The Scoop is a weekly tabloid specializing in printing stories about gory murders, sex scandals, and weird happenings. The offices of The Scoop are easily found on the third floor of a shabby building in Fleet Street, not far from Ludgate Circus. The editor of the Scoop, Mickey Mahoney, is a red-haired, cigar-smoking, and grubby looking journalist of Irish descent.

He squints at you suspiciously as you enter the busy office, but leers at Rachel. “What can I do for you fine folks?”, he inquires, waving away a foul-smelling cloud of cigar smoke.


This message was last edited by the GM at 21:59, Thu 13 Sept 2018.

Rachel hesitated, wondering if they had the address wrong. Unfortunately, based on the stack of newspapers in the office, they had indeed found The Scoop.. It was hard to believe Elias would work with such a newspaper, if she could call it that. The corners of her mouth curled in distaste as they approached the editor, who seemed the very embodiment of The Scoop. Rachel sighed.

"Mr. Mahoney, we're friends of Jonah Kensington from the Prospero. He told us you might have information on what El-- a friend of ours was working on?" Rachel said, looking around suspiciously.

In reply to Rachel Katz (msg # 2):

An avid newspaper reader, Bromley feels a sense of dread walking into the offices of The Scoop.  He knows all too well the salacious scandals published in this rag. Occasionally he will find a well thumbed copy hidden away at the stables when attending the races. He is also keenly aware how damaging it could be if his peers ever found out he was here.

Still, after setting eyes upon this Mr Mahoney, Bromley feels a small pang of relief; If there is one thing he thinks this man understands it is money - And as long as Bromley can offer a whiff of it, this man should stay well clear of his affairs.

Plus, after the events of New York, Bromley is singularly convinced that what he has become embroiled in is a much greater concern than ending up in a flash-in-the-pan scandal.

“Your friend?” replies Mahoney. “And who might this be?”

“His name was Jackson Elias, a travel writer from the States”, says Art, picking up a print plate and tutting at the pictures of the nearly naked girl on it.

“Ah, Jackson! Damned sorry to read about him dying. He was a character alright. Good bit of craic! Well, can’t tell you that much. He was recently in London and promised me a story about an evil cult operating in the heart of the city. He hinted that the cult might be well connected but didn’t provide any hard proof. I never got the story but would love to have it.”

He opens a drawer and picks up a bundle of money, counting off a small portion of it. “I can go all the way up to fifteen quid* if you can bring me the full details!”

“Oh!” he adds. “Another thing... Mr. Elias also browsed through our back issues and picked out some stories that caught his eye. Got them here somewhere…. Ah yes, here they are, the little buggers. Not sure who wrote them originally. I often rewrite stuff I find in other papers, to give ‘em that little extra whoosh!”

He produces three newspaper articles for you. “I don’t know if Mr. Elias followed up on any of these stories, but he was very interested in them. He seemed rushed and desperate, and left soon after for New York, like the divil was chasing him.”

*$75 in 1925 - or $1000 today


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This message was last edited by the player at 12:32, Tue 11 Sept 2018.

In reply to Mickey Mahoney (msg # 1):

Dermot greets his compatriot.

"How's she cuttin'?"

In reply to Dermot Murphy (msg # 5):

Mahoney grins. "An Ulsterman for sure! I'm grand, thanks."

He takes in Dermot's somewhat rough appearance and prosthetic hand. "Looks like you've seen your fair share of action. If you're ever after wanting to tell your stories, I'd love to hear them. Sorry about your mate, he was a good lad."

His expression darkens. "Too many shenanigans going on at the moment. I know it sells newspapers, but people are getting jumpy. Mate o'mine lost his son. If you need any help, let me know. I've got the dirt on nearly everyone."
This message was last updated by the player at 12:33, Tue 11 Sept 2018.

You leave the sordid office of the Scoop and travel the relatively short distance to the headquarters of the famous New Scotland Yard, on the Victoria Embankment. The desk sergeant welcomes Bromley and Art and ignores the rest of you.

“Inspector Barrington is a busy man, Sir,” he says to Bromley, “but I will see if I can arrange a meeting. Please have a seat.”

You take a seat in the crowded waiting room. The air is loud with the indignant cries of boisterous street walkers and arrested winos from nearby holding cells.

After a short wait, you are led to a small office, filled with paperwork, where Inspector Barrington greets you. He is a thin, weathered and seasoned policeman, dressed in a shabby suit. He has a clipped mustache and weary eyes.

In reply to Mickey Mahoney (msg # 6):

"Much obliged, Mahoney. I’ll take y’ope on that yet."

Replacing the glove over his prosthetic hand, Dermot follows the rest toward the Yard. He’s happy to hang around outside or maybe have a smoke and a pint in a nearby pub.

In reply to Inspector James Barrington, (msg # 7):

Gustav shakes the inspector's hands and presents to Inspector Barrington his credentials and a brief background of what they had experienced in New York (omitting the parts about the ciimba and the well). He talks about the circumstances surrounding the disappearance of the people in the harlem district and about the death of Mr. Elias, the party have reasons to believe that they are connected.

"With all due respect, we would want to provide assistance to your agency in getting to the bottom of this. Our motivation might be quite personal - a death of a dear friend is nothing but personal - but I assure you as a full detective of the New York Police department, we shall do our best under the law, to solve these murders and have the killers brought to justice."

"If you can give us any information, any leads, anything at all, please tell us"

In reply to Gustav Schmidt (msg # 9):

Listening forlornly to Gustav, Bromley looks to Inspector Barrington after he has finished. With his most grave (and sincere) stiff upper lip adds "Any information you can provide would mean a great deal to us... to me. Mr Elias was indeed a great friend and gifted author, but this whole affair is a blight upon our fair city"

Dermot chose not to come with the rest of the group into the Scotland Yard for some reason, so he is waiting outside.

“Yes, Sir,” says Barrington to Bromley with a practiced neutral expression on his face. “We have made some progress and are turning up new leads all the time.”

He carefully studies Gustav’s credentials and nods, satisfied. “Welcome to London, Detective Schmidt. I would certainly appreciate any assistance you and your friends have to offer. Since you have vouched for them, I can tell you what we know so far. Please, sit down and make yourselves comfortable.”

What Barrington says about Jackson Elias
• Elias talked to him briefly, saying that the murders were ritual killings conducted by an organization known as the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh, which Elias described as an Egyptian death cult.

At this, Art makes a strangled noise. Noticing your worried looks, he explains that the book he read on the ocean voyage mentions the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh as the cult that the author joined.

• Following the tip presented by Elias, Barrington got in touch with the Penhew Foundation, an organization with connections to Egypt, to see if they could corroborate Elias’ information. Barrington met with Edward Gavigan at the Foundation, who confirmed a society calling themselves the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh had once existed but that they had no modern-day equivalent, as they died out hundreds of years ago. Gavigan did, however, think the method of murder imitated those of the ancient cult. Barrington also discovered that Elias had previously been in contact with Gavigan, who remarked that Elias was a sensation-seeking profiteer and unlikely to be a reliable source of information.

What Barrington says about the murders
• A total of 19 murders have been carried out over the last three years, each having a similar modus operandi. The “Egyptian murders” are so called because 17 of the dead were Egyptian nationals, a fact the press quickly caught on to.

• A witness, who came upon a dying victim after hearing a commotion, said the victim cried out “Hotep!” Barrington mentioned this word to Edward Gavigan, who confirmed it is an ancient Egyptian word meaning “rest” or “peace.”

• All of the victims were killed by sharp force trauma, each victim dying from a metal spike like instrument piercing their heart. In addition, each victim suffered both blunt and sharp trauma to the head and torso, possibly a wooden club with nails driven through it. While Barrington initially believed a single murderer was behind the crimes, forensic reports suggest some of the attacks were committed by people of differing heights, leading the inspector to assume a gang is responsible.

• Barrington interviewed a number of people with connections to Egypt. The vast majority had little to offer, although a spice dealer named Zahra Shafik interested him. Shafik had worked with the Penhew Foundation in the past. She recognized the name but also denied that the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh still existed. Something about her gave Barrington the impression there was much she was not saying. He had her tailed for a few days, which confirmed she frequently went to the Blue Pyramid Club but little else.

• The Blue Pyramid Club in Soho is often frequented by both resident and visiting Egyptian businessmen. Many of the victims had frequented the club. Barrington looked into the club and had the place under surveillance but learned nothing before the men were pulled away to attend to other police work.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:33, Wed 12 Sept 2018.

Once he gets a chance, Art digs out 'Life as a God' (the only copy of a diary by English artist Crompton, who came to Egypt in 1805 and became a minor priest of the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh) and quotes a few passages to you;

The man standing before me was of swarthy complexion, but with a haughty bearing befitting an Emperor. He reached out a hand to touch my cheek, my wound shrieking in agony until he brushed it, washing away my pains. He spoke to me, in low tones, with a voice like a mother to an infant babe. He spoke to me of his grand design which would unseat the rule of Man for the rule of the true Gods, and how I might serve him. I knew in my truest heart that this was the purpose I had so long sought, that in His service, I would be made whole and pure and that those who had wronged me so greatly would be brought low. I wept in joy and promised I would serve him gladly.


The beggar was held fast by my brothers and I, eyes tearing with joy, struck him mightily with the sacred club again and again, until he was rendered insensate by the pain and his limbs were useless. Filled with wordless praise for Him who Dwells in the Shadow before light comes, I turned it in my hands then pierced the wretch’s heart with the cunning bronze spike. His scream of agony washed over me and I was reborn as a full Brother and servant of the Pharaoh of Shadows.


Its angles were magnificent, and most strange; by their hideous beauty I was enraptured and enthralled, and I thought to myself of the daylight fools who adjudged the housing of this room as mistaken. I laughed for the glory they missed. When the six lights lit and the great words said, then He came, in all the grace and splendour of the Higher Planes, and I longed to sever my veins so that my life might flow into his being, and make part of me a god!

Bromley leaves his contact details with the inspector, and you all take your leave. Heading out of the Yard, you spot Dermot leaning against the wall of the Red Lion pub, across the street. He waves to you and indicates that he'll join you shortly.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:50, Wed 12 Sept 2018.

The Penhew Foundation is in Central London on Devonshire Street (now Boswell St.), off Theobalds Road (a Bloomsbury address north of Oxford Street and west of the British Museum). It is a High Victorian building, of fewer stories and greater ceiling height than the buildings to either side, and altogether grander in scale. A high iron fence surrounds the Foundation building at the front and rear. A doorman is on duty at the front door, but he tips his hat respectfully and steps aside when he spots Bromley and Art approaching.

Within, the building’s appointments are opulent, consisting of two stories and a basement. The Egyptian Collection is open for viewing from noon to 4 p.m., Monday through Friday. During those times, two guards are stationed in the Exhibit Hall.

The main business of the Foundation is carried out on the first (ground) floor: evaluating scholars and granting them funds, negotiating permits and exceptions with Egyptian authorities, arranging itineraries and schedules, and acting as a physical and informational repository for all things Egyptian, especially Egypt before the Ptolemies.

The windows of the second floor Exhibit Hall are broad and tall, with ventilator openings at the tops via mechanical arms. The surfaces are finished in marble, and the ceiling is 20 feet (6 m) high. Mummies, glass cases filled with pottery and other artifacts, statuary, and so forth fill the hall in tasteful rows. An air of hushed contemplation pervades. The file rooms at the front and back are filled with flat-file drawers containing countless carefully evaluated and catalogued artifacts from Dynastic Egypt.

In reply to GM (msg # 14):

Approaching the main desk, Bromley gives his best 'I'm rich so you're going to help me but I'm being polite anyway' smile. When asked his business Bromley produces the card found in Jackson's belongings in New York - He holds onto this while handing over his own business card. "I'm terribly sorry we couldn't phone ahead, but would Director Gavigan be available?

“Yes, of course, Sir!”  The man practically snaps to attention and picks up a phone. “Good morning, Mr. Kinnery. There are some gentlemen and a lady here to see Mr. Gavigan. A Mr. Aveline-Edgeware and company. Yes, Sir. Immediately, Sir.”

He puts down the phone and smiles obsequiously at Bromley. “Just one moment, Sir!”

A small man in a pinstripe suit, pointed nose, and angular features scurries up to the desk and smiles, showing his bad dentures. “Good morning! My name is Kinnery and I am Mr. Gavigan’s secretary. If you would be so kind so follow me, the Director will see you shortly.”

He leads you along the first-floor corridor to the waiting area outside Gavigan’s office and offers a seat. While you wait, Kinnery sits at his desk writing letters and shuffling papers. Attempts at conversing with him fall flat; he refuses to be drawn into answering questions, saying he is really quite busy and that Mr. Gavigan will be along soon.

After a few minutes, Edward Gavigan strides out of his office. He is slim and superbly dressed, with balding hair, manicured nails, and clean-shaven. As a touch of fashion, he wears a wristwatch, still a relatively new item of personal adornment. He greets you warmly, asking you to join him in his office. Gavigan’s manner is friendly and open. He shows you into his magnificent wood-paneled office. “Ladies, Gentlemen, welcome to the Penhew Foundation! How may I assist you?”

[Please give me a Spot Hidden roll]


This message was last edited by the player at 19:09, Thu 13 Sept 2018.

In reply to Edward Gavigan (msg # 16):

"Good day, Mr. Gavigan. We're here on behalf of a friend of ours. He was..." Rachel looked at the others, unsure. "...writing a book with regards to the unfortunate Carlyle expedition. Knowing that Sir Aubrey Penhew was a part of the expedition, we came here to help finish what he started. We wanted to hear more about the extent of the Penhew Foundation's involvement directly from you, instead of from the papers."

‘Would this friend of yours be a certain Mr. Elias?” asks Gavigan, with an almost imperceptible tone of disdain. “We did speak briefly,” he continues. “He wanted to discuss the work of the Foundation. Mr. Elias said he was collecting background research on the Foundation’s involvement in supporting the Carlyle Expedition. I was of course pleased to talk about the Foundation’s role in grant funding and assistance with arranging travel permits and the like. It was a short meeting and I have not heard from Mr. Elias since.”

“As for the Carlyle expedition…. Well. Mr. Carlyle had obtained information from an African woman concerning a time in Egyptian history about which Sir Aubrey had long been interested. In this ancient time a sorcerer was reputed to have ruled the Nile Valley. Alas, Gavigan smiles, the information proved to be a hoax. In Egypt, the African woman disappeared with the expedition’s ready funds, in the amount of some 3,500 British pounds.”

“We are gentlemen of the world, are we not?” smiles Gavigan. “Carlyle counted the lost money as insignificant, but he was deeply affected by the betrayal from his African lover.”

“After that unfortunate accident, Miss Masters suggested that the group spend the summer months in the relatively cool Kenyan uplands, affording her a wonderful opportunity to use some new lenses to photograph African wildlife. Once there, the group foolishly entered a dubious territory and, alas, paid for it with their lives. The vast share of the expedition’s records was lost in the incident, as Sir Aubrey took them along to work on, while matters were still fresh in his mind.”

“Wherever he is, there they are,” Gavigan concludes.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:51, Fri 14 Sept 2018.

In reply to Edward Gavigan (msg # 18):

Noting Gavigan's tone, Rachel raises an eyebrow and replies rather acerbically, "He died recently, only a few weeks ago. Surely, this foundation has records of any information they come across and fund--did this African woman have a name?"

“Oh dear, my condolences!” replies Gavigan with a furrowed brow. “The woman's name was Nichonka Bunay, as I recall. As for records, most of them concern much about young Carlyle and it would be unethical to show such documents to outsiders. They are private matters unrelated to the work of the expedition. I’m sure you would agree that they are not something I could tolerate getting into the gutter press.”

He goes on to say that the expedition did turn up some interesting artifacts from other periods, and was able to dig a number of test trenches to help continue Sir Aubrey’s systematic study of Dahshur. They also found some secondary sites in the wastes to the west of the Giza pyramids. Some of the artifacts were loaned to the British Museum, while a few of the lesser pieces came to reside here in the Penhew Collection.

Most of the items are still being catalogued for the Egyptian Museum in Cairo; however, Gavigan is eager to show off the “lesser miracles” that were brought to England and offers to show you the exhibition upstairs.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:15, Fri 14 Sept 2018.

In reply to Edward Gavigan (msg # 20):

Gustav takes a side glance at Ms. Katz and approached calmly at Mr. Gavigan. He then presented his badge in quick succession just enough to show that he is a member of the law enforcement agency but not enough for him to read that it is a police detective badge from New York.

"Look here Mr. Gavigan, I'll give this to you square, Mr. Elias was murdered in cold blood and I have traveled across the globe to make sure that people responsible will be brought to justice. This is an official police investigation and my associates and I are here to know everything we need to know about Mr. Elias' work. It may or may not be related to your foundation but if word got out that your foundation was somehow involved... In a murder no less... I do not think I need to extrapolate further."

"Now I am asking you nicely, show us what we are looking for, and we will be on our way. My associates can be very persuasive yes, but remember, obstruction of justice is punishable by jail-time as well."

"You can look me in the eye, I am a man of my word. None of this will go to the papers"

"Lets start with your records about Nichonka Bunay."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:56, Sat 15 Sept 2018.

Gavigan smiles icily at Gustav. “Your associates can be very ‘persuasive’? That sounds like a thinly veiled threat to me, Mr…. Schmidt, was it? My dear fellow, coming in here and waving some Colonial badge around is hardly civilized, now is it? I have already given Inspector Barrington of the Yard my full cooperation in this matter. If he requires further information from me, he is welcome to arrange an appointment with my secretary.”

He stands up and opens the door to the waiting room. “Mr. Kinnery. Will you please escort these good people out?” He sketches a brief bow. “Ms. Katz, Gentlemen. It has been a pleasure.”

In reply to Edward Gavigan (msg # 22):

As they were led out, Art nudges Rachel. "That guy just leaving the front desk. I saw him at the office of the Scoop."

Quickening her step, Rachel tries to catch up with the man, falling into step beside him. "You were at the Scoop, weren't you? Whatever are you doing here?"

In reply to Rachel Katz (msg # 23):

Jonathan stops in his tracks and with a slight sigh, he turns and replies, “Good day, ma’am. Jonathan Graham of the Scoop at your service”, he slightly tips his hat.

With a slight smile, he continued, “You folk definitely caught my attention when you entered the office, and well, here I am.”
This message was last updated by the GM at 19:44, Sat 15 Sept 2018.

In reply to Jonathan Graham (msg # 24):

"Pleased to meet you," Rachel returned flatly, grimacing, as she remembered the lurid articles The Scoop favored. "You'd best head out with us-- Gavigan just mentioned keeping this out of the papers."

"Rachel Katz," She introduced once they were out of earshot from Gavigan. "Do you know much about Edward Gavigan?"

In reply to Rachel Katz (msg # 25):

Jonathan clicked his tongue, “I see... alright then. I’ll head out with you folk.”

Then wish a hushed tone, he said, “Don’t know much about Mr. Gavigan over there other than him being the director of this foundation.”

"Should we really be talking to reporters now," frowns Art, but then shrugs. "Although there is strength in numbers. Good day, Sir. My name is Arthur Digby, MD. Do we perhaps share a common goal - that of solving the Egyptian Murders?"

He spots a nearby pub. "Oh, it's nearly noon. I could use a pint. Drinks are on me!"

As you seat yourself at the discreet snug at the back of the pub, he adds "I say. Did anyone notice the half-open safe in his office? And that photograph on the desk? A country mansion of some sort. I could barely make out the name. Misr House."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:45, Sat 15 Sept 2018.

In reply to Dr. Arthur Digby (Art) (msg # 27):

Upon seeing Rachel engage this man, Dermot rejoins the group.

"And who might we have here?" He looks at Jonathan casually.

After introductions are made, he joins them all in the pub.
This message was last edited by the player at 21:12, Sat 15 Sept 2018.

As the others took their drinks, Rachel opened up the folder she placed the articles in and starts looking at the articles. Occasionally, she would read out a ludicrous phrase out loud, eyeing Jonathan wryly, as if to ask, "Really?"

At the mention of a safe in Gavigan's office, Rachel turned to Art. "Open? Did you see what was inside? I don't imagine they'd keep the files in the head of the foundation's safe... Unless whatever they found was that important." Rachel mutters, the last part mostly to herself.

Breaking and entering was not her first choice as a solution, but in this case, the idea of pertinent information being withheld from her by Gavigan irritated her , so much so that she had been unconsciously eyeing the areas of the foundation that they had been, looking for points of entry.

With a sigh, Rachel turned back to the papers she had. "Perhaps we can ask around for the Misr House? Pretend to be tourists asking for directions, or something like that."

"I guess... we should look at these stories Elias was looking at as well... I've no desire to go looking for a 'monstrous murderer'-- perhaps the artist?" Lowering her voice, she added, "Perhaps Elias was looking for... cultist art? Like at the Juju House?"

The land and mansion were formerly owned by an enthusiastic Egyptologist and occultist named Neville Lloyd-Price. It is rumored that Lloyd-Price went broke and was forced to sell the property and the land on which it stood. Neville Lloyd-Price has not been seen for nine years and has, effectively, disappeared from London society. Rumors suggest that he took to the bottle when he lost everything.

The land, covering over 6,000 acres, transferred to Edward Gavigan in 1915. The mansion was formerly known as Long View until Lloyd-Price changed the name to Misr House.

The estate is situated on an island in the Naze, about 10 km from Harwich, in the midst of the marshes at the edge of the North Sea. The Naze is a peninsula, densely forested with swampy marshes and small islands stretching out into the sea.

In reply to Dermot Murphy (msg # 28):

With a tip of his hat, he replied, "Good day Dr. Digby; it seems that we do share the same goal", he turns to both the doctor and the other man, "My name is Jonathan Graham. Journalist."

He would shake his head whenever Rachel would read a phrase aloud.

Jonathan watched the group, hanging back a bit, "If you want to know about the stories my colleagues wrote, the one about the painter may have been... exaggerated, crazy story but there's always a truth in what he writes."

In reply to Jonathan Graham (msg # 31):

Gustav in turn, buys each one in the group a pint of bitter, then sits next to the newcomer and personally hands him over his pint.

"Mr. Graham correct? The name's Gustav Schmidt, I'm a detective from New York. Strange things do happen when the lot of us are together, if you want something new to write about, stick with us for a while. But better have something to protect yourself, are you a good shot?"

Gustav starts to tell the young lad about cases he had in New York, particularly the more mysterious one. Most of the people here have heard these stories 4 years ago in Lima. He also shares a few new ones. Murders and homicides and suicides to name a few.

"But enough about me, tell us who you are? whats the most audacious thing you have experienced as a journalist, the real authentic ones mind you?"

Apart from the article in The Scoop, Shipley’s name has appeared a few times in London newspaper art columns. About half speak of Shipley’s brilliant imagination, while the rest decry his paintings as nothing more than the work of a demented soul; in either case, all suggest the art may be worth investing in. All of the pieces were written after Shipley was mentioned in The Scoop.

Aleister Crowley, the infamous occultist, has been a customer; Crowley is said to have described his purchase as “an ode to Bacchus in its audacity.”

Algernon Blackwood, writer of supernatural stories, is said to have a Shipley on his study wall. Apparently, the writer is interested in the perceived occult aspects of the painting he purchased

Austin Osman Spare, both artist and occultist, is rumored to have praised Shipley’s paintings following a gallery viewing.

Several members of the Bloomsbury set are rumored to have invested in some of Shipley’s work in the hope that it realizes a smart investment.

Shipley is said to be highly egotistical about his own paintings and loves praise. Several galleries have approached him to put on a collection but he has turned them all down flat, saying he prefers private sales.

Jonathan also finds an article about Shipley in Passions, an upmarket art periodical for discerning collectors. While not a major feature (the piece barely covers a quarter page), the unnamed reporter speaks with gushing praise for the young Shipley’s work, which is described as “a wondrous cavalcade of outlandish fancy and nightmare.” The article ends by stating the artist welcomes private collectors and gives his address in Holbein Mews. Apparently, Miles Shipley is highly strung and lives with his mother, a delightful old lady.

In reply to Gustav Schmidt (msg # 32):

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Schmidt, if strange things do happen, then I'd want to stick around and find out more about it", he paused for a bit, "I know how to aim and fire if that's what you're asking."

Jonathan listens to the stories that Gustav tells. He nods in approval.

"As for me, haven't gotten anything big yet. Have been seeing some strange things, but, well... you know how the public reacts to such things."

You eventually find yourself at the Holbein Mews. Situated in West London, with the River Thames to the south, Knightsbridge to the north, and Belgravia to the east, the Metropolitan Borough of Chelsea is predominantly a lower-middle class and working-class area. Further from the river, the area’s prosperity rises, with the upper-middle class centered on Sloane Square (often considered by those living there to really be a part of upmarket Knightsbridge). Generally, the close-packed houses are the homes of tradesmen, shopkeepers, and those with an artistic flair - artists, painters, poets—lending a bohemian air to the borough. Each morning sees the mass commute of people to their day jobs, which is repeated come evening when they all head home. Consequently, for the most part, the streets are fairly quiet during the day.

The Shipley home sits in a terraced row of houses and is a two-story brick building in need of repair. Every window is barred, as well as locked shut and tightly curtained. There are front and rear entrances. A tall brick wall surrounds the rear garden. Large trees help to obscure the view from any neighboring windows that might overlook the garden. The rear gate is accessed via a lane that runs along the backs of the properties.

An old woman with a stooped frame, kind eyes, and white hair opens the front door when you knock. “Oh, visitors. How lovely! Have you come to buy some paintings?”




This message was last edited by the GM at 22:19, Mon 17 Sept 2018.

"Um. Yes." Rachel answered, not expecting a kindly little old lady, considering Shipley's list of buyers.

"Rachel Katz, and... Miles Shipley's mother?" Rachel guessed. "We'd like to meet the artist first--if that's possible?"

“Oh, you’re an American? How delightful! Come in, dear, come in! And your young friends. My goodness, there’s a lot of you. I hope we can all fit inside. Miles! Miles, you have visitors!”

The old woman shows you into the parlor, where she has been sitting in the corner, knitting. The entire house has a strange, cloying smell. You can hear someone descending the stairs in the hallway and a young man appears in the doorway. He has a thin frame, unkempt dark hair, and dark bags under his eyes. His fingers tremble as he greets you with a nervous voice, constantly glancing at his mother as he talks.

“Yes, I have a few paintings I can show you upstairs. Would you care to follow me?”

Shipley leads you upstairs to the garret and unlocks the door with a key. His mother (who has been introduced as Bertha Shipley) follows behind you, carrying her knitting gear.

Dangling kerosene lamps light this bare room with sloping ceilings. Beneath the skylight (painted black) is an easel. The canvas on it bears a few pencil sketches toward a new work. A table to the left holds brushes, paints, and palettes, while against the walls lean various paintings. Tucked in a corner is a closet, its door locked by padlock. Shipley indicates the paintings with a nervous smile. “So, these are my latest. All are for sale of course. They start at 75 pounds.”

The paintings are hard to look at due to their horrific and weird subject matter. Each seems to be more gruesome or grotesque than the last.

[Johan; Remember the vision you had when you looked at the Golden Mirror back in Peru? A small man huddled in a corner of a dingy room feverishly painting? This is the room!]

Shipley gives the title of each painting as you look at them;

“Ancient Science”: an alchemist’s laboratory in which vials pour forth foul-looking gas. Working at a table is a reptilian humanoid, who seems eagerly involved in the dissection of a creature. Due to the blood and lack of recognizable features, it is impossible to determine the identity of the creature being cut apart.

“The Dark Pharaoh”: a processional scene from ancient Egypt in which a golden chariot passes through a mass of people who have fallen to their knees in reverence. Atop the chariot is a pharaoh dressed in black and gold robes, whose face is turned away from the viewer. Behind the figure, two men have been impaled on stakes; eviscerated, their internal organs hang down to the ground and are being eaten by a pack of jackals.

“Goat Wood”: nighttime in a woodland scene, a yellow moon casts sickly rays through dark branches upon a group of naked men and women, who cavort around a bonfire. Rising from the flames is the image of a goat-headed man, whose outstretched arms seem to be conducting the crazed antics of the witches.

“Drawn in Blood”: the unsettling and stomach-churning scene of a man being cut open with a silver dagger, held in the hand of a black-robed figure. An act of ritual blood sacrifice, upon the victim’s chest has been carved an occult looking sigil, which seems to twist and move when viewed.

“Black Mountain”: a towering mountain, possibly in Africa, over which rises a monstrous demonic creature, its head a great tentacle swathed in blood. Near a temple-like building, tiny human figures lift their hands imploringly skyward, in supplication to the hellish god-like entity. From each of the humans’ heads a red tongue or tentacle dangles; looking closely, these appear to be ceremonial headpieces.

[Those present who look at the paintings lose 1/1D6+1 SAN)


This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 22:29, Tue 18 Sept 2018.

In reply to GM (msg # 38):

Dermot reels inwardly at the sight of these grotesque and macabre paintings. He manages to keep his outward composure, however. This is nothing he hasn’t seen before... sort of, almost.

Shaking off a cold chill before it can become too obvious, he tears his gaze deom the “artwork” and turns to address young Shipley.

"Tell me, Shipley -- where do you draw inspiration for such unique pictures? They're certainly... captivating."

Dermot glances back at the Egyptian scenes that seem relevant to their occult investigations.

"Er... These are certainly as fantastic as the papers have reported. Mr. Shipley, I dare say I can fetch you a better price from my buyers if I can sell them a story or two. Won't you tell us about these paintings--what inspired you to make them? I'm particularly interested in 'Drawn in Blood' and 'Black Mountain.'" Rachel said as she inspected the paintings. Foul as they were, she couldn't help but agree that the artist had skill.

Johan appears dazed, his mind clearly somewhere else…he mumbles
"Das Gemälde ... oh Gott, das Gemälde"

Remembering that evening in Peru, when he saw the vision in the mirrored surface….  The small man, the pyramid…the plains of Africa…the dark tunnels.  It’s all real….

Eye’s darkened, voice unsteady….” Mr. Shipley, may I kindly use your facilities…I appear to have taken ill”.

Johan returns from the facilities, a little haggard but doing his best to maintain his composure.  His eyes constantly fixated on the paintings.

“Mr. Shipley, apologies for my condition." Wiping the sweat from his brow.  "Could you tell my colleagues and I of your inspiration for these works… “?

Jonathan looks at the paintings, a strange feeling coming from them. He tightens his grip on his pencil, eyeing each and every painting.

Suddenly, he lunges at one of the paintings, stabbing it with his pencil, then tearing the canvas as he drags it across.

Jonathan stabs at ‘The Dark Pharaoh’, tearing a long slash in the canvas. With a crazed look in his eyes, he turns on the next painting, but is quickly overpowered and restrained. After a short while, he comes to his senses again.

Miles and Bertha both look justifiably horrified, and Miles is visibly shaking. “There, there, Miles. It’s all right. You can paint more masterpieces,” says Bertha in a soothing voice to her son. She turns to you with a frown on her face.

“Please, I must ask you to leave. If you wish to purchase any paintings, come back in a few days. And I am afraid I must insist on 100 pounds for the damage done here today.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:52, Wed 19 Sept 2018.

Before Rachel knew what was happening, she heard the ripping sound of canvas that made her heart drop to her stomach. Turning around, she saw Gustav and Dermot jump on Jonathan who seemed to have ripped a painting with a pencil.

Instinctively Rachel reached into her bag for her gun but instead had pulled out her check book. In shock she looked down at her hand awkwardly.

"Ah...Of course, of course." Rachel weakly responded. "A hundred pounds, you say? Hahaha of course he had to pick the one that cost more. No worries, no worries," Rachel rambled in shock as she wrote down the amount and handed the check over to Mrs. Shipley shakily.

"We're terribly sorry, we don't know what came over him. We'll be back soon, I'm so sorry about this. Uh... Johan, be a dear and pick up that...painting...for me. We'll be on our way." Rachel said, running her hands agitatedly through her hair as she stuffed her check book back in her bag.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:09, Wed 19 Sept 2018.

In reply to Jonathan Graham (msg # 43):

Gustav together with Mr. Murphy subdued Mr. Graham before he can ruin another expensive painting. When Jonathan visibly calm down, Gustav goes over to him, disarm him of his pencil and helped him get back on his feet.

"Oh Mr. Graham. that painting looks expensive..."

Gustav then turns to both Miles and Bertha and says "I would assume this isn't the first time this had happened?"


will view their reaction to see if they will lie or tell the truth
This message was last edited by the player at 02:14, Wed 19 Sept 2018.

In reply to Gustav Schmidt (msg # 46):

When Dermot witnesses the brutal pencil assault, he throws a quick punch which glances off Jonathan’s face — barely connected. He helps Gustav wrestle him to the ground. Before he can shake his head at this fresh wave of absolute nonsense, he strains to hear some faint noise. As the group is ushered unceremoniously into the cold of winter, he swears he could hear a muffled cry coming from inside the locked closet! He shakes his head to try to clear out his mental cobwebs.

"Oi'll wager he takes some sick inspiration from sordid deeds he's wrapped up in somehow. Did anyone wonder about that locked closet? I could almost swear I heard something crying out from inside. A captive? Or a strange creature?"

Rachel looked positively horrified at the thought of the artist holding someone hostage in that house with those terrible paintings.

"We should go back-- I can't imagine being stuck in there with those horrid paintings!"

They tossed around several ideas on how to re-enter the Shipley house, a few ludicrous ones, but eventually, they came up with some sort of plan. They'd re-enter the house earlier than planned, through the backdoor. Rachel and Johan would act as distractions up front.

"Let's dump the painting back at Bromley's," Rachel suggested as she picked at her lunch. Handing over a check for a hundred pounds had certainly made her lose her appetite.

"I don't think his mother should know about this, and I think I have just the thing to knock her out quietly." Rachel muttered absently to no one in particular, mentally double checking if she had remembered to bring belladonna. She'd check her bags later, but she was sure she had syringes, and if she had forgotten belladonna, they could probably pick it up from midwives with enough coin.

"If the worst should happen, we should return the painting, slash all other paintings, and make sure there's no evidence of our transaction with them. Yes, yes, we'll have to go much earlier than expected, before they've had a chance to tell anyone we were there."

"Just to make sure, the plan is to garner information from Miles, free their hostage, if they truly have one, and get out quickly?"

Rachel and Johan knock at the front door of the Shipley house around 10 PM in the evening. It is a cold and foggy evening, making it difficult to see very far.

There is no response initially, but after a few minutes the door is unlocked and Bertha Shipley peers out through the crack of the opened door.

"Goodness gracious! Do you know what time it is, dear? Whatever are you doing here at this hour?"

The rest of you have quietly moved to the back of the house and are gathered at the back door. The door is near the kitchen window and there are no lights on inside.

[You can try a Lock-picking or hard (1/2) Mechanical Repair to open the door. A STR roll would also force it open but would be noisy]


This message was last edited by the GM at 13:01, Fri 21 Sept 2018.

In reply to GM (msg # 50):

"I'm terribly sorry-- but I've lost my wedding ring, I'm trying to find it--we've looked everywhere we went today!" Rachel said worriedly, laying it on thick on the old woman.

"I've got to find it--it's the only thing I have left," Rachel choked out a fake sob, "to remember my husband by."

"Oh, that is terrible," says Bertha and opens the door. "Where did you lose it?"

"I think I might've dropped it in Miles' art room? With Jonathan's sudden outburst, it might have slipped off-- I knew I shouldn't have put off getting it adjusted."

Bertha nods and draws her shawl closer around her. "Come in. We will find it. I think Miles is still up there painting now." She moves aside to let Rachel and Johan in.

Rachel lets Bertha go first and then stabs at her back with the syringe she had hidden. The needle gets tangled up in the thick shawl and Rachel pretends to have lost her footing. Johan makes a fuss about catching Rachel, and Rachel jabs the syringe into Bertha’s arm.

Bertha’s skin is surprisingly tough, but the needle goes in. She whirls around and stares at Rachel. Her eyes turn yellow and the pupils turn to slits. She lunges at Rachel, her mouth a jagged row of sharp pointed teeth!

The monster misses Rachel and the young antiquarian picks up an umbrella from the nearby umbrella stand and swings ineffectually at Bertha. Johan also attempts to hit the lizard person, but just bashes a big hole in the drywall instead.

Bertha grabs Rachel’s arm and sinks her teeth into it. Rachel can feel venom coursing through her veins but with a heroic effort she manages to stay awake.

The kitchen door burst open, and Gustav and Jonathan run into the hallway, followed by their friends. Seeing that she is heavily outnumbered, Bertha runs quickly through the front door and into the cold, foggy night. Jonathan moves to the doorway to try to snap a picture of her, but when the picture is later developed, it is just a blurred image that could be anything.


This message was last edited by the GM at 15:04, Fri 21 Sept 2018.

"Just finish up here quickly, I don't think I should move around too much," Rachel muttered, shaking her head to remain conscious. She found a hair tie and quickly tied it three inches above the bite.

"Do..do you think Miles is the same as his mother? We'd better get their hostage out quick."

In reply to GM (msg # 52):

Gustav kneels over to Rachel, checks her injuries and got a clean handkerchief to apply pressure over the bite mark.

"What in the kaiser's name is that thing?"

"Are you all right?"

added Gustav, with just a hint of concern in his voice. After doing what he can do for Rachel, he signals everyone to proceed upstairs and rescue whoever is crying in the second floor.

Before going up, Gustav ask hylun if he was able to take a picture of the damn thing. He whispered to him "Told you, wonderful things happen whenever we are together"

In reply to Gustav Schmidt (msg # 54):

As Gustav takes the lead up the stairs, Dermot issues a warning.

"After that holy show, it'll be a miracle if we're not known. Be on yer guard."

He draws his pistol and follows up the stairs.

You reach the door to the attic. It is locked but you force it open. Huddled up in the corner, you see Miles Shipley, clutching a paint brush in his hand. He stares at you wide-eyed.

“What is all this noise? You’re not allowed in here. Only mother is allowed in here. She’s a lizard, you know?” He giggles. “She ate my real mom and now she shows me the true world. I paint for her, and bring her food. I have to paint more!”

He turns his back to you and continues work on his latest painting, depicting a screaming woman being throttled by a massive, coiling thing made of smoke and shadow. The woman bears a strong resemblance to Rachel.
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:05, Fri 21 Sept 2018.

“Wait...” Rachel mutters, remembering something. She pushed herself off thr chair and made her way towards the staircase.

“Gustav? Gustav!” Rachel called as she stands at the foot of the staircase. “The snake thing—I drugged her! She shouldn’t be able to get far!”

“Shit, should’ve gotten a stronger dose.” Rachel muttered to herself while keeping watch around her surroundings.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:18, Fri 21 Sept 2018.

In reply to Rachel Katz (msg # 57):

"Your mom's a lizard? Ye must be locked out of a tree like a monkey who forgot his keys. Lizard, ha!"

After Rachel calls down the stairs, he looks at her and blinks.

"What's this about snakes and lizards? Did some reptile give you a fright? I thought maybe ol Bertha was lookin ta hop on ye, but here we barged in and found ye all bleedin about the arm with nothin ta show."

In reply to Dermot Murphy (msg # 58):

Without waiting for a response, Dermot strides over to see to the closet lock. (He'll try to break it if possible.)

Dermot marches over to the closet and inspects the lock. As he touches the door, Miles lets out a piercing wail and lunges at him. “No, not that one! Not that one!”  But the young man is very weak and easily stopped.

Dermot quickly deals with the lock. Inside the closet, a dirty sheet covers an easel and a canvas. Uncovered, the canvas reveals a sketched out and half painted piece, clearly unfinished. The painting on the canvas shows a swampy area infested with serpents. A small island in the center holds a stone altar. The scene looks to be from the distant past (A successful Archaeology or Science (Botany) roll will yield further information)

Viewing the painting is unsettling, as the composition seems to move, provoking a queasy feeling and a SAN roll (0/1 loss).

Dermot leans in to study the painting. Suddenly, the images appear to become three-dimensional. In the space of a few seconds, the waters of the swamp start to ripple, the plants sway, the serpents wiggle, and the altar glows…

[Can I get a Hard (1/2) POW roll for those who study the painting, please?]

Ground Floor
The front door leads into a hallway, which ends at the kitchen, and has entrances to the reception room, dining room, and parlor along the way, as well as the staircase leading up to the upper floor. The property’s rear door, in the kitchen, opens onto a small garden enclosed by a 9 foot (3 m) high brick wall. A locked door in the kitchen leads down to the basement. Apart from the prevalent foul smell, the ground floor offers nothing particularly suspicious or out of place.

Upper Floor
Three of the four bedrooms are perfectly ordinary; the doors are unlocked and lead into dusty rooms with scant furnishings. The fourth bedroom is where Shipley sleeps and is locked —Shipley has the key. Inside Shipley’s room, the bedclothes are a mess and items of clothing are strewn about. The room contains a bed, wardrobe, dressing stand, and a wall closet. Hidden behind a hatbox on the top shelf of the closet is a lacquered box. The box contains a syringe and a small vial filled with a greenish colored liquid. The syringe has been used so often that the proper dosage can easily be seen by the line of green residue within the tube. It has about 3 doses left.

The Basement
This large room is cluttered with various junk. Boxes, crates, and broken chairs are stacked about. You also find a stone tub covered by a metal lid. When you lift the lid, you see the remains of a butchered body that has been half eaten…
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:40, Sat 22 Sept 2018.

In reply to GM (msg # 62):

After an astounding level of commotion, Bromley walks upstairs to see an incapacitated Miles and several of his companions gazing at a painting. It beggars belief, but one of them appears to be... to be fading away right in front of him.

Lurching forward, Bromley manages to grab the increasingly temporal figure and 'drag them back'. There's nothing else for it, this painting and all like it must be destroyed.

Before doing so, Bromley sets about exploring the house. Pushing through the basement, he spies a stone container. Having not learned his lesson in New York about peering under stone lids, he is troubled to find a butchered body of a young girl. While grotesque, it pales in comparison to some of the sights he has seen.

What Gustav learns from Miles Shipley;

Miles was a struggling artist with few prospects until he met a man named Arthur Cotting in the Rose & Crown public house two years ago. This man swore that he could show Shipley scenes to paint, which no artist before had ever captured. Using hypnosis and doses of the Plutonian Drug, Cotting (actually a serpent man) sent Shipley’s consciousness back in time to the era when serpent people ruled the planet. Shipley saw their basalt cities, visited their temples, watched their blood rites, and witnessed their gory wars. As he feverishly painted picture after picture of the hellish sights, Shipley’s sanity slipped away, even as his paintings grew in power and impact.

In return for such a gift, Cotting (or Ssathasaa in his own sibilant speech) wanted a safe place in which to live and eat a hearty meal or two each week. Miles’ home became the place, and human flesh would make up the meals. Miles’ aged mother, Bertha Shipley, comprised the first meal; Miles killed her, and Ssathasaa ate her and took her form, that of a kindly 70-year-old woman. It is as Bertha that Ssathasaa now lives.

Miles is now incurably insane and addicted to the Plutonian Drug. He rarely leaves his house, except to hunt down meals for his muse. These meals have been Bertha’s old friends, prostitutes, or down-and-outs. He is careful not to be noticed going about with these unfortunate victims and tends to only go looking for Ssathasaa’s food after the sun has gone down.

Dermot and Gustav leave the house in search of the fleeing serpent man. Dermot has no trouble following the faint tracks, even in the heavy fog and they soon find the nearly unconscious form of the creature hidden in a narrow alley. Ssathasaa is sitting on the ground, leaning against a brick wall and hisses with anger as you approach. He has assumed the form of Bertha again.

“You meddle in things you do not understand! I curse you!”

You notice a revolting odor of burning hair in the air, and from the corner of your eye, you glimpse what appears to be a sparkling gray cloud with thin, whip like tentacles reaching out towards you…
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:32, Sat 22 Sept 2018.

In reply to GM (msg # 65):

Dermot turns toward the evil fog in preparation for defense, but not quickly enough. He struggles to break free as tendrils of living mist flow into his mouth and nose, choking him. He looks toward Gustav in fright.


This message was last edited by the GM at 00:14, Sun 23 Sept 2018.

In reply to Dermot Murphy (msg # 66):

Dermot and Gustav manage to break free. Dermot hoofs it like Forrest Bump back to the Shipley house, peering over his shoulder now and then to be sure Gustav is following. They reach the Shipley house and bar the door and latch the windows. Dermot feels agonizingly betrayed by the watery element he normally feels so able to master. After a moment, he regains his composure and looks toward Gustav, huffing from exertion.

"While I appreciate your loyalty and enthusiasm, next time ye could take care not to burst my head open."

In reply to Dermot Murphy (msg # 67):

"What happened? Did you find her?" Rachel asked as they arrived, barring the doors once again behind them. She had taken Miles down to the living room with her, handed him a pile of papers and his pencils to keep him calm.

In reply to Rachel Katz (msg # 68):

Gustav, all out of breath and trying to talk and breath at the same time, replied

*wheeezzee* 'fog' *wheeezzzeee* 'tentacles' *wheeezzeee* 'almost got us' *wheeeezzeeee*

Gustav sat down adjacent to the door, using his heavy weight to help bar the door.

*wheeezzzeee* 'got to' *wheeezzzeee* 'stop' *wheeezzzeee* 'eating' *wheeezzeee* 'too many' *wheeezzeee* 'bockwursts'

A few more moments and Gustav recovers. Tells everyone in the room what happened in the fog.


"Mr. Murphy found Bertha unconscious, however as we try to take a closer look a tentacle shot out from the fog and almost took Mr. Murphy away"

"That lucky Irish bastard got away heh."

"Then I shot it at point blank range, I swear I hit it but I just saw the rounds pass it by, that's when I knew I had to run"


Gustav stands up and looked around the house for more furniture to bar the door.

"Its not safe to go out there, at least for the time being."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:54, Sun 23 Sept 2018.

In reply to Gustav Schmidt (msg # 69):

Johan quickly checks the window for what his companions have indicated and quickly scans the room for something to push against the door.

"Quickly help me push this table against the door!"

In reply to Johan Braun (msg # 70):

Jonathan quickly assists and helps Johan with the table, "Alright!"

Finally, morning arrives. The fog starts to clear and you see people walking on the streets outside.

You destroy the paintings you found in the house after Jonathan finishes taking photos of them. Miles has been sedated with Rachel's belladonna and is easily led into a waiting taxi. The taxicab drives the 3 miles to St George's Fields and the infamous Bethem Insane Asylum, where Art escorts him into the imposing building and commits him.

You then proceed to Bromley's house to rest and gather your wits. Bromley's hall boy reports that he followed Mr. Gavigan from the foundation to a spice shop called Empire Spices in Soho. He was in there for about half an hour and then walked to a flat in Mayfair where he stayed the rest of the evening.




This message was last edited by the GM at 17:21, Mon 24 Sept 2018.

After the mine entrance is demolished, it takes quite a while to sort out the repercussions of the shocking events. Many villagers lost their lives and the impact will be felt for a long time. There are angry demands for a thorough investigation, and many wonder about the involvement of the Vane family in all of this. A lot of money changes hands in exchange for silence, but you have a feeling this is not over yet...

Realizing that the Curse of the Vanes is currently beyond your skills, you take your leave of Lesser Edale and head to the nearby hospital to check on Gustav. His wounds have been skillfully treated and Art is never far from his side, so he is discharged with a caution to avoid any physical activity for a while.

Later the next day, you take the train back to London and arrive late in the evening, heading back to Bromley’s house to discuss your next move.

It is Friday, January 30, 1925. It is another freezing cold and foggy day.

You decide to head to Empire Spices first. The spice shop is a two-story building at 76 Wardour Street in Soho. The shop is open 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., Monday through Saturday. On the upper floor is a small flat. The only entrance to the shop is via the front door, although a side passage (barred by a locked wooden gate) leads to a door providing access to the rear of the property.

Finding the shop closed until the next morning, you head on to the Blue Pyramid. Situated at 12B Meard Street, the Blue Pyramid Club is a private members club in Soho, London. The area offers many cheap eating-houses and coffee shops like The Moorish Café and The Algerian, and is a fashionable locale for intellectuals, writers, and artists. The Soho area has long been notorious for its pubs inhabited by drunken revelers, and its illegal brothels.

Knocking on the front door, you are greeted by a fez-wearing doorman, who asks to see your membership cards. As you do not have these, he kindly offers to sign you in as members, for the low low price of 5 pounds each (around $360 in today’s dollars).

Once inside, you can watch the floor show, which consists of belly dancing routines, as well as musical sets performed by the club’s resident quartet of musicians. At points, the dancers leave the small stage to go about the tables, encouraging the patrons to give them a few coins (sixpence or shillings; extravagant types might give florins or half crowns).






This message was last edited by the GM at 00:15, Fri 09 Nov 2018.

In reply to GM (msg # 74):

Gustav, still in pain but otherwise happy to be up and about and back on his feet. He studies the new scar he acquired from his foray in the English countryside and wonders.

"Gotta be more careful or the next time it's gonna be the full eye getting torn off"



Gustav wonders into Soho feeling at home, with smells of different exotic delicacies ever present.

"Ah just like that Kosher street market back home."

Here however, he does not find the typical delicacies back home, but rather, a completely different offerings that reminded him of the diverse cultural melting pot this section of London truly is, and Gustav did indulged.



Later on they found the Blue Pyramid Club and enjoyed the floor shows. Gustav was so impressed with the dancers - might be because of the alcohol or the wondrous feeling of still being alive - that he gave a half crown to one particular dancer.

After the shows, He then whispered to Mr. Murphy "So, who are we looking for in particular here?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:44, Fri 09 Nov 2018.

In reply to Gustav Schmidt (msg # 75):

Johan motions toward the nearest server, “ يوم سعيد سيدي…Guten Tag”, trying to figure out what besides English to converse in.  Johan orders a round for his companions.

“My friends, we have not solved this curse that plagues the Vane family but we have done some good for that community.  Let us drink to that minor success and the ones to come.”

Gustav gives a half crown to a slender young belly dancer with dark, smoky eyes. She thanks him politely in English, with an Arabian accent. “Shukran, habibi! Thank you, Sir.”

As she dances around your table, a large Egyptian man with balding hair comes plodding over to you and introduces himself with an ingratiating smile.

“As-salamu alaykum! I am your humble servant, Abdul Nawisha. Welcome to my club! I see that Yalesha has caught your eye. She is one of my most talented dancers. Please, if I can offer any assistance to make your visit more pleasurable, do not hesitate to call upon me!”




This message was last edited by the player at 00:22, Sat 10 Nov 2018.

In reply to Yalesha (msg # 77):

Gustav politely introduced everyone in the table and gives small anecdotes about them. He tells Abdul that all is well and he is in fact enjoying his vacation in London.

"Do tell me, We do not have these kinds of clubs back in the States, when did this establishment created?"



Gustav continues to act amused and jovial to his experiences while keeping a watchful eye on his surroundings inside the establishment, take note of all the exits, any suspicious individuals and the general surroundings.

Amidst a friendly conversation with Abdul, Gustav points to the dancer and asked

"Yalesha yes? Well she's really... exotic... Would it be possible for us to invite her over for a drink?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:07, Sat 10 Nov 2018.

As Gustav talks to Abdul Nawisha, he scans his surroundings, looking for things out of the ordinary. The Blue Pyramid seems to be a popular establishment running on the fumes of the Egyptology craze of the previous generation; all pseudo-Egyptian décor with fake palm trees, great mock-sandstone edifices, scarab and ankh stitched wall-hangings and “authentic” Egyptian waiting-staff. The clientele is noisy and boisterous, and you even see a member of the ‘Bright Young Things’ attempting an impromptu belly dance on the stage, before being politely escorted off by one of the four burly bouncers.

Abdul listens politely to Gustav’s introductions and anecdotes for a while before making his excuses, claiming that other guests require his attention. As for Yalesha joining the table, he nods agreeably. “But of course, for a short while. I will send over a bottle of her favorite champagne and put it on your bill.”

He bows deeply and scurries off, while Yalesha takes a seat near Gustav with a smile. As Abdul passes one table, a woman of great beauty calls him over and leans forward to talk to him. She is slender, with long dark hair and green eyes, elegantly dressed in black. They talk for a moment, but their conversation is impossible to hear over the noise of the patrons.


This message was last edited by the GM at 03:19, Sat 10 Nov 2018.

In reply to Yalesha (msg # 77):

“Much obliged, Abdul. A coupla pints of Guiness will do fine, if you have it.”

Dermot accepts two pints with a nod of gratitude. As the dancer sits down, he sidles over to whichever bouncer looks the least occupied.

<DarkBlue>What’s your story, lad? Are you really from Egypt, or is tgat all part of the show?”

If the bouncer responds amicably by bouncer standards, Dermot will thrust a pintglass into the man’s hand and take a draft from his own.

In reply to Dermot Murphy (msg # 80):

Bromley is, as a gentleman of the age, used to club settings. Wile extravagant however, he has never been to this one. He also scoffs to himself about being in a club that isn't invitation only - Still times are changing he supposes.

He settles in with a decent scotch and soda trying not to gawk at Yalesha too obviously. He also turns his eye to the other patrons of the club - In part to get his bearings but also make sure no-one he knows from 'polite society' is here to see him.

The woman and Abdul finish their conversation, and she leans back in her chair, sipping her wine and glancing discreetly over at your table occasionally.

Bromley scans the crowds. It seems to be mostly well-to-do young socialites and some Egyptian businessmen. The two groups do not seem to mix well – the Egyptians are mostly huddled together at small tables, talking and drinking. Bromley does spot a few people he knows; surely that is Oliver St. John Smythe and Gervaise Ponsonby over there, both trying to impress Olivia 'Taffy' Wyndham with their drinking prowess.

The bouncer that Dermot is talking to grins, but declines the pint. “Aw sha, me old china plate, aw sha. Me mum was from Morocco and they 'ired me 'cause I looked the part. Arfur J Shanks for the pint but I’m not allowed ter tumble down the sink on duty."

Meanwhile, Yalesha chats with Gustav, saying how interesting it is to meet a New Yorker and asking him what brings him to London. She seems more relaxed now that the club owner is not around.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:27, Sun 11 Nov 2018.

In reply to GM (msg # 82):

Dermot shrugs noncommitally and quaffs one of the pints, handng off the glass to a passing waiter.

“I’ve never been to either country myself, but I’m developing an interest in the African continent. I’m a man of the seas, trading my wares internationally, and I’d like to break into the trade of raw materials, rubber and cacao and all the works. What time d’ya quit the place? I’ll be happy to buy a round for anyone with true tales of Africa!

In reply to Dermot Murphy (msg # 83):

Johan walks up just in time to borrow that pint back from the passing waiter.  Speaking to the same bouncer as Dermont, “yuhibu sadiqi al'iirlandiu sharabuh , qabl fatrat tawilat sayaqul lak hikayat wahashyat min manzilihi. 'ukhbirani sidiyq , hal taerif 'ayn qad 'ajid raeyaan limuasisatik ... aimra'at biaism shafiq?

(Translation – “My Irish friend loves his drink, before long he’ll be telling you wild tales of his home.  Tell me friend, do you know where I might find a patron of your establishment… a woman by the name of Shafik?”)

The bouncer looks somewhat taken aback at the sudden questions fired at him. “Umh, I get off at 10, but I have to get home to the trouble and strife. And sorry, sir,” he says to Johan. “Don’t speak no 'gyptian. I can say hello and goodbye and dat’s about it.”

Yalesha has however overheard the conversation and nods discreetly at the woman who was talking to Abdul earlier. “That is her over there, Sir. Miss Shafik.” There is a barely discernible tone of anger and fear in her voice.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 02:58, Mon 12 Nov 2018.

In reply to Yalesha (msg # 85):

Gustav slides over Yalesha her drink and offered cheers to everyone in the group, He stands up and with a boisterous voice and declared.

"For good health, better fortunes and werewolf free weekends in these here Great Britain and Ireland!"



Gustav then proceeded to compliment Yalesha of her performance and her charm, trying to keep the girl entertained as well as make her feel comfortable. Then, in a low voice he whispered to her.

"I'm sorry for asking but I cannot help but noticed that something is off when you motioned for Miss Shafik, are you being treated properly in this establishment?"

"You can trust me"

Yalesha glances fearfully over at Zahra Shafik and lowers her voice as she speaks to Gustav. “I am treated okay. Abdul is a pig, of course, but I can handle him. That she-snake is the biggest danger, though. She runs this place behind the scenes.”

She pauses for a moment to take a sip of champagne and continues sadly. “There’s some sort of cult here, called the Brotherhood. My dear boyfriend, Badru, had an argument with one of them when the pig tried to take advantage of me, and they killed him! You would do well to be careful around here, Sir!”

She looks at Gustav with a frown. “You said you are a policeman? The coppers were around here, asking questions but of course they didn’t find anything. But listen… once a month, a truck arrives here, and about two dozen of those lowlifes climb in, led by Shafik. I think they drive to somewhere outside of London. I heard one of them…”

“Yalesha! You’ve spent enough time at this table now. Back on stage!” Abdul has appeared and shoos the young girl away.

A waiter comes over and places a drink in front of Gustav. Tucked under the drink is a small folded note;

Meet me down the street near the arches at midnight.

Y.

In reply to GM (msg # 88):

After Gustav quietly reveals this clandestine meeting, Bromley proposes a change of venue.

"I say, I know a place down the street we can wait it out - It's a little less garish"

He summons a waiter over and settles the bill, quietly outraged at the cost.

Bromley pays the £37 bill with outraged dignity and you relocate to a nearby pub called the Crown, which has more reasonable prices. Of course, it is nearly impossible to avoid the flappers who crowd into every Soho bar and club, but you eventually manage to find a quiet corner and relax while you wait for midnight.

As the clock strikes 12, you leave the warmth of the Crown and head to a series of stone arches at the northern end of Meard Street. The location is a fairly narrow alley and you stand around uncomfortably, waiting for Yalesha. It is freezing cold and the fog shrouds everything in eerie shapes, making it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead of you.

Finally, you see a slender shape approaching. Yalesha has removed her heavy kohl makeup and dancing outfit and is dressed sensibly in a long coat and scarf.

“Thank you so much for coming!” she says. “Abdul was keeping an eye on me the whole evening. As I said, there is some sort of cult operating in this area, and I’m pretty sure that Shafik is the leader. Abdul might own the club, but she runs things. He’s scared stiff of her and calls her a witch. Once a month, a whole bunch of them head off in a truck somewhere. I heard one of them mentioning Miser House – but I don’t know where that is. What will you do? If I can help in any way, please tell me!”

[Can I please get a Listen roll from those present?]

Johan and Gustav both hear the hacking cough at the same time and have time to react. A moment later, a group of six men appear out of the fog, four from the north side of the alley, and two from the south.

They are all armed with clubs or large knives and appear to be of Arabic descent. They advance slowly towards you, with obvious violence in mind.

In reply to GM (msg # 91):

Dermot quickly sizes up the encroaching assailants. He makes a show of pulling out his revolver and leveling it at the two men to the South. He speaks a threat loudly enough to be heard.

“All right boyos, who wants to die first?!”

While they don’t immediately appear to be intimidated, Dermot knows his threat is a actually a promise, one he’s ready and willing to keep. Maybe the second man will come around after the first one drops dead in front of him.

Taken aback by the sudden show of force and the aggressive threats, the men melt back into the thick fog, leaving you alone again. Yalesha had picked up an old lead pipe to defend herself, and now throws it in the general direction of the larger group, nodding in grim satisfaction at the ‘thunk’ and the string of curses in Arabic that emanates from the fog.

“It is not safe here,” she points out. “I am not sure I can go back to the club any more. I will soon be homeless…”
This message was last edited by the player at 03:10, Sun 18 Nov 2018.

In reply to Yalesha (msg # 93):

"You needn't worry; I've a sister, Octavia, who is currently staying at my families estate in Scotland. She's very... progressive... and will happily take you in. I fear we've found ourselves in the middle of something quite vile so we may need your help"

Bromley then proposes we find some taxis and head back home.

You drive through the dense fog back to Bromley’s house. It is well after midnight before you arrive, and the butler is frowning ever so slightly as you arrive, especially at the sight of Yalesha. He finds her an unused bedroom and promises to lay out fresh clothes for her in the morning.

The next day, Vivienne asks for a quiet word with Bromley, expressing concern about all the strange house-guests he keeps on bringing in. “A reporter was bad enough, but now this 'girl'…  I just don’t know, dear...” she sighs.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:30, Tue 20 Nov 2018.

In reply to Yalesha (msg # 93):

Gustav finishes his breakfast quickly and thank Vivienne profusely for her wonderful hospitality. He then waits for Yalesha to come down for breakfast and joined her with coffee.

"Good morning, that was an... interesting night we found ourselves into. Maybe after breakfast we can talk to everyone and discuss things that we should have talked about last night. But please take your time. Breakfast is indeed the most important meal of the day."

Gustav proceeds to go to the smoking room and proceeds to read the morning's newspaper.

After finishing her breakfast, Yalesha joins Gustav in the smoking room. She is dressed much more modestly than last evening and sipping on a cup of tea, obviously enjoying the luxuries of her surroundings.

She explains that she has only worked at the Blue Pyramid for about a year, and while the money was good, she did not enjoy the lecherous guests or Abdul’s advances. About two months ago, her boyfriend, Badru, got into a fistfight with one of the regular guests, when the guest drunkenly tried to assault her when the couple was leaving the club. Several other patrons quickly appeared and subdued Badru and dragged him back into the club, denying her access. She has not heard from him since and threats of violence deterred her from further questions.

She is aware that several guests are members of a cult they call the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh, and that they are led by Zahra Shafik and an English gentleman. At least once per month, a large truck pulls up to the club after midnight, and dozens of club members climb into it. They arrive back late the next day, sometimes bruised and groggy, whispering about holy rites to other patrons.

She is keen to exact revenge on everyone in the club for what happened to Badru, and offers her help for whatever is needed.

“I grew up in the slums and know how to defend myself,” she smiles quietly, sipping her tea.

After breakfast, you drive back towards Soho and park near Empire Spices. Zahra Shafik’s spice shop is a two-story building at 76 Wardour Street. On entering, a myriad of exotic smells confront the visitor. Spices and herbs line the walls in large jars or drawers, each labeled with their contents.

The woman you saw at the club last evening stands behind the counter, smiling pleasantly.

In reply to GM (msg # 95):

After the entourage of guests have been shown to their rooms Bromley and Vivienne retire upstairs. Pausing at the bedroom door, Bromley asks his wife if he could have a quiet word. He pulls out a key and ushers her towards his study along the hall.

The room is, comparative to the rest of the immaculate house, in chaos. Piles of books, open accounting ledgers and sheets of paper lay scattered around the room. A number of relics and fetishes sit haphazardly amidst the tomes that line the wall to wall bookcases. He motions for Vivienne to sit on the leather desk chair as he himself sits upon a stack of books. He suddenly feels very, very tired.

“As you know, before we were married, I spent some time in the Americas; that is where I met most of my friends…”

He then proceeds to tell a somewhat sanitised version of events, emphasiszing the looming sense of threat he has come to realise. Most of the esoteric otherworldly parts are left out; Vivienne has an open mind, but he doesn’t want her to think him mad.

“This… This is worse than the Hun… It’s worse than the threat of Communism… When we married I promised to provide for you - to protect you - Jackson had uncovered something, and to keep us all safe sometimes things might be… unconventional… This is something I need to see through”

“But believe you me -I love you Vivienne, and you needn’t ever question that”

Vivienne, while rightfully shocked, is demure - Years of expensive formal education have given her the stiffest of upper lips. She tells her husband that she will strongly consider his recommendation that she take Yalesha to visit his sister in Scotland - On the strict condition that he no longer keeps any secrets from her.

In reply to Yalesha (msg # 97):

Gustav is amused at the thought of a young Yalesha using a baseball bat, hitting a drunkard squarely in the head.

"That is very good to hear, you'll fit in quite well in Red Hook hahahaha!" Gustav exclaimed with a hearty laugh.


Gustav in turn, shares to her about his life in New York City, stories of police cases he has handled and finally to the subject of Jackson Elias and the reason why the group is in London.

"I believe the so called Egyptian Murders has have some connections with a cult that murdered our friend in the United States, I would want nothing more than pursue them and put an end to them all once and for all."

"Do you remember when was the last time you saw those large trucks past midnight? or better yet, would you know when will they come back again?"

"Maybe you have friends working still in the Blue Pyramid that we can ask?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:10, Wed 21 Nov 2018.

"I'm not sure," replies Yalesha. "I think there was a truck leaving last Saturday evening. And they normally head off every couple of weeks or so. To this Miser or Misr House, perhaps? Misr means Egypt in Arabian, you know?"

She curls up in the soft recliner and enjoys the warmth of the roaring fireplace. "What will you do now? I will be happy to go visit Mr. Bromley's sister in Scotland, but if you need my help, I can come."

In reply to GM (msg # 98):

Dermot starts to follow the group toward the entrance, but draws up short. He expresses an interest in scouting around the building while the shopkeeper is occupied with Johan and other patients.

"Anyone with me?"

He ambles casually down the side alley, taking care not to linger before any windows. He pays special attention to any outcroppings, entrances, etc.

In the back yard of Empire Spices stands the outside toilet and various old moldering crates and sacks. A grate for a coal chute leads to a cellar. The grate is covered in black coal dust and kept locked with a good quality padlock.

(Hard STR roll to break or a successful Locksmith roll).

In reply to GM (msg # 103):

Dermot notes his surroundings in the rear yard: some piles of junk and a locked coal chute, along with a well-maintained outhouse. The doors and windows are all secured. He heads back up the alley, noting the buildings two chimneys. He finds a nearby pub to sit and wait, chewing over his options for subterfuge. If things go south, he’s not afraid to be a bull in the spice shop, but for now he’ll lie low.

In reply to Dermot Murphy (msg # 102):

Johan removes his hat and messes up his hair a bit before entering Empire Spices. He smiles toward the owner, and turn to walk around the store and examine each and every spice.  His every action just a bit exaggerated, from his foot steps, to the sounds of sniffing the fragrance of the various spices.

Without turning to look at her, "Good Day Madam, I find myself in need of a few items and I fear I'm not the best at this sort of thing.  Do you by any chance have coriander, cardamom, chili, aniseed, bay leaves, dill, parsley, ginger, cinnamon, mint and cloves?"

In reply to Johan Braun (msg # 105):

Zahra Shafik frowns almost imperceptibly as Johan inspects her store but continues her pleasant smile.

“I have all of those, of course,” she replies with barely a hint of an accent. “Here, let me get them for you. How much of each?”

She goes from spice rack to spice rack, filling small paper satchels with spices. “Hmmmm, my apologies. I seem to be out of aniseed. One moment please. Edjo, some aniseed, please.”

The last is directed to the back of the shop. A moment later, a tall and lanky man appears, dressed in scruffy overalls, and carrying a jar of spices. He hands it over to Zahra with a smile and glances briefly at Johan before exiting the main room again.

Zahra wraps up the spices neatly and hands them to Johan. “Will that be all, Sir?” she asks.


This message was last edited by the player at 16:56, Sun 25 Nov 2018.

In reply to Zahra Shafik (msg # 106):

Johan looks over the spices, "Hmmm...madam you have a most well appointed store. I fear, I'm forgetting something....and of course the lady of house would not be very happy if I forgot to bring something home. Now where is that list..." Johan checks all of his pockets several times. "Ah yes, it's that one spice with that's reddish brown in color...might be a kind of chili pepper.  Do you know what I mean?"

Johan proceeds to stumble around the store....and 'accidentally' spills the spice to his right on the floor.

"Oh no, I'm so embarrassed Madam...please do you have a broom I could use to clean this up?" Remarking loudly. "Oh Edjo!  Could you spare a broom?"

In reply to Johan Braun (msg # 107):

Upon forcing a back window and finding themselves in a small kitchen, Dermot listens at the door. Hearing footsteps and grumbling from the other side, and having previously glimpsed movement from the other window, Dermot suggests the two return after dark. They leave the window shut but ready to be reopened, and return the way they came through the alley, finding a nearby pub wherein to await the return of their friend and distraction, Johan.

Having hired Vince ‘The Cheese’ Bowers as your resident burglar and all-round dodgy individual, you pile into Bromley’s car and head back towards Soho around midnight. It is Saturday, January 31 1925.

You park the car near to Empire Spices and make your way through the foggy and snowy streets to 76 Wardour Street. The area is fairly quiet but the occasional drunk or streetwalker can be seen. There is a light shining from the front upstairs windows.

The brick-walled cellar is dark, dirty, and featureless. A big pile of coal fills the area below the chute, while several old crates litter the floor. A shovel and coal bucket are the only equipment down here. Hidden behind an old bed frame is a locked door.

Vince picks the lock, which leads to a another room. Bolted to the walls are chains and iron hooks, and various lengths of rope lie around the floor. At one end of the room is what looks to be a shrine. Black candles ring a 90 cm high idol of a Egyptian pharaoh, carved from black ebony.

A block of wood, roughly 60 cm square is stained with old blood. Lying on top of the block is an old and gnarled club, covered in dark stains and riven through by a blackened metal spike.

There is also a small wooden crate stenciled “Randolph Shipping Company, Port Darwin, Northern Territory, Dominion of Australia”, along with a curious symbol that seems to show a stylized deer’s head or winged creature. In smaller letters are written the words “Personal To Mr. Randolph.”

Inside the now opened crate, nestled in packing material, is a 40 cm tall representation of a monster of vaguely anthropoid outline, but with an octopus-like head whose face is a mass of feelers, a scaly, rubbery-looking body, prodigious claws on hind and fore feet, and long, narrow wings behind.

(Those who see this statue feel the hairs on the back of their necks stand up; please roll for SAN (0/1D2 loss).

https://i.ibb.co/qp2WR9V/hpl-cthulhu.jpg " data-lightbox="images-msg-111">https://i.ibb.co/qp2WR9V/hpl-cthulhu.jpg " alt=''>

Meanwhile, back at the waiting car, there is a knock on the driver's window. A young woman smiles at Bromley. "Evenin' yer lordship. Looking for a good time?"

In reply to GM (msg # 111):

Dermot descends to the basement after Gustav and Cheese, who has  taken the lead rather impressively. After descending for a moment to survey the room, he takes responsibility for watching the areas in view of the top of the stairs.

"We're here for recon, right? Try not to disturb anything you can't put back. They needn't know we're onto them if they don't already! Find out about this monthly excursion if ye can, and any details of interest. I'll rap twice on the coal chute if anyone comes this way."

In reply to GM (msg # 112):

From the passenger seat, Johan nods to Bromley with a smirk. "I believe the lady is looking for an answer my friend, although is it likely not the best time for such dalliances."

Cheese looks over the disturbing artifacts and evidence of violence in the basement.  "I'm not sure what black magic these folks subscribe to, nor am I a connoisseur of strange and disturbing art, so the significance or value of these statues or other items is unknown to me.  I leave it to you chaps if you think we should make off with anything.  It appears someone is asleep upstairs.  If you want to press further, I will sneak up the stairs and try to search the house in silence and see what other evidence I can find, doing my best to leave no trace.  If you should hear cries of alarm or sounds of a scuffle, I leave it up to you if you break your cover to rush to assist me or flee.  If the latter, I advise you make haste out the basement the way we came.

As quiet as a church mouse, Vince sneaks up the stairs to the ground level. There is still loud snoring from [room 9].

Room 11 is an office. Vince finds various receipts for goods and services, including a receipt from Ferris & Sons of London for the six-month hire of a truck, and a letter from a Mr. Puneet Chaudhary of Ropemakers Fields, Limehouse, relating to the warehousing and shipment of “sundry antiquities” to Shanghai onboard a ship called the Ivory Wind.

There are also stairs leading to the upper floor.



This message was last edited by the GM at 16:42, Sun 02 Dec 2018.

Steering clear of the loud snoring, The Cheese heads to the upper floor to search those rooms for more information and valuables, using his knowledge of where people tend to secure their valuables and hide their favored possessions.

In reply to GM (msg # 112):

Awkwardly, Rachel glances over at Bromley, before turning away. It wasn't any of her business anyway. Quietly, she pulled out a pouch from her bag, pulling out a stoppered bottle and a syringe. Slipping the needle into the bottle, she carefully filled the syringe. She wasn't exactly any sort of chemist, but she figured injecting the full amount of the mixture should be enough to knock out anyone, should the need arise.

In reply to GM (msg # 116):

Gustav opens the door and sees Zahra Shafik, dressed in a thin, almost transparent gown. The heat inside the room starkly contrast the chill January weather in England. He then sees the mirror and with nonchalant horror, realised not her reflection on it, but a young woman he does not know, and a car...

Gustav realised its Mr. Bromley's car and behind them a cloud of mist with tentacles inching closer to them. Gustav remembers his time in the painter's shop and remembers his and Mr. Murphy's experience with it. He then shouts at the woman.


"Hands up! we have you surrounded"



Then everything went blank.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:12, Mon 03 Dec 2018.

In reply to Gustav Schmidt (msg # 119):

Gustav realised in a second that while not in control of his body, he feels himself moving down the stairs against his will. The stillness and the horror of this realisation shocked Gustav to the core.

He then heard a command from somewhere far away, telling him to go down the basement. He tried to fight the urge of his body to move, left step, then right step, slowly and calmly going down the staircase. "Good god what is happening to me?" he wondered as he desperately tried to take control of his body back.

He then heard a ruffle in the coal chute and another female voice commanded his body to climb there.

A few meters ahead, he saw Bromley's car running at full speed and hitting a pedestrian holding an 17' inch knife. "What the hell is happening?" Gustav struggles and losing his fight against the control


Gustav then felt his hands tremble, in the midst of the cool and calm January night, felt his hands aimed, felt his heart race and felt genuine fear he has not felt before in a long while. His body aim his gun suddenly at Ms. Katz.

"No! Good God! not her!" Gustav tries to fight the actions with everything he has and manage to somewhat do something as 'Gustav' misses her.

'Gustav' tend proceeds to gun down both Mr. Murphy and the Cheese.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:20, Mon 03 Dec 2018.

In reply to Gustav Schmidt (msg # 120):

Dermot staggers forward as a bullet rips through his shoulder. Time stands still for a moment as he sees Vince go down in his peripheral vision. He then runs as fast as shock will allow or enable him toward the car, seeking cover from the sudden hail of bullets.

A shiny glint caught Rachel's eye and she looked up to see a young lad with a large knife in hand, heading for them.

"Bromley--Bromley!" Rachel reached over, shaking Bromley's shoulder and pointing at the young man. As Bromley turned up the engine, Rachel leaned outside the window.

"Stop right there!" Rachel called out, but the young man made no signs of slowing down. She pulled out a police whistle from under her shirt and blew on it as hard as she could. Suddenly, the car lurched forward, tossing Rachel back as it swerved near the young lad. She heard the thump of something hitting the ground and quickly shifted back up to see what had happened. The young man was bleeding and slightly shifting, so Rachel quickly slipped out of the car, running for him so she could knock him out before he got back up again. With a quick jab, Rachel emptied the contents of her syringe into the young man.

"Bromley--come over, I need help!" Rachel called out as she tried to drag the man into the car, only realizing then how heavy he was. Looking around furtively, her eyes fell on a familiar figure running towards them.

"Oh, good. Gustav! Gustav--"

She saw him raise his gun towards her and she barely had time to react when Gustav shot her. Rachel felt her heart stop, waiting for the bullet to hit, but through sheer luck, she heard the bullet hit the pavement instead of her.

"What the fuck Gustav--" A shot rang through the night, and Rachel saw Vince drop to the ground. Another shot, and she saw Dermot running for the car. Rage coursed through Rachel's veins and she picked up the man's knife and headed straight for Gustav.

It shocked Rachel how easy it had been to slip the knife through his shoulder blades--it was sharp and it cut like a hot knife through butter. She pulled it out quickly, raising the blade to stab at him again when Bromley backed the car up, hitting him lightly, but the blow was enough to knock Gustav unconscious.

Johan quickly pulled in Gustav's body as Rachel piled in behind him. They drove towards Vince's body and picked him up as well, trying to staunch the bleeding from both men.

You drive away from Empire Spices as fast as you can, heading to King Edward VII’s Hospital in Marylebone, an independent charitable hospital established in 1899.

Fortunately, Bromley knows one of the physicians there and spins him a tale of dastardly muggers and evil miscreants. Dr. Wright quickly arranges for discreet care for Gustav, Vince and Dermot and promises to do his best to treat them well.

[Gustav has 1 out of 12 HP left,  Vince has 2/14, and Dermot has 8/13]





This message was last edited by the GM at 01:31, Wed 05 Dec 2018.

You decide to lie low for a while to allow people to heal and recover. Rachel learns that Empire Spices was closed for a few days but now is opened again. There is also word from the streets that certain people would be very interested in talking to someone who matches Gustav’s description. Bromley’s butler also reports that members of Scotland Yard has been to his house, asking questions about his whereabouts the last few days.

During one of your visits to the King Edward VII’s Hospital, Vince has recovered enough to tell you of the documents he found in the office of Empire Spices; various receipts for goods and services, including a receipt from Ferris & Sons of London for the six-month hire of a truck, and a letter from a Mr. Puneet Chaudhary of Ropemakers Fields, Limehouse, relating to the warehousing and shipment of “sundry antiquities” to Shanghai onboard a ship called the Ivory Wind.

Lastly, you hear of a truck that left the Blue Pyramid Club a few days ago, carrying about 15 people and heading out of London. It returned later the next day, muddy and dirty.

In reply to GM (msg # 124):

As soon as he’s cleared, Dermot leaves the hospital. No sense lying around in the most obvious place to be caught by authorities. Dermot checks in with the hospital staff about the condition of Gustav and Cheese every few days, but he’s still sorting out his feelings. Events seem to keep proving him right on one count: You can’t trust anyone for long. He spends the week recuperating in his own way: walking the wharfs, keeping up on his businesses, and reading and drinking in the local pubs. He’s lately becoming drawn to the tome he sneaked out of that ghoul-haunted Vane manor. He studies the rites and rituals with a new mythic perspective and an old morbid curiosity.

In reply to GM (msg # 124):

Johan volunteers at the hospital helping with minor tasks and using his linguistic skills to aid the hospital staff with patients while keeping an eye on his companions.

With the news of people on the look out for her companions, Rachel decides to spend most of her time at the hospital, carefully noting the people that came in and out to see her companions. It was much more comfortable at Bromley's, but she slept better at the hospital, ensuring that whoever they were up against wasn't going to send someone to kill her companions while they recovered.

On one of the days the newsboys came in to give her their reports, Rachel pulls aside one of the older ones and offers him a bit more coin than usual. She gives him the description of Edjo, and asks him to discreetly find out if the police had found anyone of that description, or if they see him lingering about the spice shop. She makes it clear that he is not to make contact with the young man in anyway.

Johan had thankfully stayed with them at the hospital. "Johan, dear. I'm... running low on... medicine." Rachel told Johan during his rounds. "I don't suppose you can acquire what I need here at this hospital?"

Dermot visited once in awhile, clearly shaken by the instance, but Rachel couldn't blame him. She still had the knife in her purse. In one of his visits, Rachel expresses concern about him being out and about despite his injuries.

After a long, hard talk with Vince and the gang about the spice shop incident, Dermot heads down to the docks for another stroll. This time, he’s got a mind to inquire into the particulars of the Ivory Wind: its owner, captain, normal business, recent commissions, anything peculiar the dock workers may have noticed. He’s willing to grease palms appropriately. Later he’ll swing by the wood shop to see whether his custom piece is ready.

Gustav is recovering quite well under the circumstances, even quite cheerful every time he sees his friends visiting. However, the smile hides a furtive secret. The experiences he had inside the Empire Spice is vexing to say the least. He has these dreams, repeat over and over again ever since he woke up exactly one week ago.

On nights, when everyone is asleep, He dreams that he was again, in the dark alley, seeing 'Gustav' body walk around the corner, seeing how 'Gustav' raises his handgun and aims at his two friends who are both particularly staring at him coldly. Mr. Murphy drops his weapon to the ground and as if by command, walks directly towards 'Gustav'. While Ms. Katz took out a 17-inch knife and proceeded to maniacally stab what now appears to be Vince the 'Cheese' as a mysterious silhouette watch from the second floor.

Everything is in slow motion, like all traumatic events made crystal clear, as if God wants you to personally see every bit of mistake that you contrived. 'Gustav' then proceeds to gun down Mr. Murphy. 'Gustav' then walks closely to Ms. Katz while she butchers Vince. They then smile at each other and then 'Gustav' proceeds to shoot her in the head. 'Gustav' then turns around and looks at Gustav who is lost in despair. 'Gustav' walks towards him, acknowledging for the first time his presence. Looks directly at him, and whispers 'Oh, do enjoy this. Its the first of many nights like these'. The sounds of police sirens can be heard in the background as a knife plunges deep in the heart of Gustav.

He awakes in the middle of the night. Sweating and shaking. Alone in his room. Alone with his secrets.

'Fuck' and against doctor's orders, wolfs down his american-made blood sausages and Irish potato galette.



10:45, Today: Gustav Schmidt rolled 26 using 4d10, unique dice with rolls of 10,1,8,7. CON 55: 1d3 success, 2d3 extreme.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:48, Mon 10 Dec 2018.

Dermot finds to his delight that his knife hand sheath is ready to be picked up, and that it fits very well.

He spends some time around the Limehouse Docks. It is a grim and dirty part of London, with an unsavory reputation for gambling, derelicts, opium addicts, exotic restaurants, and crime. Cheap housing draws working class English, as well as smaller African and Asian communities, notably Chinese, Japanese, and East Indians.

Apart from the residents, sailors (from near and far) loiter around the dockland nightspots, ready to gamble, drink, or lose their hard-earned wages through all manner of distractions. Unless touting their trade, most in Limehouse keep to themselves. Keeping a low profile avoids unwanted attention, while those considered to be prying into another’s business risk confrontation with angry locals or visiting sailors. For most, turning a blind eye to criminal and violent behavior is far safer than the alternative. While commerce occurs, the differing communities tend to be insular and protective of their way of life.

Feeling right at home here, Dermot has little trouble talking to the locals, who inform him of the following;

• Many trucks come and go all the time, unloading and loading onto ships in the docks.

• A Ferris & Sons’ truck has been through here in the last day or so. It stopped and unloaded some big crates at a warehouse at Ropemakers Fields.

• Mr. Chaudhary has a goods warehouse on Ropemakers Fields. He imports and exports around the world.

• Some unusual hours are kept by Mr. Chaudhary and his workers. Sometimes you can hear them moving goods in the dead of night. His workers are lascars (sailors from South and Southeast Asia, as well as the Arab world) and very tough customers.

The Ivory Wind currently resides in the Regent’s Canal Dock in Limehouse. An older merchantman (7,000 tons displacement) designed to haul general cargoes, this dilapidated freighter is captained by Lars Torvak, a Norwegian who really likes his drink. The vessel, like its captain, has seen better days. The ship’s route includes stops in Marseilles, Malta, Port Said, Aden, Bombay, Singapore, and Shanghai.


This message was last edited by the GM at 16:35, Mon 10 Dec 2018.

Dermot easily locates The Grapes. The current building dates from the 1720s and is on the site of a pub built in 1583. It is a seedy and rowdy place, the air thick with tobacco smoke and the smell of unwashed sailors.

Discreetly asking around, the Irishman spots Captain Torvak, nursing a whiskey at the bar and staring morosely into the distance. He has graying beard and hair, weathered skin, and bright blue eyes.


This message was last updated by the player at 20:01, Tue 11 Dec 2018.

In reply to GM (msg # 131):

Dermot plops down unceremoniously at Lars' table, leaving a gap of one chair between them.

"Now here's a ship's captain if ever I saw one! Would ye getta loada this place, it's in tatters. I can't decide whether she's still getting her land legs or she thinks she's a boat, listing off nigh well into the harbor like that. How're the winds these days?"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:27, Tue 11 Dec 2018.

Captain Torvak is a bit taken aback when Dermot starts to speak to him, but quickly warms to his new drinking partner. He demonstrates an astounding ability to knock back alcohol, and regales Dermot with tales of the seven seas and his incompetent crew.

When pressed on affairs here in London, he shakes his head. He has never heard of the Brotherhood of the Black Pharaoh, Edward Gavigan or Empire Spices. He mentions that Puneet Chaudhary pays him well to transport certain goods to an importer in Shanghai named Ho Fang. There have been a lot of crates over the last few years. He has never opened the crates and was told by Chaudhary that they contain “off the books” antiques.

“One of these days, I swear to God I’ll crack open one of those crates to see what I’m carrying. Could be worth a fortune, no?”, he slurs with a wink at Dermot.

In reply to Captain Lars Torvak (msg # 133):

“Is that so? Tell me, how’s the volume? If you ever find your ship’s jammers with such valuable cargo, oi’ve a few ships of my own. Oi’m always looking to expand, and I ship sundries both on and off the record, if ye catch my drift.”

Dermot produces a business card for his legitimate enterprise.

"I take a shipment to Shanghai every few months," replies Lars and motions the hideously scarred bartender for another drink. "Ever been there? Cheap booze and cheaper women - jævla bra ting!"

He downs his drink and rises unsteadily from the bar stool. "Well, I'd better get back to my ship. Heading out tomorrow and I suppose I should be there for that!" He grins and offers Dermot his hand. "Nice to meet you, Dermot! If you're ever in Shanghai, you'll probably find me at the Stumbling Tiger."

With that, he staggers out the door, slurring the words to an old Norwegian sea shanty.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:33, Wed 12 Dec 2018.

The Penhew Foundation is in Central London on Devonshire Street (now Boswell St.), off Theobalds Road (a Bloomsbury address north of Oxford Street and west of the British Museum). It is a High Victorian building, of fewer stories and greater ceiling height than the buildings to either side, and altogether grander in scale. A high iron fence surrounds the Penhew Foundation building at the front and rear. A delivery entrance at the back is wide enough to admit vehicles; the double gate is usually padlocked with two stout chains across it.

A doorman is on duty at the front door (the sole public entrance) from 8 a.m. to 6 p.m., Monday through Friday, while an administrator sits at a desk just inside the main entrance from 8:30 a.m. to 5 p.m., Monday through Friday. At all other times, a single watchman patrols the building; he guards the collection against fire, burst pipes, and storm damage. Normal office hours for the Foundation are 8:30 a.m. to 5:30 p.m. Most of the employees have a half-hour lunch, beginning at noon.

You cautiously descend the narrow and steep stairs and enter a spacious room, enclosed by foot-thick concrete on all sides, essentially independent from the rest of the building, rather like a box within a larger box. A light switch, on the left-hand wall as one enters ensures the room is well lit. Light or no, the smell of candles long since burned out lingers in the air. Once there is light to see by, you are greeted with well-maintained furniture (desk, chairs, various tables), stacks of crates and boxes, an ornate chest, a bookcase, and an array of artwork hung about the walls.

The room contains a variety of materials for invoking magic (chalk, candles, a few vials of blood, dried human skin, and so on), as well as dubious tomes containing spells. Next to the desk is a comfortable study area, with seating for small meetings. Two boxes (nearer to the desk) contain a three-day supply of tinned food and water, as well as candles and matches, changes of clothes, and similar emergency supplies. Other notable items found in the room are described below.

A desk drawer contains a .32 revolver and a box of bullets, a couple of false passports, and a number of bundles of used five- and ten-pound notes totaling 2000 pounds ($10,000). Beneath the desk is a stout metal box containing various receipts for goods and services, including deliveries to Henson Manufacturing in Derby for wood and coal, iron ingots, copper wiring, and an expensive cast iron safe. Underneath the pile of receipts, a business card for Empire Spices is wedged into one of the box’s corners.

A small gallery of art consisting of ancient icons, statues, and wall art is displayed here; these pieces depict various Mythos deities and creatures in their blasphemous glory. The pieces of wall art are hung on masonry and stucco surfaces, screwed to the original stone walls. Most are obviously Egyptian or proto-Sumerian, dating back to the Twenty-Second Dynasty, although one piece, a small statuette of a pharaoh-like figure whose face is obscured by a mass of intricately carved squirming tentacles, dates to the late Third Dynasty. Some of the artwork depicts;

A dark winged thing, seemingly both leprous and scaly.
• A winged hulking beast, with dragon-like tail and a fang-ringed jaw.
• A group of prowling human-seeming beings, whose eyes are far too big upon disfigured faces.
• Many red-orange colored bursts of color or light that are gathering around a tall dark humanoid, who appears to be on fire.

Several wooden crates are stacked about; all but two are open and empty. A tall, closed crate is stenciled “Ho Fang Import/Export, 15 Kaoyang Street, Shanghai, China,” in both English and Chinese. In smaller letters are the words “Attention Honourable Ho Fang.”

Within a fine walnut bookcase are several glass protected shelves of books and scrolls, as well as a small stone jar tucked away between the tomes. Volumes in German, French, Russian, Latin, and Spanish are recognizable, while two are in English. There are 15 scrolls in total, all very old.

You also come across a large ledger, along with two letters. The ledger contains handwritten entries describing transactions and shipments around the world. Reading the entries shows shipments to Ho Fang in Shanghai, Randolph Shipping in Darwin, Australia, and Omar al-Shakti in Cairo, Egypt. The first letter was written by Omar al-Shakti to Gavigan. The unfinished letter is written in Gavigan’s hand on excellent cream-colored rag paper.




This message was last edited by the GM at 23:11, Sun 16 Dec 2018.

You gather what you can from the hidden basement room, while Vince starts a small fire. Hurrying up the narrow stairs again, you can smell the smoke from below, but you close the mummy case again and make your escape from the window in Gavigan’s office.

Piling into the parked car, Bromley takes you back to his house. As the car pulls up in the drive-way, Bromley’s butler approaches with a worried look on his face.

“Welcome back, Sir. I would hate to overstep my bounds, but Mrs. Vivienne went out earlier to evening to play whist with some of her friends and she had not come home yet.”


This message was last edited by the GM at 23:07, Sun 16 Dec 2018.

In reply to GM (msg # 139):

As Gustav and Bromley inquire concerning Vivienne’s absence, Dermot motions to Cheese to help him deposit the loot inside.

“We could probably use a special safe for our spoils. Perhaps you could recommend a model that’s resistant to tampering? We’ll have to take it up with Bromley once Vivienne’s accounted for.”

You inquire with Bentley the butler about Vivienne’s outings and learn that once or twice per week she visits with friends to play cards or discuss charitable work. Sometimes the chauffeur drives her, other times she drives herself in a Silver Ghost Rolls Royce. This evening she had talked about going to play whist with a small group of friends in Mayfair (about 1.5 miles away) but a quick phone call establishes that she never arrived.

Retracing her normal route in their car, Bromley and Gustav eventually spot the abandoned Silver Ghost about a mile from her friend’s house. The car is parked on the snowy roadside and there is no sign of Vivienne.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:36, Sat 29 Dec 2018.

In reply to Vivienne Aveline-Edgeware (msg # 141):

Johan quickly fixes his suit, straightens his hat and makes best usage of cane in an attempt to appear as a well to do gentleman. As the door open, he tips his hat. "Good evening madam, I apologize for the intrusion this late in the eve. If I might have a moment of your time...a dear friend of mine has gone missing and I believe something happened to them possibility outside your home. My friend is young woman by the name of Vivienne and the car she was in is just outside.  She's was expected back to her home some time ago and her family is dearly worried. Did you see anything odd this evening that might help?"

Ms. Eustace Worthington, cradling one of the numerous cats in her flat, informs Johan that she likes to keep an eye on the neighbourhood. Earlier this evening, she heard screeching brakes and looked out.

A rusty old truck was blocking that very fancy car now parked outside, and a couple of foreign-looking men jumped out and talked to a pretty young woman in the fancy car. After a short conversation, they escorted her to the truck and it sped off, heading north. The truck was dark blue and had the name ‘Ferris & Sons’ on the side.


This message was last edited by the GM at 01:40, Sun 30 Dec 2018.

In reply to GM (msg # 143):

"Madam, I thank you for your help in this matter. You have been invaluable." Johan bows and gracefully exits the residence to rejoin his associates.

In reply to Johan Braun (msg # 144):

Of course it's the cult. There wasn't really another possibility, but this truck clinches it. Vivienne seemed like a decent woman, one it would be a shame to know had been sacrificed by an ancient cult to their elder gods. Dermot reminds the party of Chaudhary's warehouse on Ropemakers Field, where what surely must be this very same truck is known to deposit the Brotherhood's eldritch contraband.

"If that doesn't do the trick, we can storm that Misr House of Gavigan's. She's got to be somewhere we know of!"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:36, Mon 31 Dec 2018.

It takes about an hour to drive all the way to the Limehouse Docks. It is very early in the morning, dark and snowy, and Bromley performs some driving maneuvers that leave you all quite nervous.

Puneet Chaudhary’s warehouse lies on Ropemakers Fields. The warehouse is close to several docks, convenient for loading of goods. As you approach cautiously, you see about five Lascars hanging around the area. Lascars are sailors from South and Southeast Asia, as well as the Arab world. Good sailors, but prone to violence.

You decide against exploring Puneet Chaudhary’s warehouse, and instead head out of London, towards the Naze.

Gavigan’s estate is situated on an island in the Naze, about 11 km southwest of Harwich, in the midst of the marshes at the edge of the North Sea. The Naze is a peninsula, densely forested with swampy marshes and small islands stretching out into the sea.

It is around 9 AM in the morning when you arrive at the small village of Walton-on-the-Naze. The village is just waking up to a sleepy Saturday morning and there are not many people on the streets. In the distance, you can see the imposing Naze Tower to the north of the village.

Asking around, you learn that Misr House is located on the nearby island and can be reached by heading west from Walton-on-the-Naze and then crossing the road bridge (over a moat of marsh and slough).

The Island Estate

The foundations of the estate’s mansion, built in the 17th century, have since settled into the boggy ground. The subtle distortions of its architecture and the wild aspect of its poorly kept grounds lend the place a gloomy and foreboding air, a place of palpable menace. The island estate is over 1,000 acres in area. Tall trees densely pack the island’s coastline, while the interior is a mix of rough ground interspersed with bogs and marsh. Thick fogs are common.

A dirt track road leads to a 2 m tall stone fence marking the outer border of the estate, with an iron gate barring the way. There is a small wooden gatehouse next to the gate, with smoke coming from a chimney.

Parking the car behind a clump of trees not too far from the gatehouse, out of sight from any guards, Vince creeps towards the stone wall. The rest of you watch his slow approach, bundled up in the small car and shivering from the chilling fog.

Vince easily climbs over the stone wall and disappears out of sight. After about half an hour, he returns to the car and reports what he saw.

Beyond the gate, a narrow road follows along the top of a levee, raised nearly 1.5 m above the land (centuries of tilling have left the fields far below sea level). Great dikes protect the land from the sea (the island is relatively higher). A turnstile, fitted to the bridge, rotates on its center column to allow small boats to pass. A small motor launch is anchored on the island, not far from the stone bridge.

It's about one kilometer from the bridge to Misr House. Vince didn’t make it all the way there, but he did see a few vehicles parked at the manor house, including a large truck.

In reply to GM (msg # 149):

Dermot spurs the party onward through the mist. Bromley and Gustav need no encouragement. Johan keeps a scholarly even keel, willing enough to see this escapade through. Crazy as she is, no one worries about Rachel losing her nerve. As for Vince... well, he’s no greenhorn like that Jonathan who went back to his piddly newspaper, but he seems reluctant to position himself within a direct conflict, understandably so. All told, they form as capable a raiding party as any group of civilians brought together by a late mutual friend could expect to be. And they’re bound together by tge memories of his tragic end, along with other unspeakable horrors. Whatever happens next may as well be the hand of fate herself, if fate is not, after all, a faceless representative of some vast cosmic entity we’ve yet to truly unmask.

As they stalk through the mist toward Misr House, Dermot stifles a shiver and subtly crosses himself.

As you stealthily approach Misr House, you become aware of the sound of a car approaching. Concealing yourself in some bushes, you see an elegant car pulling up to the main entrance.

A servant rushes out from the manor to open the door, and four men exit the car. A tall man greets them in the doorway. You're not 100% sure, but it looks like Gavigan.

You manage to persuade to leave Bromley outside, together with Rachel and then carefully sneak into Misr House.

The interior of the manor is unremarkable, except that it is dirty and dusty, and lacks the furniture and comfort one might associate with a man of Gavigan’s standing. The halls and the majority of rooms are wood paneled, although an occasional tapestry breaks the monotony. The furniture is old, doors creak, and pipework knocks intermittently when the boiler is turned on.

You enter what appears to be the breakfast room (9 on the map), with a number of tables, chairs and pantries. Doors leads west to the kitchen, and south and east to the rest of the house.  You can hear sounds of laughter and conversation to the south.

Vince sneaks back into the house and preps for starting the fire, gathering flammable materials and piling them against other more flammable portions of the room, such a drapes, wall hangings, wooden structures, etc. that will catch and spread the fire quickly upward to engulf the house structure.  Adding any accelerant he can find, he is mindful of trying to ignite the fire in a way that will block off the exit from being used as the fire spreads, funneling anyone fleeing from the house out the other main entrance, where the ambush is set.   Once the fire is prepped, he lights the fire and rejoins his friends for the ambush.

Vince quickly puts his skills to good use and starts a small fire. Soon, flames are licking up the walls in the breakfast room.

Sneaking to the front of the house, and hiding in some bushes nearby, you wait. Soon, the front door is flung open, and three people appear, coughing and yelling. They are all wearing white hooded robes, with a large inverted ankh on the front. They rush towards one of the cars, as more people appear in the doorway.

You can see some smoke rising from the back of the building. More cloaked cultists are scrambling out the front entrance, scuffling to get into the cars. A couple of servants are also rushing out. A man appears, wearing a red robe and a golden mask. The mask resembles an Egyptian pharaoh, but is covered with hundreds of small, golden eyes. The man appears to try to calm down the crowd but is not having much luck. A few cultists jump into the Bentley Blue Label Tourer, and the man in the red robe roars with anger.

More cultists leave Misr House, and in the confusion, you catch a glimpse of a slender figure in a black, hooded robe, pushing their way through the milling crowd towards one of the cars.

[Should anyone wish to fire on a target here, the range is about 25 meters, with one penalty dice for shooting into a crowd (this can be removed by aiming for one round). Base range for handguns is 15 m, so this would be Long range (Hard difficulty). Same for shotguns. Rifles would use normal skill.]

In reply to GM (msg # 155):

As the black-hooded figure emerges from the house and slinks toward the vehicles, Dermot nudges his companions. “In we go, lads! Be fleet of foot, but silent and deadly as the night. Fire when ye’ve got a shot!”

He quickly and carefully crosses himself with his knife hand, nods at Johan, and says “You take the left, I’ll take the right, and the others can come up the center after us.” Emerging from the bushes, Dermot runs in a crouch toward the vehicles to intercept the figure, fanning out a bit to avoid friendly fire.

You are spotted as you run towards the group of cultists. “It’s a raid!” cries one woman and ducks under the truck. Others scatter and a few even run back into the burning building. One man pulls out a revolver and fires three shots at Dermot, but they all miss.

The man in the red robe raises his hands to the sky and begins a chant in some strange, guttural language, while the woman in the black robe yanks a cultist from the driver seat of a nearby car and gets into it.

Before Dermot and Johan can close the distance, they are struck by bolts of electrical energy from the man’s hands, accompanied by a decisive sonic crack.

Johan loses 3 HP and Dermot loses 5 HP.

At the bottom of the stairs from the secret left-hand fireplace door is an unlocked iron door. Within are two rooms unconnected to the rest of the basement and soundproofed by reinforced brick walls. The first is a workroom, the second is a dungeon.

Along one wall, the workshop holds a bizarre array of medieval torture devices, including a rack and an iron maiden. On a workbench rest tongs, pincers, thumbscrews, and some modern-looking knives. A brazier stands in the center of the room. Against the opposite wall, sitting below some shelves, are a desk and three more tables, which are all cluttered with an assortment of jars, small boxes, and tins, as well as statuary, scrolls, and books. Sitting on the shelves are four unhealthy-looking plants in pots.

The dungeon contains ten cells with iron doors. Inside each cell is a pair of iron rings set into the walls as anchors for shackles. Three of the cells are occupied: one holds a battered and bruised Vivienne, the other two cells both contain young Arabic-looking men. All bear sign of mild torture.

Bromley quickly finds the large key-chain hanging on the wall, and unlocks Vivienne’s cell. She is barely conscious.




This message was last edited by the GM at 19:07, Mon 21 Jan 2019.

In reply to Bromley Aveline-Edgeware (msg # 158):

"Bromley keys SCHNELL!" Johan yells and takes the keys from Bromley.

Johan quickly unlocks the Arabic-looking gentlemen screaming, "تحرك بسرعة", (move fast in english) to them.

He returns to help Bromley carry Vivienne to what is hopefully safety....
This message was last edited by the player at 20:19, Mon 21 Jan 2019.

Johan manages to get the keys from the shocked Bromley and unlocks the two cells. The men stumble out, showering Johan with Egyptian blessings. The younger of the rushes up the stairs, but the older man is limping badly and will need help to escape the dungeon.

Bromley lifts Vivienne up in his arms and rushes after the young man. As Johan heads towards the stairs, he notices that the plants in the pots have gotten much larger, and their tendrils quiver and sway, seeming to grow longer and longer. The limping man shrieks in horror and stares at the plants, transfixed.

In reply to GM (msg # 160):

Dermot is hesitant to run in after them since his handicap doesn’t suit him to physical assistance. He carefully reloads his revolver, keeping an eye out for new dangers and plotting their escape. Adrenaline fading a bit, he feels tingly and notices a scent of burnt hair....

In reply to GM (msg # 160):

Remembering the darkest days of the Great War...the smoke, the death and with the ever present thought that horrors that man summons must not win, Johan launches forward to grab the man and lead him away from green horror.

You leave the burning mansion behind you and carefully make your way back towards the gatehouse. The gate is wide open and there is no sign of any guards. The car that the lady in black was driving in is parked in a ditch nearby, full of shotgun holes. The driver’s seat is covered in blood, and there’s a bloody trail leading to where the small launch was moored.

You eventually reach your car, but find that you’re not all able to fit into it, so you backtrack and take the damaged car as well. You head back towards London.

Stopping to search Gavigan’s corpse before you leave, you find that he is dressed in an elaborate red robe over his normal tweed suit, and he wears a mask resembling an Egyptian pharaoh, but covered with hundreds of small, golden eyes. The mask is caved in on one side from Johan’s cane, but still looks valuable.

The drive back to London feels like it takes forever. It is dark once you arrive at the outskirts of the city and begin to navigate the Saturday evening traffic. You finally arrive back at Bromley’s place and leave Bromley and Vivienne to recover in peace. The two Egyptians are happy to be dropped off anywhere – they both claim to have no idea why they were kidnapped and taken to Misr House.

Gavigan’s Mayfair flat is situated on Grosvenor Street, in the heart of Mayfair and close to Hyde Park. The flat occupies two floors: a hallway, reception room, and kitchen on the ground floor; three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and hallway on the lower ground floor.

After Vince discreetly breaks the front door lock, you search the rooms, but find nothing of particular interest except for some good whiskey, fine furniture, expensive clothes, and a well-stocked larder. The reception room does feature some pieces of Egyptian bric-a-brac (pottery, papyrus scrolls in frames, and so on) but all seem fairly mundane.



This message was last edited by the GM at 18:43, Wed 23 Jan 2019.

In reply to GM (msg # 164):

Dermot surveys the apartment.

“Well, the late Mr. Gavigan won’t be needing anything here. May as well grab dinner!”

Dermot grabs some choice provisions and a bottle of whiskey for the road. He strolls to the closet to inspect the fancy clothing. Everything is a bit large for him.

He calls over his shoulder: <DarkBlue>“Say, Gustav. Ye could use some fine threads to replace your gaudy clothing. Come take a look!”
This message was last edited by the player at 20:26, Wed 23 Jan 2019.

In the 1920s, the simplest way to get between the London and Egypt was by sea, docking either at Alexandria or Port Said (the most popular port for ships sailing from England, situated at the north end of the Suez Canal). The journey will take around 12 days.

Cost of a one-way first-class ticket on a passenger liner from London to Cairo is $300. Second class is $200, and Steerage is $100. Freighters and tramp steamers normally offer a single class to all passengers (if they accept passengers at all). Some cargo ships might accept steerage or deck passengers as well, and some tramp steamer captains might be prepared to take on extra hands who are willing to work hard in exchange for passage.

The experience at sea depends on the type of ship you are traveling on, and how much you pay. On an ocean liner there are three broad classes of berth: first, second, and third (often called “steerage”). First class travel means large sleeping cabins, often arranged in a suite with a salon or other private spaces. Dining will be of a high quality, with separate sittings away from the hoi polloi. First class passengers often bring some of their own servants, but can also expect attentive service from uniformed ship’s crew. Cabins and first-class amenities are positioned higher up the ship, with easy access to the decks for promenading.

Second class passengers have their own cabins, the size of which depends on the type of ship: the bigger and newer the liner, the bigger and more luxurious the cabin. Lower in the hull than first class, second-class cabins and spaces take up the upper middle portion of a ship.

Third class (“steerage”) passengers share cabins, often with several bunks in each, with each bunk being sold as a separate berth. Low down in the ship, steerage is cramped, and any recreational spaces are communal and limited. Noise from the engines is louder in these areas, and space is tight. The decks of ships are also segregated by class, with third class passengers having the most limited access.

While steamers are by far the most common method of arriving in Egypt, it is possible to make it there overland. If coming from London (or anywhere else in Europe), this is usually achieved by catching the Simplon-Orient Express to Constantinople, then transferring onto its extension through Syria and Palestine in order to reach Cairo. The trip involves catching multiple trains and ferries, as well as a jaunt in an automobile for one leg of the journey and takes around one week from Calais.

Arriving by road is a possible, though unlikely, method of reaching both Egypt and Cairo. The roads in Egypt and the surrounding countries are virtually non-existent, with such routes more often used by camel caravans than motor vehicles. Likewise, although flights with Imperial Airways between London and Cairo’s Heliopolis Airport are possible by the mid-1920s, a regular commercial service is not established until the end of the decade.

So, let's move on to Cairo.

You each gain 1D6+1D4 SAN for neutralizing Gavigan and the cultists.

I’ve done my best to keep track of stats, but please correct me if you think I’m wrong

Dermot; HP 8 / SAN 69 / Luck 74 / Mythos 4%
Gustav; HP 9 / SAN 73 / Luck 39 / Mythos 8%
Johan; HP 5 / SAN 42 / Luck 50 / Mythos 16%
Rachel: HP 11 / SAN 52 / Luck 46 / Mythos 2%

These are the skill checks you have for London. For each skill check you roll 1D100. If you roll higher than the current skill number, or the result is over 95, then you improve in that skill: roll 1D10 and immediately add the result to the current skill points. You can also do the process for Luck.

Dermot; Fast Talk 55, Firearms/Handgun 52, Library Use 20, Mech Repair 10, Psychology 30, Track 10

Gustav; Firearms/Handgun 67, First Aid 40, Listen 50, Locksmith 22, Psychology 47, Spot Hidden 60, Stealth 35

Johan; Arabic 40, Greek 50, Listen 20, Fighting/Brawl 60

Rachel; Fast Talk 65, Fighting/Brawl 40, Persuade 30, Spot Hidden 50
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:28, Tue 29 Jan 2019.

Okay, I have noted the following changes on your Fantasy Grounds Character sheets;

Dermot; HP 8 to 13  / SAN 69 to 75 / Luck 74 to 80 / Mythos 4%
Gustav; HP 9 to 12  / SAN 73 to 82 / Luck 39 to 42 / Mythos 8%
Johan;  HP 5 to 11  / SAN 42 to 48 / Luck 50 to ?? / Mythos 16%
Rachel: HP 11 to 11 / SAN 52 to ?? / Luck 46 to 52 / Mythos 2%

Johan and Rachel; Don’t forget to add 1D6+1D4 to your SAN

Dermot; Dodge Firearms/Handgun 52 to 55, Mech Repair 10 to 17, Track 10 to 18

Gustav; Listen 50 to 54, Locksmith 22 to 28, Psychology 47 to 56, Spot Hidden 60 to 69, Stealth 35 to 36, Brawl 50 to 51, Persuade 50 to 55, Climb 20 to 24

Johan (hasn’t rolled for skill gains yet); Arabic 40, Greek 50, Listen 20, Fighting/Brawl 60

Rachel; Fast Talk 65 to 74, Fighting/Brawl 40 to 45, Persuade 30 to 40
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:22, Thu 31 Jan 2019.