“I agree,” Jack says to Spider. “Although I would like to get a bit more information before we call. Mr. Miroslav, judging from the teeth marks and the sounds in the air duct, this entity seems to be fairly material. Do you know if that is always the case, or if it can, for example, move through solid walls or tiny openings? How long has this been going on? Is there only one entity? Are there certain areas of the building or times of day that it is more active? Is it particularly attracted to or repelled by anything you’re aware of? Has the building had any renovation or construction recently, or other unusual events that might have summoned or awakened the entity? Any changes to the staff of any kind? Anything else out of the ordinary recently, even if it seems unrelated? And finally, can we take a tour of the building, particularly out-if-the-way areas like attic, basement, boiler room, coal bin, etc.?”

The Serbian Problem pt 1
-----------------------
Jack and Spider
--------------
The Serbian exhaled, with a look of relief that was painful to behold.  "You ask questions.  Never before have I been so happy to answer.  It is a thing of folklore, a threat adults make to children if they do not behave."  He dragged the ruined chair away from his desk and leaned on it, favoring one leg.   "It has been bothering us since June, as far as I know.  At first, we thought a squirrel was in the ducts.  It...got worse.  My secretary quit two days ago when it ripped out some of her hair.   It seems to be able to fit into the smallest space, yet can chew up a hardwood chair.  I - hope- that there is only one of them.  The idea that there may be an infestation...." Miroslav shivered.  "We have had nothing happen that is out of the ordinary that I can think of to say, that would bring such a curse.  Of course I will give you a complete tour.  Just let me get my cane."  He drew a nondescript black cane from under his desk, frowned at the fresh marks scraped into it by claws, or long teeth, and gingerly tested it.  It held, at least for now.  "Most of the damage happens at night, when the embassy is closed to visitors, but there is always some staff guarding the building.  I have their reports too.  Now it is during the daylight also.  We only catch a glimpse of a dark shadow, moving very fast."  He walked to the doorway, with a slight limp, and proceeded to give them the tour.

"Here is our meeting chamber," he opened double doors on a large conference room, where twenty chairs were set up in front of a nicely carved podium.  The chandelier in the room was hanging crookedly.  The next room was an office, where several desks were abandoned - one chair was tipped over, and papers were strewn everywhere.  "I sent them home," Miroslav said, "After Anika had her hair torn."  The next room was a small kitchenette,  the coffee brewer urn showing signs of damage, and all the chairs were broken or battered.   Another room held records; one of the large file cabinets was tipped over.   Another room along the back garden was the security detail's domain; two burly men in suits that didn't disguise their shoulder gun harnesses looked up nervously when the tour arrived.  The room was mostly empty, though there were several large trunks that were heavily padlocked, and folding cots pushed under one scarred, wobbly table.   One of the men asked Miroslav a question, and handed over a sheaf of papers in a folder.  A religious icon of a grey haired, bearded robed man with a large halo was resting on the table, holding down some papers; it was clearly marked with crosses.

A long, sloping staircase led upstairs, past some long windows, most of which had cracks in them.  The upstairs were living quarters, plush and pleasant, though the bathroom cistern had been shattered and the room was blocked off.  "Trying to arrange for a plumber to deal with it," their tour guide said morosely.  Not much else was out of place upstairs in the three bedrooms and one dressing room, though all were currently empty, nothing in the drawers or closets.   There was a pull-down ladder into the attic, which had some locked file cabinets, a locked chest, and some boxes, all dusty.  The boiler room downstairs was banked low, not unusual in the summer; there was one locked tool chest that had dents that corresponded with chunks out of the brick walls.

 Miroslav saved the Ambassador's office for last, using keys to open it.  It should have been a beautiful display of wealth and power, with a big Serbian flag draped on one wall, with paintings in gold frames decorating the rest, surrounding a huge teak wood desk, everything just so, with a large bay window filled with lush plants.  All the plants had been savagely wrenched from their pots and thrown around the office with great force; dirt and plant pieces were everywhere.   The paintings had been clawed to ribbons, and the flag slashed.   Miroslav paled as he beheld the sight, clutching his cane and the folder.  "What ?!   Why ?!" he gasped.

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GM: Actions, etc, for the next half hour of game time, please respond by Saturday 7 August, next post Sunday.  Hope you are all doing well.
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Spider said, "You say it started in June.  Did anything else of importance happen back then?  Someone visit?  Something go wrong?  Something go right?"

During the tour, Jack notices the religious icon holding down papers in the security barracks room.
“Does the creature avoid religious symbols? That would be helpful to know. Does it have any weaknesses mentioned in the folklore?”
Other than that, Jack thinks they should act on Spider’s suggestion and call their colleagues to search their library (or personal experience) for more information, hopefully. He also starts thinking about strategic locations for protective spells and wards.

The Serbian Problem pt 2

---Spider and Jack-------------

The ambassador's assistant thinks back, to answer Spider's questions.  "June...yes, the first time we heard something, it was June.  Just after the full moon.  My wife and I went out to dinner that night for our anniversary.  I bought her pearl earrings."  Miroslav takes a deep breath, apparently grounding himself in the facts once he had centered his mind.  "They remind me of that moon.  It was a beautiful night.  But...I cannot think what that may mean.  Anika mentioned a squirrel had gotten into the ducts a day or two later.   Then....it became worse.  Apparent it was not an animal, but an actively malignant spirit.   We thought of the story of a demon, called bijeda - a misery.  It is part ghost, part bone, part slime, it steals and damages, and it follows those cursed with it forever.  That is what I think is haunting this place.   Why it has come, I don't know.  Nothing has been out of the ordinary.  The ambassador has always had a weak heart, and he is getting older.  We did not hire anyone new, though we have had translators come in to deal with the correspondence - only people I trust, though.  I can give you their names - the names of everyone who has been at the Embassy since June."    There are about forty names, most of them local; some were Serbians who had been on their way home, though, and were out of the country.  The Agents noted that Janko Zivanovik had been a translator once or twice a week, off and on through the months, and two other translators were listed as well, Andreja Dobroslav and Lazar Borovijov.  Janko had a factory job downtown, working in a tool and die place; Andreja was a cook at a steakhouse, and Lazar was a dancing instructor for their day jobs.  There had been visits from the Russian Embassy, the Canadian Embassy, and a number of local politicians, but again, nothing out of the ordinary.
---------

After they left the guards' office, Miroslav answers Jack's questions in low tones, so that the men inside do not overhear.  "They believe that the Saint's icon will protect them, and who can say - but they have not been troubled in that room.   The icon is Saint Sava, the Enlightener, of the Serbian Orthodox Church.  From the Middle Ages.  He was a nobleman who became a monk.  He saved the country from great conflict and founded many places of worship in Serbia.  If...his icon will help, I will find all of them I can in the city and beg a priest to bless them."  He knows of no way to defeat a demon that was considered a folklore boogeyman - but will try anything if it might help.


At the sight of the destroyed office, the shock and alarm on Miroslav's face is genuine; he leaves the office and sinks onto a marble bench.    He shakily proceeds back to his own office and lets the agents use his telephone.   Edith answers, then shouts around the office at those in earshot about it; no one, including Ben, has heard of that particular folklore creature, but Edith promises she'll 'ask around' in her personal spirit network.  Jack and Spider leave a very worried Miroslav and head back to the archives, to do research at the Grey Building.

All was normal there - the phone ringing, someone typing, and Ben's voice in his office. It was disconcerting to overhear Ben asking Mills the Mouse, "What do you mean, you lost the new recruit ?  He was six feet tall !  Where did you lose him ?"
"The warehouse." Mills said, wretchedly.  "It...may...have archived him."
"Ha, winner, winner, chicken dinner," Thorne chuckled, holding out a palm to Fritz, who frowned and pulled out his money clip.
"GO LOOK FOR HIM, YOU TWO...right now."  Ben had come out of his office, and while the last two words were soft, the look on his face was anything but as he glared at the two mercenaries.  Thorne actually shut up, and Fritz was out of the door like a shot.  Ben went back into his office and closed the door.  "All right, let's go find Lost Boy."  Thorne muttered, and trotted towards the warehouse, after Fritz - checking that his sidearm was loaded as he went.

Spider and Jack check in with Edith, who is in a trance, and answers with a young woman's voice in a New England accent, "I'll have to ask someone older."  She hums tunelessly for a moment, until Bitsie Black looks around the door frame, eyes narrowed. "What ?" she asks. "My planchette went crazy, what's going on ?"
She listened to Jack and Spider's retelling of their tale.
"That sounds like a demon, all right," the Voudou practitioner nodded slowly.  "And it came into power....right after the full moon in June. This Servian - Serbian creature - I don't even know where that is."
"Ask Baba Yaga," Edith said, in a creepy old woman voice, as a harsh cold gust of wind scattered paperwork around the room, then blinked.  "Whatever I said, it was important," she said, sounding normal again.
"Basic anti-demon stuff is Salt, Iron, Oil of Saints, Amethyst and Rainbow Obsidian," Bitsie Black said.  "There's no talking to the Russian Mother of Witches without great risk.  I can make up the Oil of Saints, and the stones should be easy to find at the Smithsonian museum.  Salt from the Earth, not the sea.  Iron from the Earth.  This sounds like an earth demon.  The older the iron, the better.  Get something at least a few centuries old, maybe some old arrowheads.   I can teach you a Cast Out spell, it is much like the Elder Sign."  She frowned slightly.  "Irina can probably chant this spell from memory, but I'll have to look it up in my Book of Shadows."
"I can give you a request form that looks very scary," Edith said, smiling happily, "You might be able to requisition the museum stones under the DoD."
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GM:  Actions, etc, for the next hour of game time, please respond by Saturday, 14 August, next post Sunday.   Hope you all are doing well.  Seems the normal amount of madness here, maybe I'm just accustomed to it now.
-------------------------------------------------

Before they leave the embassy, Jack will do his best to reassure the beleaguered bureaucrat.
“Don’t worry sir, we’ve dealt with things like this before. You’re in good hands.“
Back at headquarters, Jack will take careful notes regarding Miss Black’s instructions. And he will gladly take Edith’s form for use at the Smithsonian.
When he hears the spirit speaking through Edith mention Baba Yaga, he stops cold for just a moment.
“Isn’t she a rather big gun, to be involved in a domestic infestation?”
Jack will take the opportunity to visit Irina and see how she’s getting on, as well as ask for any advice regarding said consultation.
OC: I hope you are all getting along tolerably well. I’m doing OK. Wish this would end!

The Serbian Problem pt 3

----Jack and Spider---
Jack attempts to comfort the miserable Miroslav.  "Thank you, Mr...Agent Sterling.  I cannot tell you how kind you are, to listen to me.  I promise you that if you are able to help me, I will be forever in your debt."  The Serbian bowed and gratefully bade them farewell.  Jack had the sense that the promise of the debt would be honoured.

Back at the office, Agent Black confirms Jack's summation of Baba Yaga.  "Yes, she is that much and more, Jack, such that I will not speak her name lightly,"  Bitsie Black agreed.  "I'll go put the cauldron on to boil and start rendering the oils for you, then have a good look at my Book of Shadows.   If it's a simple Earth demon, we can at least quiet it down if we can't dismiss it, or I'm no kind of witch at all."

Jack left the office and went to the Walter Reed Army Medical Center, where Irina was convalescing.   She had rare lucid moments, but most of her days and nights were spent in a deep sleep, far from consciousness.  The wounds from the horrible beasts of the Everglades were healing, but would scar her forever.  The nurses in grey kept her fed, clean and tidy, even braiding her hair and filing her fingernails neatly.   Jack took her hand and noted that there was a little warmth to it today, though she did not respond to his touch.  He told her of the Serbian Problem, and then spoke about Baba Yaga.  Irina stirred, murmuring,  "Life and death; white, red and black, the birch and the broom.  Circle, circle, spin and spin, banish all darkness within."  Then she was out again, in some deep dream.   A soft cough from the doorway; one of her doctors, the elderly and stately Francis Blake, was standing there, a chart in his hands.   "She spoke ?  That's encouraging,"  he said.  "She doesn't speak very often, and it's usually in Russian.  I've asked a nurse who speaks Russian to transfer to this wing."

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GM: Please respond with actions, etc, for the next hour of game time, by Saturday, 21 August, next post Sunday.
OOC:  Hope everyone is getting along.  I have news, that in some rare, far off places of the US of A, that normalcy is progressing.  A Steampunk convention had a successful run  in the America Starts Here State of Pennsylvania.  Where actual humans (or so they said) could stroll about not wearing masks, provided they had been vaccinated, and there was no panic !  Just dyspepsia from hotel hot dogs.  All hangovers were self-inflicted.
----------------------------------

Nolan's Interview pt 3

There was no explaining it; one moment he'd been given a tour in a massive, dark warehouse of strange and occult junk, and the next minute he was standing in complete and utter darkness, in bone-chilling cold.  There was an overwhelming stench of death in the air, and a slithering sound, as if something very large was moving closer to him.  Then there was a sound, the report of a handgun; probably a Luger.  Something squealed with bone-jarring pitch and the slithering sound recoiled.  There were two more shots, both sounding closer, not a Luger - something bigger.

"Aha," said the well-dressed Agent Trachenberg, illuminated by a lantern clipped to his belt, the Luger pointed safely upwards.  "Agent Nolan.  Please follow me."
"You found him ?"  A deeply Southern man's voice came out of the darkness, and so did another man in an expensive suit, lantern clipped to his belt. This one was burly, dark haired and sporting a 1911a. "Well, damn.  Hello, Nolan.  If you're not Nolan, we'll have to shoot you."
"He makes a joke," said Trachenberg.  "Follow us.  Quick."  He whipped the lantern off his belt, shining it past Nolan, and fired two more times; a tentacle the size of an old oak whipped back, with another eldritch screech.
"What IS it with Tuesdays ?" the Southern man asked, firing into the darkness; another howl came from the horror hidden in the darkness. "Got him that time.  Go !"  The two senior agents shooed Nolan along, running through near-complete darkness, past dimly lit obstacles that looked nothing like warehouse shelves, until suddenly they were dodging a pile of crates and turning past a tall metal shelf where a crowd of dolls eyed them malevolently, the spitting electric lights doing little better to illuminate the massive warehouse and its dirty concrete floor.  "Out the West door past the Fortune Teller," the Southern man said, somewhat breathlessly; they were all running hard.  Something was running parallel to them in another aisle; there was a metallic clanking sound.   The three men rushed past a glass case holding a mannekin dressed in a turban and robe, with some brasswork that suggested it was a game of sorts, then to a heavy steel door heavily painted with arcane symbols.  Trachenberg hit it hard with his shoulder, knocking it open a few inches, and the other man finished the job, staggering into the corridor outside, where the sunlight was patterning the linoleum floor.  It was a welcome sight.
"This is Senior Agent Thorne," Trachenberg introduced the other man, who was trying to catch his breath.  "Boss sent us to find you.  Edith has got your desk ready."  He kicked the door shut and barred it smoothly, apparently from long practice, while Thorne mopped sweat off his face and nodded a greeting to Nolan.  They set off down the plain grey corridor, which looked like all the other corridors, and turned left; now the windows showed dark skies and rain.  Another turn, and they were all back by the offices.

Edith Moore greeted them effusively.  "So glad you were able to find him so quickly !   Oh, Mr. Nolan, what must you think of us.   I've got your desk ready.  You'll be sharing the office with Stevens in Accounting; he's on holiday, so you have time to settle in.  Angus, show him the coffee machine, while I set up his case folders.  Mr. Nolan, I hope you know the Massachusetts area, we need a check on a certain spot for paranormal activity.  I'll include the expense forms for travel, food and lodging."

What in the hell was that?! The mouse wasn't kidding when he said if I survive the day. A mouse, no less! He took a deep shuddering breath. Get it together, ex-Captain Nolan. Remember why you're here. They're, rather we're, the best.

Finished with his internal monologue, he turned to his rescuers. "Thank you for the extraction. I have no idea how I got lost or what", he looked over his shoulder with the memory of his fear, "I ran into back there but, well, thanks." He took a look around the office feigning interest while he gathered himself.

In all his years of combat he had never experienced anything like that. He marveled at the normality projected by the offices which juxtaposed the aberrations down the hall. He was a long way from Joliet now. He grew up in the seedier part of the city, not the worst part by any means but nowhere near the best. His proficiency with his mouth more than his fists defeated many a prospective bully. Still he took more than his share of beatings. In fact, it was his willingness to stand up for himself no matter the odds that earned him respect and eventually the beatings stopped. His dad affectionately called him the resident smart-aleck and he tended to sarcasm and dry wit for protection in high school.

He smiled as he remembered the warnings his mom used to give him when he visited Chicago. If she could only see him now. At least he didn't have her fears to worry about. His mom and pop died while he was at war. Ironic, he thought bitterly, that he survived the Great War but they didn't. It's part of the reason he sought out this job. No family to worry about him at home. No one to miss him or to miss. Just the way he liked it.

Nolan poured himself a cup of coffee to inject further mundanity into his day that had been anything but. It had helped him in battle, during the long waits. He would write letters or read, anything to take his mind off the looming danger. It was an easy habit to slip back into and that, more than anything, clarified his decision. Despite his less than auspicious start in the warehouse, he was staying.

He walked over to Edith Moore and asked with his tongue fully planted in his cheek. "Where's Professor Mills? Tell him I survived my first day." He winked at her. "and that I want my cut."

Deep inside himself he heard he heard the warning. Be careful what you wish for...
This message was last edited by the player at 00:18, Tue 17 Aug 2021.

Spider gives Ben a brief rundown on what they learned, and what they hope to do with Agent Black's help.  And if anything further comes up he will make sure to fill the boss in.

Jack immediately jots down what Irina said in a pocket notebook, not trusting such possibly vital information to memory. Before he leaves, he thanks the doctor and nurses at Walter Reed for their excellent care of his beloved Irina. He will call Edith and relay Irina's statements to her for her to pass on to Miss Black and the others.
     If he already has the formidable requisition forms, he will head to the Smithsonian and put on his best warm-yet-efficient bureaucratic demeanor to pick up the required ingredients. He will add "one antique birch broom" to the list, just in case it should be relevant.
     If he doesn't have the list, he heads back to the office to help prepare further.
     When he meets Nolan, he will offer a warm handshake and inquire about where he was raised and his education, and his adventure in the storeroom. He hope to inject a bit of normality to help the man acclimate on his first day.
     "Jack Sterling, how do you do? I'm from the Eastern Shore of Maryland. Tobacco farmers for generations. I met this lot while studying ancient cultures at Miskatonic. It's serious work, but we manage to have some fun nonetheless."

Nolan's First Day & The Serbian Problem Pt 4
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"Yep, anytime," the Southern Agent Thorne said at Nolan's thanks.  "The warehouse gets tetchy sometimes."  He grinned and sauntered back towards the offices.
"You are quite welcome," Agent Trachenberg replied politely, and smoothly cruised after him.  He also held his hand out to Thorne, who passed over a money clip.

Edith Moore smiled at him, and pointed out his office space, a small room with two desks in it.  One desk had an adding machine, a foot-tall stack of files, and the nameplate "F. Stephens, Acct" on it; the other was bare, with a scarred top and a worn chair.  None of the furniture looked new, but all of it seemed built to last.   "I'll tell the bookie.  You'll have some files to look over on your desk when you get back.  Don't worry; you survived so far."  She hurried off to answer the ringing telephone.

The Scot that had asked him to pick a card as part of an interview strolled up.
"Come on then, Mr. Nolan; the Brew Master is the pride of our canteen," Angus said, ushering Nolan out the doorway.  "I'll go fetch a cuppa for my partner.  We usually work in pairs."  He led Nolan into a concealed hallway, where the clatter of cups and plates could be heard.  The kitchen itself was empty of people, though.  "This is a barrier room, part of it is within the wards and part isn't," Angus said, pointing out a painted line on the floor.  "Should anything go completely doolally, get behind the line.  And that's the Brew Master; it makes the best coffee, tay or what have you.  This bit grinds the beans, which we keep in the ice box there, and then you tip the grounds into the press, pull on this water lever and let it steep a while.  We have full cream, milk, sugar, honey, spices, and proper tea leaves also.  This port steams the milk, makes it rich and fluffy."  The Scot proceeded to demonstrate how to make a cup of coffee that put Nolan in mind of expensive New York restaurants, and also made a cup of tea, into which he poured a dash of honey, stirred twice clockwise, and held out a tin of shortbread cookies for Nolan's choice.  "Oh, and the mice have their own table; sometimes they want a bit of help."  A doll sized set of tables and chairs was set up on a table in the corner, with rope ladders hanging down to the floor.  "You're expected to bring your own lunch, and it's best to keep a tin or two of beans around, in case you're stuck working late.  Edith keeps us well supplied with food though."

He led Nolan back to the offices, and went off towards the labs, carrying the mug of tea. On Nolan's desk was a brass nameplate with C. Nolan, Agent, and there were wire baskets marked "In" and "Out".  The "In" basket had three files.
One was marked "West Arkham Reclamation Project, 1924", another was "C.H. Pontill, Possible Poltergeist", and the last was "Things we need done, but I'm busy".
The Arkham project involved driving to Massachusetts, included a form for taking a Model T out of the Motor Pool, a form for receipts for travel costs, a road map marked with a location in Massachusetts, and a photograph of some desolate looking farm, with a neatly written explanation of the project.  "Seven marked rows, with Solutions A, B, C, C2, D, E, F, and G administered as follows; One gallon per cubic yard.  Checked at 24 hours for reaction.   Nothing noted.  Checked at one week for reaction: C2, D, E all had promising sign of normal growth.   Notable loss of grey tonen."  It was signed F. Trachenberg.
C.H. Pontill's file was a single page, typed form that listed the name and address of a person, one Male, 65, Caucasian, located at Bridge Street, Georgetown, DC.  Claims poltergeist at old stone house.  House very old.  Used to be rented as bookstore.  Priority: low, but report should be made.
The Things we Need  Done file was a laundry list of things that needed to be fixed, fetched, mended or found.  First on the list was taking inventory of the warehouse.  Someone had scribbled "not on your life".  Second was overhauling the filing system and taking out the older files that were cold cases or had been solved.  Things that needed to be mended included Mouse typewriter, some kind of warning bell that the warehouse could disable, and 'the back room'.  Also on the list was, "my lorica segmentata spares, find", and "feed the Hovnd".  From the look of this file, it had been passed around a lot, the notations are in several different hands.  As he peruses this mess, another agent introduces himself: Jack Sterling.

-----------------The Serbian problem pt 4-------------
Spider checks with the office references on how to deal with demonic creatures and notices that possession IS an issue, and that certain demons like to pester their chosen prey for life, with sometimes continuing to torment subsequent generations.   He also notices that Ben seems preoccupied and that the file load on his boss' desk has increased.  Bitsie Black has disappeared into her lab and is brewing something.  Then Edith knocked on the door and said, "The Serbians are on the telephone again.  Please say something nice to Mr. Miroslav, he's crying."
Ben tried to outstare Edith, failed, sighed, and picked up the telephone.  "Mr. Miroslav, this is Director Benjamin Weintraub.  We are actively pursuing your case.  What - wait.  Dead ?  What happened ?"  he motioned for Spider to get close enough to listen in.  It is clear that Miroslav is deeply upset.  "My cousin Ivan was attacked in the boiler room and he is dead," Miroslav sobbed.  "Please, please.  I will close the embassy today.  I will bring you the keys.  Please."

Jack notes down Irina's rambling in his notebook, and thanks the Walter Reed Staff, who are indeed treating Irina as if she was a war hero.  He has the list of things to requisition from the Smithsonian and easily fakes out the young curator of the mineral collection.   It is quick enough to grab the required rocks, but he then has to detour to find the old iron pieces in a different museum, the National Museum of American History, where he is also able to find some broken iron nails that might fit the description of "really old", and of course the die roller rolled a 38.  He heads back to the office with a box of stuff.   He greets Nolan as the young man is settling down in the office he is sharing with the accountant, Stephens, who is off on holiday.  Edith has already visited and left the new agent with some files to look over.

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GM: Please respond by Saturday, 28 August, next post Sunday.  Hope all is well with you all !
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Spider tells Jack about the latest bit of news from the embassy.  "This thing is getting worse.  You know, it's always seemed to me that things like this usually don't kill so much as cause trouble, like they just want attention.  So I hope this isn't more than we've figured out.  Edith, if this changes things, please let us know.  But the sooner we deal with this the better.  Jack, as usual with the magic stuff, you're in charge, and I'll just do what you tell me.  Ready?"  He does not ask about the wand.

"So far"...Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence. For not the first time, Nolan wonders what the actual odds are for his survival but immediately shrugs off the thought as counterproductive. He trails Angus through the facility and nods thoughtfully as he explains the barrier room to him. "Behind the line. Check." He does his best to normalize the new information as he receives it knowing there would be time enough for processing later.

"Impressive." He says genuinely amazed by the scope of the facility and with his favorite revelation, the Brew Master.  Nothing beats a good cup of coffee and they seem to have the best here. He thinks as he sips his newly brewed cup complete with steamed milk and sugar. He keeps his mug grabs a few cookies for the road as he hurries to keep up with the Scot.

After leading Chris back to the office area, Angus continues on to the labs as Nolan wends his way toward his work space. As he approaches his desk, he greets the other agent. "Hello, Jack. Nolan says with a smile as he offers his hand."Hi, Chris Nolan. Friends call me Nolan. Hold over from my days in the service, I suppose."

Pleasantries dispensed with, Chris turns to attack the pile of work on his desk. With a sigh that contains within it both excitement and exhaustion, Nolan sits heavily and starts thumbing through the files. The "West Arkham Reclamation Project, 1924" folder catches his eye and he drops it on the desk. As he starts examining the file in earnest, an unconscious smile spreads across his face.

Here is the challenge he has sought for years and he can't wait to test his mettle against it.

Jack scoffs at Spider with a grim smile. "As if I know what's going on. We'd better see what Miss Black has concocted and any other advice she can give us, and then head over there." He'll stock up on silver ammo for his .45 and shotgun, and assemble everything Miss Black suggested.

As an afterthought, he speaks to Edith: "We've heard that this entity sometimes torments additional generations of a family after the initial curse. See what you can find out about the families of Miroslav and the ambassador -- how they made their fortunes, if they have any enemies, things like that. Maybe they upset the wrong person a generation or two back. And any info on Saint Sava of the Serbian Orthodox Church -- his icon may repel the thing."

Nolan's Road Trip Pt 1
----------------------------

"All right, Mr. Nolan - oh, sorry, Lucy, it's a new staffer.  Give me a moment."  Edith took his paperwork while keeping the receiver of the telephone to her ear, signed off on it, and fished a set of keys out of her desk drawer, the candlestick mouthpiece still on her desk.  "Here's the keys to the Model T.   Fritzi filled it up with petrol and checked the air in the tires yesterday, so you should be fine to get to Arkham.   We don't let new agents out on their own, so ask around the office for a partner.  Professor Mills is free, and I imagine Jenkins too.   OK, Lucy, I'm back.  You said Meryl's cousin ?  Is that Evan or Stewart ?"

"Ahem." came the apologetic old man's voice, down by his feet.  It was Mills, with another mouse, also green; the other one was wearing a harness that had two rapiers in it, and was sitting up with its furry arms folded, very businesslike.  "I must apologise to you, Mr. Nolan, for allowing the warehouse to behave so aggressively.   We would be happy to accompany you on your first case.  Mr. Jenkins is a respected field agent with military experience."
The other green mouse squeaked, giving Mills a sharp look.
"He was a Marine," Mills translated.  "Silver Star."
Jenkins the mouse squeaked again.
"And he knows every speakeasy between here and Arkham." Mills added.  The only other agents around were Jack Sterling, another tall guy about thirty years old with white hair, and Angus, who was scribbling on paperwork at his desk.  Jack and the tall guy seemed busy, carrying a lot of fairly random stuff, including an old-fashioned twig broom.
Jenkins squeaked again, and Mills translated.
"And you won 200 bucks in the office pool."  Edith, still chattering on the phone, pulled an envelope out of her desk drawer and held it out to Nolan.   It was well over a week's wages and it was there, in cash.   The odds had been 3:1, apparently.

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GM: Actions, etc, please for the next hour of game time, please respond by Saturday 4 September, next post Sunday.  Hope you are doing well.
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The Serbian Problem pt 5.
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Spider and Jack collaborate on the Serbian issue, and head off to the labs after asking Edith to look some information up for them.  She immediately picked up the telephone and made a call to one of her complex, diverse network of friends.  Bitsie Black was definitely busy in her lab, and only stopped mumbling long enough to tell the two agents, "Come back in two hours.  Find some Holy Water."  The intense smell of flowers and spices was rolling out of her dark laboratory, where a green fire was lit under a black iron cauldron.

The nearest church that might be helpful was the National City Christian Church on Massachusetts Avenue & 14th.  Edith was on the telephone still, Ben was on his telephone, and Thorne and Fritz had disappeared from the office with uncanny stealth.  Only Angus was scribbling at his desk, making reference notations from three books as he did so.  There were no mice in sight either, apart from Mills and Jenkins over by Nolan, who was holding a file by Edith's desk.    Looks like the new guy was already on a case, which would be very helpful - they were getting overloaded again.

As they looked around for suitable containers for Holy Water, Edith came up to them.  "Janko's at Ace Tool and Die Company downtown; he says he may know something about the bijeda at the embassy.  Tall guy, good hair, off work at four.  Use pottery jars from the kitchen, you want them to shatter when thrown.  And remember, negative spirits like negative energy, don't feed them.  Is that a birch broom ?  Good idea."

The Agents went to the Church first, as it was too early to talk to Janko Zivanovik who would still be at work, and they noted that the Church building was old for the DC area, maybe 60 years or more, with a stately row of columns leading up the steps.  It seemed to be a Christian Church of no particular sect, and the preacher on duty was a portly, middle-aged man in a plain grey suit, a well-worn Bible carried in his scarred hands.   "May I help you ?"  he asked in a soft voice.   When told of their request, he merely nodded. "Minister Atwell is the ordained preacher; he's in prayer.  He is very close to God and will be best able to help."  He nodded towards the wizened old man in a robe who was kneeling at the altar, praying.   It took a while, but the old man finally creaked upwards, as the younger preacher hurried to assist him.    "What do they want ?  Look like g-men," the old man said, squinting at Jack and Spider.   (Persuasion, please....)
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GM: Actions, etc, please for the next hour of game time, please respond by Saturday 4 September, next post Sunday.  Hope you are doing well.
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In reply to The GM (msg # 25):

Nolan pockets the keys and opens his mouth to respond.  He was, however, unable to find an opening between her rapid-fire instructions and her ongoing phone conversation wth Lucy. With mental shrug, he scoops up the Arkham file and turns to search the office for a partner. But before he gets started a solutions presents itself in the form of a man quietly clearing his throat. Or, more accurately, a mouse.

"Ah, Professor Mills, think nothing of it. I was,um," He searches for the best words to describe the warehouse situation but finds none. Instead, he just says,"I was careless."

Silver star? He thinks, impressed by both the accomplishment and the understatement. Military experience indeed. He offered a smart nod to Mr. Jenkins. " It is an honor, sir

He winked as he accepted his take from Edith, feigning the confidence he wished he had. 3:1 odds weren't that bad. In fact, he'd been in some tighter scrapes...or so he told himself.

He pulled the map from the file, noted the location on the map and said to his partners. "Massachusetts it is."

Buoyed by his survival and relieved for the help, he offers his shoulders to each mouse in turn and headed toward the Ford. He had no doubt he would need to lean on his partners' experience sooner rather than later.

OC: Sorry for the delay. You should have received a die roller message with a Persuasion roll of 27 for Jack.

IC: Jack takes Edith's advice and procures some jars from the kitchen. At the church, when the elder gets up, Jack will smile sincerely and introduce himself and Spider, showing his government identification.
"We are here on a matter of some urgency. Our office, which answers to the President, handles unusual problems -- threats that the average citizen might not even believe exist. But they do exist, and we fight them. An unclean spirit has infested the Serbian embassy, destroying furnishings and assaulting people. Just before we left our office to come here, we were informed it has now killed a worker. So we come to humbly ask for your blessing, so that we can take some Holy Water there to help us drive out the spirit. We are investigating various possible reasons it might have come there, to better deal with it, but now we are out of time. Will you help us?"

The Serbian Problem pt 6.

Jack and Spider tried their chances at the church.  The old minister Atwell eyed Jack with suspicion, but had to acknowledge the strength of the argument Jack made.   "Are you really, I wonder ?"  the old man said, more to himself, than anyone, then said, before Jack could reply, "Of course, my son.  I will help you as much as I can.  Barry, get the salt and oils and bring them to the font.  I will also bless you both, if you will allow me."  The other preacher hurried off as Atwell slowly limped along to the fancy marble font.
"We are a Christian church, Mr. Sterling, Mr. Mallory.  We provide all the help we can to all those who worship God.  I will bless the water in this font and you may take all of it, with my thanks.  And I will pray for your success."
Preacher Barry returned with two bottles of oil and a box of salt, carefully held in his ruined hands.  Old Atwell began intoning the Blessing, holding his Bible above the water, and salted it.  “Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth. O salt, creature of God, I exorcise you by the living God, by the true God, by the holy God, by the God who ordered you to be poured into the water by Eliseo the Prophet so that its life-giving powers might be restored. I exorcise you so that you may become a means of salvation for believers, that you may bring health of soul and body to all who make use of you, arid that you may put to flight and drive away from the places where you are sprinkled every apparition, villainy, and turn of devilish deceit, and every unclean spirit, adjured by Him Who will come to judge the living and the dead and the world by fire. Amen.”   The old man paused, eyes closed, clutching his Bible, head bent; Preacher Barry also bowed his head, lips moving as he prayed.
"Now, take all the Holy water you need," Atwell said, "And if you would like my blessing, I will anoint your forehead with the oils, that God might be with you in this endeavour. "
It is up to Jack and Spider if they want to be blessed.

Then it is time to find Janko Zivanovik.  It is not hard to pick him out of the crowd; most of the other workers are old, stocky, or both, though many are foreigners.  Janko did not look surprised to see them, and nodded a greeting.  His English was clear, but accented, much like Miroslav's; he sounded too educated to be a humble tool-and-die worker.  "I remember an old story that my grandmother told me," he said.  "It is the story of a man cursed by Fate for murder, and a creature called the Beda haunted him."  He said the words softly, not making any implications.  "I do not know what it means for the Embassy - just that not is all as it should be.  The moral of the story is that evil comes to those who do evil.  Something bad happened in the Embassy, that was - not told.  I was warned not to mention it, or I would never work there again.   But I am thinking, it is better to accept the loss of money than to allow evil to corrupt what should be good."

Zivanovik needs no prompting, having made his decision to reveal the secret to the Agents, though he does move off the sidewalk into a small alcove.  "A woman's body was found in the Embassy by the guards, in the last week of May," he said, in a whisper.  "I was there translating documents when I heard Yuri Cvetkovic talk to Aleksander Miroslav about it, asking what they should do, someone had been asking for this woman, her name was Anja, or Andria.  They spoke very softly, and Aleksander noticed I was still at the desk working.  He warned me to never speak of it, that the Embassy would be destroyed by such news.  I do not think Aleksander to be a bad man - but he is desperate to stay in this country.  His wife is very ill and there is a good doctor here."

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GM: Please respond with actions for the next hour of game time, by Saturday, 11 September, next post Sunday.  Hope all is well, and continues to be well.
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Nolan's First Day pt 2

The Professor looked a bit shamefaced, though expressions were difficult to gauge on a mouse.  "I ought to have asked one of the taller Agents to give you the tour.  My deepest apologies, Mr. Nolan."
The other mouse squeaked, and Mills added on his behalf: "It wasn't the first time someone's been lost in the warehouse.   We don't leave anyone behind."  The two mice scampered quickly up his sleeve, Mills closest to his ear.  Nolan went to the elevator, hit the key for the ground floor, and waited.  Eventually the elevator rumbled its way downward, opening up to the garage.  There was no sign of the irritable old man guarding the place, just a definite feeling that he was being watched with disapproval.  The Model T started on the second crank and the mice settled onto the dashboard, where a couple of padded handles had been added for their convenience.

"It may interest you that I accompanied Mr. Trachenberg to the site last year," Professor Mills told Nolan as he drove the vehicle along a graveled roadway toward the access road - and now, the mysterious fog was gone.  Nothing interesting to look at, just the fog was gone.  Pine trees, fallow fields, scrub trees and brush.  "I asked him to keep my name out of the report.  It was a rather interesting scientific proposition, to reclaim tainted soil.  I had several thoughts on that ....."
Nolan could have sworn Jenkins rolled his beady little mouse eyes at that.  The ex-military mouse agent settled down on the dashboard like an old professional.  The Model T rolled past the stone marker that Nolan had waited by earlier today - though it felt like it was a long while ago.  There was the briefest flicker of blue light.  "Outside the perimeter of our land," Professor Mills said.  "The warding of the Grey Building is complex and we've recently upgraded it.  Now that you have been to the office, you will be able to find it again.  A clever spell.  We've had several attempts to breach the - " Mills looked over at Jenkins, who squeaked once, "Ah, the perimeter, that's the word, thank you Mr. Jenkins.  People seem to want to get at the stuff in the warehouse.  Can't think why, given that the previous Bureau staff were missing, presumed dead.  The building was reopened for Dr. Weintraub when the BPRD was created.  Silly, really.  For goodness sake, we apparently have three Holy Grails in there.  Two of them are cursed and the other one was probably made in Philadelphia.  Though I imagine a working time machine is quite an interesting creation."
 Jenkins gave Mills another eye roll.
"It did work," Mills amended, "But for some reason, it's calibrated to only two agents that I know.  There are apparently genetic traits that permit time travel, and only Spider and Lucius are any good at it."  The mouse wittered on, and the miles went by.  As the sun was setting, Nolan was well out of the city and into the middle of New Jersey.  Some complex highway project was being set up, apparently to create a 'highway' road linking up the eastern states, all the way to Florida, the professorial mouse told him.  Jenkins gave much more interesting advice, including how to get to the speakeasy on Roebling Avenue.  As Nolan drove the Model T downtown, a skinny boy on a bicycle was headed for the place, a load of empty bottles in a crate lashed to the frame of his bike.  The back door opened part way to his two-one-two knock, then a pair of big hands accepted the crate and gave the boy a handful of coins.  The boy pocketed the coins and rode off on his bicycle into the deepening shadows of night.  Jenkins squeaked some more.
"He says, it's two-one-two, Freddy sent me," Professor Mills said, somewhat disapprovingly.  "There's some kind of hotel not far from here along State Street, for lodgings."

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GM: Please respond with actions for the next hour of game time, by Saturday, 11 September, next post Sunday.  Hope all is well, and continues to be well.
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In reply to The GM (msg # 30):

“Not at all, Professor.” He reassured his companion. ” Besides, I found that height doesn’t often equate to competence. ” He added with a wry grin.

“That’s good to know, Mr. Jenkins. Both that I wasn’t the first and that no one gets left behind.” Especially the latter, he thought with genuine relief. “I underestimated how easy it would be to get a bit,” he searched for the words, “out of my depth. ”

Given his recent experience in the warehouse, he was much more willing to accept the thought of the irascible old man peering down at him with disapproval. The mere fact that Nolan was around to be disapproved of was no small comfort. As he pulled away, he made a mental note to keep his voice down or, barring that, to limit his conversations to those times they were out of the earshot of other travelers. Though he was not fully-versed in the proper etiquette of mice partners or BPRD work, he imagined that appearing to talk to yourself was not overly inconspicuous behavior.

He refocused on Mills continued conversation as they bounced over the gravel roadway, the Professor was giving him some background information. Trachenberg? he tried to place the name. Ah, yes, the German. “He picked me up for the interview." He thought the first mutely, the second out loud. "Did he accommodate your request to leave you out of the report? I take it that his theories did not match yours?” He continued conversationally, suppressing a grin as he noticed Jenkins eye-roll.

He found it hard to believe, as the Model-T motored past the stone marker, that it had not even been a full day since he had waited there to start his interview. In fact, he decided, he couldn’t believe it. Little did he know when he woke up this morning, that the revelation of a massive spell that hid the Grey Building would prove neither shocking nor even difficult to believe. Truth be told, the spell was one of the least extraordinary characteristics of the building. That the previous staff were presumed dead, surprised Nolan not in the least.

Three Holy Grails? One from Philadelphia? Time machine? He shook his head in wonder as the Professor spoke.

This time Jenkins’ eye-roll did produce a grin from Nolan.

By the time the sun was setting, they had reached the middle of New Jersey. Following Jenkins directions, Nolan headed toward a local speakeasy. He took it easy on the throttle as the Ford chugged down Roebling Avenue in time to see a boy drop off a crate of empty bottles. Not wanting to appear too suspicious, he missed the password over the rumble of the engine. Thankfully, his ex-military companion did not and passed on the information via Mills. “Got it. 2-1-2, ‘Freddy sent me’.” Nolan repeated and nodded his thanks to Jenkins. “Alright, let’s head to the hotel and get checked in. Then we’ll come back and see what the speakeasy has to tell us."

After securing their lodging, Nolan, Mills and Jenkins made their way back to the speakeasy on Roebling. Following the example of the skinny kid from earlier, Nolan approached the back door and produced the distinctive two-one-two knock and mentally crossed his fingers. He waited for the answer and with feigned confidence said, "Freddy sent me.”

Spider gladly accepts the blessing, and helps load as much water as they are capable of taking in the jars they had brought.



Zivanovik:

Spider nods and keeps a note.  "I won't be surprised if we need for someone to also accept responsibility for the death before we can successfully banish the spirit.  Thank you, Janko."  As they go into their vehicle he said to Jack, "So, I think before we do any kind of ritual, we need to confront our contact at the embassy about the woman.  Heck, it might even be her spirit.  What do you think?"

OC: Great description of the church scene, Keeper! You really brought to life what could have been a fairly mundane errand.

IC: Jack gratefully accepts the blessing and likewise fills up containers. If there is an offertory around, Jack will drop a $20 bill in it as they head out. “To help them in their earthly work,” he says to Spider.
     After hearing Janko’s tale, Jack agrees with Spider’s assessment. “Despite how bad the situation is getting, Miroslav still wouldn’t tell us what happened. Even when we asked directly about any incidents. We’ll have to confront him, but be careful about it. We don’t want to get into a fight with his security team.” He thinks for a minute.
     “Janko. wasn’t one of the other translators who worked at the embassy a woman named something like that?” He consults his notebook. “Here it is. Andreja Dobroslav. Also works as a cook in a steakhouse. Did you know her? Could that be the person who died?”
     If Janko is not sure about Andreja, Jack will suggest to Spider that they pay her a visit to check on her welfare.

Nolan's First Day pt 3

Mills was more than happy to chatter with Nolan.  "Agent Trachenberg is very precise and methodical in his ways," the mouse told him.  "We discussed the matter and for the simple reason that I am officially listed as 'dead', it was agreed that I should be left out of the report.  His fieldwork is thorough, Mr. Nolan.  He is our weapons and ammunition specialist.  We examined the fields in question, applied the chemicals in the recommended manner, and then toured the area and played a lot of chess while we waited for a reaction to occur.  He's quite good at chess."  There was something that Mills wasn't saying, but it seemed that the Professor could keep a secret.
Jenkins added a few squeaks.
"And you should know, he collects monster trophies.  As in, trophies of monsters."

Later, after checking into the State Street Hotel, Nolan cruised through the dark streets to the speakeasy, with Professor Mills and Jenkins hiding in his jacket pockets.  The door opened to his knock, showing a huge man whose jacket strained over biceps bigger than most men's thighs.  The password was accepted and Nolan walked down a short flight of steps towards the sound of guitar music and a woman's voice singing about seeing someone in her dreams, in a jazzy melody.  The smell of tobacco smoke was heavy in the air, as much was the smell of alcohol.  A bartender stood by a short bar, filling up shot glasses for the two men waiting, and called to Nolan, "What do you want ?"  There were seven tables jammed into the basement, and the singer was standing on an apple crate, the musician in a chair next to her.  Everyone there seemed to be working class, in very plain suits or shirts with bracers.  There was even a table of women in office-wear dresses, drinking shots.   As the woman finished singing, a couple of men from the back tables were shouting out names of songs for her to sing next.  "Go on, Dora, sing the California one !"
"Pay up !"  the singer encouraged them, and one of them ran up with a handful of bills.  She gave it to the guitar player, who stashed it and started up a more lively melody.   Nolan acquired a glass of what might be decent beer, which "Just came upriver from New Hope" according to the bartender, who charged the not-surprising price of 50 cents.  The beer was dark, hoppy and cold.  Thus far the Volstead Act seemed to have only driven up prices.  He found a seat on a covered barrel and noticed one of the mice had gone.  Jenkins had darted across the room to the table of women and was climbing up the  table, heading with purpose towards their nearly-empty bottle of 'gin'.   Only one of the women noticed, but was too thunderstruck by the sight of a green mouse helping himself to her shot glass.    Jenkins set the glass down, waved to her, and raced off the table.  No one else seemed to notice this, but then, it was a room full of drunks.

Nolan was able to drink peaceably, with some entertainment, and walk back to the hotel without incident.  Jenkins and Mills slept on the scarred bureau, using a hand towel for a mattress.   They left Trenton in the morning after Nolan found a tiny cafe that did a great egg and bacon sandwich with home fries.  Massachusetts was not so far away, and by the afternoon, he was navigating to verbal directions from Mills to get to some farm field outside of the city of Arkham.  The car chugged reliably along the dirt and gravel roads until they arrived at a deserted farm, the gate chained shut.  "I didn't think to bring the key !"  Professor Mills lamented, to another eye roll from Jenkins.  The land was dark, with an ugly undertone of grey, as if it had been salted by poisons.  Only a few straggly corn stalks could be seen, with the demarcations that Trachenberg had made in the file.
Everything else was dead.
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GM:  Actions, please, for the next couple of hours of game time, please respond by Saturday  18 September, next post is Sunday.  Hope you are all well and managing in these strange times.