--US Office of Expeditionary Operations(USOEO)--
 A stocky but aging man with a slick tan wrinkle-less USOEO uniform with four general stars pinned to his breast, leaned into his oak podium in front of the small auditorium as he nodded to the figures that began entering the room. At his side is sharp appraising eyed woman with her arms folded across her own British uniform. They both wait patiently for the team to assemble. When he finally speaks it's with a proper New England accent, it makes many of you think he might've once been Navy. "Greetings, I'm General Sawyer and this is Penny Roberts, British Intelligence. Thank you for coming, please have a seat and we can begin."

 Nearby in a corner a young stenographer quietly taps out headings for his notes in shorthand. By his side is a projector which would project the mission data onto the wall behind the General. He watches the assembly with curious detachment and only responds directly to the eyes of the General, perhaps a personal assistant.

 Aside from these three are several other officers including several of your contacts, as well as scientists, and engineers and attaches seated to the sides of the room. All of them watch each of your entrances with a studied interest and more than one flips through dossiers when you enter and a hush descends on the room. At a guess, this is the current staff of the USOEO, and most of you know that the Bureau was created earlier this year. So everything has a nice shine to it, and a fresh coat of paint everywhere.

 The room itself could fit thirty to forty officers easily and has three entrances, two in front on either side of the stage and in back. It has the look of a situational room.



OOC: For the sake of brevity, Tunguska Data: link to a message in this game
After everyone enters we can begin talking about the info and any questions your characters might have about what else we know or suspect so far. Also be thinking of that equipment list you'll want to take with you, if any...
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:51, Fri 21 Aug 2020.

At six feet and six inches Asar is very nearly the tallest man that most have seen personally. That his shoulders are wide, arms well muscled, and his chest deep makes for an imposing figure. He looks middle aged with a heavy head of thick hair and an even thicker beard. His beard is oiled and curled, going down at least 7 inches onto his chest. Light brown eyes take in everything and reflect something that none seem to be able to identify. He is dressed in a inexpensive brown suit with a yellow tie and has an overcoat on his arm. He greets several individuals casually in decidedly British English, but with foreign accent.

When he sits down the chair beneath him groans a little bit. He smiles at those that look his direction with a familiarity that this is a common occurrence. As the general speaks he pays very close attention, taking notes in a journalists pad he pulled out of his breast pocket. For those close enough to overlook, the notes are not in English.

As he enters the room, Roach hunches his shoulders almost instinctively at the sudden attention from the People inside. In his experience, that kind of attention is dangerous more often than not. Sure he came for the job, but the nagging feeling that it might be either somd kind of setup or trap. Tricking bums mostly be the purview of the young and angry, but upscale People Are no less capable of cruelty.
Resolving himself, Hiram tries to put both Roach and his fears away for now, and sits down. Albeit as close to the exit as he can without being too obvious.
He sinks into his chair, briefly considers takling of his worn scarf and patched, overly large coat, but ultimately decides against it. He's nowhere near that comfortable around these People. Besiddes, having just spent what little money he had on a dry cleaning of the coat for this job, it's much more comfortable than usual. Trying in vain to flatten his unruly hair somewhat, he eventually settles for observing the other People present whenever they're not looking at him.

Ms. Sanderson, proper British lady, stood ramrod straight using her umbrella like a walking cane. Looking at her one might glimpse strands of her red hair kept piled on her head beneath a bowler hat. Her dress, which covered her throate to the tops of her feet which are encased laced boots, was a muted brown. She wore brown leather gloves and a warm coat, though the long article seemed more made for a man, and it too was a dark muted brown. Her face is half hidden behind a lace veil, which matched the black color of her hat. She is as tall as the average man, and muscular but still feminine. Her blue eyes move this way and that, following those she thought a threat. Her hands are folded atop the hook handle of her umbrella. She carried only one piece of luggage, a dark black duck bag, the kind used two hundedred years ago by British Naval and Marine soldiers. Her lips are together, she shows no emotion, and her chin is slightly up, as was any English woman.

Though still veiled her eyes do move about, taking in the others. They seemed to be almost exclusively men. Well that’s one point for me, I don’t mind being surrounded by men. Then she closed her eyes and focused on her other senses. She let the sounds others made bounce off of walls, flesh, clothing, etc and she used this to form a map in her mind, a map of every single suface in the room, of surfaces outside the room that the sound touched and returned to her as echoes. She focused on her sense for danger, on the way her mind could pick up on subtle things and translate them to an intuition, a warning that she was in danger. When she opened her eyes again she knew much more than before.

17:09, Today: Ms. Sanderson rolled 72 using 1d100.  Sonar - learning things others cannot.
17:09, Today: Ms. Sanderson rolled 80 using 1d100.  Danger sense - is everything safe in here?
This message was last edited by the player at 21:11, Fri 21 Aug 2020.