Hello from Dave

[Dave Syrinx]

This is Dave.

I´ve been on and off for some years now.

Lots of ideas and scenarios have begun and a few have been finished. Far too many has been started and restarted only to fail to complete, mostly by my own hand. I apologize for that.

The feeling of creating a living thing, which the story - that you and your writing friends create, is most satisfying. So, for that, I´m glad to be part of this community. A community that means something. A community that is independent of time and haste. You can drop by a couple of years after you´ve started a story. Either to pick it up or start another one.

Thanks to Carnage Lee for keeping the site up!
Thanks to Mr. Handy for being omnipresent!
Thanks Raiko to letting me in back in the olden days!
Thanks to Laraqua and Tabs for moderating the forums and being friends.
Thanks to all and everyone who has been part of my past episodes and who will be part of my future scenarios.

Hi and welcome to all newcomers of 2019!
Is there anything you guys miss on the site?
Do you have suggestions on new scenarios or campaigns to run or to play in?

Stop by and drop a line in the reading/watching/playing thread: https://www.callofcthulhu.org.uk/pbp/vi ... 80#p227580

See you all on the boards and in the threads!
Cheers!
/Dave

[Mr. Handy]

You're welcome, and thank you!

I'd like to see more epic campaigns here, which I wouldn't get a chance to play otherwise. It's a lot of work for both Keeper and players, but it's well worth it. In the early days of this site, there were several attempts to run them, but they rarely got far and never ran to completion. We do have Masks, which is wonderful. I'd be particularly interested in playing Horror on the Orient Express as well.

[simonthompson]

Nice post Dave!

If we were six months further down the road I'd certainly be interested running an epic campaign, and Horror on the Orient Express really does appeal, but... I hesitate to take on such an undetaking as my first 'outing' as Keeper here.

Right now I'm considering running a Gaslight one-shot, possibly an adaptation of a Classic Era scenario. What's really got my Cthulhu juices flowing is reading Lovegrove's 'Sherlock's Cthulhu Casebook' series! I just want to make sure I've really got the time to do it (and keep doing it till the end) first.

[Philulhu]

Hi Dave.

I’d be interested in playing in an epic campaign but I’m not sure I could run one.

I’d like to see someone run Down Darker Trails - I think that would be fun to play.

[Mr. Handy]

I'm running two epic campaigns myself, though not published ones, so I don't have time to run a published one, nor do I want to spoil myself by running one I haven't played all the way through yet. I would definitely like to play in a Gaslight and/or Down Darker Trails scenario. Those are also things the board could use. I am planning to have a homebrewed Gaslight scenario as part of my Doctor Who/Call of Cthulhu campaign eventually, but that will be a long time from now.

[Dave Syrinx]

Talking about epic campaigns.

Snippet from Masks of Nyarlathothep.
Episode: Shanghai
Minor spoiler alert. No secrets are revealed.

Starring:
Roger Davidsson
Dr. Lee Venow
John Rhyes
Riley Thatcher
Mike Hawkins

Introducing:
Hermeticia Smythe

Thursday, January 14 - Shanghai

You meet Iso at Fong's for breakfast. The hole in the wall turns out to be a terrible choice for the most important meal of the day. Dr. Venow is horrified by the hygiene (or lack thereof). Riley squashes bugs. Roger pokes at a suspicious lump of meat in his bowl of noodles. Mike dips a fried thing into a small bowl of harmless looking dipping sauce and ends up downing glass after glass of cloudy water. John picks at something that could be a cracker. Iso declines to eat.

"Maybe," he suggests, "we should just go look for Jack Brady now?"

All are quick to agree. The bill comes out to less than a dime.

Iso leads the way through the twisted, crowded, stinking streets. Past butchers proudly displaying pigs heads -- blood dripping on the ground; flies buzzing about. Past men sharing their bicycle with a score of live chickens. Past the banks and the high-walled compounds and restaurants and open-air ear-cleaning stalls, and on and on. To a warehouse district on the south side of the river. You will simply have to take Iso's word that this is Chung-shan Road. No signs are in English here. Or Western lettering of any stripe.

He leads you to a boarded-up warehouse next to a noisy foundry. He approaches the boarded up door with a frown. Fingers the boards. They appear to have been there for quite some time. He looks around. Over the noise of the neighboring industry you can just hear the pop pop pop of gunfire inside the warehouse.

Iso studies you. Curiosity obvious on his face.

" Mike, do we knock or just simply knock down the boarding?", John asks.

Mike looks at the sailor, "I don't know that this would be a real good time to knock."

Mike pauses at the sound of the gunfire, "I ain't too sure about the wisdom of goin' inside neither. If Brady ain't here, then we'd be buttin' into business we don't need to know about. If he is... well... "

Mike sighs. "If there's someone inside shootin' things, there's gotta be another way in that ain't boarded up. Maybe we should have a look."
"Is there a way around, to the back of the building?" John looks around.

The investigators look both ways. It looks like the fastest way 'round is to pass through a narrow passageway between the warehouse and the foundry. Not a pleasant-looking path.

Cautiously, and with hands on concealed weapons, the investigators ease on through. Iso hesitates. "I'll wait for you out here," he says. Perfectly reasonable reaction.

The noise from the foundry is impressive. Conversation is nearly impossible. If there is gunfire inside the warehouse it is impossible to separate from the pounding from next door.

The rear of the warehouse has a door opening onto a squallid alleyway. Refuse. The stink of garbage, urine and stale vomit. A young Chinese man is perched on a broken packing crate beside the door. He sees you coming around the corner and looks at you suspicously.

You are at least six meters from the man.

( A dead end that smells of rotten fish, and else...What would Harris have said to this lad?)
John keeps his mouth shut, hoping for someone else to be inventive. He turns his head to the right after aknowledging the boy on the broken crate with a nod and a " Oi, mate!" John scutinizes the foundry wall on the other side of the alleyway, hoping for a rear door to the factory. He turns full circle and looks at the boy again. Seeing the single file of crewmembers from the Cleopatra filling the allayway.( The smell reminds of Fong´s...)

John hails the young Chinese man. The man returns John's greeting by reaching for and brandishing a submachine gun. Although he says nothing, his scowl clearly communicates that he does not want you to stick around.

John looks at the boy, stretches his arms up and walks away, backing away from the barrel. Into the crowded walkway. When he is out of the alleyway he whispers to the others; " Shall I pop him if he follows us?" He gropes for the shotgun, to get ready to use it, or not.

( Conversation totally lost here. The clanking from the factory will drench the salvo. Better aim true.) John halts and aims for a target to appear.

"I'm guessin' that the kid's not gonna move from the door without a real good reason. We're either gonna have to figure a way to draw him away or we're gonna have to take him out. I'd rather not kill him if we don't have to. Especially if he's just guardin' somethin' like a floating craps game..."

A moment later the young Chinese man's head pops around the corner.

John's shotgun roars.

The young man takes a piece of shot to his forehead.
Immediately his head disappears from view. He either pulled it back around the corner or (more likely) the power of the shot spun him back.

John, surprised that he actually fired, and hit, pumps a new slug and advances hoping the boy is stunned. (I have to knock him out before he alerts his mates.) "Too late to be smart now, let´s incapacitate that hooligan!"

Hermeticia is standing in the street of a shady (at best) warehouse district near the river. She's peering into a narrow passageway between a boarded-up warehouse and a very noisy foundry. In that passageway are the men she spotted earlier: A motley crew of white gentlemen.

Seconds after John has fired his shotgun, Roger Davisson nearly jumps out of his skin.

"Excuse me?" says a feminine voice behind him. "I seem to have gotten myself turned about. Could you tell me the best way to get to the British Embassy?"

Roger turns slowly around. He is confronted with a pleasantly dressed white woman with a terrible, horrible scar running down her face. Her bright eyes and smile are in discord with that face.

Hermeticia sees a man wielding a stick - or something rounding the corner of the alley. He is the fifth of the white gentlemen standing in queue…

Once you get past the scar on her face you can see that the woman is dressed in a sensible walking outfit with an extremely large shoulder bag over one shoulder.
She is holding it in front of her with one hand and her other hand has disappeared inside.

She does not seem to be too phased by the gunfire in that she is neither swooning nor running screaming, but the bag is definitely big enough to carry some sort of weapon.

Hearing a woman´s voice - or was it Riley´s? John halts for a quarter of a second. Then heads around the corner to silence the boy. (Preferably not permanently.)

John slips around the corner. The young man he shot is on the ground holding his head. Blood escapes from between his fingers. He writhes. Next to him on the ground is his sub-machine gun. A woman in dirty, poorly-fitting clothing stands next to the crate where the young man sat just a minute earlier. Like the young man, she's holding a sub-machine gun. She ducks behind the crate. John can see the warehouse door shaking and it suddenly comes to him: (She's banging on the door! For help? Trying to escape me?)

John kicks the smg out of reach from the wounded boy. " Sit down!", he yells to the woman. “Lee! Medic, over here."

Roger starts. He has never given himself to that particular brand of pride that says "I never forget a face." But Hermetica Smythe really does have one of those unforgettable mugs. His mind flips back through several months. (The British Museum!)

"Yes," he says in clear surprise, "I believe you're right. I applied for a job there. I remember seeing you in the back. We, er, shook hands, yes?"

Hermetica nods her agreement.

"Hermetica Smythe?"

She nods.

"Roger Davisson. So good to meet you again! Well," he says with a glance over his shoulder, "what, er, brings you to Shanghai?"

Communication over the pounding of the foundry is quite difficult.

John's voice shouts something from 'round the corner. The name "Lee" can clearly be made out.

“We should ask you the same”, says Roger narrowing his eyes. "Heard from Penbrooke and Mr. Gavigan lately?"

"And how is it that you find yourself in this warehouse district?"

Roger looks at John, and points towards torn up wall where he shot at the man with a shotgun.

"I'm not sure if we actually have time for pleasentries, Miss Smythe. We seem to be about to have a shoot-out, Gangland style."


Hermetica looks confused. "You mean Edward Gavigan of the Penhew Foundation? No, I've never met him. He's an Egyptologist, if I'm not mistaken. My interests are in China."

Lee Venov looked surprised...to see a woman there but he didn't stare at her scar like some of the others might. The mention of Gavigans name, broke his demeanor and the young woman could easily see fear etched on his face...and something odder…

"I was on my way to the embassey when I got turned around in all the tiny streets."

She is looking even more nervous and once again grabs her bag and places her right hand inside.

"A g.. g.. gun battle" she stutters. "Oh dear." She looks around wildly as though looking for help, or at least cover. "We better get out of here."

"I think I would agree."Lee said as he struggled to force his voice and face into a calmer demeanor. (Is she going to shoot us? No She could have done that from a distance and completely surprised us. All she would need would be to wound, the peoiple around here would probabaly just loot the bodies...Can't be coincidence though. Can it?)

As John closes in on the girl, he hopes that he not has to shoot again. Calculating that his bulk and speedy reflexes can disarm her. Realizing that he might have 'stepped in it' this time ( This doesn´t have to be the bad guys....) He keeps the aim trained on her and closes even further. " Down, put your gun down!"

John advances on the crate -- kicking aside the young man's sub-machine gun as he walks. He holds his shotgun at the ready. It is aimed at the top of the crate. Where he expects the woman's head to appear. The warehouse door stops bouncing. (She must be through kicking it. Wonder what that means?)

"Put down your gun!" he shouts. (Don't know if she can hear me. Can barely hear myself over all this noise. Wonder if she speaks English...?)

The woman's head appears. Her shoulders appear. Her sub-machine gun appears.

John fires!

John's blast removes much of the woman's right shoulder. Additional pellets badly mar her face and neck. She drops unconscious to the ground next to the crate. John becomes uncomfortably aware that the young man he shot earlier is still quite nearby and conscious (though in considerable pain). John took the time to reload his weapon before so he still has one shot left in his shotgun. He turns the weapon on the young man.

(How long before someone comes out that warehouse door?)

Starting to grasp the dilemma he´s in: standing outside a firing range with one shot left. Two guards incapacitated but more to be expected. ( Bad idea to walk into this alley!) John turns towards the door and hastens back to the narrow walkway. Hoping to escape this mayhem. " Double back, we´re out of here!"

John reappears. He's holding his shotgun in both hands. His eyes are wild. He says something that sounds like "double back" and he seems in a great hurry to retreat out of the narrow space between the warehouse and foundry -- to regain the street outside.

The investigators pour out of the narrow throughway and into the Chung-shan Road. John brings up the rear, but quickly weaves through the others and leads off at a trot up the street. As he runs he mutters to himself and makes an effort to conceal his shotgun under his coat. Passersby certainly notice the weapon. Few seem to take much notice of it.

John's the sort of person they expect to meet along Cung-shan Road.

The remaining investigators hustle along to keep up with John. His air of fear and near-panic is infectious. Soon everyone is casting glances either way and (more commonly) to the rear. There is no sign of pursuit.

But the warehouse districts of Shanghai are nowhere to be for paranoid foreigners. Illiterate. Unable to understand what is being said. What is said is shouted in a loud, tonal language that sounds to the untrained ear as though everyone is arguing. Or sounding the alarm. It is difficult not to feel lost. Not to feel that everyone and everything is focussed on the investigators.

The investigators' brains have not yet adjusted to life in this foreign city and culture. Unable to decide what is unimportant, their brains do not filter out informations as they would in London or New York or Sydney. Instead everything -- every sound, every sight, every smell -- is given equal weight. Everything is a potential source of danger. Or pleasure.

Past the butchers plucking chickens and displaying sides of pigs. Past the pungent soy fermentation shops. Past warehouse after warehouse with closed doors and mysteries within.

It is a full fifteen minutes before John lets up on the pace. Looks around.

You've come out of the warehouse district. Back in more familiar territory. A financial district. The embassies not far away. John selects a tea shop. Everyone piles in. Wide eyed. Panting. Tea is ordered. Stock taken. And attention returns once more to Hermetica Smythe…

Hermetic places her bag at her feet and orders a cup of sweet tea and a small plate of beancakes. She takes a deep breathe and looks around at everyone.

"Does this often happen here? By the way, my name is Hermetica Smythe, and you are?"

------------------------

This is where we cut. An awesome session I was part of in 2007.

[Mr. Handy]

Nice entrance! I've only seen Peru and small parts of New York and London so far, but I'm hoping the run we're on now will go the distance.

I've only played in the Venice chapter of Horror on the Orient Express, plus the very beginning of Trieste. You can read where my character, Felicity Hayward, rescues Maria in her own unique style starting here and continuing here. There was an attempted run of the new edition starting with The Blood Red Fez as a prequel, but it didn't get very far.