Tatters of the King, Book 1: The Madman

Game Master James Keegan

The stars are right. Hastur's gaze gains brief focus upon the Earth, and things change.


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Martin shortly hears his front door bell sound shortly after he finishes dressing and eating his breakfast: his good friend Spencer has arrived for a social call and, most fortuitously, inquires about meeting Talbot once more about the play. Seeing as the author lives but a short distance from Mr. Poole in Belsize Park, the two resolve to walk the short distance after Martin gathers his heavy coat and hat.

It is through pure happenstance that the two gentlemen encounter the odd duo of the handsome young Mr. McAllistair and the scarred Mr. Sixsmith on the corner near Talbot's apartments. Both artists look rather haggard despite an outward appearance of otherwise good health. Exchanging pleasantries, the four realize they're headed for the very same place.

Talbot Estus lives in a three story townhouse with Michael Gillen on a tree lined Boulevard in Belsize. The gentlemen walk past an iron pedestrian gate and up the path past flanking shrubs to the porch outside and ring the bell for Mr. Estus. The snow flurry of earlier this morning has subsided, turning instead to the persistent cold drizzle that seems to soak perniciously past even your thick waterproofs, finding any exposed space at collar and cuff to slip through.

Shortly, you are greeted with the broad handsome face of Michael Gillen. He's dressed in an old fashioned shirt with a bowtie and weather appropriate sweater.

"Ah! Gentlemen!", he says,"Welcome, please do come in out of the damp and the cold."
He stands aside to allow you into the foyer and the adjacent mudroom, taking your coats and giving you a moment to remove your rain boots.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? Come to reminisce about the States, Martin?"


"Good morning, Michael. It is a damned poor week for weather!" He runs a hand through his damp hair in an effort to tidy it a little before stopping with a shrug.

"As a matter of fact, we're calling on Talbot today. I believe we're all interested in discussing the play. It's obviously had quite an effect on the four of us."

He made an effort to keep his voice cheerfully casual, not looking forward to trying to explain his concerns.


Mr. Gillen's jovial attitude falters somewhat at the mention of "The Queen and the Stranger".
"Ah, yes. The play. Something of a sore subject for Talbot at the moment- after Friday night's... unpleasantness, we were informed that the entire run of the show was to be cancelled. Talbot took it a bit hard, but he's resolved to channel his efforts back to his latest novel."

Michael looks a bit more reluctant than he did a moment ago.
"To be honest, I'd prefer not to broach the subject with him. His reaction may not be suitable for polite company..."

"Ah! Speaking of which, where are my manners? Please, have a seat by the fire and I'll put on some tea."

He leads you all to the well-appointed sitting room with a leather couch and two comfortable chairs. A fire is blazing in the hearth and several bookcases line the wall along with framed awards for some of Estus' earlier and more popular novels. On a side table are bottles of scotch, brandy and other liquers.

"Make yourselves comfortable, gentleman. I'll return shortly with Talbot and something to shake off the chill."


Male Dilletante | HP 3/3 | Ammo (+1) 3/3

Lucian almost immediately helps himself to a small glass of scotch. "Actually, gentlemen..." Lucian begins conspiratorially, "Victor and I have some news that may bring Talbot some small joy. We both undertook, in a fit of unplanned parallel creative ventures, works inspired by The Queen and the Stranger. Victor designed a whole set for it, I've been doing some paintings... We plan on renting a warehouse dockside, and using the whole place as a giant soundstage. Perhaps a revival, gentlemen?" Lucian sits back, smiling expectantly at his companion's responses.


They seem to be stunned into silence. Perhaps the flamboyant Talbot has something to add.

Footsteps on the stairs foretell Mr. Estus' arrival. A weary looking Talbot walks into the sitting room, a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He's dressed similarly to when you saw him at the opening.
"Ah, hello Martin.", he begins,"And Mr. Sixsmith, good to see you once again. Mr.... McAllistair and Mr. Reeves, was it? A pleasure."
He takes a seat in one of the armchairs.

"I'm sorry, Mr. McAllistair, but if there is to be a further production of my play it surely won't be at the Scala. Mr. Noble wouldn't hear of it after the violence on Friday night. New actors would be required, I believe the troupe is already shopping for other productions."
Estus scowls.
"I believe the Queen and the Stranger will remain a one-time event. I've realized that the world wasn't prepared for such a radical work. Perhaps they will be more receptive to The Yellow Sign when I complete it. I would dearly like to see your work, my good man. Perhaps a collaboration may be in order!"

Talbot has shifted in position, from slouching despondency while talking about the play to more energetic gestures while discussing his next work. He begins tapping a toe against the floor and gesturing while he speaks in short excitable bursts.
"Yes, an illustrated edition! A Carcosa built in miniature for guests to get lost in! How could my focus be so narrow! We must make them a part of the story, not merely an audience!"


Male Human

Victor's eyes widen at the mention of the new play "This Yellow Sign, is it a different play also set in Carcosa? If so, I think that it would be a simple thing to shift focus. Most of Lucian and I's work so far has been focused on Carcosa's landscape anyway. Is this new show based off of the same work or is it something you have written yourself?"


I had actually been waiting to see if any of the others wanted to say something before Talbot arrived.

Martin shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "The Yellow Sign, you say, Talbot? I think you're right...the world is not ready for such radical notions. To recreate the story so vividly might yet be far too much for the public. These are...difficult...times. The War is yet fresh and public sentiment is...fragile."

He's suddenly acutely aware of the delicacy of Talbot's emotional state and is strongly alarmed by Lucian and Victor's enthusiasm.


Michael Gillen returns with tea and several cups, along with milk and sugar and a small plate of biscuits and other refreshments. Seeing Talbot once again enervated, the editor takes a seat at the end of the couch closest to him.

"The Yellow Sign my friends, is my newest novel.", Estus begins, gesturing grandly with his hands,"I'm certain that I told you about The King in Yellow and it's profound effect on my work- the very inspiration for The Revenant King and The Queen and the Stranger. The Yellow Sign will be the ultimate expression of those themes, the crystallization of that manic beauty from The King in Yellow... so long as I can find the right words."

He scowls once more, crossing his legs in his chair.

"Perfection is elusive, but I'm on the right trail, I can tell..."


Martin pours a cup of tea, adds two lumps of sugar and a dab of milk and stirs it idly as he takes a biscuit.

"I wonder, Talbot, if you've given any thought to the greater meaning behind The King in Yellow. Not just in what the Stranger represents, or even the sign, but the import of inviting the King or calling on Carcosa? I've given much thought to it and I find myself thinking that perhaps it's a cautionary tale."

He takes a bite of the biscuit, carefully brushing away the crumbs from his beard.

Man, what I'd give for some tea and biscuits right now!


Talbot nods. As he speaks, he continues to gesture, the biscuit in his hand forgotten, used merely as an aid to his lecture.

"Indeed, my friend, but I would offer a differing opinion: Carcosa and the King, while horrifying, represent a change, a metamorphosis! Alien and terrible though it may be to our eyes, stuck as we are contemplating the horrors of the Great War and our seeming stall on becoming greater as a race, they nonetheless represent what may be a necessary evolution!"

Michael Gillen looks rather worried.
"Talbot,"he says calmly,"Please, you shouldn't get so excited."

"But shouldn't I?!", the author responds fervently,"My god, Michael, we're chasing nothing less than greatness! New experiences for psyches ravaged by war! People are hungry for this!"

Calmly, Michael says,"I don't doubt what you're striving for, Talbot, but others aren't so... enthusiastic. No one needs another... unpleasant outburst like on Friday."

Estus seems to deflate somewhat at that. The hand holding aloft the biscuit drops to perch in his lap.

"... Perhaps, Michael. Perhaps."


Just bumping this forward.


Male Dilletante | HP 3/3 | Ammo (+1) 3/3

"Perhaps, Michael, those outbursts are exactly what people need," Lucian says calmly, sipping from his scotch as he reaches for a biscuit. "Take my curious case, for example. My work has catapulted into the stratosphere since Friday. The stimulation provided by the play has truly elevated my art to a whole new level recently, one that I wouldn't give up for the world! Perhaps my arrival at this new place was a bit... unsettling..." Lucian falters, as though the reminder of his recent leave of his senses disarms him.

"But am I not better for it? Have I not begun on a path of superior creation because of it?" he finishes, sounding as much like he is trying to convince himself as he is the others.


"Ah! Ha ha ha!", laughs Estus, clapping his hands together,"Excellent, Mr. McAllistair! I am so thrilled that you've been inspired by my play! Perhaps it wasn't a loss at all then! Believe me, if you read The King in Yellow I'm certain you will find yourself as inspired as I have been!"

Talbot points a finger toward the ceiling and says excitedly.

"You must borrow it! Truly! Martin, I can guarantee you won't suffer a moment of writer's block after you've read de Castaigne's masterpiece! And Mr. Sixsmith, what better way to inform your set than the very source itself!"

Estus sets down his tea and seems ready to bound upstairs for the book.


Martin lifts a hand to forestall Talbot. "I am not sure that would be wise, my friend."

He turns to Lucian. "The effect of the play on you, Mr. McAllistair, is exactly what worries me. If it had only been you who were driven into such a...rage, it might be argued that you were simply overcome by a surge of creativity. Perhaps. But what of the others? An old woman was similarly overcome that night. Has she suddenly been besieged with an instinct to knit scarves calling on Carcosa?"

He shakes his head and sets his tea cup down. "There is an outside influence here that I believe we should be wary of. What is this influence? Where is it coming from? Rather than embrace your creative 'gifts' perhaps one should consider at what cost such inspiration comes?"

He stares morbidly into his cup of tea, wishing it were brandy or better yet, whiskey. "I very much fear the cost may be more than any of us can bear."


Male Human

Victor pours himself a cup of scotch and thinks about Martin's words. They have stirred something in him that he hasn't felt since he watched Estus's play. Doubt. The inspiration that his dreams had given him have lead to great success but there had always been that feeling that went along with it. It never felt quite right. That feeling had been gone recently.. no.. just concealed, he realized. Now it was back though, and suddenly, Victor could feel just how little he had slept these past few days.


Estus scowls, sitting once again.

"You don't understand, Martin!", he says,"I could no more stop thinking than I could stop following this creative drive! Believe me, sir, I had no desire to provoke the audience in that way... it... it must have just been that the play is so new and strange! Something they weren't used to! Riots like that have happened before!"

He continues, rising once more to pace before the fireplace.

"And if each of those people provoked to fervor is so inspired, how is that cause for alarm? I stand before you now unharmed! I read The King In Yellow over two years ago and while, yes, there were some unpleasant dreams in those first several days I have never run out of inspiration! Not a fallow day has gone by! It is a bizarre work, to be sure, but are not madness and genius entwined?"

The author shakes his head, hands clasped behind his back.

"Greatness always comes at a cost, my friend. Are we to recoil in fear or embrace progress and the strange courses it charts?"


I was waiting to give others time to respond but since it's been a couple of days...

Martin shakes his head. "The results speak for themselves, Talbot. Don't you see? Creativity, inspiration, the arts...these are meant to create, not destroy! I grant you, the way in which you reached the audience is evidence that there is something great and powerful to the story you had to tell but the mark of true greatness comes from that which inspires people to build. All I saw the other night was terror, rage and destruction. A desire for destruction with no thought for anything else."

He turns in his chair to look at Lucian and Victor. "You both say you were inspired by the play and that inspiration has driven you to expand upon Carcosa. On the surface, that sounds like creation but does it have anything new to offer? Or is it just more of the same? And what happens if your production only furthers the madness in your audience? What happens if they depart and seek to expand upon the same idea only to reach a greater audience in the same way?"

He gestures to Estus. "You yourself told us, Talbot, that when The King in Yellow was first published it led to insanity and mayhem. Dare we risk doing the same again?" He shakes his head again, sadly. "I do not wish to hold you back, my friend. Only to ask that you think seriously about the fruits of your labors."


Male Human

Spencer looks back up from his tea, he had been following the conversation dutifully, and thinking how it related to him being able to get the show going again, all the better to cement his relationship with Jean, however the overall tone of conversation is slightly...concerning.

"I had a mind to go and talk with Mr Noble over at the Scala, however the talk of this new production may well render that moot. I like your new suggestions and inspired creativity, but must side with Martin and implore you to consider caution first and foremost. Should you elicit a sense of strong reaction or outrage, who knows what some people might be driven to?"

"Yes perhaps a more reserved and refined play would be the most you could hope for, and leave the unadulterated texts for the dedicated afficionados"


"Come now, Martin, it was published during the Third Republic. France was already torn asunder by revolution at the time- surely the atmosphere of the country had something more to do with that than the book itself. I may have embellished certain aspects of its history at the reception. Allowed my writer's voice to intrude upon the facts..."

Estus scowls.

"'Reserved and refined'? More like 'censored', Mr. Reeves! If my play is to be performed, it must be performed as it was written or not at all! Let Mr. Noble stick to the safe and pedestrian if he must, for I believe Mr. McAllistair and Mr. Sixsmith can bring about something much finer!"

Mr. Gillen looks quite nervous watching Talbot speak.
"Lets keep a cool head, Talbot. It wouldn't do to be rude, now, Mr. Reeves was making a suggestion and I believe it has merit."

Talbot nods.

"My apologies, Mr. Reeves. But if the play itself cannot be brought to the audience, let the audience come to our vision of Carcosa! They will walk among the sets, feast their eyes upon Mr. McAllistair's paintings and they will leave inspired! If my words and direction have failed, their own experiences may not!"

He turns to the two artists.
"What do you say, gentlemen?"


Male Human

"I have to admit Talbot, your play has inspired me greatly recently, but after hearing what Martin had to say, I believe he is right. I've allowed myself to be pulled in by this play and..." Victor rubs his darkened eyes "I don't think I like where it has taken me." Victor places a scarred hand on Lucian's shoulder "I think, friend, that maybe we need to end our project. We can find, I'm sure, something a little safer to collaborate on."


Male Dilletante | HP 3/3 | Ammo (+1) 3/3

Lucian's mouth is set in a thin line as Victor speaks. "Perhaps the play won't go on as I'd h- expected, Estus. I can paint, but I'm not much of a builder." He finishes his scotch in one quick swallow. "That said, I'm still willing to see where the King may lead me creatively. I would love for a chance to read the book, if you wouldn't mind." He looks defiantly at the other men around him, though he looks a little wan, as though the days of sleeping poorly are catching up to him.


Estus nods.
"I shall gladly fetch it for you before your departure Mr. McAllistair. I'm sure you will find it as eye-opening as I have."

Is there anything else you guys wanted to discuss? The scene can continue as long as you're interested. Maybe Martin can bring some company when Dr. Highsmith arrives in ten days or so to follow up his unusual request?


As Talbot leaves the room for the book, Martin looks uncertainly at Lucian. He was concerned for the man, given how easily influenced he was by the work. Reading the book was likely to make things even worse.

On top of that, despite his concerns and reservations, Martin was curious about the book as well. He couldn't help himself; he was drawn to such writings by his own nature.

Out of a desire to think on other things, he turns to the others and broaches another subject.

"On another note, I received a very curious letter this morning. A Dr. Highsmith, who works at Saint Agnes' Asylum for the Deranged out in Herefordshire, has asked me to consult with him on a case. It seems that he was inspired to do so by one of my books. Can you imagine, Spencer? Quite extraordinary, I thought."

He chuckles and takes a sip from his tea and is disappointed to find that it has grown cold.


Male Human

"Now there's a subject I have quite the interest in, if you are looking for a companion for the task then look no further. I knew your books had some appeal, and you should not be surprised at the enthusiasm of your readership. Indeed, lets see what this Dr Highsmith is needing assistance on, it will provide a distraction from my day to day duties"


Martin nods. "You are quite welcome. He'll be in London on the 28th; we can meet with him together then."


Estus returns with a thin black octavo book, its front cover embossed with the yellow sign. He hands it to Lucian.
"Here you are, Mr. McAllistair. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have.", he says,"Well, Martin, what's this I hear about an asylum? Some research for your third work?"


Male Dilletante | HP 3/3 | Ammo (+1) 3/3

Lucian takes the book and puts it into his jacket pocket. "I will let you know my thoughts on it," Lucian says. He resumes listening intently to Martin's story about the asylum.


"I don't know much about it, to be honest. But if things go well, perhaps it would indeed make for some good research on my book. It'll certainly be useful to come into contact with a doctor who specializes in the insane and I find such men often have fascinating stories to tell."

Martin sets his tea cup down. "Well, I suppose I should be off. I don't want to presume on your hospitality too greatly, Talbot."


Male Human
Martin Poole wrote:
Martin sets his tea cup down. "Well, I suppose I should be off. I don't want to presume on your hospitality too greatly, Talbot."

"Yes, yes it is about that time I suppose. It has been a most interesting day and a most fascinating conversation; I do intend to observe developments with a keen interest indeed"

Spencer moves to depart with his good friend Martin.


Talbot and Michael accompany you all I'm assuming everyone's leaving to the front door with profuse thanks for stopping by. It's as chilly and wet in Belsize Park as it was when you arrived a scant hour or so ago. As usual, your umbrellas and waterproofs prove their worth on the walk to your vehicles.

Feel free to RP and discuss your plans. I've got a little more info for our afflicted artists. I'll note here that I've got some illustration work to do in my off hours, likely some extra work coming in at my day job and to top it all off- I'm moving at the end of the month. I will update as often as I can- just may be a little slower than usual. As a plus, most of the in-character stuff for you guys is improvised, so I'll be able to pick it up easily here and there.

When Lucian gets home and unwraps Estus' copy of The King in Yellow, he finds that the margins and inserted leaves are full of the author's labyrinthine interpretations. The play itself (from what you can skim) looks very similar to the ambiguous, dream-like play you saw on Friday. But there's something different about reading it on the page... it's just as potent and enthralling, but in a different and more personal way.
This edition is the English translation- it'll take about 10 days of study to fully immerse yourself in it. At the end of that time, we'll roll a sanity check. You will have time to socialize, draw, paint and develop while studying.

As weary as Victor and Lucian are, they both find the drive to create almost irresistible. Sleep is troublesome until you at least spend some time doodling on a napkin- just to get it out of your system. Finally you collapse into a fitful slumber... and another vivid dream.

Lucian:

Spoiler:
It’s cold outside and the bedroom window stands wide open. The curtains sigh into the room. You watch yourself sleeping, wrapping the sheets more tightly around your shoulders and you see they’re ripped, shredded into long streamers. You rise from
bed and stumble out of the room. Along unfamiliar corridors and across large chambers, you notice marble, carpet, pass glass, velvet hangings, brick and porcelain, oil, and gold wood. One of you is muttering: “It’s all a distraction. All a distraction.” There’s a mask on the wall and you take it up, put it on. You see a sword and pick it up. The robe of tattered cotton plays out behind you, lending you a dignity commensurate with your task. And then you see
someone in a side corridor watching you. Your doppelganger, eager and worried. Suddenly furious you hurry over, gripping the sword tightly: “You think you can stand in judgment over me? You think this has nothing to do with you?!” You wonder just what you’re capable of. “It is my crown! Mine!”

You're about to do something drastic to your double before you start awake, heart racing, your final exclamation still ringing in your ears. Sanity check, please.

Victor:

Spoiler:
Green and black light slants down through the canopy of leaves to the floor. You walk on soft moss that surrounds the trees. Old oaks make a city here, quiet but watchful. Every detail is in place. You imagine who you might meet here in this fairy tale forest, wild Cernunnos the hunter, the Faerie Queen with her donkeys, hobgoblins and sprites, the wolf at the banquet all tooth and cunning, and by thinking of them you bring them closer. Someone falls into step beside you and it’s another you imagined, the rogue, the highwayman, Wat or Will or one of those. He strides along, capable and sure, rolling on the balls of his feet with an easy gait — longbow across his back, dirk in his belt. He’s grinning. No he isn’t, you can’t keep up this conceit. The old forest is gone and, as it is, your companion becomes — who is it? If you’re Pilgrim then Faithful? Vain Confidence? But with this hesitation you’re alone and the welter of staging is replaced by bare boards, your plot by an empty page. Someone else directs your dream and you can’t escape this with the distractions of fairy tales and allegories. You’re walking to Him.

And as the floorboards begin to stretch into a white, glassy plain you open your eyes to find yourself staring at your ceiling, the dream still rattling in your brain. Please make a sanity check.


Male Human

"Well Martin old chap, not sure how happy Jean will be to hear that the play is no longer, at least as we know it. She seemed rather fixed on her acting activities, perhaps I can keep an ear out for any leading lady roles around the houses"

"Anyhow, what did you make of all that back there? Fascinating stuff, but have they run too far past the finish line do you think? And what of the good Doctor we shall be meeting with, any idea who the chap is and how he is viewed by the professional community?"


Martin raises an eyebrow at the mention of Jean. "Are things going well with the lady, then? Glad to hear it. If you like, I'll check and see if anyone I know has a role for her. I must say, I think she'd be better off with a different production."

He reaches up and tugs the collar of his coat closer to ward off the chill in the air. "I'm worried. It looks like Victor was seeing sense but Lucian...well, he was already more strongly affected by the play. He and Talbot seem quite determined to follow it to disaster."

Martin glances at his friend, trying to judge how he might react to what he was about to say. "There's something else I haven't told anyone. Frankly, I'm not sure how even you'll react to it..."


Male Human

"I think you are right, Jean may be better off with a more...ordinary...troupe, this one seems a little niche, and I would fear for her safety"

"What troubles you Martin, speak freely man, men such as us should have no fear of each others reactions and judgments"


Martin shrugs uncomfortably. "I spoke to a friend of mine -- a medium -- and asked her to consult with her...sources...about the King in Yellow and Carcosa. The response was, I confess, frightening. The spirits seem to think that Carcosa is real, somehow, and that performing the work or producing it for others to take part in may somehow bring it to life. It's difficult to conceive of but I get the sense, my friend, that we don't want this to happen."

He glances at Spencer to see how the man reacts.


Male Human

If you don't mind keeper, I'd like to roleplay with Lucian a bit before I follow up with the dream sequence.

Victor says his farewells to Spencer and Martin as they leave, but waits behind a moment to intercept Lucian.

"Lucian my friend, I hope that you aren't too upset by me withdrawing from our project. This King in Yellow has served as great inspiration, yes, but it has also had a profoundly negative impact on my psyche... and it seems to have affected you in a similar way. I am asking you Lucian, to very carefully consider whether to read that book. Talbot may be enjoying some success from that work right now, but at what cost? I will tell you in confidence Lucian, that while working with Talbot during the play, he had frequent mental break downs and fits. That is the path that we are heading down, I can see it in both of us."


Male Dilletante | HP 3/3 | Ammo (+1) 3/3

I sort of assumed that we were going to converse, but couldn't come up with how to start it - hence my delay, too.

Lucian gives a tired, wan smile. "Victor, I completely understand. But I feel what I have gained is immeasurable, and well worth the strain. Perhaps it's harder for you to understand, being a successful member of your profession, but for me to finally have created something worth mentioning?" He shakes his head. "I'm no fool, I've read my own reviews. They're unkind, but not unjust. I'll be interested to see how they take this turn of events."

His smile regains a little genuine mirth as he takes the book out. "Besides, my sycophancy has gained us something, has it not? Maybe Talbot can get a little rest now that we've gotten this book out of his mad little hands."

"As for me, I'll continue down this road for a little while, just to see the sights. But rest assured, I plan to be a tourist, not an inhabitant, of Carcosa. I am far too practical to be a tortured artist for very long - as we can see, it doesn't do any favors to my constitution."


Take all the time you want- the spoilered stuff is there for when you're ready for it.


Male Human

Spencer continues the drive in silence for a short while, clearly working over the points Martin has shared with him.

After the pregnant pause...

"Well thats certainly something Martin. I'm not sure I buy into seances and witchery, however that isn't to say that Carcosa couldn't be a metaphor for some dark place in the colonies. Perhaps the point is that by acting out the play the actors are unwittingly carrying out some kind of lost pagan ceremony? Whilst I don't believe in all that superstition, I can't deny that there is a lot unexplained about the Voodoo men of Ghana and the Sufis of India, and whilst I think it is mostly in the mind of the believer, there are effects notwithstanding... we have our suspicions about this work, perhaps we aught tread carefully indeed and observe it from a safe vantage?"


Martin nods. "Perfectly understandable, chap. Such things are not easy for many to deal with and a certain...shared experience is often required. At any rate, we are agreed. We will have to approach further efforts to promote the work with considerable caution."

I'm pretty comfortable with moving on to whatever events transpire over the next few days at this point.


Haven't forgotten about you guys, just busy at the moment. Once everyone is agreed that we want to move on I'll try to put something together- MP: checking on Ms. Winthrop/consulting Mr. Snow, LM- Reading the book/painting and drawing, VS- Suspending creative output/seeing therapist, SR- Courting the young actress, taking care of business. Sound right?


Haita the Shepherd wrote:
Haven't forgotten about you guys, just busy at the moment. Once everyone is agreed that we want to move on I'll try to put something together- MP: checking on Ms. Winthrop/consulting Mr. Snow, LM- Reading the book/painting and drawing, VS- Suspending creative output/seeing therapist, SR- Courting the young actress, taking care of business. Sound right?

Sounds good! No hurry, we know you've got a lot on your plate right now.


Male Human
Haita the Shepherd wrote:
SR- Courting the young actress, taking care of business. Sound right?

Indeed :) Happy to crack on when others are ready


Male Human

Sounds right for Victor, but I'll also be checking in on Lucian every couple of day or so.


Just a small bump to keep the thread on our radar.


Male Human
Martin Poole wrote:
Just a small bump to keep the thread on our radar.

Ping!


Male Dilletante | HP 3/3 | Ammo (+1) 3/3

Glad to see this game still alive. After a busy weekend, time to keep things moving for Lucian...

Spoiler:
Quote:

It’s cold outside and the bedroom window stands wide open. The curtains sigh into the room. You watch yourself sleeping, wrapping the sheets more tightly around your shoulders and you see they’re ripped, shredded into long streamers. You rise from

bed and stumble out of the room. Along unfamiliar corridors and across large chambers, you notice marble, carpet, pass glass, velvet hangings, brick and porcelain, oil, and gold wood. One of you is muttering: “It’s all a distraction. All a distraction.” There’s a mask on the wall and you take it up, put it on. You see a sword and pick it up. The robe of tattered cotton plays out behind you, lending you a dignity commensurate with your task. And then you see
someone in a side corridor watching you. Your doppelganger, eager and worried. Suddenly furious you hurry over, gripping the sword tightly: “You think you can stand in judgment over me? You think this has nothing to do with you?!” You wonder just what you’re capable of. “It is my crown! Mine!”

You're about to do something drastic to your double before you start awake, heart racing, your final exclamation still ringing in your ears.

Sanity check - 1d100 ⇒ 11

"Gods, that would give Freud something to talk about," Lucian mutters to himself. He sits up, rubbing his face with his hands. He rises, not willing to return to sleep, and sets up a canvas. He begins to recreate the mask and sword from the dream to the best of his memory, the tattered cotton robe streaming around a human form. He spends an inordinate amount of time trying to recreate the ornate decorations of the unfamiliar corridor. At the end, however, he sets aside his palette, unwilling to finish the last detail - the eyes of the mask are left blank and unfinished. He can see his own eyes, where they would fit behind the mask, but refuses to finish.

Looking over his handiwork, he smiles thinly. "Something to show Victor, at least," he says to himself. He goes off to make a pot of coffee and begin reading Talbot's book.


Monday October 20th, 1928

Spencer
Spencer arrives at the office after his brisk morning exercise (indoors, naturally, since the weather remains frightfully cold for autumn) to find a letter arrived for him. Weeks previously, Mr. Reeves had assisted one of his partners across the pond by discreetly storing some cargo following word that the ship would be seized on arrival on the East coast of the States. Since Spencer owns several nice, private warehouses in the East End where folk mind their own business, it was little trouble holding the cargo for him until it could be picked up. The man's gratitude was effusive after the goods were placed on a different ship and as a token of his thanks, he's sent the urbane criminal a pair of tickets to the London Opera- Verdi's Otello, featuring the renowned tenor Antonin Trantoul of Milan's La Scala in the title role. Excellent seats as well. Perhaps the lovely Ms. Hewart could be persuaded to join him on Wednesday evening for the show...

Lucian
After his fitful slumber, Lucian once again awakens charged with creative energy. Turning on his desk lamp once more, he dampens and stretches his paper and begins to lay in his washes. It is only after hours of intense labor that he looks up to note the sun slanting in through windows onto one of the best watercolors he's ever done: a city by a lake, its reflection decadent like a window into the distant future. Despite his weariness, Lucian cannot help but feel a sense of pride.

What will they say about this at the salon?

Martin
Resolving to continue his consultations into the mysterious effects of the Yellow Sign, Martin rings the parapsychologist Mr. Grayson Snow at his office on Liverpool Street. Mr. Snow publishes a small journal for other ghost hunters and horror story enthusiasts called The Nightingale and it is through that small publication that you made his acquaintance. Mr. Snow's current professional goal is investigating and cataloguing 50 Berkeley Square, "The Most Haunted House in London" though he often looks into other sites around the city and the countryside. While an adventurous man, Mr. Snow has little money and his field isn't exactly respected. Most people know him as a publisher and freelance editor first and foremost.

The connection on his line is poor, but you can hear his deep resonant voice on the other end.
"Grayson Snow speaking, how can I help you?", comes his voice, as if speaking across a great distance.

Victor
The scarred stage carpenter struggles through another night of disturbing dreams, resisting the urge to rise and begin sketching or to descend to his wood shop. What sleep he receives is fleeting- not so much plagued by further visions, but its as if his very brain is afire with the need to build something, anything. After the long struggle, the break of dawn is a welcome relief, even as exhausted as he is. After breakfast, Victor reads his newspaper to calm himself.. but ultimately nods off in his chair.

Only to be awakened at 1 in the afternoon by a ring of his doorbell. Shaking the sleep from his head, Victor descends to his front door to find young Walter Paige standing attentively, still in his University uniform.
"Hello, Victor.", says Walter,"I've come to return your copy of Craig's collected essays... say, are you all right? You look... erm, peaked."

Sorry for the wait; hopefully this will be enough to start us off for a little while.


"Ah yes, Grayson. This is Martin Poole ringing. How do you do? I'm calling to see if you'd be interested in meeting with me. I've had an interesting few days and I thought we might discuss them, see if you have any advice or suggestions to offer, given your areas of expertise."

Martin offers to treat Grayson to dinner and/or drinks in return for his valuable time.


Male Human

After his mornings normal routine of getting smartly dressed and well groomed, Spencer arranges for flowers to be delivered to the Hewarts addressed to Jean, with an accompanying warm note asking her to join him Wednesday evening to see Otello.

"I wouldn't like to over play my hand with the lady, but a faint heart never won a fair maiden" he remarks to himself.


Male Dilletante | HP 3/3 | Ammo (+1) 3/3

Lucian gathers the best of his paintings from the past few days and heads out to the salon. A gentleman he may be, but not yet above a little bit of gloating.

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