CALL OF CTHULU- THE MASKS OF NYARLHOTEP (Inactive)

Game Master Daniel Penfold 351

Jake shells out $20 to Mr. Harrison as a down payment, then he fixes him with a serious expression.
"Ah, are you 'well-heeled', so to speak?" He asked, indicating that the detective should be packing a gun. "These guys... they are pretty serious, if what we're thinking is true."

Clearly, the Reading of the Will at Mr. Ramsey's office should be our first task next day.

After Harrison departs, Sylvia conceals a yawn. "I don't think there's much else we can do today, and I don't know about you but I'm tired. Let's meet up tomorrow to talk to Mr. Ramsey and Mr. Kensington, see what they have to say. Otherwise I think we just have to wait for Mr. Harrison to report back and for Ms. Shosenburg to arrange a visit with Hilton Adams."

"Sounds like a plan to me. Will reading first, I guess."

"Yeah. Sounds Okay to me. See you guys in the morning".

GM:

Later that evening

Barney, you head back into Harlem. There is rain coming down in buckets. The streets are mainly empty. As you get close to Ju Ju House you find a low wall to duck behind. It gets later and later. At about midnight you see two people carrying a large crate which they carry inside the shop. A few moments later they come back out and seem to be standing guard outside the front door.

At around 1pm groups of people who you can only assume are cultists start to arrive, they seem to be a mixture of wealthy and impoverished individuals, both black and white. Given the numbers that are arriving and the size of the shop you realise there must be an additional room either upstairs or perhaps in a basement or cellar.

Can you make a Listen check please

Going to proceed with the reading of the will.

Monday the 19th is a cold but fine morning. Carlton Ramsay's office is in Harlem, on 124th Street and Lenox Avenue. The office is small and simply decorated. Ramsay welcomes you in and pours each of you a glass of bootleg bourbon.

- Elias also left a note to be read to you in the event of his death.

Letter is in the documents folder

Listen (34%) 1d100 ⇒ 91

Barney simply takes notes and brief descriptions of everyone he can see. He silently hums to himself to take his mind off wanting a drink.

He tells everyone what he observed when he sees them before the reading of the will.

Sorry about the delay. Having some internet issues. You can feel free to make rolls for Barney to move things along... or just assume he will fail them.

Sylvia can't help but chuckle at the letter Jackson left. "He just couldn't help himself. Had to poke fun at our lack of writing ability from beyond the grave." More serious now, she looks at the others. "I'd already taken a leave of absence from the hospital to investigate Jackson's death. I'm willing to extend it indefinitely to help fulfill his last request."

"Thank you Mr. Ramsay. Were there any other notes left for us here, or are the rest of them with Mr. Kensington?"

Back to the night before

Barney, just for a moment in your night time vigil you hear what sounds like low chanting. There is also the flickering light of candles or perhaps lanterns. After about an hour the majority of the people inside leave and four guards remain, going inside the shop and locking the door.

Jake just smiled sadly at the letter after he read it. He passed it on and started to reach for his pocket.
Resisting the impulse to shake out another cigarette, he looked at Mr. Kensington as Sylvia asked her question.

"That was the only documentation Elias gave me, but its not unreasonable that he wrote to Mr Kensington, he was Jackson's agent after all."

After the reading Barney calls the others together and tells them what he discovered.

"Nothing good is going on there. I'm thinking we might have to rely on more forceful methods to ferret out what we need. Let's see what the PI comes up with, but I think evil is being done there, and the longer we wait the worse things could get".

Do you want to head over and see Kensington?

"Thanks again Mr. Ramsay. We'll be sure to talk with Mr. Kensington."

At Barney's report Sylvia's face grows troubled. "I hope Mr. Harrison is alright. From what you've discovered it seems the death cult may be operating out of the Ju Ju House. If they discover he's watching them..." The image of Jackson's mutilated body once again flashes through her mind.

Jake warned him, and he's a professional. He should be fine.

Sylvia had enough deaths on her conscience. You couldn't become a doctor without nights lying awake thinking of those you couldn't save. She didn't want to add another, but Harrison was their best chance of getting the information they needed to successfully infiltrate the Ju Ju House.

Please let him be fine.

"Let's gather as much information as we can. Then I guess we'll see if any of us have a talent for breaking and entering."

Voting to visit Kensington.

The offices of Prospero House are located on Lexington Avenue, near 35th street. You are greeted by the secretary who leads you in to Kensington's Office. After greeting you and closing the door, Kensington talks to you earnestly

That was the last time I saw him."

Documents folder updated.

Is there anything you want to ask Kensington?

Jake frowned.
"The Carlyle Expedition? Did he explain what he was thinking? I had thought all the principles had been accounted for." Jake asked aloud.

"He seemed to think that the official reports were all a lie, that somehow the members of the expedition had faked their deaths. Perhaps Carylyle's sister Erica may know more."

Sylvia reads Jackson's notes in growing horror. The last set in particular does seem to indicate a fragmenting mind. Oh Jackson...what did you get yourself into?

"I definitely think we need to talk to Ms. Carlyle. Jackson mentioned books in Carlyle's safe, and something about a psychoanalyst he may have been seeing. Perhaps she would know more." She looks up from the notes. "Mr. Kensington, are you at all acquainted with Ms. Carlyle, or have any idea of how we could get in touch with her?"

"I'm afraid I'm not acquainted with her. I believe she lives somewhere in Westchester. She's often in the society pages."

What would you like to do next?

Jake looks through the telephone directory to see if he can find a phone number for Miss Erica Carlyle.
INT check (50%): 1d100 ⇒ 37

Jake, you find a telephone number for Miss Carlyle's representative a Bradley Grey.

Jake calls up Bradley Grey, introduces himself as Jake Westfied, of Westfield Motion Pictures, and asks for an interview with Erica Carlyle.
Charm 70%: 1d100 ⇒ 90

"You must be joking! What would Ms Carlyle want an interview with a 3rd rate actor like you."

At this point Grey slams the phone down.

Anything else you want to do today.

Sylvia bites back a smile at the look on Jake's face as he's rudely rebuffed. "I do think we need to talk to Ms. Carlyle. Perhaps the truth might be enough to arrange an interview?"

With that, she makes her own call to Bradley Grey. "Hello Mr. Grey. My name is Sylvia Bouche. You just received a call from my colleague Mr. Westfield. The truth is, we have reason to believe that some members of the Carlyle expedition might still be alive." She pauses to let Bradley take in this information. "I understand that Ms. Carlyle is very busy. Could we perhaps speak with you first, so you can verify the seriousness of the situation?"

Persuade, 30%: 1d100 ⇒ 55

Barney seems a bit distant as the others interrogate first Kensington, then attempt to contact Carlyle.

"I'm beginning to think there are a lot more forces at work here than we first discovered. Hope we don't end up like Jackson".

"Hmm, Ms Carlyle may be interested, very well I will arrange for a meeting for you with Ms Carlyle for three days time. You might ask Mr Westfield to remain behind to avoid any further misunderstandings."

Jake looked stunned at the phone.
"Third rate? THIRD RATE? Why you half witted ambulance chasing... Hello? Hello?" Jake said, then slammed the phone down.
"Did you hear that pompous, pencil-necked..." He asked, filled with outrage.

Sylvia sighs in relief as Bradley Grey agrees to arrange a meeting. "Thank you very much, we'll try to take up as little of Ms. Carlyle's time as possible."

Hanging up the phone, she smiles at the rest of the group. "He's going to set up a meeting for us in a few days." She decides not to mention Grey's barbed 'suggestion' that Jake remain behind. "In the meantime, it's been two days. Perhaps we should contact Ms. Shosenburg to see if she's had any luck getting us that meeting with Hilton Adams. Has anyone heard from her?"

You contact Rachel Shosenburg and she arranges to meet you at The Lafayette Theatre (also known as The Beautiful House) at 132nd Street and Seventh Avenue. Rosenburg is waiting for you together with an elegant African American woman wearing neatly dresses clothes and perfectly styled hair who Rosenburg introduces you to as Millie Adams, the wife of Hilton Adams.

Millie ushers you in to smart lobby, past the ticket booths and cloakrooms and through into the stalls. Various cleaners and other members of staff smile and greet her as she passes. The house lights are fully up in the main auditorium as she shows you to your seats in the centre of the stalls.

"Rachel tells me you may be able to help my husband and in turn I may be able to help you. What do you want to know?"

Over to you guys.

Jake smiled at them both, offered a Lucky Strike to anyone so inclined from his cigarette case and motioned to the seats.
"Well Mrs. Adams, we have heard tell of Hilton Adams being found over the body of the eighth victim. Can you tell us what his story is?" He asked attentively.

"Hilton became concerned when Harlem locals began to disappear several years ago. As the number of disappearances increased he turned to a group of friends from the saloon they all hung out at (Teddy's, two blocks over), all of whom had served in the Harlem Hellfighters. They began organising patrols to try and protect members of the community, alongside trying to find out who was responsible, after the police at the 14th precinct refused to take the matter seriously.

Hilton was arrested in September 1924 after he was found standing over the body of a middle aged white man in a dingy alley not far from the Harlem branch of the New York Public Library. The police, allegedly alerted by the dying man's screams, claimed to have seen Hilton throw away a bloody knife when confronted. The knife, - Hilton's army issue bolo knife- was reportedly recovered from the scene and formed the crux of the prosecution's case against him, although I never remember Hilton taking the knife out with him when he went on patrol."

Sylvia listens closely to Millie's tale. What she said matched closely with things they'd already discovered, particularly the 'red cloth' which she suspected was one of the cultist's headpieces. There's two things that immediately pique her interest. One, the mention of the Ju Ju House. Two, the bloody knife.

"Thank you for talking with us Ms. Adams. I know this must be difficult for you. We've...had some dealings with the Ju Ju House ourselves. It seems to be mentioned everywhere we go. Would it be possible for you to introduce us to Needham Johnson? It might be helpful to know what exactly your husband had discovered."

She considers her next question carefully. "Ms. Adams, you said that Mr. Adams never took the knife with him on patrol. Was the knife they found actually his? Or did they simply produce a similar-looking bolo knife and claim it was his?"

Bolo knives, being army-issued, couldn't be in short supply. But given that producing Hilton's actual knife would have discredited the prosecution's main evidence, if Hilton's knife wasn't the murder weapon then that implied the courts were just as corrupt as the police. If they did have Hilton's knife...how had they gotten it?

"As far as I know it was Hilton's knife but it couldn't have been there, he never took it with him.

Once I saw crates going into Juju House on a night when there was going to be a gathering. I've also seen police detectives going into the place during daylight hours and I wonder if they're picking up payoffs from Silas N'Kwane."

Psychology check

Psychology, 70%: 1d100 ⇒ 28

Sylvia you an tell that there's something she isn't saying, you're not sure if the reason she is not saying is out of fear or due to something else.

Sylvia considers her words carefully. "Ms. Adams, the same people that were killing in Harlem recently killed Jackson Elias, a good friend of ours. If we can find the people ultimately responsible for his murder, we might be able to prove your husband's innocence. In order to do that, we need information." She makes sure to look Millie in the eyes. "Is there something you're not telling us?"

Millie gulps a few times.

"It's just I fear that if the matter isn't resolved soon, not only will Hilton end up dead, but that I too might become a victim, either fitted up by the police or murdered by the real killers. But while there's still a chance I have to keep trying."

Oh. Sylvia feels bad now for pressing her. She wants to be reassuring, but honestly she can't be. Millie is in danger if the cult figures out she's been looking into them. That was what had gotten Jackson killed after all.

"Do you think they know you've been watching them? Have you seen any indication that you're being followed, or watched more closely by the police than normal?" Sylvia wrings her hands together for a second, then seems to come to a decision. She pulls out a piece of paper and quickly scribbles down a name, address, and a brief note. "Ann Daniel. She's a good friend of mine; she works at the New York Infirmary-Beekman Downtown Hospital." She hands the paper to Millie. "I haven't yet told her anything of what's going on, but she's a good person. If you ever feel like you aren't safe in your home, you can stay with her for a while."

"I'm not sure. I've not seen anyone but I worry. I can arrange a meeting with Needham, that's no problem"

"Do you think you can help my husband?"

"I can't make any promises." Sylvia looks determined. "But we're certainly going to try. Thank you for meeting with us, your information has been extremely helpful. I do have one last question for you. The meetings at the Ju Ju House, you said they happen about once a month. At a particular time of the month, or did it seem random?"

"It seems to be on the night of the full moon for the most part, although occasionally they have more than one meeting per month."

You know that the last full moon was yesterday. Millie also gives you a visiting order so you can visit Hilton Adams in Sing Sing.

Barney nods and thanks the woman as they make their exit.

"I bet you're a good doctor he tells Sylvia. I can tell by the way that you handle people, you have a gift for getting what you need out of them without making them feel uncomfortable. Good job in there".

He gives his newest friend a big smile.

Onward to Sing Sing I guess? I would say let's burn down the whole JuJu house, but there may be innocents in there against their will, or the fire might go out of control".

Taking your leave of Millie you take the train across the river to Sing Sing.

"I would shake your hands but I don't think that would go down too well" Adams says with a wry smile.

Sylvia flushes at Barney's praise. "Uh, thank you. I do try, particularly when we're teaching our classes, getting people to listen is often the hardest part..." She looks back after Millie, worry in her gaze. "I do hope Ms. Adams is okay. After we go to Sing Sing I'll give Ann a call. A woman living alone in Harlem has it hard enough without worrying that the cult that framed her husband might come after her as well."

Once at Hilton Adams' cell, the corner of her own mouth tips up in response to his joke, minor as it was. Keeping up one's spirits in this place must be difficult. It's a testament to how strong he is that he's seeming to manage it.

"Likely not. Being crushed by some guard who thought I was trying to pass you a lockpick or something would be a poor end to our conversation. Since a handshake is impossible, I'll settle for an older form of greeting." She does a quick, poor impression of a curtsy. "I'm Sylvia. It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Adams. Thank you for agreeing to speak with us today."

"Unfortunately we don't have much time, so I'll get to the point. A friend of ours, Jackson Elias, was recently murdered. We apprehended three cultists at the scene, all wearing strips of red flannel on their heads. They'd carved an occult symbol into his flesh." By this point, having repeated the story many times, it was almost starting to lose its horror. Almost.

"Lt. Poole told us that Jackson was the ninth victim of this kind." Sylvia leans forward slightly, eyes focused. "We believe that the cult responsible for Jackson's death also killed the other victims. That you have been falsely accused. Your wife, Ms. Adams, told us that you were investigating the previous murders when you were arrested. Please. Tell us what you know. What you discovered. It may be the key to stopping this cult, preventing any further murders, and getting you out of this cell."

"I'm sorry about your friend, I read some of his books, they were very fine.

I didn't manage much surveillance of Ju Ju House before I was arrested. I did follow a muscular shaven headed African man in his late 30s or early 40s from Ju Ju House to a coffee shop. I did get his name Mukunga M'Dari."

Cult of the Bloody Tongue? Sylvia commits the name to memory. Hilton's story matches what Millie had told them, (unsurprisingly), but includes a few crucial new details. Of particular interest in the seeming 'safe zone' around West 137th street...the location of the Ju Ju House.

"It seems the cult is trying to avoid attracting too much attention to the Ju Ju House by not murdering or abducting anyone in that area." She purses her lips, thinking hard. "M'Dari...I don't believe we've heard that name. The description though sounds like a man we saw enter the Ju Ju House. Everything comes back to that place."

She inclines her head to Hilton. "Thank you, that's very helpful. I know you said you weren't able to watch the Ju Ju House for very long, but did you discover anything? Does N'Kwame live alone?" She pauses, considering how best to phrase the next question without possibly incriminating herself. "He has to leave the shop at some point, does he go anywhere in particular? Any patterns to his movements that you noticed?"