Sorry all, September hits like a train!
I'm still here, reading along. I'll get something up tomorrow.
GM, I'm loving your evocative posts. I'll try to produce something up to standard.
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The last few days have been quite intense. Ernest has had a lingering dark mood that he just couldn't shake, irritable and sullen. Madeline is clearly still struggling with being cheated on. But as they open the boxes that were couriered in from the theatre department together the cracking of the seals seems to crack the atmosphere. They laugh and joke at the absurdity of it all and immediately find quiet nooks to change in. The outfits are strangely matched. Ernest's costume is very detailed but The colours are garish and clashing, candy pink and custard yellow while Madeline's huge skirts are the same pink but paired with an acid turquoise. They both feel ridiculous. The masks come out of the last case and they, by contrast, are rather plain coloured. But truly grotesque. A pair of snarling ugly imps or daemons, all hooked nose sharp teeth and cruel eyes. They are quite awful to look at. "Look at the time Ernest!" He had no idea how long he had been looking at the mask, when Madeline snapped him out of his fascination. "We need to go!" They left the library and as he turned the key to lock it up he realised he was carrying the ink spoiled book from his desk, he didn't even remember picking it up. ----------------------------- Ernest was quite terrified as Madeline drove them to the party. She drove the car, her car, a guilty gift from an absent father, like she owned the roads. Swerving from side to side around other road users all the while recounting a story of some weekend escapade, hands gesticulating. If Ernest wasn't concentrating so hard on holding on he would wonder how she was driving in those skirts. ----------------------------- They arrive at the party arm in arm fully costumed and cutting quite a picture, periwiged and fabulous.
Ditto. Exam grade madness! I'll get something up tomorrow.
"Nein!" Ernest wakes and slaps the hand away from his face like swatting a fly... But no, there is no fly is there. He realises his eyes are still closed. But he doesn't want to open them and see the face of his... It was a dream, there's no-one here. "Ernest, öffne deine Augen" With an intake of breath he snaps his eyes open and looks fitfully around the glass walled gallery... No. I'm still in the library. My books. Ernest gets up and turns on the lamps. There is enough work to do that an early start won't hurt. As the early hours play out Ernest fells the ghost of those cold fingers on his face, probing. His tension rises and it is with almost desperate relief that he greets Madeline when she arives for the day.
Ernest looks up at her sharply "No it will not Madeline" His face softens slightly "Though I don't doubt that he will do his best to make it seem that way." He smiles, then the smile falls from his eyes as they settle on stained book. "That is settled then. It will be good, fun. What could go wrong right?" Ernest falls silent. The moment stretches but does not break, even when they both return to their work and busy themselves the silence remains, sour in the air. Silence was not strange in this room, quite the opposite. But this silence was different, to Ernest it was an uncomfortable silence of waiting, of apprehension. The silence cracks as Ernest clears his throat "Could you deliver this to Anderson for me, you pass his office on your way out, no? You can leave early tonight if you like, you've had a hard day." ---------------------------------- Once Madeline has left the silence is a bit quieter. Ernest busies himself in a well practised routine. Switching off and snuffing until only his personal desk lamp provides any illumination. Locking the door and lowering blinds. He returns to his desk, his books. "to sleep, perchance to dream"
Thanks for letting us know GM Hope you feel better soon.
"I had a thought or two" Ernest begins to move around the room, clearly looking for something. "Do you remember that review of the theatre department's Rococo 'Merchant of Venice' last year? "Gaudy to the point of distaste. Crass over characterisation, matched only by the excess and grossly overpowering costuming." I think that catches the gist of it... Ah, here we are!" Clearing some papers aside he pulls out a dusty typewriter, an old model but barely used. Grabbing some headed note paper he begins to type. "'Gaudy and crass' sounds like Carmichael to me. Professor Anderson over in the theatre department owes me some favours any way. What do you say? May I play Balthazar to your Portia?" Her conspiratorial smile is all the reply he needs. Letter to Professor Anderson:
Dear Professor Anderson It has been too long since I have had the privilege of immersing myself in one of your fine productions. I have heard good things of this year's Christmas offering. I look forward to it with all eagerness. It was only last Tuesday, myself and a colleague were discussing the wonderfully bold adaptation of The Merchant that you put together last Autumn. As I remember it was well ahead of it's time, the audience were not ready for such an cutting reflection of their society. I enjoyed it tremendously. Today, by some strange coincidence of fate, I have found myself in unexpected need of some costumery. Fortune, as they say, favours the brave and I could not in all conscience pass up this opportunity. Would it be beyond the realms of all possibility to obtain a loan of two of the wonderful costumes that were used in that production? I suppose I should also mention the need I find myself in. I have been invited to a little soiree by one Anthony Carmichael, something of a big player in theatre, but of course you have heard of him. He will no doubt enquire as to the origins of my companion and I's raiment, I could hardly fail to tell him of your own prowess. I look forward to hearing from you. E.Nuemann, Librarian.
"Give my regards to Harry. Tell him Mr Nuemann wishes to know when the wedding is." Ernest does not look up as Madeline leaves with a sigh. The envelope has caught his eye. He turns it over in his cotton gloved Hands; looking at the ink used, the depth of the impression, the post mark, the design of the envelope, a thousand small signifiers...
Nothing he recognises. Steaming the envelope open out of habit he removes the card within, subconsciously careful to touch only the edges. As he reads a scowl crosses his face. "pompöses Arschloch" His accent is thick now. Roughly returning the card to the envelope he tosses it on a nearby pile, all evidence of reverie gone. How long had it been? He had no idea. He had no desire to see Mr Carmichael ever again. Perhaps Madeline and Harry would like the free meal. Ernest closes his eyes a moment and stretches out his neck. No idea why that man seemed to get under his skin so easily. As he opened his eyes to return to the here and now he sees an inkwell has spilt over the copy of 'The Spirit of the Stage - Occult happening in the theatres of New Orlean' he had been combing for information. Blotting paper was in place quick as thinking, but the damage was done. A tragedy. Could this day get any worse? He stares whistfully at the stain. I hear there are people who think you can read these signs. What's his name... Roger, Rorsak, Rorschach. That was it, German.
--------------------------------------------- It is late afternoon when Madeline returns, this time the slam of the door echoes. "Bastard!" The stand barely stays up as she slams her coat and hat onto it. "The worse thing is, I let him in, you know? I actually thought he... Bastard!" She goes to sit at her desk, but paces away again "In she walks "Oh Harold, I thought we were meeting for dinner, who's your friend?" drapes herself all over him. Hussie. Bastard!" Some time later, after a cold glass of water and a lot of swearing the two of them are sat talking over a hot cup of tea. It seemed Harry wasn't the gentleman he seemed, stringing along at least two girls at once. Madeline was furious, heartbroken. Ernest had never felt more like an old man. "You know my dear. There are good men in the world." "Oh no" she says, with an insincere chuckle "I'm done with men, it's spinsterhood for me. A life alone. It's not so bad is it Ernest?" That stung, but he knew she didn't mean it. She got like this when her fire was up. She didn't think about what she was saying. "Not so bad no. But not the life for you I think my dear. Say..." his mind's eye goes to the card on his desk "It's time I re-payed you for your looking after me. Don't think I don't notice. How about two spinsters go out for the evening." He hands her the envelope and she reads it with recognition. He smiles "You remember him then. I think we might be able to have some fun. What do you think?"
”Good morning Ernest. Gorgeous out there isn’t it. I think this cold spell might finally be breaking.” The young woman hangs her coat and hat on a stand by the door, stretches, and looks around for her colleague. ”Ernest?” ”I am here Madeline.” Ernest Neuman looks up from his desk behind a pile of leather-bound books ”Still cross referencing those papers from Europe, every time I think I have something on ze Yellow King enigma it turns to nothing. I could swear he is laughing at me. First there was Heimlicht and now nothing here either, maybe another missive to London? But no, of course, they have made their position quite clear. If only we had a complete copy of the von Vleich schema…” His voice trails off as he shuffles papers ”I was talking about the weather Ernest. It’s warmer today.” ”Warmer, yes. Has it been cold?” ”Jeez Ernest. This again, when was the last time you went home? Or left this room for that matter? It’s getting bad again huh? Why don’t you come for lunch with me and Harry today, he’s taking me to Benny’s. I know he’d love to see you again.” Ernest looks up and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. ”I’m sorry. When is that boy going to make you his Madeline, how long has he been courting you? It must be six months by now.” ”It was a year last week.” ”A year? Well, you know how I lose track of these things. Perhaps I will join you, seems someone needs to have a word with the boy. If I have the time.” They share a moment’s laugh together then, the sounds strangely muffled by the room. She worried about him. They both knew he wouldn’t be coming for lunch.
I decided not to fiddle with anything (beyond making my skill points right) this feels like a game where applying skills well is better than having a perfectly balanced party. Let's go.
You get to add a base value to most skills as well. If you can find a character sheet somewhere they have the base value on them, if not we can tell you them I guess. I'll drop 10 points from medicine for now, that should take me to the golden number GM.
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Skills:
Accounting: 50 25 10 History: 50 25 10 Language(other)/English: 71 35 14 Language(own)/German: 79 39 15 Library Use: 75 37 15 Listen: 40 20 8 Medicine: 50 25 10 Occult: 55 27 11 Persuade: 60 30 12 Science/Cryptology: 41 20 8 Spot Hidden: 47 23 9 Track: 30 15 6 Credit Rating: 20 10 4 ------------------------------------------- Assets, Wealth, and Gear.:
Spending Level: $10 Cash: $40 Assets: $1000 Gear: Sword cane ------------------------------------------- Backstory:
Personal Description: Ernest was an impeccably turned out and handsome gentleman 10-15 years ago and little has changed. The years have left him and his suits looking tired and worn. Ideology/Beliefs: No man should hold unreciprocated power over another. The written word is sacred. Significant People: Meaningful locations: The private collection he has curated for years as part of the Columbia University Library. Treasured Possessions: A pocket edition of Paine’s – “On the Rights of Man,” in German. There is an inscription from Ernest’s Father on the inside cover. Key Connection Traits: Generous. Fastidious. Curious. Injuries and Scars: Weak lungs due to Spanish Flu scars. Phobias and Manias: Arcane Tomes, Spells, and Artifacts: Encounters with Strange Entities: A man in his early fifties steps of the bus and into the evening air. His gait is not laboured, and the tap-tap-tap of his cane on the stone is almost melodic. Only if you are very close, close enough to smell the old leather and paper of the man, could you notice there is a slight wheeze in his chest. His lungs are tired.
Tl;dr
Since we have an ex doctor in our midst I'll probably reduce his medicine skill and bump a couple of others
Whoop! Looking forward to it. I think I have some cross over with others so I'll read through everyone's sheets. GM, may we make nudge adjustments to balance out and blend backstories?
I would like to introduce Ernest to the party. I'm not sure about the Avatar as yet, it's a bit cross looking. But we shall see. If I am selected there a a few vagaries in his story I'd want to fill in with other investigators, but I have a pretty clear picture of him in my head. Hopefully all the required details are in his profile, let me know if not GM. |