodimus rolled 3 using 1d4.  knife damage.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:28, Mon 07 Oct 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 172):

Clarke looked at the standing first mate and asked for the thing he should never have given away. "Can I have a gun?"

Although he was waiting for a reply, he glanced around the deck and prayed the priest could hear them. Prayed the priest knew what kind of trouble they were in. And if that failed, he hoped Byron would put his books down and come and find them.

Roll for luck: pass (woohoo!)

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 173):

Mike
A morbid sense of satisfaction fills Mike as he feels the knife slip into Daniel's side.

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!" Daniel screams, pushing Mike away. Clutching his side he gestures to one of his henchmen. "Enough of this!"

(Roll Succeeds)

Mike feels himself lifted from his feet as he is tackled by one of the goons, the two of them crashing to the wooden deck.

Clarke
At first it seems that Clarke's request goes unnoticed by the first officer but then he reacts, sliding the revolver across the deck of the ship so that it lands at Clarke's feet.

Strangely the first officer holds up a finger pointing in a direction over Clarke's shoulder....
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:37, Tue 15 Oct 2019.

Mike struggled against the goon, trying to grapple with him to gain the upper hand as they rolled around the deck.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 8 using 1d100.  fighting.

He felt his elbow dig into the man's face and he felt the grip on him slacken slightly. He took advantage of the opportunity to take control and mounted the man, knife still in his hand. He stabbed the man.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 74 using 1d100.  fighting.

But the knife was deflected to the side as the man struggled.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:37, Tue 15 Oct 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 175):

Planting his feet on the deck of the ship the henchmen attempts to shift his weight and throw Mike off him...

(Roll succeeds)

The thug's sudden shift in weight causes Mike tumble forward allowing the goon to wriggle free. The two of you clamber to your feet and slowly begin circling each other, knives held warily in front of you.

Mike's body hurt. He felt the warm blood on his shoulder, slick and dark red, as it caked his shirt and jacket. He and the goon circled each other warily, he could see that the goon was panting almost as much as he. He lunged, blade toward his foe.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 20 using 1d100.  fighting. Pass.
Today: Jrodimus rolled 1 using 1d4.  damage.

The blood glanced off the thug's wrist, but still cut.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 174):

Clarke grabbed the gun and spun, keeping his finger on the trigger but not firing it. He hoped to see old friendly faces and if none of them, then the leering spectre of death he could shoot at.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 178):

Swinging around wildly, Clarke doesn't find the leering specter of death closing in behind him. Rather he finds what the first officer had pointed at, the ships fire fighting system. A large dark metal water tank, which is perhaps what kept Clarke from noticing it before, is bolted to the deck of the ship. It has a long coiled hose attached to one end and a large wheel-shaped crank.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 179):

Clarke holstered the pistol where he had kept his own before and grabbed the hose. He dragged it out and took aim at the monster, turning the nozzle onto full bore.

Roll to hold hose: minor fail

He had under guessed its force and found himself barely able to hold onto the hose. It splashed in every direction, whipping his arms back and forward in a frenzy.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 180):

Clarke
Although there was no real way real to tell as the monster had no face, Clarke could feel the monster turn to face him, perhaps sensing the threat that he now posed. Tearing across the deck like the cyclone that it was, the monster lashed out with a bloody tendril...

(Roll succeeds, 3 damage)

Striking a blow across Clarke's side. Although it doesn't land with much force must less break the skin, Clarke begins to feel blood pour down his side.

Mike
Still holding his injured arm before him, the thug makes a few feints at Mike before making a wild slash...

(Roll succeeds, 1 damage)

Landing a blow that mirrors the one Mike gave him.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 181):

Clarke ignored the blood and continued fighting with the hose to bring it under control. He yanked it down, bracing his feet to ensure a good grip on the pumping water.

Roll to control hose: pass

His second attempt proved successful and he shoves the stream of water down the monster's throat. He hoped that the First Officer was correct in his statement.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 182):

When the water hits the monster, a strange gurgling fills the air. The area hit seems to stop spinning, growing more and more viscous before it begins to dip off the monster in a long tendril of ooze. In a wobbling arc cyclone manages to get out of the torrent spraying from the hose.

With the monster clearly in a daze, if that's possible for a... bloodstorm, Clarke knew he had to act quickly while he had the chance.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 183):

While the monster was stunned, Clarke pulled out the revolver and took careful aim. His shooting had been off ever since this journey had started, rusty he assumed, so he hoped his body had started to remember the motions. He squeezed off a shot.

Roll to shoot: success

His shot was mostly on target, hitting square in the strike zone. The monster screamed. And although Clarke could not say completely, it seemed to stagger back towards the hole in the railing.

"Help me," he said to the First Officer. "Help revive those men on the ship."

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 184):

Mike's mind reeled as the goon's blade made contact. It wasn't deep, but he could feel himself weakening. He lunged forward with his blade, hoping to end this fight sooner rather than later.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 93 using 1d100.  fighting knife.

His blade went wide again, and he decided to withdraw. Seeking cover where the crew and Clarke were hoping he could find some safety in numbers.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 185):

Clarke
Another large portion of the monster sloughs off, leaving it greatly reduced in size. It barely makes it out of the spray of the hose, almost moving listlessly across the deck of the ship. Clarke could tell it was on its last... WInd? Breeze? Rotation?

Mike
As Mike's swing goes wide the thug smiles, revealing rotted and missing teeth. "I'll make you die slow."

(Roll succeeds, 1 damage)

The goon's knife flashes out scoring another gash on MIke's arm

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 186):

Out the corner of his eye, Clarke could see Mike bloodied and hurt, his attacker closing in fast. Killing a supernatural being seemed pointless if it meant losing one more of those he wished to protect.

He dropped the hose and breathed out. With a single focus he concentrated on the vital points of Mike's attacker.

Roll to shoot at Mike's attacker: Success
Damage: 8

The bullet punched out of the gun and hit the man squarely in the back of the head, killing him instantly. Now all he had to deal with was the thrashing hose, one more attacker and a monster.

Mike heard the crack of Clarke's revolver and clinging his bloodied arm he slid to his knees on the wet deck among the shocked and disabled crewmembers. With shaking and bloody hands, he reached into his jacket and counted out 6 rounds and loaded his Grandfather's snubnose revolver. He closed the chamber and turned to see where the next attack was coming from.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 187):

While Clarke focuses on the shot, his attention is drawn away from the monster which seems to contract upon itself. If he had been paying attention, Clarke would have seen the coagulated mess that had fallen off the monster roll across the deck to recombine with its larger mass.

With the threat of the fire hose gone, the monster lashes out...

(Roll succeeds, 2 damage)

Its tentacle weakly wraps around Clarke's ankle, causing blood to pour forth

Mike watched the goon hit the deck, blood and brain matter splattering against the wood planks. He turned just in time to see the monstrosity's riposte tear a chunk out of Clarke's ankle. With some effort, Mike lunged forward for the hose and raised it towards the monster.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 10 using 1d100.  aim hose at monster.

"Drink this, you sonofabitch," Mike growled through gritted teeth as the water surged from the spout.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 190):

Feeling the cut on his ankle, Clarke focused his attention on the monster. It loomed in front of him. He could sense its vileness and connection with evil rippling through the plane of existence he lived on. Knowing he was unable to grab the hose and shoot, he raised his pistol and sighed. "At least I finally saved one person," he mumbled.

A wall of water exploded from behind him, hitting the monster.

Roll to shoot: failure

The unexpected salvation threw his aim off and the bullet went wide. A first for the night. Clarke had three more in the chamber and hoped whoever was holding the hose could keep it steady one more time.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 191):

An otherworldly shriek fills the air as the spray for the hose engulfs the monster. As it slowly diminishes in size it disappears beneath the torrent. After a few moments it feels as if a weight has been lifted as the sense of menace and peril that had filled the air vanishes.

Holding the hose on target for a few more moments to be sure that monster is truly vanquished, Mike turns the crank shutting off the water. Gone is the monster and in its place is a puddle of pinkish-red water.

The incapacitated sailors begin to stir, many moaning and clutching their heads. The first officer slowly rises to his feet, swaying as he tries to keep his balance. "What... What... Happened?"

A sense of relief washed over Mike as the sailors began to stir, but he know Daniel was still on board. He looked around the deck looking for his nemesis and any of his goons left over.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 193):

Aside from the small group of sailors the deck of the ship appears to be empty. It seems that the rest of the passengers had enough sense to stay out of harm's way.

"There was... some kind of... monster. Where did it go?" asks the first officer. He seems to be slowly recovering from the shock of seeing the horror in person. "I thought I saw some kind of... was it a large bird?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:33, Sun 20 Oct 2019.

With a heavy sigh, Mike dropped the hose and fell to his knees. He was exhausted and he felt himself approaching unconsciousness. But the adrenaline from the fight still surged through his blood despite its dissipation.

"Another monster felled,<Green>" He said to Clarke, "<Green>You saved me. I knew I could rely on you when it mattered, old friend."

He looked at Clarke appreciatively, then turned his attention to the sailor. "Do you think a bird did this to us?" He took of his jacket and shook it out, "My jacket is ruined." He muttered, unable to maintain a train of thought. He brought a bloody hand to his head and closed his eyes.

There is no God here.

"We need to find Daniel, the man who was standing over there." He pointed to where Daniel and the monster once stood. "Every able bodied crew needs to be looking for him. He can't have gotten far."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:53, Mon 21 Oct 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 195):

Clarke nodded slightly to show he had heard Mike's words. There was still a lot to do, including finding their missing nemesis. He hoped, for everyone's sake, Daniel was not hunting Byron down. The odds of them surviving another encounter were slim.

"Bird or not," he said to the crew, "the lawyer brought something very dangerous with him on this ship. I fear he may have brought more as well. If we do not find him soon, we will not rest easy tonight. And if someone could help us locate the priest, we would be greatly appreciated."

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 196):

The first officer seems to slowly gather himself. "I can put together groups to search for the lawyer but this is a large ship. It will take hours to search it from bow to stern." He pauses for a moment. "And I think it is safe to assume he is dangerous..."

Falling back into routine seems to bring new life to the officer as he begins barking orders to his men. "Get him to the infirmary... Straighten yourself out... Go inform the Captain..." Slowly life comes back to the crew.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:35, Tue 22 Oct 2019.

Mike remained kneeling on the deck. The salty night air suddenly feeling cold as his sweat cooled in the open air of the ship. Gradually, the shaking subsided and his wounds went numb. After some time, he put his torn jacket back on and reached into the inside pocket to fish out a cigarette. He lit it, and then finally stood on unsteady legs. "I need to go to the infirmary as well, if someone would be so kind."

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 198):

The familiarity of routine seems to act as a salve for the horrified crewmen as they fall into their practiced roles with ease. Two crewman escort you to the infirmary were you are greeted by an elderly female doctor. Stooped with age, she quickly identifies your various injuries and does her best to patch you up, sending you out the door with a sedative to help you sleep.

Despite their best efforts the crew is unable to find Daniel. First Officer Murdock, looking much more hale than when you last saw him reports the bad news to you. "We've searched the ship up and down but haven't found the scoundrel yet. As all the lifeboats are still aboard we know he hasn't left the ship. We believe that he is somewhere among the passengers."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 199):

Clarke stood up. His body felt creaky but intact. He also felt alive and complete. His whole life he had sought penance through living. If he could be the best person, then he would be able to repay those who had given their existence so he could keep his. Now, however, he had realised that was a mistake. A path taken, perhaps. Only blood could repay the amount he had borrowed.

Whatever the end, death most likely, he would have settled the scales and be free in his nothingness.

"It is best we keep an eye on the other passengers then," he said to the crew. "Daniel's habits require food and a particular kind."

Turning to Mike, he added, "We should find the priest and Byron. They may also be targets."

Mike stood next to Clarke and nodded in agreement. He felt a little rejuvenated, but the numb shock of the absurd monstrosity that he witnessed had slowly crept over him. He felt his fingers twitch on their own accord, and he pulled out a cigarette hoping nobody would notice. He gave Murdock the best description he could of Daniel.

"Also, you might consider questioning the bar tender, the description might ring a bell. Be sure to mention that Daniel was cocksure and a womanizer." Mike lit his cigarette, "Oh, and one more thing, Could send Frank to see us? I think he could be of some help. I get the impression he'll be more than happy to lend a hand in this."

He turns to Clarke and raises his eye brows, "Are we forgetting anything?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 201):

"Perhaps I could have my revolver returned," he mentioned to the first mate. "It appears there are far worse dangers aboard this ship than myself at this point."

He ran through his old mental list of risks that had to be assessed in a life-or-death situation. Nothing else sprung to mind. At least, nothing he needed to mention publicly.

"There is another matter," he said to Mike. "However, it is not related to Daniel and the crew do not need to concern themselves with it. They have more than enough to deal with than the interests of an ageing man."

Mike nodded, "Let's discuss this on our way back to find the Padre and Byron." He stood aside with a motion to allow Clarke to proceed before him.

"What else should do we need to consider?'

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 203):

"The woman I met in the bar earlier, she knew something was going to happen," he replied. "She anticipated evil befalling us. We have to consider Daniel might be not working alone. There may be more than one individual interested in our stone."

Mike recalled the woman that he saw Clarke talking to earlier in the lounge. "Well it's clear Daniel isn't working alone. But perhaps there are more than one party vying for the stone." He considered the implications as he dragged off his cigarette. "That would certainly complicate things even more. Should we try to track her down as well?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 205):

Clarke mulled this idea over for a minute and then said, "I do not believe it will be required. We should keep an eye out, however, and be mindful this ship is filled with other interested parties. We have to use our resources carefully. Next time we may not be so lucky."

"Aye, you're right. Let's keep watching each other's backs. You're the only one I can trust."

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 207):

Clarke felt Mike's trust was misplaced. He was a man on the verge of the abyss, only when he was under the ground could one trust him to take an appropriate stance. Perhaps not even then.

He nodded curtly to show his appreciation for the comment and remained silence. The creak and groans of the old boat filled the void between them.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 208):

Retracing their steps Mike and Clarke make their back to their cabin. As they past through the various compartments of the ship the environment feels subdued as if everyone knows something happened but not exactly what.

Approaching the door to the cabin, Mike reaches out to find it firmly latched.

Noticing the rattle from the handle the muffled voice of the father asks "Who's there? I'm armed." It sounds as if he has his back pressed against the door.

Mike gripped the handle lightly, "It's Mike and Clarke, Padre. Everything alright in there?" He said through the locked door.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 210):

There is a pause from behind the door before the father responds, speaking more loudly this time. "How do I know you are who you say you are?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:17, Wed 30 Oct 2019.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 211):

"When we needed first aid, we met a strange doctor in a town," Clarke started. "We were blackmailed by the Sheriff into giving him money. We are seeking a way to save humanity from dark gods in deep caverns. And we believe that our mutual friend might be alive."

Clarke waited for the Priest's reply.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 212):

Another pause... "A doctor... I think I remember. I remember the old man with the paper... I remember the funeral home... It's all such a haze..."

Another long pause...

"No, that's not enough. If you are Mike then you know, forgive my language Lord, the bastard that shot me?"

Mike scoffed softly in embarrassment, "I, Mike Hudson, am that bastard, Padre."

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 214):

Mike can nearly feel the father's relieved sigh through the door before it is quickly opened. "Forgive my aspersion my son," he says as he clasps Mike on the shoulder. "I had to know if it was truly you." Quickly Mike and Clarke sweep into the room, closing the door behind them.

"I took refuge in this cabin when I heard gunshots." Looking over the bandages and stitches that decorate the pair like a christmas tree the father pales slightly. "What happened out there?"

So still as to barely be noticed, Byron is sitting on one of the bunks, motionless, his eyes locked on the box which is sitting on a bunk just behind the father.

Mike crossed his arms, "To be honest, Padre, you don't really want to know. What's up with Byron?" He asked concerned

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 216):

The father looks over at Byron, his hands fidgeting with a rosary. "I do not know. It's almost as if he is... vacant. As if his life force is gone. I brought him in here with me... I didn't know what else to do." The father's unease is palpable. "He will follow simple instructions but not much more. He is fixated on the stone..."

Mike crossed his arms, "Do you think it's a good idea to keep him away from the stone?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 218):

The father raises his eyebrows. "Do you feel that it is a good idea to offer it forth? He has already been exposed, who know what connection it has established with him." The father pauses despite obviously wanting to say more. "But I must be honest... Much of what I have planned hasn't done much good anyways." He holds out the box. "Here, perhaps it's best you take it."

Mike nodded gravely and tentatively took the box into his hands. "We need to find, Daniel before we get to port. I have a feeling we haven't seen the last of the cult. But I don't want him following us inland."

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 220):

Clarke felt a deep well of pity for Byron. He had joined them with such promise. Out of the three of them, he had been the one who had wished to rise from his fate and make something of his life. He had dreamed of restoring honour to his family and proving his theories more than lazy jokes made by seniors in the dining hall. Now he sat vacantly while hoping to fill his dreams with darkness.

"From my experience, magic cannot be done through our minds alone. It requires tools and other items of power to bring forth the demons. If he wishes to use our stone for evil then I assume he would have some tools stashed in the cargo area. I doubt he would abandon them because of some ill fortune."

Mike looked back and forth at Clarke and Father Henessey, "That's a great idea. Do either of you know what kind of tools we'd be looking for?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 222):

The father runs a hand over his face. "If they are casting incantations, they would not only need space but privacy as well. As for tools, such spell craft can run the gamut. But from the sound of it we'd be looking for Silver Blood. A mixture of mercury, iron, and the caster's blood. I believe that is what is being used to block the ship's navigation systems."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 223):

"Where would the best place be to block navigational systems on board a boat?" Clarke asked. "Could the crew help us with this information?"

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 224):

"Such spells don't usually work in that manner," says the father. "While I am no expert, I imagine the spell is casting a blanket over the ship. Any vessel that comes into the area would feel the same effects."

Mike set the box down next to him and sat down on the bunk, scratching his beard he asked, "Would the silver in the blood be detectable with a metal detector?"

His eyes wandered over to Byron, still listless and unresponsive save for a few blinks. Seeing his old friend in such a dilapidated state saddened him. But it seemed they had little time for mourning.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:28, Mon 04 Nov 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 226):

The father raps his knuckle against the wall of the cabin, the painted metal giving off a dull thud. "No more than the rest of the ship I'm afraid."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 227):

"Spells do not usually last indefinitely. Is he sustaining it somehow? With some sort of device or artefact? Or will it wear off over time?" Clarke asked the priest.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 228):

"I assume that disk we found may be the culprit. It seemed to be eroding." The father does some calculations in his head. "We could wait it out. Although getting rid of the source would be much faster."

"I'm not entirely sure we have time to wait, Daniel is already probably covering his tracks. At one point I saw Daniel and one of his goons enter a room. I wonder if we can backtrack to it, I remember it was near the lounge."

00:33, Today: Jrodimus rolled 100 using 1d100.  intelligence check.

Mike wracked his brain trying to remember, but he couldn't seem to remember a damn thing.

Did he exit the lounge right or left? I can't remember...

He turns to his friends, "I can't remember where though."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:34, Tue 05 Nov 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 230):

Clarke did not blame Mike for forgetting where it was. Their previous fight had been a tough one and they had almost died. Mike, he was pretty certain, had had the worst of it.

If they needed Daniel's room number then they could always ask the quartermaster for it. Except, he first had to remember where they were.

Roll: pass

His brain, tired and running on low, still had a spark. He had a decent idea of where they needed to go next.

"Follow me," he said. "But we must be on our guard. It is likely Daniel will try to protect his spell."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:50, Fri 08 Nov 2019.

Mike nodded, "Good idea, Clarke. Keep an eye on Byron, Padre. Keep the door locked." Mike said before following his friend out of their cabin, the box in his hands.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 232):

Clarke plodded along with the group towards the Quartermaster's office. He was exhausted. The last few weeks, if it had even been that long, had felt like an eternity. He longed to slide into a warm bed and awake knowing the demons were in Cairo and is life was boring. Jack had forever destroyed his peace; and in turn, he was to die for his lost friend. This seemed unfair.

Zoe nodded in agreement.

The Quartermaster's room loomed in front of him.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 233):

Letters spelling out the word 'quartermaster' decorate the wall above a large metal metal door. You hard rap on the door is quickly met with a barked command to "Enter!"

Pushing past they door, you pause as you enter the room. Nearly every surface is covered with loose paperwork, the loose sheets that are not affixed to the wall lay strewn about with small pathways the only indication that the room is in use. "You can just put the requisition forms over there and I'll get to them when I can."

The voice seems to be coming from behind a mountain of papers which you can only assume is supported by a desk underneath it.

Mike peered around the mountain of documents and cleared his throat to get the Quartermaster's attention.

"Hello sir," Mike started, "My name is Mike and this is my friend Clarke. We're investigating the violent disturbance on the deck above that occurred a few hours ago and we're looking for a man who may be on the cabin manifest."

Mike gave the quartermaster Daniel's name and described his appearance and alleged occupation in New York. "Also, he might have had luggage that tinked like there was glass in it, vials and such, or perhaps marked as fragile," he finished.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 235):

A short bespectacled man behind the mountains of papers peers back at Mike. "Violent disturbance? What clearance do you have?"

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 236):

Clarke furrowed his brow. "Clearance?" he asked. "Will we need to drag the Captain or First Officer Murdock down here to sort this out? Look at us, good man. Do you believe we are bloodied and battered because we wish to playact a pagan ritual? We barely survived death, a woman has passed into the great ether, and you wish for 'clearance'? We are on the hunt for a man determined to spread darkness and despair across this ship. If you wish to verify these facts after he is custody, then please be our guest. I will walk myself to the Captain's cabin. However, until he is stashed in manacles, we must make haste."

Roll of persuade: 33 pass

Clarke saw the Quarter Master's face soften.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:03, Wed 27 Nov 2019.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 237):

"No need to cause such a tizzy," the quartermaster says, almost under his breath. "Lets see, lets see." He begins to riffle through a pile of papers at his side before pulling out a bundle of pages. "Here is the guest log. Take it and leave me to my numbers!"

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 238):

Clarke snatched the sheet from the Quarter Master. "Thank you, good sir," he said before stomping out of the office.

Alone, in the corridor outside, he turned to Mike and showed him the list. "Anything here that jogs your memory?" he asked.

Mike took the offered manifest and began to examine the document. His eyes scanned back and forth taking in the names, descriptions of luggage, ages, number of people in the party and quarters. He knew that Daniel would likely choose somewhere more luxurious, not content to sleep among low borne commoners such as they. He also knew that he had company.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 4 using 1d100.  intelligence check. Pass.

He whistled softly as his eyes lit up slightly. He looked at Clarke, "I think I've found a clue..."

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 240):

While the manifesto has a number of Daniels listed, one stands out in particular: Daniel West ESQ and Co.

The name is scrawled in the space for cabin #16 and lists the occupancy as four.

Mike tapped the page where he say Daniel's cabin number, "Cabin 16. Let's get this sonofabitch."

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 242):

Making their way across the deck for what felt like the hundredth time, Mike and Clarke re-enter the area of the ship housing the passenger cabins. What was once before filled with people is now empty, the families and children seemingly have taken to the safety of their cabins. Following the indicators painted on the walls in crisp black letters, the two are able to quickly find cabin 16.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 243):

Clarke pulled out his dusty and mostly unused lock-picking kit. "Best we try this before bashing it in," he said.

He inserted the tools and started moving them around trying to find the right combination.

Roll to lock pick: fail

Although his movements were relatively quiet, the lock did not give way. After a few moments, Clarke withdrew. "I believe a more old-fashioned method might be in order," he said to Mike.

Mike nodded, took a few steps back, and then moved forward extending his leg to give the door a solid kick.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 18 using 1d100.  strength check. Pass

The door flew open on it's hinges and with his revolver drawn Mike flung himself to the side of it for cover. He looked down the revolver site and peered into the cabin.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:48, Mon 02 Dec 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 245):

The inside of the cabin is chaos, as if it had been turned inside out and then subsequently thrown off a high cliff hitting every rock on the way down. Inside is a lone man stuffing handfuls of whatever he can grab into a canvas bag. At the sound of the door flying open the man give a start followed by an obscene exclamation. He quickly scrambles to grab something tucked in his belt.

Mike gripped his revolver, finger on the trigger, "Don't fucking move, you sonofabitch, or I'll paint the walls with your brains!" He snarled, "Hands up!" He kept his weapon trained on the man.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 247):

The man's hands shoot into the air. "Don't... Don't shoot!". You hear an audible thud as the man backs into the far wall. "Just take it easy, I don't know anything about nothing!"

Mike stepped into the room, glancing around quickly to make sure the man was alone with his revolver still trained on him. "So where do you think you're going so quickly? Looks like you're making for a speedy getaway."

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 249):

Mike's speed and a rat-a-tat exchange with the man in the cabin caught Clarke by surprise.

"You are an old man," Zoe said, standing in front of the door. "Eternal youth is what we can provide. Eternal youth and a demon child." She stuck her tongue out and licked her upper lip. Rather than a human tongue, however, a skinny serpent's one slid out and hissed as it attempted the seduction.

Clarke adjusted his glasses and pulled out his recently returned firearm. He strode through the apparition and into the chaotic mess.

"I do not hear you talking," he said as he aimed at the desperate man in the corner. "My friend and I would appreciate a significant yammer about all the the things you do not know."

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 250):

The man looks anxiously between the two men with guns pointed and you can see him visibly gulp.

"Uh... uh... Somebody tossed my room while I was out. When I got back I panicked thinking they might come back for me so I just trying to grab my valuables and split ." As he talks you notice that he carefully slides the canvas bag  behind him out of sight with his foot. It lets off a muffled clink.

Mike waved the point of his revolver down towards the canvas bag, "We don't have the time nor the interest in playing games. We're not going to rob you, but whats in the bag?" His eyes hardened, "I'll warn you again, we are not messing around."

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 252):

The man responds quickly. "Clothes, trinkets. Mostly family heirlooms. I'm the sentimental type. You see my wife, bless her soul. These are all I got to remember her by." He continues to ramble at almost breakneck speed, talking about how he hasn't ever hurt anyone and his mum is waiting for him. "And then there is my brother, got the black lung you see. Can't even take care of his only son, my dear nephew. Looks up to me so. Says he wants to be just like me when he gets older." The man continues with no sign of stopping.

Mike approached the man and smashed the butt of the handgun into the side of his head.

20:48, Today: Jrodimus rolled 27 using 1d100.  Pistol whip the fool. (Brawl). Pass.
20:49, Today: Jrodimus rolled 1 using 1d4.  pistol whip damage.

Thuck!

Mike saw the flesh split near the man's temple, red threatening to pour forth from the flesh wound. He put the barrel of the gun against the man's cheek. "Shut. The. Fuck. Up." He shoved the man onto the bed, "Stay there and don't move. Keep your hands up." His grandfather's revolver never left the man.

"Can you see what's in the bag?" He asked Clarke.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 254):

Clarke was still shaky from the previous encounter with Daniel. He was certain he could take the suspicious man if he lunged for his weapon, but he wanted to make sure that the man would not try anything so imbecilic.

"My friend has had a long night," Clarke said. "We have been shot at and seen terrors of the deep no person should ever have laid eyes on. To be frank with you, sometimes it is difficult to know if our nightmare has stopped. Perhaps you are a monster in disguise and need to be put down." He motioned with his gun. "It would be best, good sir, if you proved yourself as human as you claim and stayed cowering on the floor while I fetch the bag. If not, we will have to assume the worse and send you back to the demon-spawned hell hole you came from. And if there is nothing wretched in that bag, as you claim, we will return it to you poste-haste."

Roll to persuade man: 3 - pass

Clarke went over and grabbed the bag. He brought it back to where Mike was standing. Slowly, he went through its contents.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:13, Wed 04 Dec 2019.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 255):

At first it seems as if the man had been telling the truth. As Clarke rifles through the bag he finds clothes, trinkets, and a few valuables. But when he gets to the bottom Clarke find a number of vials filled with a mysterious silver liquid that seems to stick to the glass as the vial is turned.

As Clarke removes the vials from the bag the man blanches before he makes a sudden bolt for the door...

"Oh no you don't!" Mike exclaimed as he stuck his leg out to trip the man.

20:42, Today: Jrodimus rolled 36 using 1d100.  contested brawl roll to trip guy.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 257):

Mike's outstretched leg causes the man to stumble and slam into the doorframe before he tumbles into the hallway. Looking back in fear the man quickly scrambles to his feet hoping to make good on his escape.

Mike raised his revolver at the man as he tried to get up, "Stop or I'll shoot you bastard!"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:10, Thu 05 Dec 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 259):

As the man tumbled over Mike's foot and was about to land in a position to be in a getaway, Clarke lunged for him. Although age had taken its toll, he was not a small man and was able to manage a solid grab on the passenger's clothes.

"Do not make my friend splatter your brains all over this hallway," he growled.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 260):

Clarke's grasp on the man's clothes proves to be just that, his clothes, as the man slips out of his over shirt and begins to sprint down the hall

"Sonofabitch!" Mike snarled as he dashed out the door after the man.

16:22, Today: Jrodimus rolled 80 using 1d100.  Doing the chase .

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 262):

Right on his heels, Mike pursues the man down the hall. As he nears Mike lunges forward to tackle the man who at the last second dodges causing Mike to crash into the metal wall of the nearby cabin.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 263):

Clarke left the chase to his slightly younger friend and went back to the cabin to guard it. The man they had found there had not been Daniel, or if he had been, then he had some magical way to change his appearance at will. There was a high chance the person they were looking for might make his way back to his base of operations. In Clarke's experience, men like Daniel rarely contemplated that they might fail and never made appropriate backup plans.

Re-entering the turned-over cabin, he picked up the silver vials and watched the liquid-solid make its way along the tube. Looking long and hard at the substance, he tried to remember if he had heard or read anything about such an otherworldly chemical.

Roll for Occult: fail (89)

Nothing sprang to his mind, and he wondered if Byron or the Priest might know more.

Grunting as he slammed into the wall, Mike pushed off it to keep up momentum with all his might. He pursued his quarry with increasingly Haggard breathing.

22:33, Today: Jrodimus rolled 59 using 1d100.  Doing the chase part 2.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 265):

The man rounds the corner turning to the left which, unbeknownst to him, is a dead end. This allows Mike to catch up. As Mike rounds the corner he finds the man furiously attempting to turn the knob of a locked door to no avail

Mike turned the corner and saw the man fumbling with the door, he sprinted full speed and and attempted to tackle the man into the wall.

13:34, Today: Jrodimus rolled 79 using 1d100.  Brawl.

He just missed the man as he saw Mike coming and spun out of the way.

"You've lost." Mike said, "you still have a chance of making out of this alive."

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 267):

The man's eyes dart back and forth. "Daniel said getting rid of you would be easy. A couple of backwoods bumpkins were not match for him. He said stopping you would serve the Stone God of Babylon and gain us his favor. He said..." The man continues to babble, almost too fast to follow.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 268):

Mike holds his hands out in front of him to try to slow the man down, "Come back to your cabin quietly, tell us the whole truth of it, and we'll let you walk off this boat in Scotland and pretend we never saw you. What'd you say?"

Today: Jrodimus rolled 84 using 1d100.  persuade. Fail.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 269):

Finding his knowledge lacking about the vials, Clarke took in the rest of the cabin. He searched it for anything that might have been out of place.

Roll for spot hidden: Fail (58)

Unfortunately, similar to the vials earlier, he found his age had caught up to him. He made a mental note to ask Mike to inspect the place once he had returned.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 270):

Mike
Mike's words do little to soothe the man. "Just let me walk away now. I have nothing to say to you. Daniel would.." The man's mouth shuts with an audible snap. "Just let me go."

Clarke
In the back of Clarke's mind he can tell that he has seen vials like these before but he can't seem to grasp the thought. The room itself is an utter mess and despite his years of investigative experience he can't make heads or tails of anything

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 271):

Clarke placed most of the vials back in the bag but wrapped one a handkerchief found on the floor and put it in his pocket. He glanced around quickly to see if there were any kinds of notebooks or papers, even the worthless kind, that might have been discarded in the rush.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 272):

Searching the room Clarke finds little of use. Just as he his about to quit he stumbles upon an overturned waste basket. Inside he finds three crumpled photos, photos of Mike, Clarke, and Byron.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:23, Sun 08 Dec 2019.

Feeling the man's attention start to slip, he brandishes his revolver, "We need answers. Unfortunately, you don't get to go home if you don't start giving them."

23:49, Today: Jrodimus rolled 3 using 1d100.  intimidate. Pass.

The man glanced down at the firearm. "To tell the truth, after all this mess that you and yours heaped on me and mine, I wouldn't mind putting a bullet in your skull now and throwing your body out to sea. But, you see, I'm a man a fair temper and fair mind," Mike said, the last sentence more for his own benefit than the cultist's own peace of mind.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 274):

"How do I know you won't just put a bullet in me if I go back to the cabin? Daniel said..." Again the man's mouth snaps shut and he seems to whiten with fear.

Mike looked at him, "Enough men have died today. You have my word, if you cooperate you keep your life and go free. If we can get to Daniel then you'll have nothing to worry about. But if you don't..." Mike gestured with the revolver meaningfully and shrugged.

What's another life?

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 276):

The man seems to relax slightly although his posture remains tense. "Ok... Ok.... What do you want to know?"Mike can tell that, given the chance, the man will flee again.

Mike kept his revolver in his hand, "First, back to the cabin. After you - and don't try to run, I'd hate to have to shoot a man in the back. So, what do you know about the Stone God?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 278):

Making sure the man keeps his arms up and away from his pockets, Mike marches his hostage back to the cabin where he finds Clarke poking around in the mess that dominates the room.

"You know you can't stop Daniel? He has spoken with the gods themselves and they bless him with their strength," says the man.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:32, Mon 09 Dec 2019.

"Yeah, Yeah. Have a seat." Mike motioned to a chair. When the man was seated he said, "Alright stay put," while keeping his revolver on him.

"So, where's Daniel now? Where do you think he could've gone now that his plans have been ruined by a few ol' country bumpkins?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 280):

The man blinks slowly as if confused. "Ruined? Nothing a knife in the dark can't easily remedy." Much of the man's fear and shock seem to have melted away, replaced by a resolute if arrogant tone. "Whether he gets you on the boat or once we reach land doesn't make much of a difference. The Taker of Sacrifices is not one to pick and choose."

Mike sighed in exasperation and pointed the gun at the man, "Enough games. I said you can live if you cooperate. Cooperating means telling us WHERE THE FUCK DANIEL IS." He pulled the lever back with a solid click.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 282):

"If you are so eager to die be my guest. Daniel plans to sabotage the engine room and then escaping, leaving you stranded at sea." He straightens his shirt and delicately touches the small gash on the side of his head. "You know where Daniel is, now honor your word."

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 283):

Clarke was tired. He was tired of self-righteous cultists and extremist hobbyists who wished to talk to demons. More so, he was tired of folk who treated others as if they were disposable because of their differing beliefs.

He raised his pistol. He chuckled. "I believe, good sir, I have not promised you anything. And if you are so certain of our death, then we should remove as many demons from this world before our inevitable departure as we can." He steadied his weapon. "Unless you are willing to say what is in those vials, how Daniel will sabotage the engine, and how you have our pictures, you can say hello to Daniel when you meet in the arms of your king."

Roll for intimidate: 34 - success
This message was last edited by the player at 14:46, Mon 09 Dec 2019.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 284):

A snarl twists the man's face. "No honor among thieves as they say. Very well." He straightens, his demeanour becoming smug and tolerating. "One, the vials are beyond your understanding and mine. Daniel created them as a safeguard against those he summons. 2, I imagine Daniel will simply blow up the engine. There is an ample supply of fuel about. 3, The fact that we possess your photo surprises you shows exactly how little you know. Now I've said my part, do want you must. And may I join the Taker in the Bog."

Mike shook his head then waved towards the door with his revolver, "Get out of here. If we see you again running around with Daniel or his like, we won't be so kind enough to let you live." Then as an after thought he grinned wickedly at the man, "Oh, and...it won't be quick."

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 286):

Hesitantly the man edges towards the door, trying to keep distance between you as if he fears you might leap forward and grab him. As he reaches the door the man seems about to bolt before pausing in the doorway almost motionless and limp with his head bowed.

"Be careful... It's too late for me... He promises he can change them back... That's all I want...."

A long tense silence hangs in the air.

...
...
...


"Don't let him change you," the man whispers before disappearing into the hallway.

Mike watched the man flee with a pang of pity. Turned out that behind all the bravado and arrogance was a man who had lost someone and was an easy target for Daniel's manipulation. He hoped to never see the man again, else he would have to make good on his promise.

Mike exhaled his stress and reached into his pocket for a lucky strike, lighting one before reaching down to grab a couple of vials of the silvered blood. "I think we ought to keep a few of these on us in our pockets. Perhaps it can help us somehow," He said to Clarke as he handed a few over to his friend.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:49, Tue 10 Dec 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 288):

Clarke stashed the vials in his pocket and picked up the pictures. He looked them over to see if there was anything interesting on them.

"I am quite tired, Mike. I might have missed something when I scoured this cabin. Could you please give it a once over as well before we head to the engine room?"

"Yeah, me too Clarke." Mike replied as he started to look around the room for any clues.

01:18, Today: Jrodimus rolled 21 using 1d100.  Spot hidden. Pass.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 290):

Looking around the room, Mike isn't sure where to start. On a lark he picks up an overturned drawer that had been thrown to the floor, finding beneath it scraps of waxed paper and a strange black powder.

Mike picks up a pinch of the powder with his finger tips, "Clarke, can you make sense of any of this?"