This snippet from the weekly paper catches your eye. Below the fold is a continuation of the story that provides details on how to send your application to join the expedition.

Professor Larkin asks that you list your experience with archaeological expeditions and your background in Peruvian, or at least South American, pre-history. The tone is more of an adventure or treasure hunt than a serious museum sponsored expedition.

The telegram reaches you in early February and a few days later a fat envelope with travel tickets arrives as well.

OOC: Please post in character of your journey and your character sheet should include a list of belongings. Each of you is allowed (though not required) to own a personal firearm of you choice. Anything that would cost more than $100 must be vetted by me along with a detailed story about how you came into possession of the item.

Dr Montgomery Ashton-Psmith stood on the deck of the ship. The voyage from Southampton to the West Indies had been quiet enough, though the rough seas had sometimes affected his stomach and left him retching. Now he was looking forward to seeing the Panama Canal and the Pacific Ocean.

He puffed gently on his pipe, wondering more about what he had gotten himself into. One last adventure! he had told himself. Mother had been nagging him for years to marry, and he was running out of excuses. His brothers were both married, and both with children, now it was your turn, Monty.

He hadn’t told her of his voyage before he left, he was too scared of what she would have said. He had posted her a letter from Southampton, telling her that he was off on a research project and would be away for several months. She would be livid of course, but at least he could delay the inevitable for a while. He knew he would have to marry one day, but he still felt young. Mother would have another list of suitable matches for him when he returned, but that was for another today. Today was for adventure!

He retired to the lounge and ordered a large whisky, before settling in to continue his reading on the Incas. The book he had was quite entertaining, though the author seemed more than a little obsessed with the sacrifice of children to their heathen gods. Savages, but that was a long time ago I suppose.

February 1921, evening, Cheap hotel in New York City
"Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than those you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from safe harbor. Catch the wind in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." Mark Twain

Lucky made his way to the back of the cheap hotel he was "staying" at after dark. He examined the alley closely and when he decides it was "safe enough" he walks into the alley.  Head down and trench coat on, he walks purposefully to the docks, checking behind him and in front of him at every intersection. Lucky arrives at the steamship "Carrillo" and boards the ship for Kingston, Jamaica carrying only a large grip. He gives the ticket to the purser and is shown to a small third class cabin that he would be sharing, it was all he could expect for a free trip.

The trip to Kingston was uneventful, Lucky rarely left the cabin and had few discussions with his cabin mates. Arriving at Kingston he disembarked and headed to the to the steamer ticket office to determine where the ship from Southampton was to dock.  Lucky finds a cheap hotel near the docks and waits for the Southampton ship to arrive.  When it does, he boards the ship quietly, third class again. After the ship sails to the Panama Canal, Lucky leaves his shared cabin and walks around the ship in the areas which he is permitted to.

January 18th 1921, Pucallpa, Peru
Caught wind of an expedition that's taking my fancy. Some Professor or somesuch is putting a crew together in Lima to go explore some pyramid around these parts, looking for gold. Sounds like a pretty penny could be made. Reckon I might go see about signing up. Going to see Gabriel tomorrow about joining me for the first leg of the journey. I'll miss the Ucayali, but it'll be good to get back up into the highlands.

February 5th 1921, Andean Mountains, Peru
Me and Gabriel have been following the Rio Huallaga for eight days now and I never fail to be impressed by its ferocity. It's reputation for being unavigable is well deserved, but it makes for an easy guide up to the summit. Gabriel says we'll be at it's source within the week.

February 12th 1921, Andean Mountains, Peru
Gabriel turned back for home yesterday. I'll be missing his company and his stories most of all. He's a good friend and I hope to cross paths with him again. We reached the source of the Huallaga yesterday and I have taken a day to recover before tackling the summit. Perhaps the spirit of the source is giving me the strength to cross the range, or perhaps it's just my superstition talking, but I feel energised here, like I was ten years younger.

February 18th 1921, Cerro de Pasco, Peru
It seems the spirit of the Huallaga really did give me strength! I made good time over the summit and to Cerro de Pasco. I have sent the Professor a letter telling him I'd be interested in his expedition, confident it will reach Lima before I do. I'll be spending a few days here; the trek has been gruelling, if uneventful, so a couple of days to rest up and resupply won't hurt. Maybe I'll get lucky and be able to sign up with one of the silver convoys heading for Lima; I hear they pay well for good men.

March 11th 1921, Lima, Peru
Damn! Got to Lima and a message from the Professor said to meet in some cantina a week from now. I'm early and got nothing to do but drink alone and twiddle my thumbs.

Harker put down his pencil, slugged back a shot and refilled his glass from the bottle in front of him. He looked muzzily at the journal, tried to focus, failed, then squinted at the telegram from the professor again. He grizzled, sank another shot and snapped the journal shut. He was drunk. Very drunk. Too drunk. He fumbled for some money, too much and slapped it on the bar, picked up his gear and grabbed the bottle. He took a swig and wove out the door into the clear night air. He took a deep breath and began raucously singing a Spanish ballad in his broad Bristolian accent as he wound his way toward his cheap lodgings. It was going to be a long week.

Augustus Larkin has arranged to meet the prospective members of his expedition for dinner at 7 p.m. on March 18, 1921 at the Bar Cordano, a restaurant and bar in the Lima District. This will be the first time that Larkin has met any of them face to-face. The restaurant is simply but tastefully furnished, with wood paneling and fixtures and a tiled floor. The food is good, with seafood a specialty. The waiter recommends the escabeche, a hot, sweet and sour fish dish.

As the investigators arrive at the restaurant, they are shown to a table where three men are already seated.

Larkin stands and introduces himself.

"Gentlemen, so glad you could join our expedition. I'm so excited. Please. Sit down, have a drink, let us get to know one another. This is Luis de Mendoza, my aide de camp and Jesse Hughes a folklorist from New York City. He's a last minute addition to our team."

Augustus Larkin is a young man in his early thirties, but he does not look well. His skin is pale, he is sweaty and there are dark circles under his eyes. Mendoza looks to be about thirty as well, a gaunt man with pronounced cheekbones and deep-set, piercing blue eyes. His hair is unkempt and he merely nods when he is introduced. Hughes is a little older than the others, perhaps in his early 40's. He is an African-American man of average height and build, with short hair and a wide grin. He's wearing a tweed suit and a fedora hat. He smokes a pipe and often gestures with it to emphasize points when talking. Mendoza glares at him a lot.

"Waiter, a carafe of you Pisco Sours please and glasses for all," Larkin sits and invites you all to have a drink.

"How was your journey?" he asks in his English accent.

OOC: Please make small talk as appropriate. Let me know of any background research you have attempted along with any specific observation rolls you want to make at this point.



Fun Fact: The Bar Cordano is still there and is reputed to be the home of the Pisco Sour cocktail

"As a man's salutations, so is the total of his character; in nothing do we lay ourselves so open as in our manner of meeting and salutation." Johann Kaspar Lavater

  Lucky stands up and introduces himself to the people at the table.  To Augustus Larkin, Lucky bows and says "Thank you so much for you letting me join you and your amigos.  My trip was very well and I was happy to leave New York's cold weather.  I intend to serve you well and faithfully sir."

Having left most of his travelling gear in his hotel room, Harker nonetheless wore a dangerous looking field-knife at his hip, as well a holstered revolver. His clothes were cheap, common and travel stained, albeit clean and he most definitely did not look like he belonged in the company he found himself in. He eyed the gentlemen warily as they gathered at the table. Without waiting on ceremony he roughly grabbed a chair and sat down heavily, looking around, searching in vain for somewhere to spit. After a brief moment, he gave up, swallowing it and coughing uncomfortably. He rubbed his eyeballs and sighed. "Hullo." he greeted everyone with a grin "Pleasure to meet you" he said stiffly in his broad Bristolian accent.

When the carafe of sours arrived, he did not hesitate to pour himself a generous glass and knock it back, smacking his lips. "Aaah. That's not bad Prof. Very refreshing." he beamed at everyone and poured himself another. "Oh, I be Harker, by the way. Harker Carpenter." he half stood and started aggressively shaking everyone by the hand in a crushing grip in the most uncouth manner possibly imaginable.

OOC: Whilst I could type a phonetic interpretation of a Bristol accent, it would probably only lead to confusion, so please add you own interpretation! If you're not sure what a Bristol accent sounds like; imagine an overblown stereotypical "pirate" accent. Yeah. That one. Seriously. It's not far off.

For reference, Harker has an APP:20 and STR:80, so that's how uncouth he is and just how crushing that handshake is ;)

Previously, while aboard ship:

Walter had enjoyed his time aboard the ship from Southampton, getting to meet a couple of other Gentlemen who also seemed to be joining Professor Larkin's expedition as well as relaxing in advance of what he expected would be a tiring time. His experiences during the Great War had taught him that if an opportunity to rest presented itself then you took it, refreshing both your physical and mental energy in preparation for more exhausting times to come. He therefore spent much of his time dining well and reading a number of books, including one about the Incan Empire that he found particularly fascinating, a book called Comentarios Reales de los Incas, specifically the 1918 version of Inca Garcilaso de la Vega's 1609 original work, edited by James Bardin of the University of Virginia. At points though he set down that book and studied a number of maps of Peru instead, seemingly committing to memory certain compass bearings between major landmarks and locations.

He was not idle however, running a number of times around the deck every morning and again before dinner, dressed in tennis shoes, shorts and singlet, pushing himself extensively to maintain his fitness. The crew also organised a number of games of shuffleboard and Walter participated enthusiastically, possibly a little too much as his competitive spirit got the better of him, so after a while he avoided playing, choosing instead to shoot clays of the back of ship to keep his eye in.

OOC: Comentarios Reales de los Incas, originally by Inca Garcilaso de la Vega, this edition edited by James Bardin https://archive.org/details/el...oog/page/n7/mode/2up

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Now:

Dressed in a stylish suit with a Somerset Light Infantry Regimental tie, for those that could identify the green and blue stripes, and highly polished brown Oxford Brogues shoes, Walter shook hands enthusiastically with all of the other members of the expedition. A few he had met on his journey to Lima but most were new faces. His handshake was vigorous, his grip strong, clearly a man who thought that a good handshake told you a lot about a person.

"I am very pleased to make all of your acquaintances," he said rather formally his accent clearly English with upper class tones, following it up with, "Luscombe. Walter," as he spoke to each person in turn. His bearing was one of a military man, something not uncommon in 1921, an officer once of the British Army presumably.

Upon greeting Harker he smiled pleasantly at an accent he recognised from his childhood, apparently unconcerned by the rough and ready appearance of the man. "Bristol if I'm not mistaken," he said by way of opening. "I've been there on numerous occasions back when I was a boy. My guardian used to live there and I would stay with him and his family during the holidays from boarding school as my family were in the Argentine. Well either Bristol or at my grandparents in Devizes."

Though slightly more subtle than Harker, those who could spot these things would notice that Walter was also armed, the distinctive bulge of a pistol concealed in an underarm holster on his left side. Clearly he wasn't prepared to wander around an unknown city without some form of protection either.

"I don't believe that you were on the ship from Southampton with the rest of us so were you already in country?" he continued to Harker. "Or have you travelled from elsewhere?"

While he made small talk and sipped at his Pisco Sours, his eyes kept flicking to Professor Larkin and his two companions, Luis de Mendoza and Jesse Hughes, trying to judge their characters and to work out the interaction between the three of them. It was clear that Mendoza didn't like Hughes but why did Larkin feel the need to introduce Hughes as a late addition to the team? That was only from Larkin, and possibly Mendoza's, perspective as this was the first meeting of everyone participating in the expedition.


OOC - based on those observations above is that a use of the Psychology skill? His skill is 30. Thanks.

«Gentlemen...,» Archibald greets his companions-to-be as he joined at the table. Those can see a man in his early 30s, dressed in a a rather worn, slightly old fashioned suit. Those in the know however will recognize the signature of an exclusive London taylor. «... it is my pleasure to meet you all and especially Mr. Larkin in person. Lord Archibald Byron is the name.»

OOC: I still owe you most of the stats for him and will hence not do any rolls for now. Will try to get the numbers together soon. I thought I'll join at this point though instead of making a habit of not writing. With regards to the travel, I suppose Mr. Larkin will have sponsored the cheapest tickets and those traveling first class will hence not yet have the pleasure meeting him, although they might have seen him of course. He will, due to some "disagreements" with his family not have had the funds to "upgrade" to first class.

Leaving London hadn't been easy. With an angry toff putting a price on your head the usual modes of transport tend to be somewhat limited, especially when you aren't a man predisposed to travelling lightly. However, several greased palms and several close shaves with some extremely uncouth toughs later Charles Meecham managed to find himself – and three large trunks of his finest outfits and accessories - outward bound from Southampton on a trip halfway round the world with most of those who know him thinking he's off to France. It's not Charles' first moonlight flit and it would be a terribly poor show to be made by some amateur thugs.

That isn't to say Charles allowed himself to become complacent. Baron Stafford was unlikely to let their little misunderstanding be forgotten very quickly (though, seriously, he can't have expected genuine Rembrant's for that price!) and so the trip down to Jamaica was spent very carefully looking over his shoulder, assessing his fellow passengers for threats and growing his short goatee out into a well rounded beard with fantastic moustaches. Even when you're on the lam you can't let standards slip.

From Jamaica onwards he allows himself a little time to relax and enjoy the sunshine. It's his first time in this part of the world and he might as well enjoy it. Especially after that nice captain upgraded him to a delightful first class cabin. Charles didn't even have to spin him a line for that...well, he might be related to the ship owner – who knows everybody they're related to? The rest of trip Charles spends drinking, smoking and gambling with some of the other passengers and generally being the life and soul of the party.


As Charles strolls the streets of Lima in the early evening on his way to the meeting there is certainly no missing him. Clad entirely in a crisp white linen suit with a blood red cravat and the unusual addition of a pith helmet dipped to one side at an angle just shy of being 'jaunty'.

Upon arrival at the Bar Cordano Charles looks around approvingly; not bad for a rustic drinking hole. It's not Les Deux Magots but Charles is pretty confident he can spend a very good evening here. He greets the group with a warm smile and twinkle in the eye, removing his suede gloves to shake hands. His grip is confident but light, that of a businessman and not someone used to earning a living by his hands. He winces slightly at both Harker and Walker's much firmer grips and pats them both jovially on the arm, ”Well you're both strapping gentlemen, I'm very glad you're on our side eh?” His accent is pure upper class Englishman, practically to the point of parody.

”It's a pleasure to meet you all. I'm Charles Meecham and I am entirely at your service.” He casts an appraising glance over at Harker and adds ”And it looks like I'm the muscle for our little exploration” before bursting into good humoured laughter at his own joke and sitting down to sip at his drink.