Masks of Nyarlathotep (Inactive)

Game Master Ryuko

Jake Westfield got out of the cab in the drizzle, leaned back and paid the cabbie.
"Thanks Jake!" The cabbie called back, thick with the Bronx accent. Jake gave his familiar grin as he waived goodbye.
He thought about lighting up a Camel, but the shop was right there. He hurried to the door and pushed through, the bell ringing tinnily in the dim light.
He stopped, astonished at what he saw. It was perfect! The shelves of exotic things from many cultures, positively dripping with ancient days long past; properly lit you could just taste the dust through the screen! Absently, he framed his hands and looked through them, thinking about how he would frame the shot.
Then an elderly man in tweed shuffled in from the back somewhere and looked myopically towards him. He hurried forward, hand out.
"Evening, gent! Name's Jake Wesfield, here for my appointment with Roderick Farshaw. I hope I'm not too early." He gave him his best grin, hoping he'd be recognized.

Dotting

The elderly gent smiles and says in a thick New York accent, "I doubt it, man spends half his days looking around the shops. Haven't seen him today but I'm sure he will be along shortly." The man looks over his small spectacles, looking for a moment quite weaselish as he eyes you. "You're that movie fellow! Jake something. I saw you in the nickel theatre a month or two ago."

Dot. Didn't realize the game had started

Jake gives him his famous grin.
"That would have been 'Blood on the Range'; always happy to meet a fan!"
He shakes the old man's hand vigourously.
"Hope Mr. Farshaw shows pretty soon, I can't hang around all day you know. Anyway, maybe you can help. Friend of mine, Jackson Elias, has a book out about the Thuggee of India. I was hoping to see some clothing, artwork, relics, whatever of the area. I need to get a sense of the place visually, on a human scale; not like the tourist traps."
He looks around the shop expectantly.

*Click, click*

The regular soft click of nickel upon concrete side-walk, then the tinkle of the shop bell. Roderick enters the shop, subtly ensuring that the light favours his right side. He half looks back to Chang, their business not concluded as Falshaw doesn't carry that kind of money on him.

Scanning the shop Roderick sees Jake, he moves forward with an easy smile but long strides before putting his hand out. "Mr Westfield, good to see you again. I apologise profusely for being late."

"Mr Westfield, may I introduce you to Mr Caine, an Oriental expert, specialising in Japanese culture. And Mr Westfield, he's a man of style and taste." Rod nods as his eloquent voice tries to smooth the waters of his poor timekeeping.

"Ahh yes this bit of wood is a practice sword known as a Bokken, in my homeland carrying a sword was not so frowned upon as it is here in the new West."

"Of course back in London some fellows have sword canes, in my fathers time it was quite fashionable to duel or fend off blaggards." Rod winks slyly; "But now it is more civilised."

"That is a fine piece, willow?" he asks.

At the bell, Jake turns; idly curious. At Farshaw's words, he brightens and takes his hand in a firm shake.
"Mister Farshaw! We meet at last! And Mister Cain, how do you do?"
At the sword cane comment, Jake glances down at his own cane involuntarily. "Yes, unneccessary now of course."
"But tell me, I'm not interrupting am I?"

Rod raises an eyebrow; "Of course not, dear boy, it's a privilege to meet you. We were just talking shop, you know procuring oddities." Rod smiles "How have you being doing? I heard that your leading lady was awfully pretty."

"I have heard some tales of movies and such, though sometimes theater is something to behold."

"The sword cane sounds intersting and perhaps we shall find such an oddity, Roderick an I were discussing selling puzzle boxes to the wealthy at a pricce far above costs."

"Though I have little interest in profit, the puzzle boxes are a favorite of mine, shall we have some tea, I have some variety of flavors upon my person."

His lip quivering, Rod blusters. "Not that I rip people off, no, no, no I do a good service and will have to ship them across the Atlantic."

He taps his cane on the ground nervously; "Yes, tea, tea sounds like a very good idea. Oh, absolutely top-hole, you have your own." Rod moves towards the counter. 'What's he saying, Mr Westfield will think me an absolute blaggard. And I won't be able to make a profit from him, or only a miserly one at that.'

"I fear Roderick is correct as all know shipping cross the atlantic is lucrativly expensive, perhaps something much smaller than the puzzle boxes or utilize the space within the boxes to hold smaller items, that then might help defray costs."

"Though I speak out of turn in matters of business."
gives a nod to Rod...

Rod gently claps Chang on the shoulder; "No, don't worry about it old boy. Certainly I wasn't try to imply anything of the sort, you manners are impeccable as we have come to expect from the Orient."

"We must catch up." Roderick escorts everyone through to the back, around a beautifully polished table of a light soft wood. Placed upon it are coasters and a tray. Picking up a freshly boiled kettle he offers it to Chang, whilst placing an adequate Japanese tea set upon the table.

"Would you care to do the honours?" The English gentleman offers out of courtesy.

"Oh, good then. I accept of course." Jake accepted with courtesy, even though he was more of a coffee man. He laid his cane aside as he took the cup.
"I don't know what the counter man told you, but I'm looking for Indian designs and artifacts. A friend of mine, Jackson Elias, actually managed to infiltrate the Thuggee cult in India, and his book will make a dandy movie!" He grins with enthusiasm.
"Action! Danger! Intrigue! Swashbuckling action! Oh I said that twice. Well it's true!" He swings his hands through the air for emphasis, barely managing no to spill his tea.

"Indeed the tea ceremony is one that is very relaxing, unfortunately I am skilled enough to partake in such a ceremony, but would likely ruin the actual event in some way making a mistake in some part of it."

"I seem often confused on the topic of indians in this country."

"Action, Danger, Intrigue and swashbuckling, mayhap those may happen in life, but usually not during tea."

surpresses a quiet chuckle.....

Rod watches as the tea brews; with a curt nod at the actors exuberance. "Oh, the East Indies, well they are certainly in a Golden Era once more (under our rule). That sounds an incredible tale, I am sure you will do it justice."

Gently running a gloved finger with the grain of the table; "I do have a friend over there, a Rajah involved with a Darjeeling consortium. Thus I do have a couple of pieces in London."

"I could source some over here too, if you need it soon." Rod queries.

"Is that what you are doing at the moment? Making a movie?" Rod asks hopeful. "Or are you here socialising?"

"Thank you! Oh, I am only doing some pre-production planning, getting things like locations, costuming, and other production details penciled in. That way we get a ballpark figure of how much we need before we approach the money men for funding. Before we do that I need to consult with Jackson, see what he'd like."

"Of course, having been there he will be an expert. I am sure we can find some genuine items." he adds pretending to be knowledgable about the Movie Industry; "That also have strong filmographic presence and a visceral resonance with the watcher."

Rod takes a small sip of tea, letting the flavour suffuse his mouth. "This is rather nice, a pity as you say Chang that we had not the time for the ceremony."

"I have learned in this place in order to partake in ceremony, I must either be alone or in the place known as China Town."

"How do you like the flavor of this tea?"

"It is known as Dragon's eye Oolong."

"I have seen very few movies, the one I have seen seemed at least a bit unbelievable."

Slowly it grows nearer to the arranged meeting time with Jackson Elias.

At what time will you be meeting him? The radiogram asks 8 but you may arrive early or late.

"It seems a shame to not get to spend more time with you gentlemen, I came here seeking my father, I found him and now he has passed on so my business in New York is nearly done, though nothing tugs at me to return to Japan."

"Well, then come with me and Mr Westfield" he turns to Jake to confirm this; "Then we can got out to meet Mr Elias about the props and his needs for the production. There should be a couple of women, too. And we could go to out for a few cocktails later?"

Jake looks at his watch.
"Another 15 minutes and we should go. I'm sure he'd love to meet you all and nothing against your tea mister Caine, but cocktails would hit the spot!"

Jake will aim for 8 on the nose.

"Indeed!"

"Of course, we should not be late. That isn't done. Feel free to use my facilities if you wish to freshen up." Roderick gestures to the WC and bathroom. Then nips of just to freshen up and look his best.

Isabella fresh off a thrilling flight through the wind shears of the coast, lands just in time to freshen up, and arrive precisely 8 minutes late...as any proper lady would.

A screeching of tyres upon wet asphalt is heard, followed by muffled curses and a loud door clap. Moments later, a smartly dressed, slightly balding man enters the room, brushing water droplets off his striped suit.
"Oh please do excuse me, I must be late... I came to see Mr. Elias who should be staying in this hotel, is he around?"
As he waits for an answer, he absent-mindedly runs his palm over his moist hair, combing it over.

"Look it rains."

"Ahhh, the cleansing precipitation that I know so well." He waxes loquaciously; "At least it'll in all probability cleanse the streets."

"Of whom does he speak?"

As Jake Westfield and Co arrive the hotel clerks are easily able to direct you to the correct room. Seymour arrives shortly thereafter and shortly after that comes Isabelle. Upon knocking at the door you hear no answer, and the hall is strangely quiet.

Listen (25+%) 25%

1d100 ⇒ 36

Roderick listens intently before lowering his voice to a whisper; "Golly, this is mighty curious. He should be here?"

Roderick looks down the corridor to either end, just in case he can see the heels of anyone who has visited.

Listen 1d100 ⇒ 92

Jake strides on to the door with the proper room number, heedless of Mister Farshaw's caution.
"Pshaw. If you let 'em, a writer will get up at the crack of noon."
He pounds at the door.
"Jackson! I hope you're dressed to receive, because we're coming in!" He grins and winks at Miss Fitzsimmon before trying the door.

As soon as Jake tries the door he finds that it's quite firmly locked, and there is no further noise from beyond the door. This is... certainly not normal for Jackson Elias.

It's 8 pm, likely considerably later than one would stay asleep.

Rod looks concerned at this turn of events; 'Surely he should be around if he is to receive visitors? Unless his ablutions have run over-long; but then he would have left notice or be making some sound?'

Eyebrows furrowing he turns to the others, trying to make out their thoughts. "I'll go down to the front desk, see if they have a key?" he asks of the others in a concerned fashion.

Chang looks over the door.....

"Should it be nudged open?"

Roderick looks at the door, a worried expression upon his face. "We would look foolish if he is fine, but...." He bites his lip, sidling slightly away from the door.

With no one else acting Chang performs a double horizontal stomp kick to the door close the the knob.

At the crunch against the door Roderick coughs gently, ignoring any possible wrong-doings with an English reserve.

Jake jerks back as Caine boots the door in. He looks at the chinaman with new respect.
"Nicely done. If you have a hankering to be a stuntman at all, look me up."
Pressing through the door, Jack raises his voice.
"Jackson. Jackson! Get up boy, it's happy hour!"

The door is cheap and succumbs easily to Caine's punishing kick. Within is a scene from a horrorshow. Two black men stand above the bed in the cozy room, which has been covered in blood, coming likely from the room's occupant, Jackson Elias, whose body lays upon the bed, disemboweled. The men wear tattered suits and a headband which is made of some sort of fur, sporting a strange symbol in a red ink upon the forehead, with a strip of what looks to be flayed muscle hanging from it across the face and partway down the men's chests. Both men carry strange curved knives still wet with blood and they turn at your approach away from searching through Jackson's things, which have already been strewn across the floor. "Daniel. Kupunguza kasi yao!" One of them says while gesturing wildly toward the door. He then grabs the other by the collar and pushes him toward the open window. "Nje ya dirisha, na gari."

Those of you who knew Jackson Elias personally make a SAN check.

Chang attempts to use his cane to disarm the man facing them with a knife.....

Bokken attack (50%)
1d100 ⇒ 79

San check: 1d100 ⇒ 14

Shocked at the bloody horror, Jakes face turns white as a sheet as he just says; "...Jackson?..."

Roderick looks away as the door breaks, once the others start to move or stare on. Roderick bustles towards the doorway peering through the portal upon the bloody vista, his gorge rises and his knees start to buckle only by placing a hand upon the doors architraves can he still stand.

"Crikey..." he splutters. 'Daniel?...Some sort of foreign gibber-jabber?' Despite his astonishment he can just about process thoughts.

Regaining his senses; Roderick stumbles into the room. "They are getting away..." he see Chang swing wildly at them with his wooden sword. "Good man." 'If an unlucky shot' Roderick looks around the room, realising that the men are likely to escape.

"I am thankful my uncles were police in Shanghi, Gentlemen take note of these men, any detail may help us find them and who they work for."

As Chang leaps into the room and misses with his bokken, the third man, a white with a crazed look in his eyes, comes from unseen behind the door, attempting to strike at the chinese man attacking his allies.

Knife Attack:1d100 ⇒ 55

Luckily he is unskilled with the curved knife and his strike goes wild. Meanwhile the leading man reaches the window and climbs out onto the fire escape, beginning to descend quickly, as the other readies himself at the open window for any enemies to follow.