Vincent Palmer's page

Check out my stats (mobster by profession).

I'm just behind you, Skip. Two pistols pointed in the proper direction.

"Wait for me!" Vincent holsters his pistols and follows up.

Vincent aims for any target that may appear.

"Don't worry I got you covered!"

Forward!

"No of course not!" Vincent vehemently denies, "And I don't like your tone."

Vincent turns around to look at Zoltok with the two automatic pistols in hand.

Vincent peers through the darkness, hoping to see something familiar.

"It could, by all accounts, come out in that vile looking dive 'cross the street, by my calculations" adds Skip nervously, still contemplating the quandary of the tracks.

"something still don't make sense here, but I can't put my finger on it"

"This place does not the feel of the typical illicit activities that happen in this city. Gives me the creeps. But we push on and see what we can find. Hold out the light and give me a clear line of fire."

I cannot emphasize that enough.

"No. But I am not taking any chances." Vincent pulls both automatics. "Move away from the line of fire, Skip."

"Anything happens, my name stays out of the paper. Capische?"

"Be my guest, Skip."

Vincent takes off his coat revealing the two shoulder-holstered automatics and starts rolling up his sleeves. "I'm ready for a little adventure. Who's with me?"

Vincent arrives at Zoltok's place at the appointed time. Guido stays outside the building to warn of possible police raids.

Inside...

"Well, what have you guys' been doing?"

For the Keeper's eyes only

For the Keeper

"I have to leave, too. And I'll see ya guys tomorrow."

"Guido, let's go to cityhall."

Vincent intends to ask his government contacts about the building.

"Nah. You can have all the cocaine."

"Whiskey?"

"Very far, indeed, if everyone forgot to bring a light."

"Guido, bring down a light."

Vincent pats for reassurance the twin guns he has on shoulder holsters.

"Zoltok, that there trapdoor is it part of your act?" Vincent whispers to Zoltok.

"Zoltok, you have weird tastes. Magical Penticles? What next?"

"Ingo, you need something to liberate your mind?"

"Guido, help the sailor on his way."

Parapsychologist, Tal?

OMG! It's Nicholas Cage!

"That'd be him." Vincent points to Zoltok.

"Just some weird stuff to impress the people from Chicago." Vincent tells Ingo.

Is this the time of the prohibition?

Vincent pulls out a small notebook. He copies the weird symbol he found. Something to regale his fellow mobsters with, he thought.

"Zoltok, you sure picked a weird place to set up shop."

"Guido, you okay there? You're very quiet."

The man responds, "A magician eh? Well I can tell you I heard this place was last rented by some sort of satanic cult. I can't tell you much about that, as they been gone for a few years now, but I heard they used to do some queer stuff in there. I bet your realtor didn't tell you about that."

"Bah, they're just a bunch of weirdoes in need of bullet right between the eyes."

PHD, I'll leave Guido's reactions to you. He's really not a cohort in the D&D sense of the word.

As you eye up the exterior of the old warehouse, the man standing near the bar calls out to you.

"So are y'all the folks that finally rented this place? I heard some strange stories about that place."

Pointing at Zoltok, "It's his place now."

"What sort strange stories have you heard? Murder?"

Vincent arrives on the scene on time as usual. He is accompanied by his everpresent bodyguard Guido. Vincent smoothens the wrinkles on his grey pinstripe suit and furtively looks around. He notes the people looking on and marks them. He tosses a question to Zoltok, "This your place?"