Pale mid morning light, the product of an overcast sky which promises the welcome relief of summer rainfall, slants through the tall window of Professor Wells’ office. The scent of coffee hangs in the air, a steel pot of the beverage, along with several cups, having been provided by a helpful teaching assistant. The room is quiet, with only a few staff and students circulating in the hall outside, its normality at stark contrast with the events of the previous evening.

Jake strolled in with a folded-up copy of the Tribune tucked under his arm and a greasy wax paper bag filled with donuts which he tossed on the tray alongside the coffee pot. He'd managed to clean himself up considerably since the night before, freshly showered and shaven, even a lick of polish on his boots. Not that he was suitable for high society, far from it, but for him, he looked . . . swell, even jaunty.

He poured himself a cup of joe, ladled in cream and sugar, extracted a donut, and perched on the edge of one of the desks, munching contentedly.

"Seems to me our case is closed," he spoke around mouthfuls of gooey bliss. "Mrs. Harggrave hired us to find out who killed her daughter, and why." He nods at the scrapbook they had purloined the night before.

"This macabre little collection tells me it's the ongoing work of a homicidal maniac. Maybe even handed down through the family, father to son, like. I'm betting if we take this to the cops, they'll put the thumbscrews on this Bishop guy and have a confession before lunchtime.

"Whaddya say?"

Sully breaks a doughnut into four pieces on the handkerchief he has spread on a corner of the desk and dunks a piece into his coffee, careful not to overflow the cup. As he munches, he indicates the vial of powder, No. 29.

Do you know someone who can analyze this for us, Prof?"he asks Wells, "And what do you make of the plares? What language is that? It ain’t Italian or Greek or Spanish, I know that much. Oh, hey! Yog-Sothoth (he pronounces all the Os long and the G soft) is capitalized! Bet it's the name of some place. Or some one?"

He finishes pastry and coffee and uses the handkerchief to wipe his fingers and brush crumbs from his vest before tucking it back in his breast pocket. He walks over to the professor’s bookcases and scans for an atlas or gazetteer.

He looked a bit concerned when Morris began talking about going to the police.

"I'm no legal expert, but the clearest evidence that a crime has been committed seems to be our narrative regarding how we obtain these things, in which we are the criminals. We may be ourselves certain in our opinions as to what activities Mr. Bishop might enjoy in his spare time and his culpability in the death of our employer's daughter, but otherwise I don't see a clear indication of what has transpired that we can believably present. I'm afraid ours is the only provable criminality here."

He turned to Quinn's question next.

"As to these plates, I have the sense that the they are inscribed with some manner of prayer or invocation, based on their structure. Specifically, I suspect that one of the tablets gives the entreaty to call upon a power and the other provides the means to dismiss it. I presume that both are directed to a being referred to here as “Yog Sothoth”, the only term that appears on each tablet, though that name is unknown to me.

However, something in the structure of the invocations reminds me of some texts I studied in relation to some early South American cultures. Specifically, I once encountered a pair of invocations directed to a deity called Tawil At-U'mr, who was apparently a god who oversaw the length of individuals’ lifetimes and perhaps even time itself. The discovery has remained in my memory because of the deity’s unusual name, which was vastly different than others worshipped in the region, and because it was the only reference to it that he ever encountered. Linguistically speaking, the name resembles more the structures of languages common to the Arabian peninsula, structurally very far from any indigenous South American language or even Spanish. The texts predated the arrivals of people not indigenous to the region, making them even stranger.

In any case, the prayers I studied had to do with the resurrection and dismissal of the dead. The fact that these steel tablets are in a place where the dead are laid to rest strikes me as more than a coincidence. As to the language specifically, it is of no provenance that I can recognize. I can run it by others who have a deeper expertise in linguistics to see if we can get that, but it does not structurally resemble any European or indigenous languages that I'm familiar with."

Arthur looked a bit tired, as if he hadn't slept right the previous night. Circles under his eyes, a bit of a shadow over the face, hair a bit messier than normal. He had changed his clothes.

He grabbed his own coffee, and his own donut, and he ate them both a bit joylessly. He didn't seem to be agreeing with Jake, but didn't say anything for a good long while.

When the good professor started speaking, Arthur nodded a bit, but with a strange consternation in his face.

"I just...I don't really understand what's going on here, at all. This Yog-Sothoth business, the strangeness of everything that's happened. Am I to believe there's some sort of a...what, religious zealot who's been running the cemetery who killed that girl? I think a claim like that requires extraordinary evidence, don't you? And I'm not even really convinced that's what's true, myself."

He rubbed his eyes a bit.

"I just don't see how it fits. And I don't understand this business with...well, what happened at the end."

Arthur shook his head, sipped a bit more coffee.

OOC: Will Arthur have had time to develop the photos? If he has, I imagine he's holding onto them, but has not yet closely examined each photograph.

Jake grins as he slurps coffee and continues to munch on his donut.

"You don't know much about how the cops work, Professor," he responds to Wells's doubts about the viability of their evidence. "That scrapbook is enough to hang that guy Bishop out to dry. I slip that into the right hands, no questions asked, and they got a Prime Suspect, all framed up.

"You can bet yer last nickel the detective in charge of these cases, just the girl, is getting leaned on every day to find out who did it. And nobody really cares if the suspect actually did do it or not. They just want the families and the press to stop hounding them and calling the mayor and making their lives miserable.

"And if they got some poor schmuck behind bars, they are going to lean on him hard. They are going to tear that cemetery apart brick by brick if they have to. And they'll find something. Even if it ain't there, they'll find something. I know. Believe me, I know."

he goes quiet for a moment and then speaks up again.

"Besides, you really think Bishop ain't connected with these killings somehow? He's robbing graves, making zombies, keeping a scrapbook that goes back, what a hundred years or more? He's guilty as sin.

"Maybe he didn't actually butcher that poor girl. Maybe one of his zombies did? Maybe they been doing it all along?"

He shrugs.

Then he points to the tablets and the powder.

"I'm also guessing that these have something to do with making a zombie. And Mr. Bishop is going to be powerful interested in getting them back -- especially them tablets. So we should stash 'em somewhere he can't find 'em or get at 'em. And then maybe we call him up on the telephone and arrange a pow-pow. We've got something he wants. So he tells us who did fer the girl."

Sully turns from the book shelves with several books in his hands.

"What you say about police methods is certainly true, Jake," he says, laying out the books on the desk, "As far as it goes. If Bishop was 'some poor schmuck' what we've found would be enough to get him a fast ride to the precinct and the wrecking crew would most likely have a confession beaten out of him soon enough.

"But I did a little background on Mr. Bishop. He and his family are wealthy and well-respected in Manhattan. He may not dine with the Astors but he's probably buried some of their acquaintances and distant relations. He's certainly too connected to be railroaded.

"The cops'd probably find some convenient poor schmuck to take the fall instead. Say, our Spanish gravedigger friend, Mr. Cortes.

"So, professor, which of these volumes do you think might tell us something about Yog Sothoth?"
This message was last edited by the player at 04:51, Fri 13 May 2022.

PM

"This entity, if that is what it is, Yog Sothoth, I believe is a rather obscure one. I don't believe these volumes will help, but we could head to the university's main library. If you could assist me in the research of this, we could probably expedite our findings in that direction if there is anything to be found. These books...well one of these might provide some additional insight into Tawil At-U'mr, the deity of time and lifespans that I stumbled across on my South American studies."

He took to that particular book, briefly skimming it for additional detail.

"I'll happily assist you however I can, Prof," says Sully amiably.

Arthur nodded slowly. "I suppose it makes sense. If there is some kind of...cult thing going on here, we should understand something about whatever religion they adhere to. I'll come along and check into things with you, as well."

Examining the text that Sully located, Early Religions of the Amazon Basin, Wells finds  a few passages devoted to Tawil At-U'mr. It indicates that reverence for the deity within South America is a mystery that historians struggle to explain, as the god’s name is unquestionably of Arabic origin, yet references to him predate any contact between the two regions.

Although the precise translation of the deity’s name is elusive within the English language, the closest agreed upon meaning is the ”Prolonger of Life”. What few tales of Tawil At-U'mr exist suggest that those who were brave and knowledgeable could appeal to the god for an extension of their lifespan, or perhaps even immortality. It was also claimed that Tawil At-U'mr was able to return the dead to the land of the living. Such favors from the god were not without cost. One story suggests that the deity would visit those who it granted favor, consuming the souls of innumerable innocents in exchange for its gifts.

---

It comes as no surprise that the a hush hovers over the vast holdings of the Low Library. As it is summer, the tables set aside for students’ use are more thinly populated than during the height of the semester, but a few diligent scholars are present, reading and jotting down notes.

Melissa Lassiter, one of the librarians of the Professor’s acquaintance is seated at the circulation desk, organizing a group of recently received issues of academic journals. She looks up as the group enters. ”Good morning, Professor. What brings you in today?”

Jake quickly loses all patience and interest in the academic research and discussion. He agrees it needs to happen, but he also knows it is not his skill set. Instead, he leafs through the scrapbook, especially the clippings covering the past five years to see if he can detect any common threads between the victims. He notes down names and dates, and addresses, if provided, getting ready to do the kind of leg work he understands.

Being a detective is not about spotting a funny color of mud on someone's shoe. It's all about asking questions and looking for the common threads. When he has a dozen or so possible leads, he tells the others he is going to go out and pound the pavement.

"Wear away a little shoe leather," he grins as he heads out into the city.

OOC: Ready for his own thread.

OOC: I’ll certainly allow the Professor to identify some potential areas of interest to Miss Lassiter, but if each of the visitors to the Low Library supply me with an initial Library Use roll, it would be appreciated.

Also, if there are any specific academic disciplines that any of you want to look into, you may make rolls for those corresponding skills as well.

Sully is not a stranger to libraries, having graduated from Columbia College and frequenting the august stacks of the New York Public Library in connection with his profession. Still, he's always awed to step into the silence and the cathedral-like environment of any major repository of knowledge. He places his abilities at the professor's service.

Sullivan (Sully) Quinn rolled 23 for Library Use 70%.

"A good day to you, Miss Lassiter. I could most assuredly use some assistance from you if you have a moment to help. I'm looking into a few topics that center around obscure religions and obscure deities that are generally speaking only sporadically documented and without the accompanying attested histories surrounding them. Geographically if we must specify, I would say the Amazon Basin could be of some interest as could the New York State Area, perhaps New England as well. I have a couple of names of obscure deities that may also help narrow the search: Tawil At-U'mr and Yog-Sothoth."

He handed her a slip of paper with various particulars written down, but especially knowing that the last two names would not be easily spelled.

OOC:

Doh!

09:28, Today: Anthony Wells rolled 75 using 1d100.  Library Use (70).

This message was last edited by the GM at 01:17, Wed 25 May 2022.

It had been a long time since Arthur had been in a research library, and he rarely read since the last time he had done so. Suffice it to say, he was less than totally productive.

OOC: "02:39, Today: Arthur G. Flatt rolled 44 using 1d100.  LIbrary Use (30)."

11:08, Today: Melissa Lassiter rolled 21 using 1d100.  Library Use.

Lassiter carefully writes down the odd names that Wells provides. ”Very interesting, Professor. You always seem to be researching unique subjects.”

She stands, beckoning for the investigators to follow her. ”Several of our reading rooms aren’t in use right now, so I can get you settled in one that’s right next to the history and geography stacks. I believe there may be a few volumes in religion that could pertain to the information you’re looking for. I can go pull those for you.”

Leading the group to one of the library’s far corners on the lower floor, Lassiter unlocks a door to a small reading room which features a rectangular table and several chairs. ”Two doors down is the door to the staff area. The professor’s been in there many times,” she tells Sully and Arthur, ”There should be fresh coffee there, so feel free to help yourselves.”

She directs the group to the shelves holding volumes on South America and New York State. Turning to Wells, she says, ”If you don’t mind, Professor, I’m going to speak with Professor Choffard about your inquiry. It’s possible he might know of some helpful resources.” Wells knows Lucas Choffard, one of the university’s well regarded history professors, who specializes in medieval Europe. Choffard shares Wells’ fascination with the occult.

As the three investigators begin to peruse the library’s shelves, Lassiter deposits a trio of volumes in the reading room before departing to visit the History Department.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:04, Wed 25 May 2022.

The investigators find their first foray into the library’s holdings somewhat frustrating, for although they locate several volumes that address unusual customs and beliefs, both within the Amazon Basin and New York State, nothing that they read points specifically to either of the named deities that the group had discovered.

However, Sully had collected a book on notable crimes in New York City’s early history and within it, the reporter finds an account of an individual who had been arrested for defiling graves in the area of the city now commonly referred to as Hell’s Kitchen. The perpetrator, one Jonathan Burke, assaulted an undertaker while being placed under arrest, wounding the poor man grievously with a dagger. Burke was reportedly a madman and claimed that he was able to help those he was attempting to exhume return to life. Scribbled writings that Burke made in his cell made reference, among other things, to entities named “Yog Sothoth” and “Nyogtha”. The writings were dismissed as the product of a deeply disturbed mind and Burke was eventually sent to a sanitarium, where he perished a few years later.

The name “Nyogtha” appears again in one of the volumes Melissa Lassiter provided, a book dedicated to pagan beliefs and practices in colonial New York. Information on the deity is sketchy, primarily derived from whispered folk tales. It is said that the god lives within the dark depths of the earth and that it rules over “the dead that cannot rest” and “the eaters of carrion”. Many of the stories and superstitions involving Nyogtha appear to have been actively suppressed by the church, which condemned such beliefs as witchcraft. One anecdote suggests some evidence of the god’s worship was located on Manhattan Island, but provides no detail about what specifically was discovered, only stating that what had been collected was burned.

Arthur's head hurt, and he needed a cigarette. The coffee helped with his energy levels, but not the headache. Worse yet, Arthur felt that he was not contributing in the way he felt he could.

"Well, then...no guesses where the Bishop family has roots, then. Probably right back to those days, eh? We should try to find the asylum this Burke went to."

Sully asks Miss Lassiter for genealogical resources concerning Manhattan and the outer boroughs, specifically looking for Bishop's roots.

How long ago did Burke die?

The information on Jonathan Burke indicates that he passed away in 1875 at the age of 34, while committed to the recently opened Hudson River State Hospital in Poughkeepsie. He hung himself in his room. The book notes that Burke was a carriage driver by profession, and that he was sometimes engaged in transporting bodies to the Bishop Memorial Cemetery. His physicians theorized that it was these errands that led to the man’s unhealthy obsession with the dead.

Lassiter returns shortly, followed by a neatly dressed, dark haired man who Wells immediately recognizes as Lucas Choffard, the European history professor.

Lassiter nods when Sully inquires about genealogical resources. Motioning for the reporter to follow, as well as Arthur, if the photographer is so inclined, the librarian leads the way to the staircase near the circulation desk. ”We have extensive genealogical holdings upstairs,” she says as they walk, ”We get a fair number of visitors from outside of the university, hoping to learn something of their families. I enjoy helping them. Some have uncovered some very interesting facts about their ancestors.”

On the upper floor, Lassiter halts at a group of shelves in the southwest corner of the maze of holdings. Gesturing to two rows of books, she says, ”These should be specific to Manhattan and the neighboring boroughs, so this would be the best place to start. I need to go downstairs, just to make certain I haven’t left anyone waiting to check out any books, but I’ll return shortly to assist you, if you need any help.”

OOC: Sully, and Arthur if you tagged along, please give me another Library Use roll. You may both subtract 20 from the roll, due to Miss Lassiter directing you to resources specific to your search.

”Good morning, Wells,” Choffard says in greeting with a warm smile, ”Miss Lassiter tells me that you’re researching some rather obscure religious traditions.”

Arthur keeps with the good doctor, but becomes increasingly frustrated with his own uselessness in research.

OOC: "01:48, Today: Arthur G. Flatt rolled 63 using 1d100-20 with rolls of 83.  Library Use (30)."

My luck is not serving me well. :)

In reply to Lucas Choffard (msg # 23):

"Choffard! A good morning to you as well. Yes indeed. I came across some rather interesting material recently. A colleague of mine took a picture of these, and I transcribed what I could of it, but could not make out head or tail of it."

He hands him what he has transcribed from the two tablets.

"So far, what Miss Lassiter has helped me to find speaks to Yog-Sotthoth and Nyogtha. Have you heard of these?"

Professor Choffard reads the transcription that Wells hands to him. “Remarkable,” he says, after a moment.

Returning his attention to Wells, he asks, ”Wells, I wonder if you and your colleague here would be willing to accompany me up to the third floor, to the rare books collection? I think there’s a volume there that might be of interest to you.”
This message was last edited by the player at 15:03, Fri 03 June 2022.

Cooling himself off, Arthur greeted Professor Choffard, and stood up to follow him. He didn't say anything beyond greeting the man, thinking it proper if the group's own Professor Wells were to head the conversation.

OOC: Keeper, was Arthur able to find the time to develop all of the photos? I don't recall getting an answer on this earlier

"Yes, absolutely. This is my friend, Flatt, a very talented photographer," he said, introducing the men politely as they walked toward the indicated section. "Flatt, Choffard is one of my colleagues here at the university."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Professor Choffard."

Sully smiles and thanks the delightful Miss Lassiter. He peruses the titles of the books and then plucks the two or three most promising titles from the shelves. He takes them to a reading table, laying  his notebook open beside them.

Sullivan (Sully) Quinn rolled 0 using 1d100-20 for Library Use 70%, which I guess means the actual roll was 20 and I have effectively rolled 01?

”Likewise, Mr. Flatt,” Choffard says, shaking the photographer’s hand.

The rare books collection is located at the northern end of the library’s third floor. It is only sporadically visited during each semester, primarily by faculty members, visiting scholars, and the occasional ambitious graduate student. Now, at the height of summer, it is almost eerily quiet, so much so that the three mens’ footsteps seem especially loud in contrast.

Inside, Choffard speaks in low tones to a white haired, bespectacled librarian with an impressive mustache. The librarian, Paul Brink, directs the trio to a spacious reading room before disappearing through a nearby door.

Brink returns after a few moments, carrying a black, leather bound book and a thick folio. He deposits both on the table and excuses himself, informing the researchers that he will be at his desk should they need further assistance.

There is something about the appearance of the book that is immediately off putting to both Wells and Flatt. Impressions of hand and fingerprints, along with the marks of fingernails, are visible on the worn cover, giving the immediate sense that the tome was clutched frequently and possessively by its owner, as if they were greedy for the volume’s contents and extremely protective of them. The edges of the pages have an odd coloration, a wavering charcoal hue that grows black in some spots. Even from the few moments the book has been present in the room, the men can perceive a distinct, musty odor arising from it.

Choffard clears his throat. Cultes des Goules. I haven’t looked into the volume’s history deeply, but it’s my understanding that there are only about a dozen copies in existence. Columbia came by this one by way of one of its former history faculty, who stumbled upon it while examining the records of a defunct abbey in the vicinity of Herefordshire.”

“When Miss Lassiter mentioned some of the names you were researching I recalled the book. I’ve only examined it on a couple of occasions myself. It’s honestly fascinating, but…strangely unsettling to peruse. In content, it seems to be primarily devoted to the worship of an entity called Nyogtha, a malevolent god said to dwell deep in the earth, but I distinctly recall the mention of Yog Sothoth as well, I believe in relation to a rite which purported to raise the dead to life.”

“The text itself is primarily in French,” he continues, tapping the folio that accompanied the book with one finger, ”but apparently the monk who came into possession of it translated most of its key passages into English.” He pauses, then adds, ”Before he supposedly went mad and gouged out his own eyes.”

OOC: That roll would assuredly count as a critical success, Sully. :)

Sully digs into his research. After a time, the reporter is certain he has identified the line of the Bishop family which is tied to the Lower East Side of New York. From there, working diligently, he comes across a wealth of information.

• The earliest record of this line of Bishops is one Agatha Bishop, who fled from Arkham’s bloody witch trials in 1692, at the age of fifteen. The only relative of Agatha’s in Massachusetts who Sully finds reference to is one Sermon Bishop, a cousin, who reportedly settled in the Arkham area.
• Agatha Bishop took up residence on Manhattan island in 1693, and soon became the mistress of a wealthy merchant, one Charles Rowancroft. He died suddenly a year later, “of greate congestion of the centres of the hearte,” leaving his considerable fortune to Agatha Bishop.
• In 1695, Agatha purchased the land upon which the Stanton Street Cemetery now occupies, and there built Bishop House, in which she lived alone until giving birth in 1703. In a firm hand the clerk writes, “To her, a bastard sonne, Lazarus.”
• The ship’s logs of Capt. Andreas Van Derzanden show that in the years 1708 and 1711 Agatha Bishop Rowancroft chartered his vessel for extended visits to Hispaniola. The captains complained of the heat there, of the idleness, and of the unsavory visitors which Mrs. Rowancroft insisted visit her aboard. At the end of her second voyage, she returned home with a large, heavy coffin, which the sailors greatly feared. Capt. Van Derzanden nonetheless comments appreciatively when discussing the charter fees, and in 1715 sails her to Egypt, for another extended stay. From there she brings back to New York “many foulsome thinges” which Capt. Van Derzanden unfortunately does not detail.
• Lazarus Bishop grew into an unpleasant-looking young man of poor reputation. His mother adopted and cared for many of his bastard offspring. Lazarus himself vanished in the year 1728, without trace. Six children survived him: Charles (1720-1744), James (1721-174O), William (1722-1751), Edward (1723-1745), Elizabeth (1725-1766), and Seth (1726-1749).
• Agatha Bishop outlived her grandsons as well as her son: Charles died of a fever; William died of heart failure; Seth and Edward Bishop vanished as mysteriously as their father; James went mad in his sixteenth year and was confined in the cellar of Bishop House, where he died of a violent seizure three years later.
• Elizabeth Keziah Bishop never married. She issued nine bastard children. Like their uncles, these children remained at Bishop House; after Elizabeth died in 1766, they cared for the now very old Agatha Bishop.
• Several accounts mention incidentally that Elizabeth Bishop was never seen after her 23rd birthday.
• In 1770, age 93, Agatha Bishop died. She was buried near Bishop House.
• In 1779, one of Elizabeth’s grandchildren, George Edward Bishop, founded Bishop Memorial Cemetery, where the remains of Agatha Bishop were the first to be interred.
• Subsequent records indicate that a number of Bishops adopted several or many children in the 19th century.

As the book was brought in, Arthur drew in a sharp breath and held it tight, as if otherwise he would face some sort of a consequence. The thing sure wasn't right, as far as he was concerned. No book he'd ever seen looked like that or left an impression like this book left on him.

He commented on the book's title, stupidly asking an obvious question to try and mask his nervousness.

"So...that would mean, what, Cult of Ghouls?"

He listened in again, until the professor mentioned bringing back the dead.

"R-raise the dead to life? That's ridiculous," Arthur said, before hysterically laughing for a moment. Clearing his throat, he said, "I apologize."

Quinn closes the book and reads over his notes to make sure he hasn’t omitted anything. He shakes a cigarette out of his pack buy, not seeing any ashtray, puts it between his lips without lighting it. "Agatha,” he murmurs.

Tucking the cigarette into his breast pocket, he goes to ask the capable Miss Lassiter for a volume on Massachusetts colonial history. He wants to know more about Arkham and it’s part in the witch-hunt that swept that colony.

Choffard regards Flatt with an understanding smile. “Taken in the light of day, it does seem rather outrageous, doesn’t it?” he says, ”The fascination for academics like myself and Professor Wells lies in how deeply held such beliefs are held by the people who espoused them. I don’t know specifically what you’re looking into with your research, but if the people you’re studying showed reverence toward the kind of entities described in this book, I truly wouldn’t be surprised if they believed such things as raising the dead to be possible.”

He shifts his attention to Wells. ”While I doubt that Paul could permit you to take these items off campus, I feel certain he could be persuaded to allow you to take them to your office for study, if you feel that would be worthwhile.”

Miss Lassiter listens to Sully’s request, smiling as she considers it. ”You know, one thing I’ve always enjoyed about this position is the challenges it offers. Professor Wells has certainly helped me sharpen my skills.”

Gesturing for the reporter to follow her, she leads him to the library’s impressive card catalog. Moving efficiently among the drawers, her fingers flipping through entry after entry, she sighs triumphantly as she locates what she was looking for. ”I thought I remembered it. When I was still a student in the program, I had to help a PhD candidate with his research on the witch trials in New England.”

Taking Sully into the tall stacks of Low’s history holdings, she locates an old book with a worn cloth cover on one of the bottom shelves. ”I think this may give you the information you’re looking for.”

She offers it to Quinn, who can see that the fading title on the cover reads ”Prodigies in the New England Canaan”.

Sully returns to the room where the genealogy books still await and begins to scan “Prodigies in the New England Canaan”. He’s watching for references to anyone named Bishop, Agatha and Sermon in particular.

"The people I'm studying do seem to have shown great interest in these entities and I have no doubt process such beliefs, irrational as they might be. I would be quite grateful for the opportunity for further study in my office, and I must say, I am incredibly thankful for your assistance in helping me locate this tome. I know few others that have as deeply shared interest in these strange matters as you and I," he said with a smile.

Hoping not to make himself out to be an idiot, Arthur said nothing more at this time, letting Professor Wells do the speaking. He did give a quick echo of Professor Wells' thanks at the appropriate time, and reached out to shake Choffard's hand.

Perusing Prodigies in the New England Canaan, Sully quickly learns that the book was authored by the Reverend Ward Phillips of Arkham, Massachusetts and is a history of witchcraft in New England, with a particular emphasis on the Miskatonic Valley area. With some searching, Sully is able to locate a section on Sermon Bishop:

”Another man thought leagued with the Devil was one Sermon Bishop, of Bad Water Road in Arkham, along with his fellow wizard, Richard Russel. This Russel lived in Arkham as well, at the western end of what we now know as Main Street. The two were said to worship a demon which lived beneath the ground, and that they had pacted with the devil and could not die.”

“Among those alive today some remember Sermon Bishop, who was among Arkham’s first settlers, and they swear that he never aged in all the long years he resided here. His wicked pact, they say, only left Bishop stooped and bent in consequence. Witnesses also tell of both men’s evil doings in burial plots, attempting blasphemical resurrections.”

“Arkham residents rose up against him, and some say kidnapped and killed him, burying the body in the forest or sacking and weighting it down into the Miskatonic in A.D. 1752.”

Agatha Bishop is mentioned as a suspected prodigy of her older cousin, Sermon, and a member of a coven the wizard formed. Even as a young teenager, she was said to be regarded with fear by many Arkham residents, terrible misfortunes falling on those who came into conflict with her. More than one account mentions the great intelligence the girl possessed, which was said to be far beyond her years.

When suspicions of witchcraft arose within Arkham, Agatha was quick to flee, as did Sermon’s fellow wizard Richard Russel. Russel was rumored to have vanished overseas into Northern Africa, but Agatha’s ultimate location was unknown to Reverend Phillips, a matter that seemed to be a source of considerable concern to the author.

”Glad to be of help,” Choffard says, ”Those of us who share a fascination with the occult need to help one another. The rest of the academic establishment certainly won’t.”

Shaking both men’s hands, the history professor tells Wells before departing, ”If you have some time to spare, I’d be interested to hear your impressions of that book, once you’ve had the opportunity to study it.”

A few minutes pass and Paul Brink enters the reading room with a carefully completed form that he presents to Professor Wells for his signature. Wells sees that it is a simple record, indicating that Cultes des Goules and its accompanying folio are being entrusted to his care for study at his campus office.

”Be mindful when you handle the book,” Brink advises the professor, wiggling his fingers, ”Wash your hands after. The cover seems to turn them black.”

"Thank you for that note. I do have some gloves that I use to handle special materials, so perhaps that would be of use as well," he said as he signed. He looked at the cover to see if it was caked in any notable residue.

Sully closes Prodigies and looks over his notes. He pulls the unsmoked Old Gold from his pocket and puts it between his lips, sitting for a few minutes in thought. Then he makes his way back to Professor Wells's office in search of the others.

"Not that I expect to be handling the book extensively, I also have some gloves which I use to develop film." He exchanged the necessary pleasantries with this man, and turned to Professor Wells. "Well, I suppose we should be going then, Professor?"

"Yes, I think that's wise. To go study this book a bit. Thank you again for your assistance, Choffard. I'll see you soon, I'm sure!" He lead Flatt back to his office, and settled down to take a quick study of the book, using the gloves he had.

Sully enters Wells's office.

"Hello fellows, did you get some information? I've traced the Bishop family back to Sermon Bishop, a wizard in Massachusetts in colonial times. He worked some kind of longevity magic and was attempting 'blaspemical resurrections'. When things got too hot for him and they apparently killed him, his niece or something, Agatha, who was supposed to be a witch, came to New York."

When they're ready to hear it, he tells them about Sermon Bishop and Agatha Bishop and the founding of the cemetery where Agatha is buried.

OOC: While As Flatt and Wells update Quinn on what they came across, I need a bit of clarification, probably from the professor. I’m presuming it will be Wells who studies Cultes des Goules, but how does he plan to go about it? Will he skim the book first, or simply jump right into reading it, cover to cover?

OOC:

I should have specified that - I think he'll skim the book first, and then when time allows he will take a deeper study (just to allow for other investigators to do stuff instead of sitting around watching him read).

Arthur found his hands were shaking a bit as he lit up a cigarette. "What would you like to bet that the Bishops finally found the way to continue those practices without getting caught?"

After a moment, he started telling Sully about their business. "We've picked up this book...in French, translated by someone into English. Cultes des Goules. It apparently discusses...raising the dead, and those strange gods the Professor mentioned. I don't like the book at all."

OOC: If the Professor studies the text, then Arthur will nonetheless be willing to help in any way possible, e.g., notes dictation. If you're going to mishandle a scary book, you might as well really mishandle it. :)

(I think he'll join in for the skimming, and find other matters to attend to otherwise.)
This message was last edited by the player at 14:05, Tue 21 June 2022.

"It is an unpleasant book to be sure, but perhaps there's some leads here for us to follow...something to help trace our favorite undertaker's extracurricular activities. Something illegal surely. Perhaps the Bishop leads you all have turned up are something to follow up on? Whatever this Agatha got involved with?"

He spoke absent mindedly, the main part of his attention focused on the book.

OOC:

I'm certainly down for a joint study operation, and I agree...let's really mishandle it :D

Sully watches the professor turn pages in his old book for a few minutes, but is soon bored and still craving a smoke.

"I think I'll go back to the cemetery and see if I can scout out old Agatha's tomb and any other Bishops that might be resting there. Care to come along, Arthur?" He suggests that they meet in the evening and lets Wells name the spot.

As the investigators discuss potential plans for the evening, Jake Morris returns from his search for answers on the Lower East Side.

OOC: The Professor and Flatt will be able to complete an initial reading (skim) of Cultes des Goules prior to meeting up with the others after dark. Between Wells’ grasp of Romance languages and the accompanying folio, comprehending the essence of the text will not require a reading roll.

If Wells and Flatt press forward with said reading, they will be subject to a Sanity Loss of 1d10 points. They will also gain 8 points of Cthulhu Mythos skill. They will discover any spells that the tome contains, but mastering any of the magical invocations will require additional study.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:47, Wed 22 June 2022.

"What is this?" Jake laughs as he returns to the professor's office and finds the other pouring over old books. "You guys are here reading while I'm out pounding the streets? Huh!"

He quickly summarizes his interviews with the relatives of two recent victims taken from the ghoulish scrap book they found at the cemetery.

"Both of them mentioned the old cemetery by name. Both had bad feelings about it. The horn player, he saw a tall man watching him a couple of times before he got killed."

He reads from his notes. "I quote, 'he had a top hat on and a heavy coat with a fur collar.' Sounds familiar, huh?

"The girl, she avoided the place like the plague until she got caught short one night and that was all it took. There may be another eye witness, a salesman. I'll follow up. But he saw someone crouched down that scared him, he said.

"This place has a bad reputation around here. Pretty much everyone knows to stay well away.

"Oh, and by the way, the cops are investigating a break in at the bone yard. I stopped and chatted with my old pal, MacBrady -- he says that Bishop reported three bodies pulled out of cold storage and mutilated. The cops think it may be the killer on a spree. I don't know. We left those dead guys locked up. We didn't tear 'em up. Must have been someone else who came in after us.

"Or Bishop is just covering his tracks with a smokescreen."

On the marble front steps of the building, Sully has just gotten a cigarette lit and taken a drag when he sees Jake approaching. He greets the detective, fills his lungs with an enormous drag on the Old Gold, and drops the half-consumed cylinder to smolder on the porch.

He follows Jake back inside, trailing a thin stream of exhaled smoke up to Wells's office.

Drawn ever further into the reading, Wells continued, even when parts of him told him it was more sensible to stop.

OOC:

Well, shit. :D

12:14, Today: Anthony Wells rolled 10 using 1d10.  Sanity Loss..

Arthur took notes, replete with his own speculations, like a demon, wide-eyed and disturbed at every moment.

OOC: Right there with you, Professor.

"03:35, Today: Arthur G. Flatt rolled 9 using 1d10.  sanity loss."

OOC: Professor Wells and Mr. Flatt, before we proceed further, I need you both to provide me with an INT (Idea) roll.

OOC: Too smart for his own good...



00:33, Today: Anthony Wells rolled 37 using 1d100.  Idea (75).

OOC: Likewise, Professor. :)

"03:42, Today: Arthur G. Flatt rolled 7 using 1d100.  intelligence :(."

The hours that unfold seem to take on a life of their own, but it is a terrible life; an awoken, undulating shadow filled with the sinister slitherings of barely glimpsed horrors, and the dismantling of truths that both Wells and Flatt had long taken for granted, even quietly clung to as foundational to their understanding of the world and their own fragile existence within it. As Cultes des Goules disgorges its fell secrets into the waiting minds of its readers, both men feel their grasp on all that seems familiar and stable slipping, replaced by the unshakable recognition of the presence of abhorrent, alien beings, hidden within the darkness and the deep recesses of the Earth, possessed of unspeakable, hideous power, and entirely unconcerned for the welfare of humankind.

OOC: Professor Wells, Mr. Flatt, due to the sudden sanity loss you each suffered, you are both temporarily insane. The bout of insanity will last for…

21:03, Today: The Keeper rolled 3 using 1d10.  Time.

…three hours, after which…

21:07, Today: The Keeper rolled 10 using 1d10.  Professor Wells - Bout Effect.

…Professor Wells emerges with a new mania…

21:07, Today: The Keeper rolled 9 using 1d10.  Arthur Flatt - Bout Effect.

…and Arthur gains a new phobia.

The Call of Cthulhu Keepers Rulebook offers a fairly exhaustive list of manias and phobias in the chapter on sanity. You are each welcome to choose one from the list or, if you prefer, you can make a d100 roll to select one at random.

Once you’ve determined what psychic scar you’ve inherited, post your selection here and I’ll move the scene forward with additional information gleaned from the nightmarish tome.

As well, each of you please add 8 points of Cthulhu Mythos skill to your respective character sheets and lower your maximum sanity by the same amount.

Wells stopped his reading to share his thoughts with Flatt.

"Man was not meant to consume peanut butter, Flatt. It is a dreadful, dreadful concoction that will kill you if you eat enough of it...sticking to your mouth until you cant swallow  or do anything. Did you know that it takes five hundred and forty peanuts to make a jar of that foul death paste?"

Arthur had, for his very own part, been ruminating on the many uses for a chicken which they had discovered in the past hours. He wouldn't be able to look at a chicken without being reminded of terrible things for some time thereafter.

But he took notes on the peanut butter closely, at least until the end, when he suddenly snapped loudly at the professor.

"What the god damn does peanut butter matter, Wells?!"

He threw his notes across the room, knocking his chair over backwards. Froze. Tidied his hair and set everything back in order.

"I'm...apologies, Professor."

OOC: Probably should have hit "Post message" on this first...

"Peanut butter? It doesn't matter at all, Flatt. I am simply warning you against its many dangers. Specifically, five hundred and forty dangers. One for each nut. One by one, those nuts will spell doom for..." He shook his head.

"No, my apologies. I've been rambling. I had a childhood caregiver choke to death on peanut butter in front of me as a young boy, and I haven't been able to stomach the stuff since. But that's neither here nor there. I don't know why this book remined me of that. This ninety-two page book. Ninety two is four times twenty three, as you well know."

OOC:

In Well's background, he has arachibutyrophobia, which explain all the peanut butter references.

Additionally, here he picks up the following manias:

1. Arithmomania -  obsessive preoccupation with numbers.
2. Ichthyomania - obsession with fish

The latter will remain latent, until triggered by narrative events, like obtaining spells that allow for the summoning of fish.

Arthur was sweating as Anthony Wells spoke on the peanuts, looking like he was trying to stop himself from taking notes as the old man rambled. When the Professor took a quite natural pause, Arthur started mopping the sweat from his face.

He listened, and after he listened, he said: "Do you think these Bishops...do you think they use chickens? Sacrificially, you understand, the bloody butchering and all that?"

OOC: In case it's not clear, Arthur picked up a case of chicken fear, based on a random roll. Maybe it's easier to imagine a chicken and be afraid than it is to imagine a person. :)

Not sure that there's anything else to say in this scene. What did we learn from the book, other than spells?

Cultes des Goules primarily concerns itself with the worship of Nyogtha, also called The Sanguine and The Haunter of the Red Abyss. An impossibly ancient being, Nyogtha is said to dwell deep within the darkest places of the earth, its form amorphous and unknowable. The monstrous deity is said to grant its followers power over death, including the ability to extend their own lifespans and to raise the dead as servants to do their bidding. The latter process is a magickal working that the text refers to as the “black binding”.

Nyogtha is said to be served by loathesome humanoid creatures, the gules of the book’s title. (The English approximation of the term is “ghouls”.) The tome describes them as bipedal creatures possessing rubbery skin, hoof-like feet, bestial features that are canine in resemblance, and long claws. Ghouls crave and subsist on rotting remains and thus tend to reside near crypts and graveyards, dwelling in networks of underground tunnels. Due to this appetite, the monsters are never far from human civilization, existing in secret. Some claim that the ghoulish delight in eating dead flesh arises from the fact that they are able to absorb the essence and memories of life of the one consumed.

Ghouls are not the only vile creatures detailed within the dark pages. Sections of the text speak of a monstrous entity that dwells within a primordial forest, progenitor to innumerable, gibbering creatures which stalk the wilds. It also describes great winged beasts, neither fully insect nor reptile in nature, which serve a terrible master in a vacant city hidden within the stars.

The book details many repulsive rituals associated with the veneration of Nyogtha and its kin, along with certain magickal workings said to call upon the ancient being’s power, or even to summon Nyogtha itself.

OOC: The following spells are described within the pages of Cultes des Goules. If either Wells or Flatt wish to learn any of them, please let me know and we can review the time and requirements involved.

• Black Binding (Create Zombie)
• Call/Dismiss Nyogtha
• Call/Dismiss Shub Niggurath
• Contact Ghoul
• Resurrection
• Shriveling
• Summon/Bind Byakhee
• Summon/Bind Dark Young
• Voorish Sign

It's evening, but still somewhat light as Jake and Sully return to the professor's office at the university. They don't have much to report other than old Agatha Bishop lived well into her nineties from 1677 to 1770 and is in an isolated section of the cemetery.

"How about you guys?" Jake asks breezily. "Learn anything in them books?"

"I think it very likely that these peanut butter lovers use chickens in their proceedings; at least as practice. If they will stoop to using humans, then why stop there? Why not chickens, or any other animal for that matter? Sacrificially or otherwise..." He broke off into a brief chuckle, which devolved into muttering, and continued to study until the others rejoined them.

He looked at Jake as he entered as if he hadn't seen him in ages before snapping out of his stupor. Replaying the question in his head once, he paused only to wonder as to Jake's level of education.

"Yes, we did learn something from 'them books,' or rather this book, as it was just a singular volume that we were studying," he said referring to Cultes des Goules. "Unfortunately, much of it is material that most will dismiss as fantasy, though I hope you will forgive me for saying that we have witnessed sufficiently strange events to the effect that I am more and more inclined to give some credence to them. These people were involved in the practice of worshipping non-traditional deities, at least ones not ascribed to any major religion or culture that I've ever heard more than the merest fragment of a hint of in my studies. They must have professed a true belief in rituals such as resurrection as well as the creation of zombies. It isn't enough to tell me what they were doing or why they were doing it specifically, but that they are involved in funerary practices is disturbing. Who knows what demented experiments and rituals they are performing on the dead?"

And if any dead got loose from their experiments, might not they then kill innocent citizens passing through the area?

"Anything in that book about the Bishop's, Professor?" Sully asks, "Because what I read bout the Massachusetts branch, they were pursuing such activities back before the Revolution."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:10, Fri 22 July 2022.

Jake grins at the Professor's long winded comment and the ten cent words. He likes to present a dumb jock exterior, it put the other police officers and detectives more at ease with him when he was on the force, and the persona has just kind of stuck. Behind the beetling brow, however, lurks a real mind and some education.

"Weird gods, huh?" he lights up a Lucky, offering the pack around. "Bringing the dead back to life?

"Well, we saw that last night, right enough." He takes a deep drag on his cigarette and blows out a plume of smoke.

"You think these zombies are what's been killing folks around here? Eating them or some such?

"Don't think the NYPD is going to go for that as an explanation. And as for getting a judge to lock 'em up? Nuts to that."

Arthur shook his head at Jake, gesturing at the notes he'd been taking--notes which were taken down both in shorthand and with handwriting which was nearly illegible, which were therefore perfectly arcane to anyone but himself.

"No, I don't think it's just...I think there's more. The book, it talks about many things, but there was one thing there--the ghouls, it mentions the ghouls. They serve the god, and they have rubbery faces like wild dogs, that's what you said, Professor. The zombies were slow, right? I--I mean, maybe one of those zombies could get a young, healthy girl if she thought they were...homeless or something?"

He pulled out the photographs of the site where the poor girl had been murdered. He pointed down at a photograph, but his hands were shaking a little hard, and someone would have to steady them to really see what he was gesturing at.

"But look, look, the cracks in the ground there. It was so strong, and fast if she couldn't get away. That's what I think."

"You are quite right about that, Mr. Morris. I do not believe that the police or any authority figure would accept this as credible information. For that matter, I don't believe that our employer in this matter would accept this as credible information either. We would be summarily dismissed, and I'm afraid that unless we pursue this, the Bishops and their co-conspirators would remain free to continue doing whatever they are doing to the good people of this city."

He paused as Flatt continued.

"Yes, there was also mention of ghouls, you are quite right. All really quite disconcerting. I'm not sure what these men's aim is precisely and what they aspire to do. But if the ghouls could eat the bodies of the dead and consume their memories as well...if that is true, then they could gain much by owning a mortuary. The knowledge of the movers and shakers of the city could gain them much. The empty coffins within the crypts...nobody would check on their contents normally, so it wouldn't be much of a risk. There is surely a possibility of monetary benefit from such endeavors."

Sully shakes his head sorrowfully. "My editor sure isn't going to accept any such story this side of Hallowe'en.

"But look, the Bishops have been burying people in that boneyard for nearly two centuries. Why start attacking young girls from good families now? I mean, maybe they were preying on the down and out types of the Lower East Side all this time--and getting away with it--so why make waves at this point?

"And what about that vial you found in the girl's room, Jake?"

Jake shrugs at Sully's question.

"To be honest, I think the vial was why she was there. Nice girl slumming it to score a little toot for her and her uptown girlfriends. The vial tells us she's done it before -- and she was out of stock. So she came downtown to score, and was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"The others whose families I spoke to were all decent folks who made a mistake, or took a shortcut they knew they shouldn't.

"I don't know if was ghouls or zombies that got 'em, but something terrifying, that's for sure. Maybe this fellow in the top hat -- even the grave digger is afraid of him. Maybe he wears the hat to hide some weirdness about his head.

"Any how, I don't think we're going to find any justice for Jennifer Hargroves by meas of the law. I think this is a case of an eye for an eye. Mrs. Hargoves hired us to find out what happened to her little girl. I think we know. But I don't think we'll be doing her any favors by telling her the truth -- not that she'd ever believe it, anyway. I was there last night and I barely believe it myself.

"But the lady is hurting, and we know who did it. Zombies, ghouls, scarecrows, whatever. It was Bishop behind it all. He's the one we need to bring to justice. Even if it is rough justice." He eases his Roscoe half out of his shoulder holster just to make his point.

OOC: I took the liberty of making INT (Idea) rolls for each of the investigators. Everyone passed, so I’m going to share the following:

1. One fact that can be gleaned from Sully’s research into the Bishops is that the residence that stands on the grounds of the cemetery is the oldest extant structure associated with the family. The home was built and occupied long before the graveyard went into business. The house has been home to several generations of the Bishop line.

2. Most would be aware that any manner of underground construction that was lawfully undertaken on Manhattan Island would have to disclosed to the City of New York and approved by zoning authorities.

"Whadda think, Sully?" grinned Jake. "Maybe a trip to City Hall, go through the zoning committee's archives. See if anyone filed plans for a mad scientist laboratory back in the day?"

Arthur laughed, a bit inappropriately given the circumstances.

"Imagine it: a cult of zombie raisers and witches and warlocks brought down by city records."

He slumped back in his seat. "Yes, I suppose we should look into that."

"I suppose that would be prudent. I can't help feeling that before this is all over, we'll be forced to go into that creepy old manse. God knows what we might find there."

Victoria Surrette, a displaced native of Lake Charles, Louisiana, is working the counter at the New York Office of Public Works and remembers Jake Morris when the investigators pay a visit. Having assisted him previously, the talkative clerk is willing to help again, though she arches an eyebrow when the detective explains that he needs to know of any underground construction that has taken place beneath the Stanton Street Cemetery. Holding up a hand, palm outward, Surrette says, ”I don’t wanna know. I don’t. Give me ten minutes.”

She returns earlier than that with a map and a typewritten letter, both of which she slides across the counter to Morris. ”So…this is a little weird. But in this city, what isn’t?”

“So, for a lotta years, the cemetery was linked to the Stanton Street sewer tunnel that runs east to west. But apparently, in the 1880s the Bishop family, who owns the graveyard, started complaining that the sewer was constantly backing up, even when it would rain just a moderate amount. Eventually, someone in the family took the city to court and the long and short of it is, that sewer tunnel got bricked up along with one south of it, along Rivington, and they’ve stayed that way ever since. Both stop at Goerck Street and don’t resume til Suffolk.”

She shrugs. ”East side of the cemetery is now serviced by the Sheriff Street sewer, west side by Pitt Street. Doesn’t look like the cemetery owners have thrown any fits since then.”

The letter, on city letterhead, describes the solution to the sewer problem Surrette described and has a date of October 4, 1882. The map shows the arrangement of the existing sewer lines in the neighborhood, illustrating the section of the Stanton Street line that is no longer in operation.

OOC: An image of the sewer map appears in its own, dedicated thread for ease of reference.

Sully is very polite, almost ingratiating: “Fascinating, but not what we are looking for. Is there a plan regarding subsurface construction by the property owner? Either renovation or original construction?”

Jake is not quite so quick to think this is not in the way of a clue. He speaks quietly to Sully as Miss Surrette looks again for documents.

"Seems to me these bricked up tunnels may be exactly what we hoped to find. They got them closed up by making bogus complaints to City Hall, and who knows what's been put in down there now? Look how long the tunnels are. Blocks and blocks. It's a space taller than the Empire Building laid on its side.

"Maybe there's some old manhole covers along Stanton Street. We can climb down inside and take a look see?"

"Sure, Jake, sure and we'll check it out. But I want to know if the first Bishops built anything on their own down there. We'll also want to calculate where the mansion stands in relation to these tunnels. And the mortuary.

Surrette departs momentarily, to check the existing records in regard to Sully’s inquiry. She returns in time to hear him and Jake Morris discussing the Bishop residence. ”It looks like in the 1890s the Bishop family registered with public works plans to expand the basement of the home that’s on the property,” she says, ”The proposed expansion would have gone over one of the old entrances to the vacant sewer line. The city ultimately approved the plan. They said that there wouldn’t be any structural or safety concerns with what the family requested.”

She shrugs. ”That’s it. All I could find. Other than letters from the Board of Public Health and the Gotham Funerary Board stating that the cemetery’s in good standing with them.”

OOC: What time of day is it? If it's anywhere near appropriate, Jake will invite Victoria to have a bite of lunch with them

The clerk quirks an eyebrow at Jake’s request, plainly suspicious that the detective may be in search of a favor, but she agrees with a smile and nod. ”The Olive Blue Lunchroom is a couple of blocks away. Their kitchen’s always good.”

Sully beams at Miss Surrette. "Splendid. And I insist it be my treat. I haven't been there in ages." He hopes he isn't stepping on any flirtation Jake is intending.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:29, Sun 07 Aug 2022.

Arthur, watching from the back, came up behind Sully and snapped his fingers in the air in front of him.

"If you're paying, I'm eating. I'll cover our next meal. Now, Ms. Surrette, what would the point of that expansion even be?"

Surrette glances back at the file. ”The reason the family gave to the city was a need for additional storage space. Said the home had been in the family’s possession since its construction and that they had accumulated a number of heirlooms that they wanted to retain.”

She shrugs. ”Ask me, sounds like they have a bunch of junk they need to sell or throw away. Rich people problems.”

She smiles at Sully. ”I appreciate that very much, sir. You can’t go wrong with their open faced turkey sandwich. It’s marvelous.”

---

The Olive Blue Lunchroom is a cozy, family run establishment that sits between a tailor’s shop and a bakery. The interior has a welcoming, home like atmosphere, the table and floors immaculately clean. The pleasing smell of cooking food hangs in the air. When the investigators and Miss Surrette arrive at the diner, the lunchtime rush has begun to lessen. A plump, gray haired woman greets the group warmly and escorts them to a corner table.

Quinn glances over the menu.

"I believe I'll have the tuna melt with cottage fries and a cup of tea."

Jake orders the open faced turkey sandwich on Victoria's suggestion and makes various flirty overtures, but he's not going to put on the full court press with the other guys right there. Between bites, which he tries to remember not to gobble down like he hasn't seen real food in a  week, he listens to her to her insights and nods.

They clearly need to investigate underground, but this is not the place or time to discuss that.

"So," he blurts out at last, "is there a Mr. Surrette? Other than you Dad, I mean." He blushes bright red even as he asks.

Victoria sets down her fork at Jake’s question, regarding him with a smile. ”Why, no Mr. Morris, there isn’t a Mr. Surrette. Just me and my cat Lola in a little flat in the Lower East. My parents live upstate in Utica.”

Still smiling, she takes a sip of her coffee. ”Okay, I have to ask. Why are you fellas so interested in that cemetery anyway? Place gives me the creeps.”

He gave Jake a sidelong glance, but said nothing of his overtures toward the young woman, eating politely while he listened. He was keen to ensure that nobody had slipped any peanut butter into his food.

"I'd give that place a wide berth if I were you, Miss Surrette," he said.

"The neighborhood too if you can manage it. We're in the employ of a private citizen looking into a bit of a missing persons type situation, and let's say that it seems there've been several in the vicinity. So we're interested in anything that is very unusual. And blocking off sewer entrances to build a bigger basement is at least a bit unusual."

”You don’t have to tell me twice, Professor,” Victoria replies, ”My mother didn’t raise any fools.”

“When I moved over there about two years ago, I made sure to make friends with some of the people in my building. More than one told me to stay off of Stanton Street and the area around the graveyard after sunset. Said people got held up around there…and worse. Every afternoon, I’m out of the office right at five and on the first subway back to Essex. I’m home long before dark.”

She shrugs. ”I’ve got my Dad’s old Ford, but I don’t drive it to work. I usually only take it out when I’m going to visit my parents.”

She pauses to take another sip of coffee, but stops as she brings the cup halfway to her lips. Her face suddenly goes pale. ”Wait. This is about the recent murders, isn’t it? I read the Tribune. A couple of girls right around my age were killed not long ago. That’s what you’re looking into, isn’t it? And you think it might involve the cemetery?”

He took another sip of his coffee and nodded solemnly.

"Might involve the cemetery, the mortuary, any buildings on the property. We're going to see what we can do to make sure this doesn't happen again, but it's been a little difficult to get information."

"Yes, Professor, and with a bit of luck, we'll come upon the right path forward shortly. It hasn't been easygoing, looking into this, even when we've learned a lot."

Arthur, for his part, had found it difficult to order poultry of any sort, or in fact any meat. He had ordered some eggs and potatoes, and some coffee.

Sully is quiet as he eats, listening to the others. He is curious about Arthur and the Prof's close inspection of their meals but asls for no explanations.

At length he pushes his empty plate aside and lights a cigarette, careful to expel the smoke away from Miss Surrette.

"So, Jake, as our experienced investigator. How do we get into this supposed catacomb beneath the Bishop establishment? Through the old, blocked sewers? Or over the fence and down the tunnel from the mausoleum? Or do we bid farewell to the idea of solving the mystery and go about our business?"

Jake's been attacking his open turkey sandwich and studiously avoiding Victoria's lively eyes since he blurted out his question about her married status. He's acutely aware of his disheveled state and his unshaved chin, his cheap clothes and his poor table manners, the dozen -- maybe fifteen -- years he has on her and his unlikely prospects. He's also curious that these things have never really bothered him before, but that the very presence of this lovely young woman has brought them all center stage into the bright lights. He wonders if he's becoming soft, a sissy. But the tilt of her chin, the kindness in her eyes, and the warmth of her smile all put him in mind of new possibilities.

When Sully speaks to him, he's a million miles away with vague daydreams of pushing a baby carriage in Central Park.

And then he's back. Bang. Back in the world where creepy old guys cut up pretty girls like this, and keep dead zombies in drawers to act as guards. And suddenly he's burning with rage at Bishop, and determined to take him down, no matter what the cost. It has to be done to protect lovely young women like Victoria Surrette. He may not be much in the way of husband material, but he's pretty good at handing out a big fat walloping when it's needed.

"Maybe we could open a few manholes on the streets where the sewer got shut off," he shrugs. "Doubt they bothered to brick them all up."

Then another thought strikes him that he likes.

"Or maybe Miss Surette can get us a detailed map of the sewers?" He looks at her now with a lopsided grin.

He nods as he listens to Jake's ideas, fixing his eyes on Miss Surrette to see if Jake's question would be answered and if she'd be able to provide such a document.

Arthur frowned a bit, then chuckled. "I don't...necessarily...want to go down into the muck, but it seems like the logical next step, doesn't it?"

”Yes, Miss Surrette probably can,” Victoria says with a smirk, ”So long as you fellas promise to be careful,” she continues, her expression turning serious, ”If these people are what you think they are, they’re not the sort to play around with. Find out what you need and get it to the police!”

“Meet me at five in front of Blancato’s corner store. It’s two blocks west of the Public Works office. I’ll get you all that I can turn up.”

"I think I'll go by a couple of pawn shops to look for some firearms. Chiefly, I think, a shotgun."

Jake offers to walk Victoria back to her Public Works office. On the way, he tries not to curse or spit. He tries to remember to walk standing upright rather than hunched over like a gorilla. He makes sure he walks between her and the curb. He will stiff-arm anybody who looks to be getting too close to her, and will generally behave in ways that show he likes her.

"See you at five, then," he says, holding his hat and twisting the brim as he speaks, the very picture of awkwardness.

"And maybe, when this is over, you might like to go to the picture show with me one evening? Or Coney Island?"

OOC: He will only say this if none of the others have come with them.

"I'll come with you, Sully. I figure that, uhh, a rifle wouldn't be too awful different from a camera, right?"

When he had the right angle to be seen by Jake, but not by Miss Surrette, Arthur threw Jake a wink.

He thought that, when this all was over, he ought to drop by Harper's to see that girl he was sweet on--well, after a bath and maybe some time spent in an analyst's office.

As he walked away, he chanced to ask the Professor under his breath: "Say...you don't suppose a chicken laid those eggs, do you?"

He was rubbing his chin, and his hand was shaking. It would have been funnier, probably, if Arthur hadn't been giving off the look of a man teetering on the edge of seeing his worldview crumble to pieces.

"I don't know, Art, I'm not very experienced with guns myself. But from what I've observed, a fellow has a better chance hitting something with a shotgun. It fires a bunch of bullets rather than just one, as I understand.

"Maybe we can get Jake to come along, if he's not...uhh...otherwise engaged." He smiles broadly, "How about you, Prof? Know anything about firearms?"

Sully lags back a bit, giving Jake some space to chat up the young woman, if he chooses.

"A chicken? Oh, no most certainly not. They appeared to me to be most likely duck eggs," he said thinking on his feet. He knew his comrade had an extreme aversion to chickens and didn't wish him to experience undue upset on account of such a silly bird.

"But perhaps I will join you both as you consider purchases of weapons for the purposes of defense. I don't know how well I'd fare with such, as I have little experience with them, but it couldn't hurt to look, could it?"

Jake catches up with the others, very tight-lipped about his conversation with Victoria.

When they start talking about buying weapons, he throws a bucket of cold water on their plans.

"You gentlemen may never have heard of The Sullivan Act," he speaks with a cigarette hanging on his lip, the smoke curling up into his eyes. "But to buy a firearm of any description in the city requires a permit issued by the police. And it takes time, believe me."

He lets that sink in a moment and then he grins.

"But we got plenty of time to go to Jersey. Just over the river. Different set of laws altogether. We can catch the commuter train to Newark, hit the pawn shops, and be back for tea time."

Despite the loophole of being able to travel out of state fairly easily from New York City, Jake advises against buying shotguns for the simple reason that they are very hard to hide.

"If we had a day or two, maybe we could cut a couple of blunderbusses down out of a double barrel, but we'd need hacksaws and vices. Not likely.

"But a couple of these babies," he holds up his 1911 Colt. "They will get the bad guy's attention, I can assure you."

He's actually hoping they find .45 revolvers. Plenty of stopping power and much more intuitive to use and reload.

"Clearly you know your business, Mr. Morris, and make a number of very sensible points. If I am to procure such a thing, I will certainly use your advice," he said respectfully.

Arthur scratched the back of his head.

"Yeah, you caught me Jake, I'm a bit clueless about all this gun stuff."

"But surely Jake, the Sullivan Act only restricts --ah, let me see if I can recall the exact language.-- 'firearms small enough to be concealed.' That's it. There was no intent to inhibit the sporting arms of gentlemen, such as shotguns. I did a story on the law's tenth anniversary and was fortunate enough to interview Bat Masterson, the former Wild West lawman and Tim Sullivan's friend, just before his death. Remarkable fellow.

"But if you think New Jersey is the place to go, I am quite agreeable."

Jake nods at Sully.

"Yeah, the Sullivan Act is about handguns, but you are sure enough going to get stopped by the cops parading through the streets with a shotgun or a rifle."

He scratches his chin.

"But maybe we carry them in a bag and don't take them out so's anyone can see until we're down the sewers. That would work."

Remembering the tenacious zombies of the evening before, he's thinking a double barrel scatter gun may be the best option himself.

Blancato’s Corner Store is quite busy at the five o’clock hour, with several customers entering and exiting the small grocery, picking up items for evening meal preparations, or patronizing the apparently popular deli counter.

Victoria Surrette awaits the investigators on the western side of the red brick building, a pair of folded papers in her hand, which she hands to Jake. ”I was writing and drawing as I could while helping customers,” she explains, ”but I think I was neat enough that you shouldn’t have any trouble reading.”

“I double checked, and I can’t tell you fellas if it’s an oversight on the part of the city, or if someone somewhere got their palm greased to look the other way, but there’s no documentation anywhere that shows that the underground access under the Bishop residence was ever sealed up when they expanded the basement. My guess is it’s still there. I’ve tried not to think too much about why anyone would want such an entrance inside their home.”

“The next closest way in is an old access that’s in the alley that runs between Stanton and Rivington. It’s a manhole that’s positioned just west of where Sheriff Street crosses. It’s definitely never been sealed up. Doesn’t look like it’s been used in years either, at least not by anyone on the city payroll. The cover’s made from cast iron, so it may take some doing to lift it off. You might need a pry bar.”

Sully tries to put the young woman's mind at rest: "Probably for smuggling purposes. I believe there was a lot of smuggling in that neighborhood in the good old days. Yes indeed."
This message was last edited by the player at 19:05, Thu 25 Aug 2022.

Victoria gives Sully a grateful smile. ”Right. Hadn’t thought of that. Who knows? They could have a still down in that basement of theirs, cooking up moonshine, then sneaking it out underground.”

She sighs. ”Based on what you suspect, I almost hope that’s all it turns out to be.”

She glances over at Jake and whispers something in his ear.


OOC: Let me know if there are any other preparations the investigators will be making. Otherwise, I’ll move things forward to evening. I will need to know whether the group plans to sneak in and explore Bishop House, or if they intend to use the alleyway access to enter the sewer directly.

I’m for the alley.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:27, Thu 01 Sept 2022.

OOC:

Alley-oop!
This message was last edited by the player at 00:26, Thu 01 Sept 2022.

OOC: Alley! If anything, I figure we might sneak into the Bishop house from the sewer, instead of the other way around. :)

Jake has a smile on his face as he and the others make their plans for later.

"They'll know we came in from the graveyard last night," he says as they assemble various weapons and a kit bag to haul the shotguns in.

"So it makes sense to go in another way. Plus it sounds like this underground operation is something they didn't want to be discovered. So I agree -- we go in through the manhole in the alley."

As part of their preparation, Jake will obtain a crowbar to lift up the edge of the heavy manhole cover -- and to act as a secondary lock pick, if needed.

He eschews a long gun, feeling more confident in his ability to hit targets with his trusty .45 Roscoe. He does load two spare clips for the pistol and drops them in his pocket. Along with the crowbar, he carries a flashlight and a switchblade knife in his trouser pocket. And, of course, a pack of Luckies and his well-used Zippo lighter.

He pretty much clanks when he walks.

Sully put his new pistol in his right hip pocket and a dozen or so shotgun shells in his right jacket pocket. In his left jacket pocket is his blackjack with a flashlight. As always, he has his notebook and lighter and cigarettes and such. And his flask, mustn't forget that.