In reply to Nolan (msg # 57):

Field Assignment: Nolan pt 4

Nolan looked through the card catalogue, hunting for ghouls, Macey, and Dunworthy.  He was able to look up some recent copies of the Arkham Gazette that had Dunworthy as a byline.  The style of prose was sensational, trying to make much of what had been a vehicle collision between a chicken truck and a Ford, hinting at a conspiracy theory of car manufacturing that would soon clog any roadway from 'here to the California coast'.   Another story Dunworthy wrote was suggesting that the local carnival last month was actually showing real monsters, and dared the readers to 'prove me wrong !'  He looked up Macey, and found several books, of different types, including a cookbook by a Jane Macey, a book on flags by a Andrew Macey, and a book on Napoleonic tactics in the late Peninsular War by Frank Macey, and one was a history book of The New England Legends and Lore, by James Macey, and published last year.  It was on the shelf.  The hair on the back of his neck stood up as he pulled it from its place on the shelf, and saw the bookmark with his name on it.  The handwriting was bold, without any flourish, and all the 'u' letters were strong 'v' letters.  He'd seen the handwriting before, recently.

Christopher Nolan.  Stay ovt of the graveyard.  Go to the Gazette by 4:30 am.  Wait in yovr car.
Do not tell Ben of this note.  L.

The bookmark was on the chapter 'Eaters of the Dead' and detailed legends and lore of cannibalistic creatures called ghouls, monstrous humanoids typically dwelling in cemeteries.  It goes into some historical context of the Arabic 'ghul' legend, and as far back as the Akkadian gallu, and mentions that the creatures have some shapeshifting abilities, and are known to kill humans as well as feast on corpses.  The ghouls locally are in a complex series of tunnels under the city of Arkham, extending for miles, perhaps as far as Boston.  The author carefully warns anyone looking for them would likely have a highly dangerous experience.  Ghouls have varied appearances, including having clawed feet or hooves, elongated faces with heavy jaws, clawed hands and sharp teeth.  Some were more human-looking than others, and the worst ones were horrible to behold.  The illustrations were going to ensure that any sleep he might try to have would be haunted by nightmares.  (+5% occult - and roll % dice on learning any Mythos if you keep reading).  Other chapters are about the Jersey Devil, the Snallygaster, Vampires in Vermont, Sasquatch, and so on.

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GM: Actions, etc for the next hour of game time, please respond by 30 October, Saturday, next post is Sunday.  Hope you are all well and live is improving.
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The Serbian Problem pt 13

Jack and Spider introduce themselves to the two completely not dangerous Slavic women on the stairs; one is about forty, blonde, thin and pretty in a brittle sort of way, the other about thirty, with curly brown hair.  Both are wearing maid uniforms and carrying buckets, and look tired.   "Government ?"  the younger one says, taken aback, but Jack's charm soothes her nerves.   She definitely had an accent, similar to the ones Jack and Spider had been hearing lately. "Da, yes, the woman there.  Anika Vukanovic.  She had fancy job at the government house.  Fancy ways."  She rolled her eyes.
"She go, two days ago ?"  the blonde said, with an even heavier accent.  "Big car take her."
"She says, she knows noble, she go," the brunette rolled her eyes again.
"Thinks she is, they say, 'Sheba Queen'." the blonde added.  She set down her bucket and folded her arms, her body language revealing how poorly she thought of Anika.
"Da, Queen of Sheba," the brunette nodded, making a face.  "Bolshevik."  When shown the letter, she reads off the writing on the envelope but is puzzled by it.  "No sense.  It say, 'Rose of glory.' "  Not her name, her name mean 'wolf', Vuk is 'wolf' in Serbian."  Neither of the women think that Anika was taken by force - and she'd definitely left of her own accord.

Another set of footsteps are coming up the stairs, loud and clomping, belonging to a tall, thin young man toting a metal tool chest.  He wore greasy overalls and had a rip in the sleeve of his shirt, and a worn-out expression of despair.  "Yuri -" the brunette said, and set loose a long string of Russian words, ending with 'Anika'.   He replied in a shorter set of words.
"She left in big red car, with black trim, new Duesenberg Phaeton, tan top, rich blonde lady driving."  The brunette translated.  "Rich how ?"
Yuri waggled his hand, saying something else in Russian.
"Diamond rings," the brunette translated.
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GM: Actions, etc for the next hour of game time, please respond by 30 October, Saturday, next post is Sunday.  Hope you are all well and live is improving.
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In reply to The GM (msg # 60):

Nolan looked around as he hastily stuffed the note in his pants pocket, experiencing a sudden wave of paranoia wash over him. Don't tell, Ben? He thought, momentarily confused until...Ben Weintraub, the Director? Why on earth not? A mysterious note requests that he leave the safety of the library to meet an unnamed individual and keep the whole thing a secret from his superior. Fat chance.

I suppose that means I need to keep it a secret from Mills and Jenkins, too? While he had no intention of keeping any of it a secret, the meeting was most a likely a trap and there was no reason to endanger Mills or Jenkins, he rationalized. Besides he would come clean when he got back. Unless, of course, he never made it back in which case the situation would resolve itself, he thought darkly.

He couldn't believe that he was actually considering it.

As the possibilities rolled around in his head, he continued to read The New England Legends and Lore by James Macey, hoping to pick up some additional insights to aid in his investigation (20:26, Today: Nolan rolled 43 using 1d100.  % dice on learning any Mythos for continued reading). He continued to read the book until he needed to prepare to leave for the meeting at which point he appropriated it for future reference. They can bill the BPRD, he thought with an internal wink. Yet despite his levity, he found himself uttering a silent apology to Faulkner as he took it, promising himself to bring it back.

He tried to check on the mice to see if they were still sleeping but he was reluctant to approach in fear of waking them so he was unable to tell at his current distance. In the end, he needn't have bothered since it wouldn't have affected his decision one way or the other.

He checked the instructions one last time, "Stay out of the graveyard. Go to the Gazette by 4:30 am. Wait in your car." Check, check and check. Loathe to brave the darkness any longer than possible he timed the meeting down to the last minute, took a deep breath and slipped out into the darkness.

In reply to The GM (msg # 61):

Spider stifled a curse, instead thanking the ladies and the gentleman for their help.  He said to Jack, "This is getting old.  I have no way of finding this lady, unless we can track a red Duesenberg by asking the local police.  I worry we're about to go in blind when we try to banish this thing.  And I'm still not sure we ought to banish it."  Then he thought, "Maybe our Serbian mechanic friend could tell us who's driving that Phaeton."

Sharing Spider’s frustration, Jack gestures at the envelope and says, “We might as well open the letter ask these ladies to translate it for us.”
Jack is willing to pursue his friend’s idea about the mechanic. Other than that, he supposes only thing to do is get the list of security personnel from Miroslav’s office.
“But that will involve entering the embassy, will it not?”
OC: Happy Halloween, everyone!

The Serbian Problem pt 13

The two agents look at the note, and at the two ladies and the young man, who set his toolbox down and was observing them curiously.  The young man asks a question of the brunette, who blushes and responds, "Yuri says, you are government men, you will pay a...a, what is word, money, for informations ?  He says he knows where car may be."
Five dollars later, the agents had the address of the Harrington Hotel, a marble multi-storey hotel downtown, on E and 11th street.  It was new, and oddly featured rooms with private bathrooms, a new-fashioned idea; the place was huge and getting bigger, under construction.   It was not the grandest hotel in DC but certainly had aspirations towards that.

The agents do however open the note.  There is a puff of grey mist as they do so, that twines around their hands; the contents of the note, which were a series of numbers and Serbian letters fade out to utter blankness.  Whatever message was inside is gone.  This impresses their working-class audience even more, but the three foreigners are very happy to take Yuri's windfall money to the nearest speakeasy for a little celebration.  Carefully saving the paper, the Agents head out towards the Harrington.

Parked along 11th Street, a short distance from the Harrington, is a new red and black Phaeton with a tan top.   It had Indiana plates, marked 1925.

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GM:  Please respond with actions, etc for the next few minutes of game time, by Saturday,  6 November, next post Sunday.  Happy Halloween !
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Nolan and the Ghouls

Nolan tucked the book into his gear bag and headed out, leaving Mills flat out asleep on a cushion, wrapped in a handkerchief.  Jenkins was nowhere to be seen, until Nolan opened the door, noting the Yale lock on it would re-lock it when he left; then there was a flash of green by his feet.  Jenkins pointed towards the car in a no-nonsense fashion and ran that way, a streak of green glow in the swirling fog that had come off the river during the night.  Something was moving in the fog, too - loud footsteps would start, then stop, and then there was a deep sniffing noise, as of some creature trying to track them by scent.  Nolan ran for the car, stumbling over a couple of bushes that Jenkins easily ran under, and then they were at the car.  The Model T started on the first crank and they were off.   The street lamps did little to dispel the gloom, where shapes lurked, half-seen.   Jenkins pointed out the roadway to him and they chugged towards the Arkham Gazette, where a loading dock had a truck being loaded, and two kids on bicycles were already there, rolling papers to lay into their bike baskets for delivery, a couple of lamps on the dock lighting their tasks.  The mouse pointed to the lad on the left, who had a new bike, the paint gleaming blue even in the weak light.    "Where's Timmy, you little street Arabs ?"  the man loading the truck demanded, as the boys caught another package of papers he slung at them.   They seemed to be in a routine, probably one that happened every morning, in the dark, when decent folk should be abed and papers had to be made ready for them to read with their morning coffee.  The sun would not rise for another hour or so, and the fog was still heavy.  In the darkness, their voices carried.
"He's got a toothache, Mr. Harmon, we're doing his route today," the boy with the blue bike said, in a cheerful voice.
"He's paying us, so hey, good for me !"  the other boy said, with a laugh.  "Omar, you doing the Row ?"
"I'll do the Row; I'll do Church Street too.  You doing the Hill, Mike ?"
"You got it, and I'll head up to the factory with the leftovers.  You got downtown ?"
"Sounds like a plan," Omar agreed, the two performing some complicated handshake.  At first look, Omar didn't look anything out of the ordinary, just a kid about nine years old, but his footing was a little shaky, as if the boots he was wearing fit poorly.  He wore a man's cap over his his brown curls and a man's wool coat that came down to his knees.  The other kid, Mike, was slightly better dressed, in patched breeches with a patched jacket, but his bike was worn and rusty.  Omar's bike was shiny and new.
"All right, then, see you tomorrow, kids," Mr. Harmon said, swinging the doors shut on the truck.  "Gotta big story, but it's that jackass, so he'll send it in late and we'll be doing inserts."
"Okay, Mr. Harmon.  See ya, Omar !"  Mike began to pedal off Northward along the road, standing up to force his old bike up the incline.  Harmon hopped into the cab of the truck and roared off Eastward, past Nolan's Model T.   Omar set the last paper into his basket and looked around, quickly clocking the Model T, and slowly started his bike towards it.   Nolan looked carefully at the kid; big brown eyes, curly reddish brown mop of hair, and a grin that showed largish, crooked, but not scary teeth.  His hands on the handlebars were grubby from dirt and ink, but very normal.  "Hey, Mister DC plate, wanna buy a paper ?  Morning edition, two cents." Omar said, then looked at Jenkins, who was waving.  "Hello, Mr. Jenkins !  How are you ?  Uncle Luke said you'd be here.  Did you want the photos I took ?  I gotta lotta papers to deliver this morning, but I can get them later."

(GM: +1% Mythos from reading Macey's book)

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GM:  Please respond with actions, etc for the next few minutes of game time, by Saturday,  6 November, next post Sunday.  Happy Halloween !
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This message was last edited by the GM at 01:54, Mon 01 Nov 2021.

The definitely-not-normal gray mist that came out of the envelope worries Jack a bit; but apparently it has faded away without effect. “I hope whatever that was didn’t go looking for the lady.”
He thanks the three people sincerely for their help, along with the five-spot.
When they find the car, Jack answers Spider, “You’ve been doing just fine, pal. We’re operating without much to go on here. I think we should go in, also, rather than waiting to see what happens.”

In reply to The GM (msg # 66):

While initially started by the sight of his uninvited partner, Nolan was nonetheless greatly relieved to have Jenkins' assistance.

"DC Plate" Nolan, turned as the lad addressed him and fumbled around in his pocket for the requested two bits and dropped it in Omar's hands.  He was more that a bit appreciative at his decidedly non-monstrous appearance. He slid the paper under his arm and reached out his hand to take the mentioned pictures for Jenkins. After securing the pictures and the paper, he tipped his hat to the boy, "Thanks, kid." He looked back at Jenkins meaningfully, "for everything."

He shut the car door and turned the engine over but left it idling for a moment as he opened the paper and pictures and spread them on his lap. "Well Jenkins," he announced. "Let's see what your friend brought us. It better be something good for Mills to forgive our excursion."

In reply to Jack (msg # 67):

Spider says, "So, do we go in searching, or wait to follow the car?  I'd go in and hunt, but I've been making bad decisions lately."

Nolan and the Ghouls pt 2

Omar happily accepted the quarter, but didn't hand over any photos, just a copy of the paper.  "Told ya, I'd have to get them later.  You want to stick around, anyway - but wait until the sun is up before you leave the car.   We had that idiot come into the tunnels and try to set traps, so everyone is really upset at the humans now.  I'll be downtown later."  The kid quickly wheeled his bike around and set off on his deliveries.  Jenkins shrugged, something hard for a mouse to do.

Without much to do but wait, and the sun just beginning to light up the Eastern sky, Nolan was feeling frustrated.  Someone knocked on the glass of the Model T's window, startling him - he could have sworn there was no one nearby.  An old man in a shabby suit was standing there, grinning at him, a copy of the paper tucked under his arm.   He was bald, wiry, with a swarthy complexion and a big nose.  "Hey," the old man said.  "You want to buy me a cup of coffee, I'll tell you a story, Mr. Nolan.  I see you got my note.   Ave, Jenks."  There was an accent there, something like Italian.  Without waiting for an invitation, the old man strode around the car to open the passenger door and settle into the seat, as Jenkins waved and saluted.  "Up that way, there's a place that does a good cup of coffee, but it's not as good as the Brewmaster.  Took me years to perfect that."  The old man pointed up the road towards a small cafe that was just lighting up for business, then held out his arthritis-gnarled hand to shake Nolan's.  "Luke Macey.  That is what it says on my passport.  Today is the first time you have met me, but it is the third time I have met you."  Despite the worn suit, the old man wore a thick gold signet ring on his right hand, and a slimmer gold band on his left ring finger.  "Jenks, you ditched Mills.  Well done, eu !   That mouse does nothing but worry.  Well, are you going to buy me coffee, or not, Mr. Nolan ?  My great-nephew has his work to do, and then he'll be back with his photos.  He is getting really good with the printing."

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   GM:  Actions, etc, for the next few minutes of game time, please respond by Saturday 13 November, next post Sunday.  Hope you are all well and that normality is trending for you
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The Serbian Problem, pt 14

Jack and Spider park the car on the street, not far from the fancy Phaeton.  The hotel lobby was a glory in plush velvet and marble.  A concierge in a neat grey suit swept up to them with a welcoming smile, just as they heard a woman's voice swearing in Russian - the Countess, who was raising her hand in a definite move to cast a spell, her blonde hair frizzing up with the sudden surge of energy.  She was in a red dress with black trim, standing by the elevator door, and looked mighty furious to see the two men.   There was no sign of her sidekick, the multi-PhD'd Serbian.

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   GM:  Actions, etc, for the next few minutes of game time, please respond by Saturday 13 November, next post Sunday.  Hope you are all well and that normality is trending for you
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In reply to The GM (msg # 70):

Nolan swore involuntarily when the old man knocked on the window. I guess monsters wouldn't have knocked, he admonished himself as he released his unconsciously-held breath. Jenkins obvious respect for the visitor was a great relief and comfort to the fledgling agent.

"Ah, I have you to thank for that, then? I did indeed." Grinning, he confirmed his receipt of the note. "I appreciate the help. However, it begs the question how you knew I would find it there." Fully recovered from his start, he reached out to take the old man's hand. A reference to the Brewmaster, so an actual agent...or more than that? Less maybe, an ex-agent? He wondered. "A pleasure, Mr. Macey." With a pointed look he added, "nice ring." In case he didn't get the chance for a closer look later, he tried to commit as much of it to memory as possible. Also, he is or was married. He thought in response to the gold band on Luke's left ring finger. Despite the its mundanity, he filed that away for future use. After all, you never knew what information would prove important.

Luke was obviously gifted with the ability to remain unnoticed, at least by Chris. He mentioned meeting him three times though Nolan had believed this was the first and his approach to the car was downright silent. Supernaturally so, if you asked Nolan. He would have to keep an eye on him. Maybe two.

"Absolutely. A cup of coffee is the least I can do. In fact, it's about that time. Let me buy us some breakfast and you can tell me a story while we wait for your great-nephew's pictures." He offered companionably. Then with a wink and a smile he turned to Jenkins. "Besides, we'll just expense it." He popped the Ford into gear and lurched toward the cafe.

In reply to The GM (msg # 71):

Spider took a few steps forward, arms wide, but also moved slightly to one side, hoping to block her view of Jack, so he might be able to ready magic of his own, if needed.  "We just want to talk, Miss!  Not here for trouble."

Jack will attempt to throw out a defensive spell to shield Spider and himself from possible magical attack. At the same time, he will also add to Spider’s entreaty: “Your Excellency, stop! We’re trying to protect Miss Vukanovic and end the haunting!”

The Serbian Problem pt 15

Jack and Spider found themselves changing places quickly, as the sorceress raised her hands; Jack quickly cast Protect from Harm.  An elderly woman dropped her mimosa onto the marble floor, the shattering sound ringing loudly through the lobby.   The sound also broke the Countess' concentration; she turned and ran towards the back of the hotel.  There was a horrible sound of a collision, the crash of a ladder and the Countess was swearing in Russian - blue paint splattered across the floor as a paint can was kicked over.  The concierge turned pale and hurried towards the ruckus.  The Countess had smacked into a painter, his ladder and most of his supplies; she was covered in blue paint head to toe.  She was trying to scrub the stuff out of her eyes and was shrieking outrage.  The painter fled as the concierge tried to assist her; she slapped him.  He staggered back, slipped on the paint and knocked her down as she tried to stand.

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GM: Actions, etc, for the next few minutes of game time, please respond by Saturday, 20 November, next post Sunday.  Hope you are all well and dealing with life as it goes along.

Nolan and the Ghouls pt 2
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The old man settled back in the Model T's seat with ease.  Indeed, he looked like the kind of man who would feel at ease anywhere.  The thick gold ring had some kind of engraving work on it, a seal of some sort.  "There you are, learning the paperwork, always wise," Macey agreed.  "And I'm old, I know a lot of things, including where you might be found on this day in 1925."  He got out of the car with a slight wince, though, as if one of his knees was dodgy. Jenkins easily leapt onto Macey's sleeve and scurried into his jacket pocket, squeaking as he went.
"Oh, it's grand-nephew, not great nephew, is that so ?  Well, English is my ninth language. Though to be fair, not a lot of my old languages are spoken anymore."  The old man could understand the mouse !

The smell of fresh coffee and cooking bacon greeted Nolan as he followed Macey into the cafe.  There were three men in work clothes at the counter already, and a waitress in a pink dress and white apron hurrying around setting coffee mugs in front of them.  "Bella, dear, here's a paper for you," Macey said, slipping the paper onto the counter as he sat down.  "The usual, and the same for my friend."  He happily accepted the mug of coffee she set down and drank it black, with three sugars.  "So, Christopher Nolan.  You have many questions.  Let's get to them."   He regarded Nolan with beady black eyes and a merry grin, the image of mischief.  He effortlessly slipped Jenkins a piece of bacon as the waitress served up a plates of sausage, bacon, three eggs, home fries, and hot buttered toast.  The seal ring was a goat's head, with the Roman numeral IX.
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GM: Actions, etc, for the next few minutes of game time, please respond by Saturday, 20 November, next post Sunday.  Hope you are all well and dealing with life as it goes along.

In reply to The GM (msg # 76):

Afraid of squandering even a moment of the opportunity, Nolan got right to work. His smile faded unconsciously as he organized his thoughts. "The file has some information, of course, and Mills has some theories." He smiled and winked at Jenkins at the mention of their excluded colleague. "But I always like to start from the beginning with eye-witnesses and while you may not truly fit the bill you are as close as we have. Anything that you remember, anything at all, would be greatly appreciated." He has interrogated a few people in his military career and he always like to start with personal history. "Nice ring, what does it signify? Did you know the owners of the farm, where the fog was centered, personally?

"Now onto the fog itself. Did anything precede its inception? Any rumors of strange behavior by the farm owners, for instance? Weird research or interests? We know what the fog leaves behind but we have no idea if that was an intended result or a side-effect of a failed experiment. It seems that Omar has been hanging around the area, maybe he found something? What do you know about the fog that we don't? Because, to be honest, we don't know much."

He took a breath from his rapid-fire requests to consult his notes. "Oh, yes. Know anything about a Manny Dunworthy? We found an article out there an were wondering if you thought it may be a lead or just another dead-end?"

He ended with a simple but pointed question. "And finally, why did you want me to keep the note a secret from Ben?"

In reply to The GM (msg # 75):


Spider hurried to the Countess and grabbed her arms from behind, holding her immobile.  "Jack, show our credentials.  We're taking her for questioning."  He would not let go so she could use her hands for arcane attacks.

Jack whips out his ID and flashes it at the concierge. “Federal agents. We appreciate your cooperation.” He then turns to the woman Spider is helping up and says gently, “Don’t forget we helped save your life when you were ill, Countess. Let’s work together again, before anyone else gets killed.”

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---The Serbian Problem pt 16

The blue Countess was spluttering with rage and paint, squirming in Spider's grasp but unable to break free.  Jack shows his badge to the flustered concierge, who nods his assent.

At Jack's words, the irate Russian woman grits her teeth, but grudgingly behaves herself.   With the assistance of a few towels the hotel donated, they got her to the Model T without dripping blue paint everywhere.  Now she was being silent and sullen.  And her sidekick, the amiable scholar, was still nowhere to be seen.  Given the last time they'd seen her had been shortly after the Tri-State Tornado, earlier this year, she had been doing well enough to afford a nice new car.

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GM:  Please respond with actions, etc, for the next few minutes of game time, by Saturday, 27 November, next post is Sunday.  Hope you are all well and those in the USA, Happy Thanksgiving
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Luke Macey gave him a smirk back.  "I help out when I can," he chuckled, digging into his breakfast with gusto.   Jenkins was cheerfully demolishing the bacon.  "A pleasure to meet you again, Mr. Nolan.  And the ring, well, it is the seal ring of a praefectus castrorum.  Third in charge of Legio Nine, in this case, and I have worn it a long time.  I never lie.  But sometimes I must hold back the whole truth.  The problem at the farm is that an extraterrestrial organism infected the soil, corrupting and mutating everything it touched.  The farmer, Nahum Gardener and his family were killed, as were his livestock, by this infection, and it spread to a neighbour's farm, Ammi Pierce - he also died.  The BPRD treated it with some experimental chemicals to try to stop it, because next there was a much larger attack out in the Midwest, and they have been paying Omar to go look at the farm every so often and take pictures, since they are so short-staffed, to learn if more treatment is required.  The fog is from the river and common this time of year, though I think it may be thicker than usual due to some magery by the ghouls.  Manny Dunworthy is an arrogant blowhard newshound - but he has been looking into matters he should leave alone, the ghouls for instance.  There has been a sort of peace accord with them, something Al Maxwell started a few years ago.  And you know my grand-nephew is a half ghoul.  He lives with his mother below ground, but he does not stay there for most of the time.  He walks in two worlds. Several agents do."
Luke Macey paused thoughtfully at the last question, sipping his coffee.
"I asked you not to tell Ben because he has no direct knowledge of the future at this time, and telling him would change that fact.  He will die at the South Pole. The Bureau of Timeline Control has specific rules about travelling to this era, but since they don't officially exist yet, I am breaking them.  He knows that the time machine works, and that strange occurrences have been happening in the building, such as the vat of wine I have in the warehouse. That's going to be worth a lot of money, which the BPRD will need at a critical time.  Be sure to offer the first cup to Juno when it is decanted.  And bring an extra ice axe and some rope when you go to -""  Macey suddenly straightened up as if he heard something, or sensed something, and set down his mug.  "Time to go; tell the girl we talked about the weather.  It is partly true."  With a speed that belied his years, Macey had his hat on and was headed out the back door of the cafe, just as a strangely dressed woman came in the front door.   She was wearing a long black leather coat, black leather trousers and tall black boots, and was taking off a pair of shaded goggles and looking around with a grouchy glare.  Her hair was dyed an unnatural shade of red and braided strangely with beads, not unattractive but definitely not something Nolan had ever seen before.  Jenkins scampered along the floor, dodging past her boots, and hid behind Nolan's trouser leg.  The woman's grey eyes narrowed at the flash of green, and she stalked over to the empty seat that Luke Macey had left.
"Where's the old man ?"  she demanded, looking first at Nolan, then at Jenkins.  The green mouse sat up and flipped her the bird.  Luke Macey had vanished.

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GM:  Please respond with actions, etc, for the next few minutes of game time, by Saturday, 27 November, next post is Sunday.  Hope you are all well and those in the USA, Happy Thanksgiving
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In reply to The GM (msg # 81):

Praefectus castrorum? Time travel? Extraterrestrial organism? Ice axe? With no time to process the flood of admittedly welcome information, he composed himself to present a neutral facade to the new arrival.

"Old man?" He feigned ignorance and made a show of looking around for him. "Oh, yes. Him. Just an old man looking for some companionship, I guess. We talked about the weather." Nolan tried his most winning smile to sell the lie. He was dubious of its success.

He noticed Jenkins' gesture but pretended not to. Well Jenkins doesn't like her, he thought. First, the old man, now Jenkins. Seems she's only got one strike left.

He turned to address the woman with a pointedly oblivious but nonetheless genial smile. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Miss...?"


[OOC: Thank you for the kind wishes. Same to you if you are in the States. Either way, have a blessed week.]

"The weather." the woman echoed, arching an eyebrow at him, then slid onto the cafe's counter seat that Macey had vacated, offering a boot to Jenkins if he didn't shift over.  The mouse gave ground to scamper up Nolan's trouser leg and into his coat pocket.  "My name is Diana Maxwell.  I am in charge of finding a rogue time agent called Luke Macey.  He trained me.  He is the bane of my existence."  She waved to the waitress, then dredged up a handful of coins from her jacket, sorting through various shapes of metallic things to find a quarter, and got a cup of coffee, which she drank black.  "And you are a BPRD agent.  Give me a minute....yep, Nolan, Christopher, hired in 1925, ex-military.   Of course he'd go talk to another soldier."  She tossed back the rest of the coffee, scrunching her eyes shut in a wince.  "Macey has a crazy idea about the timeline, that we HAD to travel back this far, to make sure that the expedition went correctly.   No one can travel in the dimensions like he can - he's been doing it for decades.  I am trying to make sure he doesn't disrupt the timeline, and Director Mallory has been quite clear about the consequences."  Her accent was precise, almost British English.
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GM:  Please respond with actions, etc, for the next few minutes of game time, next post Sunday.  Cheers !

     “Countess, look, I don’t know what you think we’re up to, but we’re trying to stop this infestation or curse, this ghost or demon or whatever it is, at the Serbian embassy. It’s already killed at least one person.
     “But we also know there’s more to the story. There was some incident with the translator, Andrija, and then she and her daughter vanished without taking anything important. The security officer involved disappeared, too. The ambassador is conveniently out of town. Miroslav basically bared his soul to us. He’s trying to avoid an incident because his wife needs the doctors here. But it was his cousin who was killed. He said we should talk to his secretary, but when we got to her place, we found that she had left with someone who sounded a lot like you.
     “Did you leave that note in her threshold? The one in Cyrillic with the magic spell on it? What was it, an alarm system to let you know someone was looking for her? I hope Spider and I won’t suffer any lasting problems from it.
     “I’ve been honest with you. We could use your help. We have holy water, and a birch broom, oil of the saints, and old iron, and some vague idea that the ancient Russian witch is involved. But you are more knowledgeable in these things that I. By the way, where is your partner, the good doctor — guarding the secretary? Please, will you help us end this?”