Play@YSDC

Two men, a ghost, a parrot and a ball of string must go.

The walk proceeds uneventfully through the eddying, aimless crowds of anonymous Londoners, until the odd couple have passed Russell square and are heading down the Kingsway towards Holborn - at which point Marmaduke, who has been cheerfully, relentlessly, and unquenchably squalking inanities at all and sundry, suddenly goes quiet in the middle of yet another "Pieces of ei"

Picking up on the bird's keen senses I look around to see if anything appears out of the ordinary by use of my 'sense trouble'. I consult the map and try to remember when I came this way before ... does it match up at all?

Long John feeds Marmaduke a peanut, to soothe the bird. "Mr. Carse, the 'scribbler' in me 'ead, says t' go down to the Station."

Luke Carse's sense trouble roll

Luke; sense trouble (1d6=5)

Glancing at the indicated Holborn entrance to the Underground, Carse picks up an odd scent on the metallic fumes of the iconic train system - a sulphurous bite, and a tang of sour wine.

"Are we going down the steps, Mr. Carse?" Long John checks his descent, wondering at Luke's hesitation and faraway stare.

I shake my head to clear a sense of confusion that descended upon me. "Why yes of course ... Sorry John, of course we are. I am just a bit distracted by something. If I'm being honest, I'm a bit mystified by the smell ... the undercurrent of, of cheap wine is it, and what used to know as brimstone."

While the Underground London crowds are not nearly as bright as they were in the gilded age of the 20s, Carse and Long John see nothing unusual as they descend. Carse is uneasily aware that they are conspicuous in this crowd, with more than one indignant commuter muttering about "bally livestock" upon catching sight of Marmaduke.

Carse said: I'm a bit mystified by the smell

"Ah! that'll be Marmaduke," replies Long John, stumbling slightly upon the escalator when his peg-leg sticks in a moving step.

more than one indignant commuter muttering about "bally livestock" upon catching sight of Marmaduke.

"Do a shit over these nice people," thinks he, chuckling to himself.

"Mr. Carse, I'm sorry, but the 'voice' is telling me to go back to the surface. . . . Now is he confused? I mean, are we meant to catch a train to somewhere else first?"

Smiling to myself I nod, "If your scribbler is telling to return to the surface then let us away, for I dislike the underground ... always have and yet something drew us down here." I snap my fingers and call out "Eureka! If you weren't so odious I'd kiss you! Don't you see? It's the map dear John ... the map is full of twists and turns, as our journey must be as well in order to reach our destination through the labyrinth before us. Your friend Marmaduke here has more sense than you and I put together, so if we follow his lead, then we should go roughly along the path as laid out." I head towards the exit with never a backward glance so certain am I that I am on the right track.

"Lead on, sir," says Long John.

When he gets to the top of the escalator, Luke looks down at the map and sees where to head off to next and follows his nose for sulphur and cheap wine, and the silence of the parrot as well in confirmation. "This way young John!" he strides forwards in the direction indicated.

OOC,Knowing how the labyrinth was made might give him a bit of insight into where he should be heading, especially as he has already followed someone along it#s route when he wound up in Seven Dials before.

Apologies,I must have read that / skimmed it wrong.

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"You seem befuddled, sir, have you forgotten the way?" asks Long John.

Luke thinks before answering for to admit that he does not fully know the way may make him look stupid in the eyes of this eccentric character, something he would avoid if at at all possible. "In truth John, I have not trodden this path before so whilst befuddled may be a bit strong, I am finding my way around using this map and your precocious friend Marmaduke in the main. I am sure it is this way though"

The two men and accompanying entities continue down the kingsway and turn right onto Tavistock street and Maiden lane, then up Charing Cross. As they draw close to Leicester Square ststion, Luke catches anothere strange smell - not wine this time, but a strange mixture of frsh-baked bread and the coppery tang of blood, wafting fro the Underground.

"Hmm, John, notice how here we have a strange odour once more ... and once more coming from the underground stations we come across on the way." Luke looks hopefully at the odd man who follows in his wake but he could have been talking to a new born babe for all the understanding he saw on the poor man's face. "Can you not smell it man?" I ask trying not to lose patience.

Long John cannot smell anything unusual - but he does feel Stephenson stirring, and a feeling of tugging or falling towards the station entrance.

Cautiously, I descend, trying to sense where the 'turn' on the map actually lies down the underground entrance.

"Come along John, don't tarry behind ... he who is left behind is lost!"

Long John performs a comic sniff at the air around him. "Bloody 'ell, sir, I can't smell nuffin'." He hobbles after Luke.

When I reach a point where I cannot smell the odour anymore I turn and retrace my steps and follow the smell back up to the surface once more. "Come along John, nearly there!" I say as I help my odorous companion up the last few steps back to the street.

Looking at the map once again I determine that I need to head off in this direction. "This way ... this is exciting is it not John?" I ask, not really expecting a response, other than maybe from the parrott. 'Intriguingly, the avian seems to be the brains of the pair,' I muse to myself with a grin breaking out on my face for the first time in what seems like ages

"Sure is exciting, sir," says Long John unenthusiastically.

The parrot cocks an eye at Luke. "Oooooo! He's smiling, smiling. Funny it is!"

I pause in my tracks and exhale slowly, in part to clear the odour from the man before me. "John, please ... I am not a Sir, far from it. Please call me Luke, it puts us on a much better footing don't you think - I believe it does? Let us not tarry now John!" Without waiting for an answer Luke continues to follow the map until his and Maraduke's senses tell him to deviate, or they come across an underground station.

Luke, Long John and Marmaduke continue on the route marked by Harwood, which leads them on from Leicester to Charing Cross Station.



As the two men walk towards the grand Victorian edifice, their attention is suddenly caught by a large group of young, fashionably dressed women, who have joined hands in a circle around the Eleanor Cross at the front. Drawing closer, the sound of plainsong can be heard in their sweet, high voices, although the words make no sense "caresa ta vavale zodirenu tol hami..."

A fierce wind presses through the square in front of the station, causing Marmaduke to flap in alarm and dig his claws into Long John's shoulder. The smell of church incense and hot iron fills the air. The wind whips around the Cross, forming a whirl of dust, rubbish, and then the young women, who are picked up like leaves in a hurricane! The geyser of dust abruptly drains down the entrance to the Underground, carrying the women with it, and the air is still again. No-one appears to have noticed anything odd.

I stand open mouthed at the spectacle we have just witnessed ... not sure if we have even seen it at all judging by the indifference of those passing by.

"It seems John that we must venture down here next. Keep Marmaduke's and your wits about you now."

Long John's lips move but a cultured, slightly high pitched voice emerges: "Enochian Magic. Those women were chanting words of power"--abruptly the tone changes to pure "East End"--"Bloody Hell! Lead on, Mr. Carse."

Perhaps anticlimactically, the Underground station appears much the same as it always does, full of the frenetic bustle, screetches of metal and oily smells of the modern age. Following their noses and subliminal promptings from Stevenson, the two men descend and then reascend again, as they have done twice before.

When they return to the surface, they blink, as dusk appears to be coming on early. Perhaps it is an oncoming storm, but a lamplighter is already lighting the streetlights. Hang on, isn't this area on the electricity?

"MY tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky;
It’s time to take the window to see Leerie going by;
For every night at teatime and before you take your seat,
With lantern and with ladder he comes posting up the street.

Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea,
And my papa’s a banker and as rich as he can be;
But I, when I am stronger and can choose what I’m to do,
O Leerie, I’ll go round at night and light the lamps with you!

For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the door,
And Leerie stops to light it as he lights so many more;
And O! before you hurry by with ladder and with light;
O Leerie, see a little child and nod to him to-night!

"Jesus!" blasphemes Long John, "where did that verse come from?" He wonders: "There hasn't been gas streetlights since my pa was a boy." The incontinent Marmaduke poops again--a squirt of ochre fecal matter drips down Long John's tatty coat.

Long John's phrase about Enochian power is not lost on me and I look sideways at the dishevelled man standing next to me, but decide to say nothing at present, choosing instead to watch my companion more closely. "Had I heard him aright? Enochian Magic? I would have scoffed at such notions before these recent events but now ..."

"I cannot remember gas lights being hereabouts either Long John, and although I cannot swear to it I am almost certain the lights were of the more modern electric variety." I creased my brow trying to think back ... "Perhaps we are getting closer to our goal." I shake my head to clear the thoughts that were crowding in.

As the two men stand in the courtyard of Charing Cross, looking askance at the street lights, they are abruptly forced to jump aside by a horse-drawn hansom cab - a rare sight since the War. The driver yells something at them in antiquated cockney slang before pulling up at the station's taxi rank.

"Oi! Bloody watch where you're driving!" yells Long John, one arm gesticulating, then he re-grabs his crutch and hobbles over to the taxi rank.

"Hsst - John. Come here for a moment."

Assuming he does I continue; "Let us not get distracted from our task in hand my good man, this may be important to our friends back at the bookshop as well as ourselves. Now I am not from London or it's environs myself, but this looks distinctly odd to my jaundiced eye." I gesture at the scene before us "Hansom cabs, and the strange way that coachman talked to you ... does that suggest anything to you ... anything at all?"

I look squarely at the scruffy man before me and once again think that he is more than he seems. 'What was it he said again ... Enochian Magic? I would have to look that subject up upon my return to the shop.'

"It's like a dream," says Long John, "of how it was in the . . . well, the past; although I'm still missing me leg"--he seems a bit miffed. "I won't get distracted, but I want to see who that passenger is in the cab." Long John hops across to the taxi rank so that he can see.

Long John hops forward to look into the passenger area, and sees...

What Long John sees,A distinguished-looking, elderly military gentleman. It is Field Marshal John French, British commander at the disastrous Battle of Ypres where John lost his leg, and dead these last eight years. [img]http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/9/90/John_French%2C_1st_Earl_of_Ypres%2C_Bain_photo_portrait%2C_seated%2C_cropped.jpg/441px-John_French%2C_1st_Earl_of_Ypres%2C_Bain_photo_portrait%2C_seated%2C_cropped.jpg[/img] French leans stiffly forward to stare back at John. As his face moves into the dying light, the flesh seems to fade as if under an X-ray, leaving only a skull, grinning fixedly in John's direction. [i]Stability test for John! Difficulty 6 against a 3 point loss. Each Stability point spent adds 2 to the roll as per house rule (see house rule thread)[/i]

Stability test,[url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4334558/]Stability test; 2 pts. spent; a roll of 2 or higher to succeed. (1d6=3)[/url]

Long John staggers and almost falls, with his peg leg slipping along the grating of a drain; almost falls, but not quite.

I run over to where Long John staggers and oh so nearly falls, making a move to catch him as I do. "Easy there old chap! Let's get you and your parrott sorted before you fall."

The door of the hanson cab opens.

Long John Sees,the dead Field Marshal beckon him towards the open door with a skeletal hand. He has a sudden conviction that to step into the cab is to die. Maybe even to have been dead since Ypres.

Luke Sees,Seated within the cab is a skeleton, dressed in the heavy winter furs of a Russian Cossack cavalryman. Its grinning face and outstretched bone hand are turned to Long John. [i]2 point stability test, difficulty 5, for Luke.[/i]

"Oh, well held, sir," says Long John to Luke--an expression from his pre-war village cricket days. He steps back from the cab, clutching onto Luke.

"No! No!" squawks Marmaduke.

The Cossack's hand reaching out to John instills a fear deep in my guts. My mind wanders back to my previous encounters with the traitorous swine during the North Russian Intervention. "Noo no no no!" I call out, my voice hoarse with disbelief and fear.

Luke's Stability Test - with 2 point spend - difficulty 5 (1d6+2=7) But my iron resolve manages to overcome the paralysis I initially feel as I drag my companion away. The bird protests but I persist muttering. "Damned Russian spies even infiltrate our grand capital city ... What am I saying? it's a bloody Skeleton ... such things cannot exist" 'I have to get John away from it's clutches' I think to myself - whatever 'it' may be.

Luke pulls John hurriedly away from the Hansom cab.

As the two glance fearfully over their shoulders, they see a conservatively dressed businessman, clutching his Times and umbrella and checking a fob-watch, blindly rush up the station stairs and climb into the cab. The door snaps shut like a mousetrap and the cab pulls away from the kerb. After a few seconds the door shakes a bit and a muffled thumping is heard above the traffic, as if someone was pounding on the door, before the cab is lost in the London traffic.

Long John raises a finger to shout, "Don't get inside the cab!" but it's too late, the cab is gone, and, no doubt, so is the businessman.

"What now?" Long John asks Luke.

"How ... how in the name of all that's sane would I know John?" I all but shout at the poor man by my side. I pause as I hang my head and breathe deeply. "I'm sorry John, all I can suggest is that we continue to follow the infernal map till we get to our destination. The quicker we get this over with the more I will like it - that's for sure. I'm just sorry to have dragged you and Marmaduke on this terrible terrible journey." I grip the beggar by the shoulder and squeeze it in a friendly manner.