On the 'Laconia', you are lucky enough to encounter Mr. Wilberforce Lake, an experienced traveler. He kindly gives you some pointers on what to expect in Egypt;

When you first arrive in Egypt, you will make landfall in Port Said, which is on the east edge of the Nile Delta at the entrance to the Suez Canal. The first thing you will notice is the heat, followed closely by the throngs of people crowding any new arrivals. The port will be full of people trying to get their baggage, trying to hire guides, trying to be hired as a guide, or just trying to pick pockets. The harbors also reeks of rotting fish as fishermen work to offload their cargoes.

Customs inspections in Port Said are rigorous, and a passport is required of all entrants. You will also need to acquire a visa and register as aliens, ostensibly so that your consulate can provide assistance if needed. You will be pleased to learn that not only firearms, but also explosives, are legal for import, if you have the appropriate permit. Lacking the proper permits for weapons can result in time spent in a small, hot prison cell and copious physical punishment if you press the issue.

Port Said itself is very different from Cairo. Built in 1859 to support the administration of the Suez Canal, it is laid out on a grid and lacks any ruins that archaeologically minded investigators would enjoy. There are, however, British and American consulates, should you run into any issues with the law. It is worth noting that passengers do not disembark from their ship straight onto the pier at Port Said. The shallow harbor renders it necessary to have small boats ferry passengers from liners to the shore. It costs 4 piastres per person and 1 piastre per trunk to take advantage of this necessity (100 piastres = $5).

The journey from Port Said or Alexandria to Cairo is usually made by steam-powered train. The British created an extensive network of rail lines when Egypt was part of the Empire, and the Egyptians maintain them. It takes 4 hours 15 minutes on the express from Port Said to Cairo; about 5 hours for the standard train. It is 135
Piastres for first class or 75 piastres for second class to take the Express to Cairo. The standard train is 30 piastres cheaper for both first and second class.

The tracks from Port Said follow the route of the Suez Canal, with its first major stop at Qantara. At the 48-mile marker, the train turns inland and southwest to Ismailia, the home of a British garrison. After Ismailia the train follows a major canal through the Wadi Tumilat. There is lush irrigated farmland on either side. However, the arid desert is not far beyond this. The line again passes through fertile farmland when it joins with the train line from Alexandria and then terminates at the Cairo Central Railway Station.

Once in Cairo, getting around can be difficult, especially if you do not know the language. Many points of interest are in the Old City, a twisting maze of alleys and self-styled streets that can change when a vendor decides to put up a stall, blocking an alley, or a house burns down, opening a new street. The easiest solution is to hire a dragoman, or guide. These guides generally know English and will work for negotiated rates, although most require 20 piastres a day in Cairo.



This message was last edited by the GM at 23:17, Tue 29 Jan 2019.

In reply to GM (msg # 1):

Gustav, definitely not accustomed to warm weather such as this, is starting to get uncomfortable in his suit. Moving to customs, he presented his badge, his assorted armaments (.45 revolver, .32 concealed revolver, shotgun, brass knuckles) and made arrangements to register in the American consulate. He also writes a letter to his superiors in New York, detailing his exploits (not the mythos) and requesting more time to fully conduct his investigation. He would also write a letter to his young cousin but this time, it will be full of inquiries about his health and his studies, he will also ask for more sausages and tell Gerhard that he will be in Cairo, Egypt and will send him an address as soon as possible.

He would also vouch for his party and would tell the customs that he is here on an official investigation and that these people are his companions.

At the American consulate, he will ask who will be the most trusted guide that they can hire going on to Cairo and beyond.

I inquiries about a man named Omar al-Shakti will also be made.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:11, Wed 30 Jan 2019.

After making appropriate preparations, Dermot consents to ride in style, buying first-class passage on all transports land and sea. After being struck by lightning, he feels the need for a vacation. Perhaps not in the manner of Gustav, that parody of a tourist; but a little relaxation is definitely in order. Not that Dermot's Irish pride would have it any other way. He is, after all, a successful businessman and adventurer. He spends the cruise eating well and conversing with seamen, keeping his pipe lit through the majority of each day. He ponders the cosmic import of the Ghoul's Manuscript he read previously, and considers himself to have achieved some basal understanding of an incantation within. Would he ever resort to attempting dubious dark magic of unknown consequence?

Once at port, he lets Gustav do all the talking his German tenacity requires him to do. In reality, he sees that we're in the linguistic wheelhouse of the scholar Johan. They don't have a particularly strong relationship, but Dermot's always found him to be level-headed, if perhaps superstitious. Though after all the party has been through, could any of them afford not to suspect macabre and violent presences lurking around every blind corner? Yes, Dermot Murphy is prepared to discover just how much Johan really knows about the strange, infinite world around them all.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:10, Wed 30 Jan 2019.

In reply to GM (msg # 1):

While Johan is pleased that his linguistic aptitude will no doubt be an asset to his colleagues, he wonders will a degree of trepidation what's around most any corners they come upon in this city. The things they have already seen in the so called civilized world...what sights will the ancient world bring? Although his mind is a bit more calm after the uneventful journey to this ancient land....and it is quite nice being away from that British weather....

Johan has the means and will use them to travel with a degree of accommodation that hopefully does not stand out too greatly but that mimics largely that of his friends.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:44, Thu 31 Jan 2019.

Asking around at the US Consulate, Gustav learns that Mr. Omar al-Shakti is a wealthy plantation owner, an honest citizen, an astute businessman of impeccable manners, and reputedly a lesser son of a fine family long powerful in Egypt. He speaks English fluently, as well as many other languages, including Mandarin Chinese. His home is in the small town of Gezira Mohammed, some 10 km north of Cairo along the west bank of the Nile, near his largest plantation.

As for guides, the consulate official shrugs. “Pick anyone but be careful. A lot of them are unsavory fellows, only looking to ambush you and steal your money.”

You board the noisy and crowed train to Cairo. The tracks from Port Said follow the route of the Suez Canal, with its first major stop at Qantara. At the 48-mile marker, the train turns inland and southwest to Ismailia, the home of a British garrison. After Ismailia, the train follows a major canal through the Wadi Tumilat. There is lush irrigated farmland on either side. However, the arid desert is not far beyond this. Then at last you see Cairo, glimmering through the growing dusk; a twinkling constellation which becomes a blaze as the train halts at the great Gare Centrale.

As soon as you step onto the platform, you are accosted by a crowd of men—some in Western-style suits, others in the traditional djellaba—all waving flyers for their favored hotel or guest house. One young man, distinctly taller and with a shock of unruly brown hair, approaches you; in contrast to most of the other barkers, he is very smartly turned out in Western clothing.

Bowing slightly, he addresses you in virtually flawless English; “Good day to you all, and welcome to Egypt. My name is Ibi Moussa. If you have yet to arrange your accommodation, may I suggest the Hotel du Sud? Please, permit me to take care of your luggage for you.”

Without waiting for you to reply, the well-dressed man motions for a gaggle of boys to grab your bags and, as a group, with Ibi at the head, they begin to set off into the confusion of the crowds.


This message was last edited by the GM at 15:17, Thu 31 Jan 2019.

In reply to GM (msg # 5):

“It seems a man of taste has found us directionless,” Dermot announces, half-seriously. <DarkBlue>“Let’s get after him, then, as there’s nothing for it.”

He trudges along after his luggage. Catching up to Ibi Moussa, he asks, <DarkBlue> “In the hotel business, are ye? The name’s
Murphy. I do my share of trading and traveling, but Cairo’s a new scene. Been in business here long?”

In reply to Dermot Murphy (msg # 6):

With a shrug, Rachel allowed one of Moussa's boys to carry off her bag to their ride.

"How is Cairo as of late? Can the hotel recommend us any guides while we are in Cairo?" Rachel asked, falling into step with Moussa & Dermot.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:46, Fri 01 Feb 2019.

In reply to GM (msg # 5):


Gustav shrugs.

'Well, as good as any I guess.'

Gustav, who grew up in and around New York, knows a thing or two about pickpockets and other sorts of shenanigans that separates men from their wallets. he whispers to everyone

'Careful with your money and passports. these are amateurs compared to the best of New York, but I wouldn't want to walk around Cairo with a missing passport or what else'

Gustav keeps an eye on his belongings, his luggage and his party.

You follow Ibi and the five boys carrying your luggage to the hotel. Attempts to engage him in conversation reveals that he seems to know very little English, apart from a few memorized phrases. He shrugs politely and smiles at your questions.

Standing in what must once have been a relatively prosperous area before the inhabitants moved on to bigger and better things, the Hotel du Sud has obviously seen better days. The paint is peeling, and the curtains faded, although the windows are clean, and the step freshly scrubbed. Overall, the guesthouse exudes an air of faded grandeur.

Inside the lobby, decorated in a style that hasn’t really been tasteful for the last 40 years or so, a slender, middle-aged woman of European extraction stands behind the reception desk. She is elegant, in a faded sort of way, with good quality clothes that have been carefully maintained over the years. Her sandy brown hair is kept fastened into a tight chignon, and a pair of spectacles perch on the bridge of her nose. She greets your arrival with a brittle smile and a “Bonjour!”.

Ibi introduces you to the woman as “honored guests.” Mme. Patenaude, the hotel’s manageress, proceeds to check you into your rooms, unless you object. Your luggage is by the desk alongside Ibi and the boys, who wait expectantly for a tip. If you decline, Mme. Patenaude sighs and Ibi looks forlorn.

Provided you accept the offer of bed and board made by Mme. Patenaude, Ibi shows you up to your rooms on the upper floors. Despite apparently being the only guests, your rooms are not adjacent to each other and two of the rooms are on a different floor.

The rooms are as tired-looking as the rest of the hotel, although they are very clean. Apart from a bed and a washstand, complete with porcelain bowl and jug, the only other pieces of furniture in each room are a wicker chair, a large wardrobe, a chest of drawers, and a bedside table on which sits a rather battered-looking electric lamp.

The noise from the street and the call of the muezzins to evening prayer is somewhat muted, but still audible.

The next morning, after a delicious breakfast at a nearby restaurant, you head back to the train station to find the French Embassy. There is already a long queue of Egyptians waiting outside, but the armed guards wave you all inside. Here you spend quite some time dealing with red tape and indifferent clerks, before finally learning that Warren Besart’s current address is listed as The Red Door, Street of Scorpions, in the Darb al-Ahmar (the Red Alley). The Red Alley is another bazaar located along the Sharia al-Muizz in the Old City.

The clerk you obtain this information from strongly suggests you hire a competent dragoman if you are going to the Old city. He calls over to a young man in his early twenties, who introduces himself as Saleem Naziz. Saleem is wearing the traditional djellaba and speaks English, French and German. “Salaam-Alaikum,” he smiles. “I will help you find this man.”

Saleem suggest that a tram would be the quickest. The trams connect many regions of the city, running at intervals of 6 or 12 minutes depending on the route. Each tram is numbered and color coded to make finding the proper route as easy as possible for the literate and illiterate alike. Most hotels also have a tram guide available for free. Saleem leads you to a waiting tram, and soon you are rattling through the sounds, sights and smells that are Cairo, eventually arriving at the Old City.

This is the true heart of Cairo, the section of the city where the traveler can experience all that it has to offer. Here are the bazaars and the craftsmen, the spice merchants and the animal sellers. Here there is a mosque on almost every corner and the call of the beggar is punctuated only by the call of the muezzin that summons the faithful to prayer five times a day. Storytellers ply their trade on most streets, surrounded by children and adults alike. They recite the ancient tales of heroes and djinn, of prophets and martyrs, of princesses and caliphs, and all for a sparse handful of coin. Water sellers move among the crowds carrying overflowing water jugs; some merely ask the traveler to drink in favor of the rich merchant that has paid for them to pass out the water in his hope of gaining favor with Allah, while others charge whatever they think the thirsty can pay.

Most of the streets in this quarter are too narrow for carriages or vehicles. The traffic is largely pedestrian, with the occasional donkey or mule carrying impossibly large loads pushing through the crowds. Shops spill out into the street, the wares for sale often occupying more space in the street than is possible inside the tiny cubicle that has been run by the vendor's family for ten generations or more. Friends of the stall keeper are invited to sit on cushions or stools alongside the shops; a boy is sent running to a nearby cafe to bring back thick strong coffee, and the argeeleh (or hookah) is lit and passed around. Women in the streets are usually covered from head to toe, their faces invisible behind opaque veils. The wealthy are accompanied by large bodyguards; the poor travel in groups for protection from infidels. Beggars and urchins ply their trade in most streets; small children make foot travel difficult by flocking around foreigners that are foolish enough to give money to anyone. Tourists may feel small hands searching in pockets, and any loose objects disappear into the throng of giggling faces. Serious robbery and assaults are rare but not unknown.

With the help of Saleem, you find the Street of Scorpions. The sole red door along the street opens into a clothing shop, but the owner, one Abou Udhreh, denies that Besart lives there.




This message was last edited by the GM at 15:55, Sat 02 Feb 2019.

Dermot hands over modest tips to any of the boys who approach him. At the desk, he asks for the best room available. He's still washing away the strains of conflict, even as he delves into the Mythos with new eyes. When he arrives at the proffered room, he squints at it in amused resignation. This'll have to do for now.

At the red door, Dermot asks whether this man knows any Besart at all.

At the hotel, Dermot ask for the top room and then squints at it when he gets there. "Guess that's it then,' he says as he puts away his clothes. He notices that the back of the closet seems very flimsy. It is easy to discover a sliding panel in the back of the wardrobe, which leads through the wall and into a wardrobe in a vacant room next door.

Suspecting some dodgy scheme, he keeps the majority of his money to hand, leaving a small sum in an obvious position on his bed as an experiment. Mentioning the wardrobe to the others, they all discover the same setup in their rooms.

At the Street of Scorpions, the shopkeeper fires of a string of rapid Arabic, which Saleem translates as having never heard of any 'Besart', nor ever having anything to do with foreigners.

[Johan, Gustav and Rachel; you can try Psychology here]
This message was last updated by the GM at 17:21, Sat 02 Feb 2019.