Spencer Reeves |
Good day, Spencer," Martin says when he picks up. "I think I might have located Quarrie. Interested in meeting up with me to see if we can have a chat with him?"
Spencer is rather perturbed by Jeans condition, and relieved to hear from his friend...
"I think that would be a pretty worthwhile idea, lets get underway at once. I could use the distraction"
Haita the Shepherd |
Victor scrawls down the info in his note pad. "Hmmm, fairly standard info here.. Perhaps I can find something in the occult section."
Victor will take a look around in whatever would pass for an occult section in the 1920s (assuming they exist back then).
Library Use: VS 75 1d100
The closest you can find is Anthropology and History and ultimately it proves fruitless. While you consider inquiring with the clerk it seems most likely they would simply direct you to the gossip section of the newspaper.
Aleister Crowley- "The Great Beast", "The Wickedest Man Alive"- is currently suing a number of British newspapers for profiting off stories of his excesses.Haita the Shepherd |
Not to hit you with the Setting Hammer but Gentlemen like Martin and Spencer wouldn't meet in a pub, unless they're slumming- in the 1920s, especially in Great Britain, class consciousness is very much observed. Working blokes go to pubs which tend to be rougher and rowdier, gentlemen drink in hotels or at restaurants where they can look their best and relax in a refined, agreeable atmosphere. Despite the fact that both Martin and Spencer are veterans and likely wouldn't feel too out of place at a pub, your educations, income and fine clothing would set you apart.
Martin awaits Spencer a few blocks from Mr. Quarrie's place of residence, taking a seat out of the cold with a cup of tea at the Continental Hotel bar and watching a brief flurry of snow blow through the streets outside. At Spencer's arrival, you motor the short distance to the address Martin found on Moreton Street- a two story townhouse, very similar in appearance to the others on the block.
I'm assuming you're ringing the doorbell?
Lucian McAllistair |
Lucian gives a disgusted look at the mess he's made on the canvas and shakes his head. "Tripe," he says derisively, fed up with his own inadequacies. Scattering his painting supplies across the first available surface, he digs about for his camera in the assorted bricabrac around his room. When he finds it, he has a flash - taking pictures of his attempted watercolors, then playing with the developing process to turn the failed attempt at painting into something more.
Going for Art: Photography here, 35% - 1d100 ⇒ 32
Lucian McAllistair |
Lucian finds some success salvaging the rest of the day's work in this way- the black and white exposures take on a haunting quality, resolving into photographs of a foggy swamp or lake.
Lucian gains a humorless smile as the photographs develop - even his failed paintings-turned-photographs are taking on the qualities of his dreams. As they dry, he calls a servant to find Victor - he's interested in where his friend's investigations took him, and for the other man's take on Lucian's day of work.
Haita the Shepherd |
"Well that rather scotches that idea, did he by chance leave any personal effects or the like prior to departure? Any idea if the neighbours are still the same?"
"No sir, nothing of the sort. I don't believe the neighborhood's turned over that much, perhaps someone knew him. Was Mr. Quarrie a friend of yours?"
Haita the Shepherd |
Mr. Williamson nods.
"That's a shame, I'm sorry he didn't leave a forwarding address."
Seeing that the address is a dead end, Martin and Spencer inquire with the neighbors- unfortunately, none of them recall precisely where Mr. Quarrie went. Simply "abroad". They can recall that he was an academic, but not which college he worked for- he was a quiet sort, not impolite of course, but he kept to himself.
Martin Poole |
New plan then. Martin is going to start asking around about Quarrie, starting with Dr. Trollope and then moving on to Scotland Yard. Maybe there'll be others who have heard mention of him. He's not quite ready to give up on the mystery. Perhaps Spencer will be able to accompany him.
Martin pulls out a cigar and lights it, gladly inhaling it's sweet warm smoke into his lungs on such a miserable, unsuccessful day. "Well," he says finally, "Perhaps there is more we can do. If we can't find Quarrie, perhaps we can find out if Alexander has mentioned him to anyone else. Shall we try to make an appointment with Dr. Trollope?"
Martin leads the way to a warmer location with a phone.
Lucian McAllistair |
Lucian and Victor
In young Mr. McAllistair's studio, the scarred Mr. Sixsmith looks over the photographs Lucian made to salvage his watercolors. The soft focus and exposure gives the impression of mist... dark shapes coalescing into marine shapes pulled from the depths of Victor's dreams.
Lucian stands, watching for Victor's reaction while smoking a cigarette. "Kind of a stroke of brilliance, the photos," Lucian says, half to himself. "Tried painting, but it just wasn't in me today - but the photos of the paintings, deliberately distorted in the development, makes for some interesting shapes, don't you think?" He sips from a cold cup of coffee that had been left aside during the creative process. "This play, it's been hell on the complexion, but I can't deny the creative impulses it's been stirring. What about you, Victor? How has the King been inspiring you?"
Victor Sixsmith |
Victor stands unmoving, eyes affixed to the photographs. In a soft dry tone, he responds "I don't think my complexion can get much worse Lucian, do you?" The carpenter shows Lucian half of a smirk and lets out a small chuckle before turning back to the photos.
"These shapes.. these silhouettes, are they something that you have seen before?
Haita the Shepherd |
"Ah, Doctor, thank you for taking my call. As you may have already heard, I, along with some colleagues, spoke with Mr. Roby and supported your conclusion. He did say a few things that I found curious, however, and I was hoping I might ask you about them."
"I'm glad at least you were able to get through to the Doctor- neither Grahame nor I could persuade him to see reason."
Dr. Trollope pauses for a moment."I'm not certain how much light I can shed on Alex's ravings- I'm sure Dr. Highsmith told you he is quite heavily medicated. Best not to trouble yourself overmuch now that he will remain where he belongs."
Lucian McAllistair |
"Not with my eyes, Victor, but I think they're the same place that I've been dreaming about... that you've been dreaming about. I can't help but suspect that my artwork is trying to show me Carcosa, to bring a little bit of that city to the waking world," says Lucian, his eyes fixed on his own photographs.
He suddenly shakes his head, as if to shake away the thought. "Pure conjecture, of course," he says laughingly. "Wouldn't want to show these downtown, I suspect - very limited patronage in these bland times for an artist that starts riots."
Martin Poole |
Martin shakes his head automatically and then remembers he's using a phone. "Much of what he said certainly seemed to be ravings but there were a few things of significance. Given that the there is still not a conviction for the murders Alex was accused of, I am reluctant to disregard it without investigation. For example, in your work with him, did he ever mention the name "Quarrie" to you?"
Haita the Shepherd |
"No, the name does not ring a bell. Mr. Poole, may I remind you that Dr. Highsmith asked you to get involved- not the police. If you've suspicions or evidence, I suggest you speak to the proper authorities. As it stands, Alex is where he belongs and his family would like to move past these tragic events.", Dr. Trollope responds, rather sternly.
Victor Sixsmith |
He suddenly shakes his head, as if to shake away the thought. "Pure conjecture, of course," he says laughingly. "Wouldn't want to show these downtown, I suspect - very limited patronage in these bland times for an artist that starts riots."
"No, I agree with you. It's like you've pulled these images straight from my dreams." Victor shakes his head and forces his attention back to Lucian.
"So, I was only able to find out some basic information on Aldebaran. Seems as though it's the right eye of Taurus."
Victor shrugs and passes Lucian his notebook.
"I don't know. It doesn't mean much to me, but I was wondering if we went to some sort of psychic or fortune teller, they may have some better idea of what it could mean.
What do you say, up for a trip downtown to see if we can find such a charlatan?"
From mid-northern latitudes (like, say, England), all these stars are visible with the naked eye with the exception of the Pleiades. Six of the seven stars of this last cluster, called the seven sisters in Greek Mythology, are about fourth magnitude and easy to see, but many more are visible with binoculars or a telescope. In northern latitudes Taurus rises in the east in October, peaks in the southern sky in early January, and disappers into the west at the end of March.
Haita the Shepherd |
Ready for a lark to take the edge off these last few grim days, Lucian and Victor leave Lucian's brownstone for a walk to Kensington to find a fortune teller. In the late afternoon, the weather has continued to grow colder and the duo bundle themselves up tightly for the punishing chill. They pass few other pedestrians; the majority likely remaining indoors to let the wind howl lonely through the grid of London streets.
A street or two away from the more fashionable boulevards, you find a promising little shop with the name "Madame Opal- Palm Reading, Tinctures and Divinations" written across a wooden sign resembling a hand held palm out. Beaded curtains hang in the windows, parted before a round table with a purple tablecloth. Naturally, a crystal ball sits atop the cloth along with a Tarot deck fanned just so.
It's between Gregory's Malt Shoppe and a shoe repair store. Across the street is a barber shop.
A bell rings when the duo opens the door, startling a large white cat sleeping on the counter... though not enough that it rises or gives you more than a glance. The faint scent of incense hangs in the air. A short woman, middle-aged and thin, wearing a long dress and a scarf around her brow emerges from the back room.
"Ahhh, a young seeker and a man with a tragic past! Come, come! Madame Opal shall consult the spirits on your behalf!"
She holds aside the curtain to the back room, theatrically beckoning you in.
Martin Poole |
Martin glances at Spencer and nods, trying to think of where to go from there. "Of course, anything that involves the police will be taken to them" he says into the phone. "But first I want to see if I can discern what's relevant and what's not. If you'd recognized a Mr. Malcolm Quarrie I'd at least have a chance of knowing if such a man existed outside of Alex's fevered imagination or not. Very well, I've taken enough of your time. Thank you for your assistance. If you do think of anything related to that name, please let me know."
Martin gives Dr. Trollope his contact information before ringing off.
Turning away from the phone, he sighs. "Well, that was of little help. Dr. Trollope seems to be running out of patience with me."
Lucian McAllistair |
Lucian can't help but have a small smirk on his face at the theatrics. He manages to keep his mouth shut as he follows Madame Opal's directions and enters her back room. He begins to open his coat, putting his gloves into his pockets. "Well, Madame, which one of us would you like to consult the spirits on first?," the young dilettante says, a tone of mirth creeping into his voice.
Haita the Shepherd |
Lucian can't help but have a small smirk on his face at the theatrics. He manages to keep his mouth shut as he follows Madame Opal's directions and enters her back room. He begins to open his coat, putting his gloves into his pockets. "Well, Madame, which one of us would you like to consult the spirits on first?," the young dilettante says, a tone of mirth creeping into his voice.
Whether Madame Opal picks up on your sardonic tone or simply chooses to ignore it is up for debate. You are both seated at another table with a lacy tablecloth and Madame Opal seats herself before a tapestry bearing the signs of the zodiac.
"Let us start with a palm reading, young seeker. Your hand, please."
Madame Opal takes your hand and starts tracing the lines in your palm with her fingernail.
"Yes, yes... I can see you are a man of leisure, a worldly young man of some means, yes? And a bachelor, no less, free from responsibility. Ah, but you see where the strikes across your lifeline- a youth of tragedy and disappointment haunt your steps. Your looks and charm have gotten you far, yes? You will find yourself traveling and the outcome of your journey is uncertain... it is wisdom and caution you must trust, seeker, not the strengths that have availed you thus far."
Madame Opal retracts her hands from yours and looks you in the eye.
"But such things always come at a cost."
Lucian McAllistair |
Lucian gives the woman a piercing look, trying to discern how much of her speech is observation and guesswork and how much is true arcana. He gives her a thin smile and removes his hand.
"Uncanny," he says simply, choosing to keep his thoughts to himself for the moment. "Your turn, Victor?," he asks his companion.
Haita the Shepherd |
"Wow, impressive." Victor can't contain the look of surprise on his face as he extends his arm to Madame Opal.
"Erm, pardon the mess.." Victor spreads his fingers to reveal a scarred palm.
The fortuneteller looks over Victor's scarred palm.
"Your past is marred by bitter tragedy and your future uncertain. You seek to... to bury that which is not understood... but escape is impossible..."She trails off, then blinks. When she speaks again, Madame Opal is more animated, more theatrical.
"Ahh... but the spirits reveal it now! A mysterious lady is in your future- perhaps wedding bells for the scarred gentleman? Yes, a lady with a giving heart and a magnificent dowry! The fifteenth of November shall be your lucky day, sir! I can see it! Trust in your intuition in your investments and be bold in your movements, for fate smiles upon you!"