Play@YSDC

Scene one:

You find yourselves in a well appointed waiting room at the Natural History Museum awaiting a meeting with one of the Museum’s Senior Curators, Professor James Hawthorne, a person of impeccable qualifications and standing that you have met on previous occasions. You do of course know each other by reputation although not personally.

A hand delivered note had requested your presence at 11 of the clock on the Tuesday morning. But gave no intimation of the nature of meeting other than to say it was of the utmost urgency and may well involve the future of the City of London, if not the entire Empire.

On a small occasional table beside the leather clad chairs upon which you sit, a pile of newspapers wait attention from the professor who waits behind the closed, brass plate bearing door.

Eventually a small ring of a bell indicates that the professor is ready for his guests and you are shown into his office…



“Thank you for attending so quickly,” the professor says warmly, shaking each of you by the hand. “I apologize for not revealing more as to the nature of my summons, but what I have to say should not ... indeed cannot be put to paper.” At this point he looks, pointedly, at Miss Bly as he gestures to comfortable-looking chairs as he takes a seat behind a cluttered desk.

“As you may know, London’s streets are awash with swarms of rats. I feel I may be responsible for this unfortunate plague!” He steeples his hands and pauses as if searching for the best way on how to proceed.

“Last month I was discussing the problems of rats in general found here in London, and their unfortunate nature as disease carriers. I made a passing remark, a jest if you will, to my fellow clubbers that the matter could be easily solved if we could find a basilisk, for rats are greatly afraid of them. Ten days ago, a small box arrived at my office. Inside, snugly secured within a bed of straw, was a large egg upon which was written a single word: basilisk."

“Naturally I was highly suspicious, for as a man of science I put no faith in the tales of the ancients. But curiosity bade me to incubate the egg and see what manner of creature hatched. I ordered my assistant to place the egg in a basement near the museum's boilers and to keep a watchful eye on it.”

“Yesterday I went to check on my assistant’s progress, only to find him dead. And without a mark on him! The egg had hatched, but of the creature within there was no sign. I have spent the time since wondering how best to proceed. The situation is growing worse and talk of a monster is spreading.”

“Just the other day one of my colleagues remarked that he overheard the keeper of the King’s Head Inn telling customers he had seen a monster in his courtyard, and I know for a fact that the story regarding the hansom cab horse is a lie intended to avoid panic.”

“May I count on your services, and your discretion?”

Horatio Wellington got up out of his chair and observed the room and its occupants as he paced slowly to the window. He had expected some triviality to be the case, but had given in none the less, since the name of their host bore some gravity.

He stared out at the London skyline for a moment, before turning around and taking his pipe from his mouth with practised movement.

"I fear, Professor Hawthorne, you may have fallen victim to a very unfortunate trap or attempt at jest on your behalf.
I should like to investigate the box this egg came in and whatever remains of it as well."

Horatio Wellington purposefully walks towards the ornamental globe in the corner of the office and brushes his fingers over it, looking at the gathered dust their.

"However, you can be assured of discretion...and swiftness of action."

"I would ask you why you have contacted such an assorted group of people, and not the constabulary, but I have already surmised that you have given this serious thought." He puts the pipe between his teeth and sucks in some of the fragrant blue smoke.
"You fear the Police would either ridicule you and not look into the case, or that they would indeed do so, but such an inquiry would certainly gather a lot of attention. Either way, the name of the museum would be tarnished and you would not be responsible for that."

Ms. Nellie Bly leafs desultorily through the "competition" spread out on the occasional table.

When Professor Hawthorne "looks, pointedly" she says in a nasal Yankee twang:

"You can rely on my discretion, sir." As the Professor speaks she flips open a small notebook, licks the nib of a pencil, and begins scribbling. She pauses when the Professor says: "I feel I may be responsible for this unfortunate plague!" and snaps out: "And why is that, Professor Hawthorne?"



Mr. Arthur Cecil Klevendon wanders round the office studying the Professor's books.

"I say, 'rats'?" enquires Mr. Klevendon, who doesn't follow the news. Another statement: "'egg'?

"Surely, sir," says Klevendon to Horatio Wellington, "you give no credit to this Basilisk--a legendary reptile?"

Ms. Bly interjects: "You have the low-down on 'The Vanishing Cabby,' Professor Hawthorne?"

Peter Roxborough calmly remains in his seat with a smug smile on his lips, his mind in another place and he thinks:
A basilisk...that would taste exceedingly well with a picpoul de pinet. The texture would probably be somewhere in between crocodile and tuna and the sharp clear tones of the wine would accentuate the gamy flavours of the dragon...He didn't mind letting the others figure out the who's and why's, he just wanted the creature, what a feast that would make.

Horatio Wellington jabs the air with his pipe in the direction of A. C. Klevendon as he gesticulates.

"My dear man, I discount no creature until I have seen the egg it came from. Act on evidence no supposition."

He sucks his pipe and looks to Professor Hawthorne.

"I should also like to see the boiler room and the remains of your assistant, Professor Hawthorne."

Nellie watches Peter Roxborough. "Is he salivating?" thinks Nellie.

"My dear man, I discount no creature until I have seen the egg it came from. Act on evidence no supposition."

Klevendon emits an explosive, derisive, chortle.

H. G. Wellington raises a dismissive eyebrow at the sound emitted by his colleague and mouths his pipe again, eagerly savouring the smoke.


"Far be it from me to stop you from solving this case entirely relying on your preconceptions, Mr. Klevendon, but I for one would like to inspect the potential evidence before theorising any approaches to a resolution of the mystery."

He takes a few more puffs and gives his friend an amused smile.

"You should know by now that my method is based on studying the minutiae and that the solving of the puzzle is oft-times hidden in the details of the challenge itself."

DrPeterson wrote:"You fear the Police would either ridicule you and not look into the case, or that they would indeed do so, but such an inquiry would certainly gather a lot of attention. Either way, the name of the museum would be tarnished and you would not be responsible for that."

At Horatio Wellingtons’s words the Professor had blanched, no doubt stung by some accusation he felt hidden within.
“Indeed sir - indeed, involvement of the constabulary would. I fear tarnish the reputation of this world renowned museum. A reputation which I have endeavoured to uphold since being appointed one of its senior curators.”

DrPeterson wrote:""I fear, Professor Hawthorne, you may have fallen victim to a very unfortunate trap or attempt at jest on your behalf. I should like to investigate the box this egg came in and whatever remains of it as well.

“Ah yes the box. I did of course keep the packaging, although I confess it mislaid.” He picks up a small ornately inlaid brass bell which he rings. You recognise the gentle melodic tone as that you had heard earlier. “Martha, Martha, have you seen that blasted box that contained the mysterious egg? Mr Wellington would care to examine it” She shakes her head and departs in search of it.

Tabs wrote: She pauses when the Professor says: "I feel I may be responsible for this unfortunate plague!" and snaps out: "And why is that, Professor Hawthorne?"

At this point he looks towards the female reporter, “And it is for this reason my dear young lady that I fear I may be responsible for the plague that is now affecting the capital. For if it is a Basilisk, and it has fled to the sewers it may be the reason for the sudden surge in the rat population plaguing the streets. For it is said that the rat was a delicacy of the young of the Basilisk.” As he ends his speech he reddens slightly, probably from fear that his words may cast a shadow on his scientific credentials.

As if in a haste to draw attention away from his fears over some mythological creatures appearance in a London that stands at the pinnacle of scientific endeavour, he turns back to Horatio Wellington, “You ask why I chose to seek aid from the four of you. The answer is quite simple, you sir are said to be one of best detectives in London, so if we are to ascertain the truth behind this event I feel that you are most able to pierce any fog of mystery and shine the lamp of reason upon this situation.”

“While you sir” he now looks towards the splendidly outfitted Peter Roxborough, noting the keenness of his eye and the tell-tale paunch of a true gastronome “Are considered by many to be one of the finest hunters of exotic fauna that this nation has produced. If this creature, whatever it may be, has indeed as I fear fled into the sewers I am sure there are few that could hunt it down with such little fuss as you sir.”

“Miss Bly… Why should I wish to involve a member of the press, when it is publicity that I most fear? Well that is where your reputation does you great service. Not for you the cheap sensationalism that mars many within the ranks of your profession, rather a guiding desire for truth, justice, and if I may say so, the American dream. Thus if this story must be reported in the press, one would wish it to be reported truthfully without the sensationalist slant that many gentlemen of the press would add.”

“Finally your good self Mr Klevendon, as an antiquarian of some reputation there is little chance that a hoaxer would be able to fool you with a disguised bird egg, no matter how cunning the obfuscation. If, and I hasten to add if, the creature is indeed a Basilisk, and heaven knows with all the new species of creature that are constantly being found in recent expeditions to newly discovered lands it is within the realms of feasibility if not probability, I feel that your good self may be in a position to identify it scientifically and determine its place of origin.”

Tabs wrote:"Surely, sir," says Klevendon to Horatio Wellington, "you give no credit to this Basilisk--a legendary reptile?"

Hawthorne interjects,
“As a man of science, I doubt that that any creature can kill by simply staring at its prey ... yet I have seen Simon’s body and can deduce no other logical explanation. Perhaps the myths are based on truth. The fact that we have never found a basilisk does not preclude their existence, after all.”

Tabs wrote:Ms. Bly interjects: "You have the low-down on 'The Vanishing Cabby,' Professor Hawthorne?"

In answer to Miss Bly’s question, Hawthorne turns in his seat, smiles as one would to an inquiring child and replies,
“The ‘low-down’ how quaint, an Americanism I presume? A colleague of mine at the Zoological Gardens told me in passing. Apparently the beast was taken there for examination. If you want I can pen a letter to Professor Atwood informing him you are assisting me with something. I am sure he would grant you access to the carcass.
It would appear that a certain Jacobs, landlord of the King’s Head Inn some half a mile from here has been telling all and sundry about having seen a monster in his yard. However I am not particular to all the details, but it would seem that the newspaper article was concocted to avoid unnecessary panic”

DrPeterson wrote:"I should also like to see the boiler room and the remains of your assistant, Professor Hawthorne."

Hawthorne, a sad caste overcoming his face, replies,
“Indeed sir, I anticipated that you might… Ah, yes, poor Simon Higgins… Not wishing to involve the constabulary, for obvious reasons, I put the body into one of our chilled storage areas to stave off decomposition until I decided how to proceed. He’s downstairs if you wish to examine him. The egg, or the remnants, is still within the basement where young Higgins met his end."

Mr. Wellington has sat down during the professor's explanation, but now he veers up again, pocketing his pipe.

"Then we should head down to the boiler room at once! Mr. Higgins will have to wait until we have examined the egg and its surroundings. "

The detective starts heading for the door. He stops halfway there and turns around.

"Professor, would I be mistaken in assuming you have some knowledge of the science of palaeontology?"

Peter Roxborough had drifted back into the conversation at the mention of his name and nodded vigorously at the compliments, remarking:
"There's no creature of this Earth that a Roxborough can not overcome, Professor, no need to worry, your problem is virtually solved."

The fact that we have never found a basilisk does not preclude their existence, after all.”

"I suppose so," thinks a bemused Klevendon. He says: "Regarding the shell, I believe I may be able to conclude if it is an ostrich or the like."

DrPeterson wrote:"The detective starts heading for the door. He stops halfway there and turns around.
"Professor, would I be mistaken in assuming you have some knowledge of the science of palaeontology?

Hawthorne looks bemused at the question,
"Indeed sir you would be right", he gesture at the many books neatly shelved around the room which had so occupied Klevenden's attention. "And may I ask your point sir?"
Pushing his chair back from his desk, he produces a set of keys on a chain from his pocket and proceeds to unlock one of the desk's many drawers. A few seconds of rumaging later and he triumphantly waves a key for inspection. "The key to the basement, Shall we?"

"There is no point to deliver yet, Professor Hawthorne, but I assure you that your case has greatly piqued my interest."

Horatio Wellington smiles and indicates the door, allowing the professor to lead the way.

Klevendon, unsure what to make of the odd situation, peers over the steel rim of his glasses, "Mr. Wellington, it will be a pleasure to watch you work--'studying the minutiae,' and so forth."

Quickly adjusting her skirts Nelli sat, leaning forward slightly and listened to the explanation of why she and the others had been summoned.

As Professor Hawthorne started his explanation Nellie started writing in her notebook; quickly making notes and observations in shorthand, her pen making faint scratching noises as it danced across the page. Looking up and smiling at the Professor as he paused, encouraging him to continue.

She smiled, her clear blue eyes seemed to gleam with the sentiment behind Professor Hawthorne's characterisation of her journalistic skills and integrity; She would only report the truth, not sensational overblown stories, something that had put her at odds with more than one Editor.

As Nellie sketched out the tale as told by the Professor she also made notes about the other guests, quite an esoteric gathering - she idly wondered if there would be enough time for a few interviews. It would be quite the coup to be able to write an interest piece on the notoriously aloof H.G. Wellington and placing articles about the colourful, exciting hunts that Roxborough must have been involved in, or indeed whatever theories Arthur Klevendon held dear shouldn't be hard to place either.

The Professors tale seems straightforward if a little far-fetched; juist because the egg has the word 'Basilisk' written on it didn't meant that the contents matched the label. Why, it was obvious that the egg was from someone at the club where the Professor made his comments about his fanciful ideas on vermin control. It was also logical to assume that it was sent as some kind of prank, after all if a Basilisk did exist and had a voracious appetite for rat then surely every city in the Empire would have them! Far more likely a prank intended to embarrass the Professor. Perhaps he egg contained some serpent, that might explain the death of the assistant, Higgins - perhaps it bit him, then slithered off to some dark warm corner. Nellie shivered, imagining a black scaled snake slithering away from the poor unfortunate Higgins' body.

The questions and interjections of the other guests brought her out of her musings and she focused her attention back into the well appointed Professor's office. Listening intently as the renowned detective focuses on the egg and the basement... while other points in the Professor's tale pique her interest.

"Why thank you Professor a letter to your colleague at the Zoological Gardens would be most welcome indeed." Smiling inwardly at this opportunity, here was a mystery that she could set her teeth into.

The Professor fishes in his draw and produces a set of keys and it seems the detective is set on leaving the office. Nellie frowns glancing over her notes.

"Sorry, Mr Wellington, Professor but before we explore the museums basement can we clear a couple of points up?"

Without a pause she carries on, she has some questions and observations and wants to air them before the suddenly animated Detective builds up a head of steam and the moment is lost.

"Just quickly, if you will.... " Nellie flashed one of her best disarming smiles, "You received the egg ten days ago, decided to hatch it, yesterday you discovered your assistant dead, that was yesterday. So if we allow ourselves to believe that it was indeed a Basilisk that had hatched... hatched and somehow dispatched your assistant and then, as you say entered the sewers." Nellie pauses to make sure that all agree with her summation.

"Then, how do you manage to equate these occurrences with the plague of rats in the streets? The Basilisk, if that is what it is has only been abroad for a day, two at the most." Nellie scans her companions and host, to see their reactions.

"Or, is there something else you've not mentioned, Professor?" Nellie asks in her smooth contralto tones, with a frown of puzzled questioning of her face.

carnage_lee wrote: "Just quickly, if you will.... " Nellie flashed one of her best disarming smiles, "You received the egg ten days ago, decided to hatch it, yesterday you discovered your assistant dead, that was yesterday. So if we allow ourselves to believe that it was indeed a Basilisk that had hatched... hatched and somehow dispatched your assistant and then, as you say entered the sewers." Nellie pauses to make sure that all agree with her summation.

"Then, how do you manage to equate these occurrences with the plague of rats in the streets? The Basilisk, if that is what it is has only been abroad for a day, two at the most." Nellie scans her companions and host, to see their reactions.

"Or, is there something else you've not mentioned, Professor?" Nellie asks in her smooth contralto tones, with a frown of puzzled questioning of her face.

With a sigh the professor settles into his chair once more and once again steeples his fingers atop his leather covered desk,
“My dear young lady, I can assure you that no attempt to deceive on my part is intended. The events are exactly as I have related. The appearance of the rodent plague on the streets within such a short time of the egg’s hatching, has puzzled me. But if indeed it is a Basilisk, although as I said earlier as a man of science I am extremely dubious as to that creatures existence, who would know the speed at which it grows? The Basilisk is a creature of mythology so mayhap it grows at some mythical pace.”

He smiles, “Excellent your questions point to a most analytical mind. Between the four of you I have little doubt that this mystery will soon be cleared up”

He places his hands flat upon the desk and begins to lift himself from the chair, “Have you any further questions, or shall we proceed to the basement?”

Nellie listens to the Professor, he seems genuine in his beliefs as far as she can tell; however Nellie struggles with the idea of a Basilisk loose in the sewers of London; something had caused the 'rat-plague' but she'd be willing to bet on a more mundane reason.

“Thank you Professor ” she says warmly, snapping the cap back over her pen and putting the note-book back into her bag. Feeling about and deftly drawing out her pride and joy, a Whitman & Purvis Steriographic Lithograph Camera. “I'll be pleased to capture any photographic evidence of the scene in the basement that you require Mr. Wellington." Nellie says brightly in way of apology for holding the detective back from his investigation. She stands and indicates with a wave of her hand that the Professor should carry on.

Professor Hawthorne leads the way from his office, stopping at his secretary’s desk to ascertain if she had found the missing box which the egg had arrived in. It seemed she had not but was confident of its imminent discovery.

Leaving her with instruction to write a letter of introduction to Professor Atwood at the Zoological Gardens, the professor leads the way down to the basement. The door to which stands at the very bottom of the buildings staircase.

The preponderance of dust and cobwebs attest to the infrequency of visitors.

With a flourish the professor produces the key and inserts it in the lock. With a grinding sound of disuse the key turns. The professor, his task accomplished, steps back. “Gentlemen, and Miss Bly of course, the basement where poor Simon met his demise”

OOC: Please look to your Character Sheets and if you wish at any time to employ a skill please advise me and we’ll run through it.

While waiting for the others to pass into the basement Nellie peers intently at the basement door and frame; trying to see if anything is out of place or odd about it.

"I thank you for your kind offer, Miss Bly, but I think I shall have better use of your cognitive abilities than your photographic ones.".
Horatio George Wellington offers the young woman a smile and steps into the room, his investigative senses peaked and rearing to be set at work. Before turning up the gas light, he takes a deep breath, trying to smell any unusual scents, after which he turns the light up and produces a magnifying lens from his coat pocket and starts looking around the room, specifically at where the egg was supposedly hatched, where Higgins's body was found and through what means the creature could have escaped the room.

OOC: I would like to use my Perception skill and my investigation skill, Crimes speciality if applicable.


Peter Roxborough harrumphs loudly as the detective enters the room and adds:
"If you'd be so kind as to not stamp out all the tracks, I'd be much obliged, Mr. Wellington!"

He politely tries to move past Mss Bly , "Begging your pardon, Miss", and will look for anything that could indicate the passage of an animal in the room.

The basement of the building has been locked since the professor had removed the body of his assistant and it is noticeable how warm it is down here. No doubt this is due to the buildings boiler being in close proximity, probably the reason that the egg was brought here to incubate.

Apart from dust, cobwebs, and various bits and pieces, close to a steam pipe which runs from the boiler for a few feet before turning sharply toward the ceiling are located the shattered remains of an egg shell lie atop a nest of straw.

No more than four feet from the nest an iron grating can be seen in the flooring. It has been partially covered by an old tarpaulin.
“It was over there between the nest and the grating that I found poor Simon” says the professor pointing from outside the room.

OOC: Please indicate where and how you wish to use your investigation skills, also dont forget Roxborough's skills

Wellington moves over to inspect the nest, picking up the largest shell fragment he can find and sniffs it, turns it around it in his fingers and examines it through his glass.


Roxborough barges into the room, looks at the scene and then moves to the grating, moving the tarp to the side, hoping to find some trace of the creature in the dust there.

Klevendon sidles past Ms. Bly, who is examining the basement door, and enters the room, following the detective and the hunter. He asks Wellington: "The shell: can I look through your glass?"

[ooc: Klevendon will use "Investigation" to try and ascertain if the shell is from a reptile or bird.]

Once Wellington has inspected the shell and nest, he hands the glass to Klevendon.

"Naturally, I am keen to hear your observations, Mr. Klevendon."

Klevendon concentrates as he peers through the glass at the shell.

[ooc: I can't view invisiblecastle, I'll try our dice roller: [dice]6d6[/dice], nah! 6 coin tosses =3 heads and 3 tails. ]

[dice]0[/dice]

Had to enable dice in the forum, which as you can see from above I have done now.

Nellie watches the actions of her fellow investigators from where she stands in the doorway with the Professor. She looks about intently from her vantage point, taking in the scene.

Perception (8),[dice]0[/dice]

Investigating the broken shell pieces tells you little apart from the fact that the pieces are too small to discern the species. Klevenden is sure that if only he had larger pieces to study he could soon identify the species of creature, avian or reptilian, that was the origin of the egg.

Nellie’s Perception tells her that from disturbances in the dust it seems that a heavy object was dragged from a position somewhere between the straw nest and the partially covered grating. Other minor disturbances in the dust of the flooring seem to show that something had moved from the nest towards the grating.

Wellington’s perception tells him much the same as Miss Bly with the addition that he can see that the heavy object was dragged by a man wearing a size 9 handmade shoe with worn heels.

Roxborough pulls the old, worn tarpaulin free of the grating revealing it to be a one foot square opening blocked off by a series of iron bars set three inches apart. Using his excellent tracking skills he is able to tell that something had moved from the nest site to the grating. He is unsure what manner of creature made the strange marks in the dust, but whatever it was he declares it a biped, probably the size of a small chicken.

It is a area of the bars that most attracts Wellington’s attention it appears that a small patch of rust has been brushed away from between two of the bars.

Wellington takes out his pipe, stuffs it slowly and lights it up. Puffing gently, he lets his eyes wander between those present and says:
"Well, gentlemen, Miss Bly, what are your initial impressions?"


Roxborough sits on his haunches by the grate, measuring the marks in the dust with his hands and looks up at the detective.
"I've never seen anything like it, but I reckon it's more akin to a bird than a lizard. It walks on its hind legs and can't be more than a foot high." He holds up his hand to indicate the size. A sad look crosses his face for a brief moment. "There wouldn't be much meat on that creature..."

"I cannot decide," says a disappointed Klevendon, handing the glass back to Wellington.

"'My impressions'? I have none!" barks the Antiquarian, clearly crestfallen over his failure to identify the shell. Hoping that the woman is more "at sea" than himself he sardonically asks Nellie: "And what do you think, Ms. Bly? Can you surmise as much as Mr. Roxborough?"

"I am very curious about that horse now, too.", Roxborough said as he stood up and stretched his legs. He really liked horse meat, so ripe, so rich...
"It seems very unlikely that a creature this size could overcome a horse, or a man for that matter. Not on its own at least."

Wellington doesn't say a thing as he receives his glass and walks over to the grating, leaning in close to inspect the spot where the corrosion has been wiped off.

OOC:,He inspects the grate for scales, slime, feathers or traces of fabric. I'll use his average of 4+1. [dice]0[/dice] No luck with the roller today, the total remains at 4 successes.

While the three men dive in with their investigations Nellie calmly surveys the scene, tallying the scene she sees before her with the details portrayed by Professor Hawthorne. She can see that something appears to have moved across the floor from the 'nest' to the grating, stifling a smile as Roxborough clears the tarpaulin from the grating; 'how impatient' she thinks, that man seems to have no restraint and makes a mental note to make sure she stands behind him as much as possible. She can imagine being bowled over by the the burly Hunter as he rushes to chase down his latest prey.

At least Klevendon and Wellington seemed to be able to act in a civil manner, even co-operating, a good sign indeed. Although it seems that the reclusive Antiquarian hadn't managed to identify anything interesting from the remnants of the egg.

Seeing that Wellington appears to be interested in the floor, Nellie takes another look. The dust has been disturbed and by the look of things, taking into account Roxborough's headlong rush into the room, something has been dragged across the floor. It would appear that the poor assistant had lain between the nest and the grating, before being taken from the room. The body dragged, not carried. That tied in with Professor Hawthorne's account.

[quote = "Klevendon"]
"And what do you think, Ms. Bly? Can you surmise as much as Mr. Roxborough?"
[/quote]

Deciding for the moment to ignore Klevendon's tone, which Nellie attributed to petulance at failing to identify anything useful from the fragments of egg shell.

"In my opinion it would appear that something moved from the nest to the grating and that something heavy was dragged from the room, I think we can safely assume that was the poor assistant." Nellie turns slightly to the Professor "How did you transport the body the rest of the way to the .. cold room, I think you said?" she asks.

Nellie covers her hand and coughs gently as the fragrant smoke from Wellington's pipe makes its way to her.

DrPeterson wrote:"Wellington doesn't say a thing as he receives his glass and walks over to the grating, leaning in close to inspect the spot where the corrosion has been wiped off.

OOC:,He inspects the grate for scales, slime, feathers or traces of fabric. I'll use his average of 4+1. [dice]151729:0[/dice] No luck with the roller today, the total remains at 4 successes.

Wellington,other than the small are of worn rust there is nothing, No indication of what had disturbed the rust.

carnage_lee wrote:"In my opinion it would appear that something moved from the nest to the grating and that something heavy was dragged from the room, I think we can safely assume that was the poor assistant." Nellie turns slightly to the Professor "How did you transport the body the rest of the way to the .. cold room, I think you said?" she asks.

Under the gaze of the young lady reporter, the professor even from outside the basement, wonders if this is how a specimen feels when observed beneath a microscope. “I confess I did receive some aid from my secretary Martha, who despite her size is surprisingly strong. Between us we were able to convey the body of dear Simon up the stairs to the small landing where it is currently housed in one of the museums cold storage rooms”

Wellington chews the stem of his pipe, glaring at the grating. He passes the fabric of the tarpaulin between his fingers and gives it a good look with his glass before getting up and pocketing the tool.

Investigation roll 4 successes,I'm going to roll for a change. Wellington would like to know the fabric, notice anything unusual about it and especially if it is as dusty as the rest of the room. In other words, is it a recent addition or not. [dice]0[/dice] 4 successes

Looking at the others with sharp eyes, he says:

"I have seen enough for now, I suggest we follow the Professor's lead to the cold storage room."

Horatio Wellington leaves the room, smiling at Miss Bly as he passes her and goes stand by the Professor, putting a confidential hand on the man's shoulder.

"Professor Hawthorne, I would very much like to see your dinosaur egg collection once we've gone through all the unpleasant business at hand. Do you think that would be possible?"

Horatio looks over the professor's shoulder at the staircase they'd so recently come down. Their passage must have disturbed the dust a bit, but he expected to see some indication of the secretary's shoes.

Perception roll 6(!) successes,[dice]1[/dice]

Wellington,Your observations of the tarpaulin reveal that it is aged and shows signs of having been in a dusty environment for some considerable time, a situation totaly comensurate with having been stored within the basement. It is made of a tan canvas and looks as if it had once been part of a tent. You can find nothing to indicate anything out of the ordinary about it, it is simply an old canvas tarpaulin. Looking for footprints on the stairs reveal an occasional female shoe print which probably verifies the professors story about having Martha's assistance to help move the body. The shoe size, by the way, is a ladies size three, the print pattern displays much wear and a style of lace up popular with secretarys throughout the capital.

DrPeterson wrote:"Professor Hawthorne, I would very much like to see your dinosaur egg collection once we've gone through all the unpleasant business at hand. Do you think that would be possible?"

Suprised by the detectives request, the professor nods, "But of course dear sir, but I can assure you all our specimens have been dead for millions of years, and, as far as I know, none are missing."

"Do you suspect a creature from prehistory? Surely that is almost as bizarre as a Basilisk theory? Anyway I can assure you if it had been a dinosaur egg of some description it was not one i have ever seen"

"Not at all, I am merely professing a keen interest in the field, professor Hawthorne, nothing more. But let us not tarry, I am very eager indeed, to see young Higgins remains."

Wellington starts up the stairs, a trail of smoke from his pipe following him.

Dinosaur eggs? Dinosaurs eggs...scrambled with a few slices of bacon on the side, perhaps some toast and sausages too...
Roxborough's stomach made a primeval noise. This case was making him so hungry and they hadn't even started hunting yet.
He took a quick look around the room as he left, giving Miss Bly his most manly great white hunter smile.

The professor, allowing you a last few moments in the basement in case you wish to look at anything else, produces the key from a waistcoat pocket and closes and locks the basement door. “And so it will stay until this business is concluded” then with a sigh and shake of his head, will follow you up the staircase to the landing off which there are four doors marked ‘Specimen Storage: Do Not Leave Open’.

Fumbling for and finding a collection of keys on a ring, he proceeds to select one and unlock one of the four doors. With a well oiled click of the lock mechanism and a slight squeal as it rubbs the floor, the door opens into what is a cold storage room, ostensibly due to the absence of any heat source, therefore allowing the room to present the temperature that the building had in the days before interior heating.

The room itself is unremarkable, being nothing more than a storage room and therefore outfitted for that purpose. A series of metal shelves, empty at the moment, show marks of previous storage. Although generally the room is clean and, most importantly given its purpose, dust free.

A metal table with castors has been pushed to one side and on it lies the body of a young male, you estimate probably somewhere in his late twenties. He is naked apart from two small white towels, one of which has been strategically placed to cover his privates, while the other has been used to cover his face.

“My assistant Simon Higgins. A sad end for a most worthy young man” A slight catch in the professor’s voice, a wobble in his inflection, would seem to attest to the sadness he is feeling over the death of his assistant.

Priest wrote: “My assistant Simon Higgins. A sad end for a most worthy young man” A slight catch in the professor’s voice, a wobble in his inflection, would seem to attest to the sadness he is feeling over the death of his assistant.

Nellie draws an audible breath at the sight of the near naked body. "Goodness! You might have warned us that the poor man had been stripped." she admonishes the Professor "I think, it's best if I wait out here for the duration of any examination."

Nellie will wait in the corridor till after any examination of the body.

"Professor Hawthorne, Ms. Bly is quite right, the naked Simon Higgins is not an appropriate sight for a young lady, even if he is dead!" exclaims a flustered Klevendon. As is his habit, he peers over the rim of his spectacles and looks at the corpse. "He is so young," says he, almost admiringly, "ahem!"; he wonders at 'A slight catch in the professor’s voice' and compares it to his own, admittedly base, first impression of the naked young man. An obvoius question springs into Klevendon's mind, "Professor, why is Higgins naked and where are his clothes?"

Tabs wrote:"Professor Hawthorne, Ms. Bly is quite right, the naked Simon Higgins is not an appropriate sight for a young lady, even if he is dead!" exclaims a flustered Klevendon. As is his habit, he peers over the rim of his spectacles and looks at the corpse. "He is so young," says he, almost admiringly, "ahem!"; he wonders at 'A slight catch in the professor’s voice' and compares it to his own, admittedly base, first impression of the naked young man. An obvoius question springs into Klevendon's mind, "Professor, why is Higgins naked and where are his clothes?"

At both Miss Bly’s obvious discomfort and Klevendon’s admonishment, the professor looks aghast.
“Please accept my apologies my dear Miss Bly. I know it is little comfort but in my defence I must say that I simply did not think. Again apologies to all of you for my carelessness”

From the reddening of his face you are certain that his apology is sincere.
“You ask why he is naked? The search for a wound to explain his death, possibly from the bite of some venomous snake or something similar showing that the eggs occupant had been of the reptilian species, necessitated the removal of his garments. However no evidence of a wound was forthcoming in fact the only odd thing to mar his body is the look of sheer terror that death has left frozen upon his features, so awful is it that I confess I found it necessary to cover his face with a cloth.”

He continues to stand in the doorway showing little intention of approaching the body.
“His clothing I have placed on that shelf there” He points towards a neatly folded pile of clothing on a nearby shelf beside which stand a pair of lace up boots.
“You will find there is nothing therein that sheds any light on Simon’s fate”

Wellington pats the professor on the shoulder and exclaims,
"Good man, for a moment I feared you'd discarded his clothes!"

The man barged into the room, seemingly indifferent to the undressed state of the dead young man.

Horatio looks over the partially covered remains of the young assistant and twists his toe. He then produces his glass from his pocket and check under the young man's nails for traces of soil or tissue and examines the exposed pieces of the corpse before removing the face cloth.

Investigation roll (2),[dice]0[/dice]

Roxborough stares incredulously as the callous detective enters the room.
He puts a caring hand on Miss Bly's shoulder to offer some comfort and whispers some soothing words, sounding more like he's trying to calm down his horse than a person.

Wellington,Despite your intense investigation, you can find no trace of anything untoward. His fingernails show nothing that you would not find under any museum assistants finger nail. Likewise you can find no evidence of wound, or mark that might reveal either the manner of death or evidence of foul play. The lack of such evidence leads you to consider simple heart failure as the reason for his death, and when you consider the look of sheer terror frozen on his features it is easy to conclude that intense fear was the cause of this heat failure, but fear of what?

The abrupt removal of the face covering cloth by the detective causes the entire assemblage to loose a collective groan, for in doing so Wellington had allowed the full horror of the young mans last moments to be seen by all within the room.

The features are frozen by death into a rictus of fear. Dead eyes have almost burst from their sockets, the mouth strains open as if in mid scream, the volume of which must have been enormous.

“Dear God sir, have you no sympathy for the dead?” mutters the professor obviously shocked by the detectives lack of societal niceties.

Klevendon's first thought, gentleman that he is, is: "Ms. Bly, whatever you do, don't look at Higgins' face"; next, reaction sets in, and he begins to hyperventilate himself.

"Mr. Wellington," says Klevendon carefully,--concentrating on his breathing--"did you discover anything?"

Klevendon checks out the dead man's clothing and boots.

Wellington sucks his pipe as he stares at the terrified face for a few moments before covering it up again. Most unsettling to a lesser mind, he suspected.

He cocks an eyebrow as he gives the professor an almost condescending stare.

"I respect the dead so much I try to clear the fog that surrounds their passing, Professor, I am quite sure Mr. Higgins has little objection to that."

He puffs his pipe, notices it has gone out and puts in his coat pocket.

"And yes, Mr. Klevendon, I have observed that Mr. Higgins is indeed deceased without discernible wounds or lesions. Given his expression, one would be tempted to say he was scared to death."

Wellington moves the fingers on Higgins's right hand and then his toes to establish if the rigor mortis has passed from the rest of the corpse.

Priest:,Would Wellington be able to make this assumption? "[color=#0000BF]It has been observed by my good friend Dr. [b]Alexander Bell[/b] that the facial muscles of a body can contort after death, forming what is a known as a death grin, typically the result of tetanus or poisoning.[/color]"

"By Jove!"

With strong hands, Roxborough turns Miss Bly away from the scene. He had no stomach for dead humans and was glad to have the lady present as an excuse to not be in the room.

Nellie takes the time to write a few more observations into her trusty notebook. She leans against the wall to one side of the doorway and listens to the action in the 'cold-room', her face drains as she hears the gasps and low mutterings followed by the Antiquarians somewhat unnecessary warning.

Nellie too a couple of deep breaths to steady herself. "His face? You said he bore no discernible marks upon your poor unfortunate assistant Professor."

Dr.P,in reality probably not but for the sake of the scenario - yes he could make this assumption.

Tabs,the three successes granted by the average of you investigation would be better than the two you scored with rolling. But it can be worthwhile, after all you could have rolled a full house of successes. However in this situation you would have learned nothing more.

Mr. Wellington steps away from the corpse to stand by Mr. Klevendon and adds:
"It has been observed by my good friend Dr. Alexander Bell that the facial muscles of a body can contort after death, forming what is a known as a death grin, typically the result of tetanus or strychnine poisoning."

carnage_lee wrote:Nellie too a couple of deep breaths to steady herself. "His face? You said he bore no discernible marks upon your poor unfortunate assistant Professor."

“Indeed it is so Miss Bly, whatever had killed him had caused the lad such fright to have contorted his features most hideously. But as I said after a thorough investigation of his body, I could discern no indication of foul play or means of poisons introduction”

DrPeterson wrote:"It has been observed by my good friend Dr. Alexander Bell that the facial muscles of a body can contort after death, forming what is a known as a death grin, typically the result of tetanus or strychnine poisoning."

“And he is right" Interrupts the professor, "Or so I am led to believe, yet when one looks at the expression of sheer terror on young Simon’s face, surely it can not be the result of mere rigour? And as you yourself have observed there is no evidence of any puncture where such poison could be introduced to the body.”

"That is true, but syringes are not the only way of administering strychnine, it could be consumed or inhaled, the latter being more likely in this case. If there is case of such poisoning, which I am not claiming there to be."

Once Klevendon is through with the clothes, Wellington gives them a cursory examination, feeling and smelling the fabric.

Investigation(5),I'll go my average of 4+1 here. [dice]0[/dice]

Nellie gives a pained but thankful smile to Roxborough for his comforting pat and supportive words.

Hearing the Consulting Detectives conjectures...

Wellington wrote:"That is true, but syringes are not the only way of administering strychnine, it could be consumed or inhaled, the latter being more likely in this case. If there is case of such poisoning, which I am not claiming there to be."

.. gives Nellie some half formed idea, some way of rationalising the unfortunate events in the Museum.

Nellie thinking:   'What if the egg contained some toxic substance and reacting over time with the heat from the steam-pipes or perhaps some other mechanism casing the egg to 'hatch' breaking and then exposing the deadly poison to fill the room, killing the Professor's assistant. And if so was this some kind of assassination attempt...' Nellie's mind raced ahead.

"Was there any evidence downstairs of broken glass, perhaps in the nest? Nellie enquires.

"Oh, well thought out, Ms. Bly," praises Klevendon.

He remarks: "I could not discern anything noteworthy about the clothes."

carnage_lee wrote:"Was there any evidence downstairs of broken glass, perhaps in the nest? Nellie enquires.

The professor shakes his head, "Not that I was aware of the nest contained nothing more than pieces of the egg shell, whether Mr Wellington or Mr Klevendon found such evidence they have not said"

"Indeed I have not, nor have I discerned anything amiss in young Higgins's attire apart from some lacking imagination. Might I suggest we adjourn to your office, Professor Hawthorne, it helps to be in a calmer environment to get our facts straight."

Wellington wipes his hands on his kerchief and starts making for the door again.


Roxborough coughs, the thought of leaving the dead man was sharpening his appetite. "Might I suggest afterwards retiring for a spot of lunch, perhaps at the King's Head Inn?"

Yes, let's leave poor Higgins," says Klevendon.

Nellie re-caps her pen and puts away her note-book; quite happy to leave the vicinity of the poor deceased man. Although it might be a tad early for a spot of luncheon, perhaps they could spend the time on a quick meal and share their ideas and speculations on the events that Professor Hawthorne had involved them in. She smiled briefly as she thought of this... Wellington would no doubt protest at the thought of 'mere' hunches and speculation, concerning himself only with the facts at hand.

OOC: Am guessing it's about 11:30am - is that reasonable?

It took but moments for the professor to return you to the comfort of his office, having made certain that the door to the store room containing the body of the deceased was securely locked.

As you had passed the desk of his secretary she had placed a letter of introduction in the professor’s hand. It introduced you to Professor R.S Atwood, Chief Vetinarian at the Zoological Gardens as having a professional interest in the odd case of the dead horse so recently found outside the King’s Head Inn. It goes on to add the usual niceties and assurances that he, Professor Hargreaves was, and would always remain, his servant.

Back at his desk the professor signs the letter with a flourish, folds it and places it in an official museum envelope before handing it to Nellie,
“Give that letter to Atwood and tell him that you are working on my behalf” He drops, with a sigh, into his chair, “Now are there any other points that you wish clearing before…” A loud rumbling sound comes from the direction of Roxborough who reddens slightly. “Before you depart for a little refreshment?”

Klevendon thinking:   What is it about death that fuels my appetites?

Klevendon frowns at Roxborourgh: "Sir, please contain yourself: a man has been murdered!--have you no respect?"

Roxborough blushes as he puffs up his chest, looking at Klevendon.

Sir, I can guarantee that I regard this case and the death of young Mr. Higgins with the utmost sincerity. It is however impossible for a man, regardless of the nobility of his birth, to suppress the baser needs of the human condition. I apologise if I have offended, but I would rather remedy than cause reason for remorse again. I suggest we make short of our final inquiry of the professor and leave for the inn presently.



Wellington steps up and concurs with Roxborough,

"I for one concur with the honourable Roxborough. We have already taken a considerable amount of the professor's time and yet have contributed very little to the solving of this case. There are two questions that I would pose before leaving, Professor. Namely, when exactly was Mr. Higgings last seen and when did you discover his body? Please think carefully, the more astute the answer the better we can estimate the creature's supposed time of escape. And secondly, we will also be needing a letter of introduction to your club. I would very much like to listen around there, in all discretion naturally."

The professor, tastefully ignores the sounds of hunger erupting from the hunters stomach, turning to Wellington he smiles although it is a smile tinged with worry and sadness.
"The last time I had occasion to talk to Simon was yesterday morning and it was later the same day that, having occasion to ask him about another museum exhibit, I found the situation as I have described"

He shakes his head momentarilly overcome by the memory. Then brightens as he advises,
"The Kings Head is said to be renowned for its cold meat platter. It would also allow you to interview Mr Jacobs, the landlord, as to the recent event in his yard".

He opens a drawer in his desk and removes a pile of papers, "Oh my club, yes. Please feel free to visit my club in the pursuit of your enquiries. The address is on this card, tell the doorman that you are there under my invite" He passes the small, tastefully decorated card to you, "But gentlemen and Miss Bly, I beg you please do be discreet"

Nellie takes the envelope from Professor Hawthorne, with a smile of thanks and slips it into her bag.

She tries to hide a wry smile behind a small cough, her hand covering her mouth upon hearing the gastric rumblings emanating from Roxborough's
stomach.

"Can you remember who was in the room at your club when you mentioned the Basilisk, Professor?" Nellie asks as he hands the card over to Wellington. "After all, it is quite likely that it was one of your companions that sent you the egg." She adds reasonably.

carnage_lee wrote:"Can you remember who was in the room at your club when you mentioned the Basilisk, Professor?" Nellie asks as he hands the card over to Wellington. "After all, it is quite likely that it was one of your companions that sent you the egg." She adds reasonably.

"Not off hand dear lady, but I'm sure the information would be in the clubs register for the meeting" For a few moments his brow is wrinkled in thouthfull concentration, "However, I am certain that none of the august members of the 'Cerebal Activities Society' would stoop to anything that underhand, even in jest"

'The club register'? Hmmm, I shall certainly check it out.

Klevendon softens his affected outrage: "'Cold meat platter' you say? I believe I may try the dish."

"Most often people believe what they would believe rather than face truth and fact, professor. But no worries, whoever or whatever is behind this shall be unmasked soon enough, you have my word."

He takes the card from miss Bly and offers her a formal smile in gratitude. He reads it and then puts the card away for later reference.

"Now I wonder if your very organised and diligent aide has found the crate the egg came in. It would be very forthcoming if we saw the container before we left."

"Yes, the egg's container," echoes Klevendon.

Once more the professor rings the ornate bell to summon his secretary.
"Ah Martha my dear, have you by chance found any trace of the package that contained the egg yet?"

Martha, a look of mortification on her otherwise plain features, wrings a lace handkerchief between her hands as if wringing the neck of some unfortunate creature.
"Indeed no sir. Though I have searched thoroughly as of yet no sign of the misplaced package can be found. I can only think that the janitor, Pearson, removed it to the furnace room for disposal. I have spoken to Pearson and have enlisted his aid in finding the article"

With a somewhat stiff curtsey she prepares to leave the room, "Was there anything else sir? If not I shall return to my filing"

As if to punctuate her last words an ominous rumbling reverberates around the room.

The professor looks aghast at Roxborough,
"By God Sir, for goodness sake go eat before you explode"

Wellington frowns and doesn't look all too happy.

"It is most unfortunate, Professor Hawthorne, that perhaps the most important clue has been rendered to the fire. I hope it proves to not be the case and that your assistant will yet manage to conjure up the box.

I would rightly appreciate its retrieval mentioned to me at the earliest possible moment, by means of courier or carrier boy.

Furthermore, I would like to suggest that you do contact the stout men of the Yard. After all, Mr. Higgins is quite dead, as we have all been able to attest, and the anxiety which may have caused his demise will have a detrimental effect on the preservation of his organs.
I would recommend asking for Inspector Nettles, he is one of the sharper men of the Constabulary and will value your need for discretion."

"Now I suggest we get moving, we have a lot of miles to cover and I fear our time to do so is running short. As is Mr. Roxborough's patience for getting some nourishment."

The professor stands, his face lined by a deep worried frown, "Indeed sir, it shall be as you ask. Rest assured the search for the missing container shall continue unabated. It shall be found, I assure you, and you shall receive notification the instant it is so"

He scribbles something on a small ringbound notepad, "Inspector Nettles you say? I shall contact him immediately and mention your name. I trust he is equally as discreet as you four?"

The next few minutes are spent in the usual formalities expected by polite society, after which you are given directions to the Kings Head and wished "Bon voyage" and "Good Hunting"

OOC:   The curtain falls leaving the intrepid adventurers and the professor in his office. The auditorium empties slowly as the audience files out for tea and cakes. Act 2: The King' Head, begins in a separate topic viewtopic.php?f=286&t=4695