Play@YSDC

Keswick is a small, ancient market town sitting in the grim and isolated countryside of England's Lake District. At its heart is the marketplace around which the town grew. Twice a week it is a hive of activity, full of folk from the town and surrounding countryside keen to do business with the sheep and cattle merchants auctioning their beasts, hawkers and food vendors, and travelling tinkers and tradesmen.

Tonight though, it is virtually empty. Autumnal rain is lashing the cobbles, washing the remaining detritus and filth from yesterday's market into gutters and drains. An icy north westerly wind is driving the rain against the granite frontages of the shops, banks and houses facing onto the marketplace, and those few townspeople still around scurry by quickly, keen to escape the rain and find a dry and warm refuge by the fireside in their homes.



In the dark of this early October evening, the lights from the ground floor windows of one somewhat neglected but still imposing building are reflected in the murky pools of water gathering in the street. This is the Blackstone Hotel, an old, fading building that retains little of its original charm. Inside the red-and-gold wallpaper turned red-and-ochre a long time ago. The carpets are frayed, the furniture scuffed and a smell of mould permeates. Most unsettlingly, the imitation gas lamps are turned so low that the corners are dark and the shadows long. The long case clock in reception chimes eight thirty, and a strange and assorted cast of characters inside go about their business little knowing the dread and unearthly horror they will soon face...

Hilary Viscount Exeter came down the stairs dressed in his evening finest. The man's noble bearing stood in stark contrast with the rather dishevelled look of the hotel. He inspected his fingertips and brushed the dust off as he made his way to the refectory and claimed the best table.

Looking around for some of the serving staff, he exclaims:
"I say, could I get a coffee over here!", his pronunciation highly affected. "Black with a splodge of brandy!"

At the table closest to the window, beyond which the autumnal wind throws the dismal drizzle against its glass, Helen Long, peers over the pages of the newspaper towards the source of the disturbance. With a snort of mild anger she proceeds to rustle the paper noisily to show her disaproval of having the first of her her evening nightcaps disturbed.
Men, she thinks, great hulking brutes they have no finesse.

Tomorrow she would hope for better light for painting. Tonight maybe a few more "G & T's" to help the creative juices flow.

Whoever the overdressed popinjay was she had no desire to find out, but given the emptiness of the hotel lounge she had a feeling that she would.

At the bar a bored barman looks up from the book he was reading, startled at the interruption. In his north country brogue he says "Yes sir, coming right up", before disappearing through a door that presumably leads to the hotel kitchen.

A couple of minutes pass before he comes back into the bar, carrying the drink on a tray. Stopping to top up the glass with a shot of Rémy Martin, he places the coffee cup and saucer in front of Viscount Exeter, taking the Viscount's name and room number as he does so. As soon as he reaches the bar again he picks up his book, and starts reading once more.

Exeter sips the brandy and lets out a resounding, appreciative "Aaah! Excellent, excellent, right what a fellow needs to get the engine started!".

He leans back in his chair and looks around the room, shaking a cigarette out of his silver cigarette case. Having lit it up, he makes his enjoyment known with another happy sigh.

Yearning for someone to hear him talk, he weighs his option between the totally uninteresting waiter or the newspaper reading bird. He opts for the more sociable choice, hoping the woman wasn't just another employer on a break.

"Ghastly! Simply ghastly! Isn't this a delightfully ghastly place, Madam?"

Helen Long, peers over the top of her newspaper in a manner that conveys her resentfulness of such a boorish interruption. For a second she considers an appropriate remark, but then decides it is simply not worth the effort.
She rustles the newspaper once again and snorts in a derisive manner at the rude man opposite.

Following a suitable interlude she folds the newspaper, her reading now disturbed and the mood totaly destroyed, places it on the table, opens a cigerette case and removes a cigarette. With practiced ease she fixes the cigerette in the long ivory coloured holder that lies on the table before her.
"Light?" It is more of a demand than a question.

Totally oblivious to the woman's disdain, Exeter takes the cue and gets up from his chair, taking his brandy and leaving the untouched coffee, and walks over to her table.

"Hilary, Viscount Exeter, at your service, Madam", he smiles a charming smile as he lights the cigarette.

He pulls a chair back and as he sits down he issues an "You don't mind, of course?".

Helen Long favours the intruder with a look that is somewhere between annoyed and bored. "Sit where you like, you people usually do anyway" she emphasises the 'you people' in such a manner as to make it almost a swear word.

Blowing a long plume of turkish tobacco smoke towards the intrusive man, she leans forward and offers a hand, which bears traces of various oil pigments, "Helen Long, Artist, and drop the Madam, darling, its so yesterday"

Introductions complete she lifts the glass from which the solitary lemon slice juts forlornly, "Chin chin. And just what brings a son of the nobility to this", she waves the glass at the unremarkable surroundings, "god forsaken dump?"

Exeter takes Helen's hand and plants a kiss an inch in the air above her hand, whilst expertly hiding his disdain for the woman's dirty hands.

"Charmed to make your acquaintance...Helen. Call me Hills, or Lord Exeter, whichever strikes your fancy." He laughs an affectionate laugh, although you're not entirely sure if it's entirely sincere.

This man appears to be uncommonly good at ignoring offensive remarks, he's either a total tool or an experienced socialite. Or that magical combination of both.

He sits down and leans back in his chair, finishing his brandy. He narrows his eyes, evoking deep thought and says:
"I don't rightly know, really, I was on my way up North, must have gotten off at the wrong station."
He speaks with an incredibly posh accent, the off sound more like "ooooohrf" than any three letter word imaginable.
"Anyway, I plan to be on my way agAIn in the morning."

Helen ignores the efete way he has of talking and that faux kissing technique that the glitzy set have developed. There is something dark and odd about ...Hils. Well, no actualy there isn't, if only there was she thinks he might be worth painting, instead she gets to paint meadows and flowers hardly her thing, but then one goes where the money is. She wishes she was safely at home in London with a bottle of Gordons and Julie, instead of here in this god awful wilderness.

Leaving in the morning he had said, if only she were. Taking another drag of the exoticaly perfumed cigarette, she swallowed the last contents of her glass.

"Waiter, another G&T, and this time without the bloody lemon"

Rosa stepped smartly into the room. "'Evening all," she says brightly. "Awful out, isn't it? Far better to be indoors on a night like this." She smiles to her fellow guests and approaches the bar. "A ginger beer, if you have one?" she asks the barman.

Micheal Laws closes the door to the hotel room. Locks it and puts the key in his blazer pocket. Number six. At least the room has an en suite tub. In his head he makes a note. "Make sure to tell the portiere to fix the dripping faucet." The stairs squeak as he walks hesitantly down to the bar. Everything about The Blackstones tell that Dr. Laws has picked the wrong place for the outing. Even the weather is against him.

Seeing the barkeep proffering a bottle of carbonated pop to a lass, Laws nods as he passes by pulling out a stool and studies the content of the bar on the opposite wall. Waiting for his turn he checks his pocket watch and winds it up. While doing so, he glances at the guests already seated. A couple at one table and the lass plus barkeep. Guess it´s early, still.

He puts the watch back and smiles, turning to conjure a note up and place it on the counter. When the barkeep acknowledges him he says, "I´d be thankful for a Bitter, please."

Putting his paperback down behind the counter top the barman swiftly pours a ginger beer and obtains Rosa's name and room number.

He then mixes a Gordon's and tonic water and take it across the bar to Helen. His "Sorry to have kept you waiting madam" is courteous but somehow manages to convey his impatience at having to actually bother with customers.

Turning on his heel he returns to his spot behind the bar, and picks to his book.

With a barely audible sigh the barman puts the book away. Bidding the newcomer "Good evening sir" he pours a pint of bitter, takes the note efficiently and proffers the change.

"Evening.", Laws counters simply. He takes a deep gulp and lets the brew both cool and warm him. Uncannily.

Jonesy slowly wanders down the alley leading to the back of the Blackstone Hotel. As he wanders, he diligently inspects the contents of the trash cans that line the alley. The light is very bad, only very dim lights from curtained windows can be seen.

He thinks, "A nice roasted chicken wing or maybe.. maybe even a drumstick? Ell, even part of a smoke ould be nice."

But alas, no such tidbit is found, it may be another hungry, cool night in store for "Ol Jonesy".

"Mayhaps, just maybe I can ehhh.. entice a bit o'somethin from the hotel. I've not been there before, that I can remember."

Before knocking of the back door to the hotel, Jonesy checks out the hotels trash cans. "Me timing must be a bit off, they are empty. Well, here goes nothin." Jonesy knocks on the back door of the hotel.

Exeter was charmed by this crude and smelly woman, she was very different from the polite society ladies he usually preyed upon.

"Helen, are you an artiste or do you just enjoy messing up paintings while they're drying?"

While he awaits her response his gaze wanders across the room at the new arrivals. Just when the barkeep is about to go back to reading his novel, he calls out.

"I say, my man, over here! I quite fancy a Pimm's Royal Cup!"

Rosa greeted at the man supping his pint at the bar, picked up her ginger beer and made her way over to where the smartly dressed man and the rather plain woman were sat and plonked herself down uninvited.

"'Hello there," she says. "What brings you two to Keswick?" It isn't quite clear from her question whether she thinks the two may be a couple.

At the rear of the hotel, the door opens and out wafts the stale smell of cabbages, along with the sickly sweet odour of cooked meat.

A sweating and overweight man in a greasy cooks apron and chef's hat looks at Jonesy, taking in his scruffy attire. "I don't have much for you chum, but I'm guessing you're after something to eat? Well, hurry up and step inside before I get soaked, and I'll find you a few leftovers. God knows you'll need it on a night like tonight."

Resignedly but efficiently the barman puts together the cocktail for Viscount Exeter, complete with a (slightly limp) cucumber garnish and takes it over to his table. "Awfully sorry sir, but what with the bar getting busier I'll have to ask you to order at the bar next time. I'm not supposed to leave it unattended, I'm sure you'll understand". With that he returns to the bar, glancing wistfully at his book.


The hotel barman

Meanwhile, at the bar Dr Laws stares at the array of bottles and spirits. Typical of what you might expect at a provincial hotel, all the standards are there along with a selection of more exotic spirits, presumably for cocktails requested by the hotel's better-heeled guests. Below the counter he can just make out the title on the front cover of the book the barman is reading - "Death in the Clouds", Agatha Christie's latest Poirot novel.


The bar of the Blackstone Hotel

Exeter mostly ignores the bartender and looks up at the new arrival, smiling a welcoming smile.
"Well, well another lady for the Lord", he thought, "and another one without manners! How exciting these country bumpkins were proving to be!"

"Please be seated!", he grinned jovially at the already seated Rosa and went on, " I am Hilary, Viscount Exeter and I am here by chance, if such can be called so to see one end in so ghastly a place."

Helen gives the new arrival a black look, Another one no doubt a member of the upper classes from her lack of manners.

At the obvious insult from the Count, or whatever title he assumed, she almost retorted angrilly, but managed to bite back the insult that rose to her lips. Instead she favoured him with a sickly smile as her eyes watched the bad tempered waiter fetching an carrying.
"I am an artist of some reputation. Perhaps you have heard my name?" she then stares down her nose at him like he was some nasty insect who had just crawled onto her dinner plate from a lettuce as she allows the smoke from her diminisheing cigarette drift towards him, "But I doubt it" From his soft upper class manner, she doubted that he knew one end of a brush from the other. To him art would be little more than some overweight female flashing naked flesh at the admirer. She doubted very much that he would know anything about surrealism, and she was not about to explain to the ignorant.

In reply to the newcomer she simply snorts an agreement, as she picks up her refrehed glass, swirls the contents momentarilly before taking a rather large sip of the Gin and Tonic, I shall have to tell him to put less tonic next time, still at least he hasn't foisted a lump of that insipid lemon on me this time.

Realising that his chances of finishing his novel have disappeared, at least for a while, the barman walks to the radio at the end of the bar and tunes it to the BBC.

The light music programme is playing Fred Astaire singing 'Cheek to cheek', although pehaps due to the weather the reception is poor with static cutting across the programme.

Exeter sips his Pimm's as he mulls over Helen's word. A sudden flash of insight brightens his features and he puts down his glass with a dramatic bang.

"You're Helen Long, the Helen Long!", he laughs, somewhat more genuine this time. "Although I must admit to being more of a romanticist myself, I have some affection for that little Belgian René Magritte. Marvellous fellow, that! Yes, marvellous!"


He lights another cigarette and let's out a long puff of smoke.

"I like what you did with that trout, although I felt the composition to be a little dramatic. A bit too much Max Ernst in my opinion."

OOC:,I'm going to deplete my Art pool for that statement ;)

Helen takes the last puff on her cigarette then pulls the butt from her holder and drops it, still glowing, in a nearby ashtray. Perhaps, she thinks, this 'Son of the Empire' isn't as thick as he looks. She shrugs and favours Hills with a more friendly smile.
"Yes the 'Trout', or 'Scales on a riverbank' to give it its proper title, was not my best work. But with what I've seen on offer around this dismal place..." She lets the sentence hang unfinished.
With deliberate movement she reloads the cigarette holder holding forth the finished article to the count for lighting, while staring, pointedly, at her almost empty glass.

Having decided that her recognition by Hillary has put her in a much better mood, she speaks, without looking around to the uninvited table guest, "So, who are you?"

He lights another cigarette and let's out a long puff of smoke.

"I like what you did with that trout, although I felt the composition to be a little dramatic. A bit too much Max Ernst in my opinion."

OOC:,I'm going to deplete my Art pool for that statement ;)

Note on Spends,Nice roleplaying, but don't worry about the spend point. In this instance I'd say your ability in Art would give sufficient knowledge to have heard of Helen (and certainly Surrealism). Of course, if you really wanted to impress and say you'd met Magritte over dinner, [i]that[/i] would need a spend!

"Rosa Parkes," replies Rosa briskly. "I deal in antiques so I'm here for antique fair, see if I can't pick up a few bargains."

She looked at Long, even though the other woman was patently ignoring her. "Surrealism, eh? Not really my sort of thing and I don't get much call for it at the gallery, but I dare say it's popular among a certain clientele."

Helen gives a derisive laugh, "Antiques? I dare say you will find quite a few here, and a lot in this very hotel" She spends a moment looking at the hotel furnishings, "Shabby shic I imagine they would call it, but then I suppose you would know all about that darling" She looks Rosa up and down in a fashion critique sort of way.
Looking at the oddly fizing liquid in Rosa's glass, "Whatever are you drinking? Oh do tell me its not ginger pop, that's so very... 'British'"

"That's because I am British," Rosa replied. "Aren't you? Besides, ginger beer was one of papa's favourites - he used to make his own."

Rosa glanced around the room, appraising the items on the walls.

Helen smirks, "Gosh"
Bored with the conversation and in need of a refill she rises from her seat and makes her way to the bar where a lone customer sips beer from a pint glass. Catching the eye of the barman she finishes her drink in one last swallow and places the empty glass before him, "Another G&T but be less overbearing with the tonic this time" she turns toward the lone drinker her cigarette in its holder still unlit clenched between her lips, "Light?"
At least over here by the bar she was away from the wind rattled window and the boring 'ginger beer' drinking woman who had thrust herself on her company.

Jonesy quickly enters back of the Blackstone Hotel as fast as he can. No one has ever said Jonesy would let a meal slip by.
"Thanks G'uvner! It's a tad cool and wet outside tonight and I could use a meal."
After entering the hotel, Jonesy takes stock of himself, adjusts his "scruffy attire" and stands up straight.
" 'Ere I am on the road towards Liverpool looking for a position, when a grifter separated me from me polk. I shoulda known better! Me mum always warned me about folks like that. Where can I sit G'uvner?"

Abdul Alhazred wrote:At the rear of the hotel, the door opens and out wafts the stale smell of cabbages, along with the sickly sweet odour of cooked meat.
A sweating and overweight man in a greasy cooks apron and chef's hat looks at Jonesy, taking in his scruffy attire.
"I don't have much for you chum, but I'm guessing you're after something to eat?
Well, hurry up and step inside before I get soaked, and I'll find you a few leftovers.
God knows you'll need it on a night like tonight."

Pedro appears at the bar room door, singing Cheek to Cheek. He sees her jacket and tries to clean up a bit dust on his trousers. "This place is phenomenal!" he thinks wryly. His hair, his impeccable dress and posture reveal a lot about his character. For him, wherever he is, he is not only the owner of the room, but also of all who reside in it. So as usual he tries to be a friendly, but assertive.

He speaks without looking at anyone in particular, but while keeping watch on everyone in the room "Nothing like a new place, new people and a phenomenal culture to put a man in a good mood!". He smiles. His foreign accent is evident.

He looks around and then says "Good choice barman, this is a beautiful song! Ah, do not give up reading! A good book enlivens the spirit!" Looking at bottles in the background, he smiles and says, "And a good drink enlivens the body! Prepare the best drink you have!".

Looking at the woman next to the bar asking for a light,he deftly handles the lighter in the pockets of his jacket and offers one to the lady. "The best light in the region..."

Looking towards the table which seems to host a little meeting, he speaks with a vibrant voice "Exeter! A sad day for endless possibilities! Introduce me your new friends!"

Exeter downs the last of his Pimm's as he listens to the exchange between the two ladies, enraptured by their uncouth manner.
He takes Rosa's hand and offers her a floating kiss.

"Charmed, charmed indeed! I used to read archaeology at Cambridge, you know, marvellous place that!"

He looks up as Pedro calls his name and exclaims for the entire room to hear:
"Finado, you old cock! Glad to see you're awake, hey? You're missing all the fun with all that dozing around!"

"This is fine lady here is Rosa Parkes and the one at the bar is Helen Long, she's covered in paint because she's surreal and all that! I don't know the quiet chap at all.", he barks an incredibly upper-class laugh.
"Such a reunion requires more drinks! Come Helen, bring your friend and have him sit at our table and come barkeep, bring us a few bottles of your finest bubbles! And don't complain, with everyone sat at my table, you'll have less work and can get back to that book you're so engrossed in!"

As Rosa glances around she notices the slightly odd collection of photographs on the wall near to the bar. They seem mostly to be of local dignitaries but one catches her eye, although if asked she couldn't say why, at least not at this distance.

As she looks, a young couple enter the bar, closely followed by an older man in his early sixties. All are dripping wet, and seem to be locals the friendly way that they're greeted by the barman.

In the kitchen, the chef brings Jonesy a plate of overdone cabbage, cold potatoes and a scrap of cheese.

"Don't you go telling all your mates about this mind, I don't want all and sundry coming here every day. On a night like tonight though it wouldn't be decent to send you away empty handed.

Now, you can't stay here, I've got to clean up, and the dining room is getting laid ready for tomorrow's breakfast service. Pop through that door into the bar and park yourself in a quiet corner."

"She's rather rude, isn't she?" said Rosa, glancing at Exeter and taking a sip of her ginger beer. "But then I've met her type before. Some artists can be terrible bores if you don't like their work. Each to their own and all that doesn't cut much ice with them."

Setting her glass down on the table in front of her, Rosa excused herself and went to take a closer look at the photograph that had caught her eye.

Abdul Alhazred wrote:In the kitchen, the chef brings Jonesy a plate of overdone cabbage, cold potatoes and a scrap of cheese.

"Don't you go telling all your mates about this mind, I don't want all and sundry coming here every day. On a night like tonight though it wouldn't be decent to send you away empty handed.

Now, you can't stay here, I've got to clean up, and the dining room is getting laid ready for tomorrow's breakfast service. Pop through that door into the bar and park yourself in a quiet corner."

Jonesy willingly accepts the plate, looks for and finds a knife and fork, then moves towards the door to the bar.
"I'll not utter a word about your kindness, G'uvner to a livin soul. Though, I will include you in me prayers tonight.", he say over his shoulder to the chef.
Jonesy enters the bar and looks around for "a quiet corner". He thinks, "If only I can get a drink and a smoke, this will be keen. Maybe some other good fortune might happen tonight."

He locates a table across from the bar itself and near the door way to the kitchen. It is dimly lit, dry and warm. He puts down his plate and "settles" into one of the chairs at the table and begins to eat. After savoring a mouthful of the cabbage Jonesy begins to look around and listen to the conversations.

Helen looks up at the loud foreigner, whatever observation she was about to make lost amidst the sudden appearance of a lighter.
Muttering "Thanks" almost inaudibly she waited as the tall well dressed foreigner, who in her opinion, had to much oil on his hair moved towards the table, her table, where a grinning 'count' behaving in a manner worthy of one of PG Woodhouse's characters was inviting all and sundry to join him.

She snorted loudly, fixed her gaze at the barman who seemed far to slow to service her request, and tapped her glass impatiently.
"When you are ready"
To the beer drinking gentleman at the bar beside her she added, in a stage whisper loud enough to carry around the entire room, "That's the trouble with these damned uncivilised parts, its hard to find mentaly capable staff"

Overhearing Helen's comment the older newcomer mutters to himself something largely inaudible, aside from the fact it concerned "bloody out-of-towners, throwing their bloody weight around".

Meanwhile the barman mixes the requested gin and tonic and places it before Helen as if nothing had been said. "Sorry for the wait madam."

Turning back to the old man the barman says a cheerier "The usual Percy? Awful night out there, looks like winter is on it's way proper now.", and getting a nod he pulls a pint of bitter, half of which Percy knocks back immediately.

Rosa walks closer to the photograph that's caught her eye. It's one of many on the wall, all framed and some with captions or descriptions.

For Rosa Only,As you near the photograph you see it's a family group of two parents and six children, one of whom is what has caught your eye. The girl looks remarkably, almost uncannily, like you did when you were young. Here though, the child is a year or two younger than any photographs you have ever seen of yourself. [url=http://imageshack.us/photo/my-images/268/bh38.jpg/][img]http://img268.imageshack.us/img268/3326/bh38.jpg[/img][/url]

Pedro laughed.

"Helen Long the surrealist? I have a beautiful painting by her in my house in Portugal. A wonderful job - I am an art lover." he winks at Helen, and without waiting for an answer (as if his charm was irrefutable) he goes to the bar and to the old man he says "Good evening sir." with a smile.

He look to the barman and says in a discreet whisper "Please take some good food and a drink to the poor man in the corner. No man should go through hell without tasting a bit of paradise. I will pay."

He walks to the man in the corner, huddled at his table with his plate of food and says with a light slap on his shoulder "Better days will come my friend. Never lose hope." He then strolls to the table where he is reunited with Hills, and at the call of Exeter, he pulls a up chair and sits down beside his friend. "So, what were you friends discussing?"

At the barman's shout to the local, she thought he called him Percy...Yes he had the look of a Percy all flat cap and a jacket that smelt of cow and sheep, Helen groaned inwardly, Winter, bloody hell that was all she needed snow keeping her a prisoner here and away from her beloved London.
She watched as the female called Rosa wandered over to a collection of photographs hanging on the wall, Probably more locals.
She picked up the refreshed drink and looked at the nearby beer drinker, whatever he was thinking about had obviously taken possession of his faculties for he showed little inclination to speak. Not that it really bothered her as the 'milord' and his foreign friend seemed to be more than able to make up for that.
Owned one of her paintings in his house in Portugal, she snorted at that angrilly flicking her cigarette ash into a nearby ash tray, she had a mind to ask its name, but that would mean joining in the inane conversation that was, loudly, dominating the prior solitude of the hotel.

Rosa gave a sharp intake of breath. The likeness to her younger self was uncanny. Glancing around to see if anyone was watching, she lifted the photo off the wall to study it more closely.

OOC,Rosa is looking for an inscription on the photo or a date and name of the studio where the photo was taken. She'll take the back off the frame if necessary.

Fabio Silva wrote:Pedro laughed.
...
He look to the barman and says in a discreet whisper "Please take some good food and a drink to the poor man in the corner. No man should go through hell without tasting a bit of paradise. I will pay."
He walks to the man in the corner, huddled at his table with his plate of food and says with a light slap on his shoulder "Better days will come my friend. Never lose hope."
...

Jonesy stands up from the table and bows to Pedro .
"Thank you Sir, thank you indeed. Life has had a few bad knocks for me lately, but I will soon thrive like our GRAND British Empire and may your homeland thrive likewise! When I 'ave me drink Sir, I'll lift it to you and the King!" Barkeep, a pint of your best bitters, if you please!
Jonesy bows to Pedro again and sits down. He moves the plate to the side and awaits a full meal and a drink.
He thinks, "I was right, some other good fortune did happen. When these folks are not lookin, I'll put the old plate of food into me 'andy wax paper sack. No use in wastin it!"

Dear God, thinks Helen rolling her eyes as the Portuguese, speaking inordinately loudly, makes his way over to a rather scruffy dressed chap in the corner of the room, it goes from madness to bedlam. Another local, she imagines, and watches in a horified fascination as the scruffy dresssed one rises to his feet and makes a totaly uncalled for speech about the King and the Empire, half expecting his lordship to leap to his feet and propose a loyal toast.
She clucks her tongue in a show of annoyance and watches in facination as Rosa, she thinks was her name, after studying a wall mounted photograph for a few moments, reaches up and takes the picture down. No doubt seeing if its worth anything.

"You know what it's like, Finado, talking about art and what moves and all that jazz as those Americans say.",
Exeter slaps Pedro on the shoulder and laughs.
"What a marvellously unsophisticated creature you found there, you old softy! I declare, I can smell him all the way over here!"

He lights up another cigarette and stands.

"Time to stretch the old shanks, eh? Looks like the boy at the bar isn't too fast at all."

Exeter walks over to the bar and goes stand next to Helen, giving her one of his winning smiles before turning to the bartender.

"I say, old boy, I quite fancy a bottle of bubbly over here!"

DrPeterson wrote: ...
"What a marvellously unsophisticated creature you found there, you old softy! I declare, I can smell him all the way over here!"
...

The pint and new plate have not arrived yet. Jonesy lifts his head and eyes Exeter.
Jonesy thinks, "Anarchist ass'ole, yes that is what he is a'right. If he 'ad said somethin like that after me dinner, I'd scuffle with the lout, I would. Smell me over 'ere does he, not bloody likely."
He lowers his head and eagerly awaits his pint and meal.

Behind the bar, Nigel Jones was feeling increasingly harried. "It's like blooming buses - no customers for ages and then the world and his wife wants serving."

He pulls a pint for the tramp and shouts over, with the emphasis on the first word, "Sir. Your drink's on the bar." Quickly he steps to the kitchen door, say's something and returns to the bar. Looking back to Jonesy he calls "And food will follow shortly".

Seeing the lady examining the photograph in her hands he calls over barely concealing the exasperation in his voice, "Excuse me madam, please don't take the photos from the wall".

Rosa glanced up sharply. "I am merely studying it," she said. "I assure you, I deal with antiques every day and no-one will treat this with more care than I." She gave the barman a flat look and carried on with her inspection.

Helen wants to smile at Exeter's comment about smells, but does not wish to give the jackanapes satisfaction. For a moment she thought she saw the flare of anger on the tramps face, but if it had it had been only momentarily. She imagined that a creature such as he would know only to well to swallow the insults of his betters.
Now the frightfull toff was beside her at the bar, she chose to ignore the supercillious public school boy smile that spoke of a jolly jape that he regaled her with.
At the barman's, who was looking more and more distressed, admonishment to Rosa over her handling the pictures, she did smile, and the reply did the girl credit, after all what was the point of having pictures on the wall if one wasn't to look at them? Of course she would never publicly sympathise with the girl, that simply wouldn't do.

Nigel turns his back on the rather strident lady who clearly isn't going to put the photo back anytime soon. "Suit yourself lady, it'll come off your bill if you damage it" he thinks.

Meanwhile, one of the serving girls comes out from the kitchen and hands Jonesy a bowl of hot stew and a plate of buttered bread. Not waiting for a response she turns on her heel and returns to the kitchen and her duties.

For Rosa Only,As you examine the front of the photo you can just make out some wording in fading black ink at the bottom. Peering intently you can see it is the names of the subjects in the photograph - six children and two adults. You sense of unease increases as you realise that the girl who looks like you shares your first name, Rosa, although her surname is different - Waring. Stranger still, one of the older boys in the photo looks like a young version of the quiet man currently sitting at the bar.

Abdul Alhazred wrote: ...
He pulls a pint for the tramp and shouts over, with the emphasis on the first word, "Sir. Your drink's on the bar." Quickly he steps to the kitchen door, say's something and returns to the bar. Looking back to Jonesy he calls "And food will follow shortly".
...

Jonesy rises from his chair and walks towards the bar. He picks up the pint and turns in Perdo's direction and lifts the pint.
"Again, thank you Sir. To yer health and to the King!", Jonesy takes a long drink, then surries back to his table. He is very careful not to spill a drop of bitters.

Abdul Alhazred wrote: ...
Meanwhile, one of the serving girls comes out from the kitchen and hands Jonesy a bowl of hot stew and a plate of buttered bread. Not waiting for a response she turns on her heel and returns to the kitchen and her duties.
...

"Thanks to ye m'am." Jonesy warms his hands on the sides of the bowl and slowly sniffs the wonderful smell of the stew. He begins to slowly and methodically eat his fine meal. When no one is looking his way, he puts his old meal in his trusty wax paper sack.

Rosa's stomach slowly turns over as she studies the photograph. 'That can't be me, can it?!' she thinks. She looks between the photo and the man at the bar, even holding it up so she can compare the two side by side.

OOC,[i]According to the photograph, what is the name of the older boy in the photo who looks like the quiet man at the bar? What memories or information has Rosa been told about her birth or early childhood?[/i]

"Barkeep, I declare! Perhaps you did not understand, but I would like a bottle of champagne!"

Exeter's chest seems to puff up, he is clearly not used to being ignored.

Rosa slowly lowers the photograph to the bar, feeling as if something very perculiar was going on. "Excuse me," she says quietly to the barman, "Do you happen to know who these two people are?" She pointed to the two older people - parents? - in the photograph.

OOC,[i]A few questions... How is the photo held in the frame? Is the back of the frame secured with clips or tape? Has [b]Rosa[/b] seen any similar photos/frames around the hotel (not necessarily with the same family) ? Are there any newspapers at the bar?[/i]

Nigel pulls up the trapdoor beneath the bar counter and steps down, emerging a few seconds later with a bottle of Boizel which he swiftly uncorks. "How many glasses does sir require?" he asks Exeter.

Getting a terse response he puts them onto a tray, along with the bottle, and places it on the counter in front of the Viscount.

As he does so he responds to Rosa, "I'm afraid I can't help madam. Those photos have been here for years. Could be one of the older regulars might know who they are though.". With that he starts wiping down the counter.

Exeter is all smiles when he gets the champagne.

He looks at both women as he picks up the plate and heads back to "his" table.

"Well, ladies, I've got plenty of glasses and only one old rich man to share them with. I'd be bally well honoured if you'd join us for a drink."

As Rosa examines the photo and frame, she can see that it's in a cheap wooden frame, behind glass and secured at the back with tape.

Dr Laws is lost in the mirror reflection across the bar, thinking of all the weekends spent on various locations. Never the bustly as this one, were they? The flicker of a light and the scent of a woman. Memories.
The bositerous Exeter sure could entertain a room. From the sound of it Helen Long needed some air. Laws looks at the woman next to him.

"Miss, would you care to share a cigar on the veranda?" "Pardon a man for dwelling on old memories. I´m so rude." He leaves the pint half full and adds another note to the barkeep to collect. "For your troubles, my good man." He offers an elbow to the artist and leans his head slightly towards her. Hoping to act a gentleman.

Visconde observes everyone in the room from the corner of his eye as talk and drinks continue, admiring the cultural differences and personal habits of the English. He is fascinated by these people.

For a brief moment Helen observes her bar partner, I hope he's not giving me the come on, then she gives a half smile,"Thank you, but I think not".
From not far away the imbicilic bellowing of the overbearing son of the nobility was making her wonder if she had refused the offer too fast.
Oh my goodness, she thought, it would seem that Rosa is about to talk to one of the locals, I do hope its not the scruffy one. Probably the one called Percy he has to be the oldest one here
However her interest piqued by the woman's obsession with an old photograph, Helen moves along the bar closer, hoping to overhear any conversation

As Helen moves closer she can see the photograph Rosa is holding more clearly.

For Helen Only,As you get closer one of the children in the photograph catches your attention. The child looks uncannily like you when you were very small, although it has to be said you have never previously seen photos of yourself at such a young age. More than that, looking at the faded handwritten caption at the bottom of the photo, you see that the child shares your first name, although her surname - Waring - is obviously different. [url=http://imageshack.us/photo/my-images/22/v1uf.jpg/][img]http://img22.imageshack.us/img22/7500/v1uf.jpg[/img][/url]

Helen goes over to whereRosa holds the frame and peers closer at the photo.
Speaking quietly as if almost to herself she says, "How odd not only does the child in that photograph bear an uncanny resemblance to myself at that age, but, apart from having a different surname, is also called Helen."
She looks angrilly at the barman and raises her voice to carry throughout the room, "I say, is someone here having a bloody joke?"

"What are you girls doing with that blasted photograph?
Is it something precious? Should I buy it? It looks like a dreary old thing to me!"

He half addresses the question to Rosa, half to everyone in the room. Gathering there won't be any returning to the table shortly, Exeter pours a few glasses of champagne and has himself one too.

"Be my guest, ladies, and you too, sir, before or after your cigar!"

He waves Pedro over.

"Get yourself over here, old Pepe! Looks like the party's to be found at the bar!"

Taking the reply with a shrug, Laws lights his cigar with a safety match and walks to the balcony doors. He puts the box of matches in his jacket pocket. Once he draws on the cigar he checks his watch once again. The downpour continues to a drench the country side. He gleans out to see if the veranda is capable of keeping him dry. Figuring it won´t really matter - he exits the bar and exhales a large cloud of smoke.

As he exits, Helen´s outburst stops him in his tracks. "What was that, Miss Long? What´s at fault?" He leans inside and looks genuinely surprised.

Honouring the offer with a nod doubled with, "Why, thank you Mr. Exeter. Most kindly." He follows the men to the bar to listen to Helen´s explanation, cigar in one hand and Champagne in the other.

"What ho, Hels?"

He sips his champagne, puts down the glass and lights another cigarette.

Ignoring the bemused looking barman, you move towards Rosa and as you look more closely, you can clearly see the photograph that she is holding.

Hilary Exeter only,Looking at the photo, you see the family group in more detail. One of the children looks remarkably like you did when you were very young, although the child in the photo is younger than any photographs you have ever seen of yourself. Which, considering your family's wealth and lineage, is somewhat strange now you consider it. More than that, the child shares your first name, although the surname is different - Waring. It's also clear that two children who look very much like younger versions of Rosa and Laws are also in the photo. [url=http://imageshack.us/photo/my-images/59/xwvv.jpg/][img]http://img59.imageshack.us/img59/8007/xwvv.jpg[/img][/url]

Across the room, old Percy says pointedly to Dr Laws, "Shut the blooming doors will you, or we'll all catch a death in here."

Stuffing the cigar between his lips, Laws abides with his free hand.

Looking slightly flustered, Helen gazes around the room her eyes finaly alighting on Percy, no doubt helped by his outcry to the Dr.
"You there...Percy is it? What do you know of this photograph and who are these 'Warings'?"
All of her attention is now divided between the photograph and the old local, she has forgotten all about the loud lord and his effected speech and Rosa who she just ignores.

Percy eyes Helen, looks to the barman and the young couple sitting on the next table, and replies in a thick northern accent "And what did your last bleedin' servant die of lady?", before taking off his somewhat shabby and sodden overcoat and cloth cap, sitting down and taking a long sup of his pint.

At the bar, Nigel barely stifles a giggle.

OOC,I'm liking the characterisation folks. To get people on your side or to give you information, abilities like Reassurance, Intimidation and Oral History come into play. They'll always need to be a rationale for the ability use though, and clearly in this instance even spending points on Intimidation won't get you what you want. After all, why should the local start spilling the beans to you out-of-towners?

Helen fixes the surly local with a fierce stare, How dare he ignorant little twit. At the barman's poor attempt to control his amusement, Helen changes her target.
"Oh I wouldn't laugh to much my lad, after all I doubt your employer would share your amusement at the expense of a paying guest"

Abdul Alhazred wrote: Percy ... replies in a thick northern accent "And what did your last bleedin' servant die of lady?", before taking off his somewhat shabby and sodden overcoat and cloth cap, sitting down and taking a long sup of his pint. ...

Jonesy stiffles a laugh, almost chokes on a piece of bread and thinks, "Well, well. A wonderful meal and a bloomin floor show. I wonder what act is up next?"

Dr. Laws puts down the tall glass of champagne and lays a hand reassuringly at Percy´s scapula. "Now, good Sir, I´m sure we can get along quite fine here. The artist, and we all know how they are, is simply curious about the photograph, right? Might be she sees something that appeals to her artistic self. So, to keep a struggling soul afloat, indulge me and still her curiosity. I might have some ointment for that bad back of yours." Laws takes a step back and gauges Percy´s posture at the bar. To move out of the man´s personal sphere and to play the role of concerned doctor.

Absentmindedly, as doctors do, he mutters, "Isn´t that right, Miss?" to Miss Lang.

Realising that others were also seeing themselves in the photograph, Rosa relaxes a bit. She can't explain how it has happened, but her immediate doubts about her parentage have lessened.

She takes the photograph over to the oldest of the local patrons at the bar. "Excuse me," she says, "I don't suppose you happen to recognise the couple in this photograph?"

Exeter drops his cigarette as he stares open-mouthed at the picture.

"I say, that blooming picture has it wrong!I've never carried the name Waring! And what the bally hell am I doing in that picture in the first place! I demand an explanation! You there, chap at the bar! Whoever took this picture and why the devil am I in it too?"


He stamps out the cigarette and lights another.

"Or these girls for that matter! We're not some strange relation, are we? That would dampen the mood..."

Rosa glared at Exeter, shushing him to allow the old man to reply.

Initially Percy backs away from this stranger who offers him 'ointment for his back'. "That might be what you people do in London but here we're a bit more old-fashioned and like to know someone before we go offering anything." However, the conversation continues and once he establishes that the gentleman is in fact a doctor is he more at ease although still somewhat wary.

When shown the photograph he says "No, I really can't help you, don't recognise this Jack and Victoria Waring," (the parents in the photo), and the names don't ring a bell neither. You might find old Bob Barton more help though. Over seventy he is now, lived and worked here all his life and what he don't know about Keswick ain't worth knowing. He normally comes in about half nine for a nightcap or two."

In the course of the conversation Dr Laws see's the photo close up for the first time.

For Michael Laws Only,The photograph shows a family group, captioned in faint handwriting at the bottom as the Warings, and you're astonished to see that the eldest boy is a double for your older brother Geoffrey when he was around that age. Not only that, but one of the younger children could easily be you too, although you've never seen a photograph of yourself at such a young age. Your surprise turns unsettling when you realise that the two children also share your respective forenames. [url=http://imageshack.us/photo/my-images/59/xwvv.jpg/][img]http://img59.imageshack.us/img59/8007/xwvv.jpg[/img][/url] (Try not to run ahead - no one knew you were a doctor, and up until this point you were unaware of the significance of the photo to you ;) )

A couple of tables away over in the corner, Jonesy's interest is also piqued by the photograph...

Helen snorts derisively, although she does feel her temper subsiding slightly, her Mother had always told her that her temper would one day get the better of her and Julie is always warning her to calm down a touch. She always imagined that her temper was what made her art special, take away her temper and her art stops - simple.
She so desperately wants to interogate the old man further but realises that the Doctor seems to have goten further with his kind words. Perhaps that is what they call a 'bedside manner'.
She knows that the details in the Photograph are wrong, her name is Long and always has been. Of course she has no pictures of her at an early age, but that is just coinidence. Anyway the idea that she might be related to that chinless wonder Exeter would be too much.
I need a cigarette, she thinks and with fingers that still shake from anger she begins the process of reploading her cigarette holder.

Rosa turns the photograph over and starts to pick at the tape that holds the back in place. Sighing in an exasperated fashion she says, "Do any of you gentlemen have a penknife?"

Nigel looks over at Rosa. "Madam, please! You can't do that." Seeing his pleas have no effect he continues, "You'll have to pay for that damage!"

OCC,Preparedness is a useful general ability. It means that, given the right circumstances and using common sense, the character has a chance of finding just what they need in their bag, pockets, etc. Rosa has Preparedness 8 as an ability. If she can make a successful test roll she'll find a pair of scissors in her handbag. She can increase the chances of success by adding points from Preparedness (which are deducted from her ability score as the scenario continues) to her die roll if she considers it important enough. Give it a try, I'll let you know if you're successful.

Helen, once more in full control of her emotions, finishes replacing the cigarette and begins checking her bag for a light.
At the barmans complaint she snaps, "You there boy, do stop whining and do something useful like give me a light" to no one in particular she adds "Just how much can an old photograph and a bit of tape be worth? Particularly if the subject means nothing to anyone here"

"Oh do stop worrying!" snaps Rosa. "You've made it quite clear that any damage will have to be paid for and I assure you that if will replace the frame if necessary."

She looks at the men surrounding her and tuts loudly. "Were none of you Boy Scouts?" She shakes her head and starts digging in her handbag to see if she can find something to cut the tape.

OOC,[url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4258592/]They're in here somewhere... Rosa looks for scissors in her handbag. (1d6=4)[/url]

Inside her handbag Rosa finds a small pair of nail scissors that look up to the job.

OOC to Rosa,You succeeded! Normally (though in a Purist game not always...) tests are a 3 or a 4 to succeed :)

Pedro thinks it's strange the exaltation near the bar, and afraid that a fight can be start he says:

"Calm down my friends. Maybe a conversation and some lighter refreshment might help us to solve this! We drink too much!". He laughs and winks at the bartender while moving close to Exeter and placing a hand on his shoulder.

Looking for the source of the mystery he says "I'm sure there's just some mistake, and that this misunderstanding will be cleared up."

Helen is taken slightly aback at Rosa's angry comment to the barman, Jolly good, bully for you, she thinks and hates to admit it but is beginning to warm to the younger woman especially when she makes the Boy Scout remark at which she can almost feel the waves of umbrage wafting from the upper class representative, Whot ho, yourself young oike, she thinks
With the appearance of the nail scissors she watches eagerly as Rosa begins to cut away the tape

As Rosa peels away the cut tape the photo falls from the frame and lands face down on the floor. Helen bends to pick it up and in doing so notices a small embossed mark on the back about the size of a small thumbnail. The back is otherwise plain.

For Helen Only,With your knowledge of photography you recognise the mark for what it is - the signature mark of a photographic studio. By referencing this in a good library, you may be able to find out where the studio is located that took the photo, assuming it still exists.

"Well?!" barks Rosa. "Is there a photographer's mark?"

'Dash it all! I saw the photograph first and I was the one to open the frame and now this woman's taking over!' thinks Rosa as she waits impatiently.

Exeter refills his champagne glass and smiles widely at his friend.

"How do you propose to solve this wicked puzzle by drinking less, man, utter madness!"


He took a few sips of bubbly and observed the women working on the photograph with a combination of amusement and wonder.

"I say, ladies, you are quite thorough! Quite thorough indeed!"

The rain continues to lash the outside of the windows of the bar, if anything increasing in it's intensity. The reception on the radio is getting noticeably worse. The long case clock in the hallway of the hotel chimes nine o'clock, and as it does so an old man enters the bar.

He is dressed in a drab grey gabardine mackintosh, and felt Newbury hat, both of which are sodden and drip steadily onto the floor of the bar. There is no telling exactly how old the gentleman is, but it's safe to say its well past seventy.

"Evening Bob, nice weather for ducks! Famous Grouse?" asks Nigel. At a nod from the old man he pours a double, takes a few coins and hands it over.

"No, no! That won't do! I insist that you put it on my tab, bartender!"

Exeter cuts loose from the bar and with great pomp walks over to the old man.

A man hardy enough to brave this weather for a brace of grouse, should find more merit at the end of his road than this salesmanship.


He grins his most winning smile.

"I am Hilary Viscount Exeter, and I welcome you to our merry gathering of dry, yet jolly folk. If we share with you our warmth, would you perhaps share with us a story or two?"

Bob looks at Viscount Exeter, smiles a toothless grin and says "Thank you young sir, can't say the offer isn't appreciated."

He takes a seat near the bar and slowly, oh so slowly, removes his coat and hat. Underneath he wears a cheap tweed jacket and trousers. Finally he gets settled and says "I've many a tale I can tell for sure. "Oh, it's certainly a terrible night..." and then goes into a lengthy and very tedious story of the 'great flood of 1885'. After twenty minutes or so he finishes, smiles another grin, looks at his now empty glass and leans towards the Viscount saying "Despite these tales of wet and stormy weather, a man can still build a dreadful thirst".

Now intrigued, Pedro believes the source of the mystery would seem to be on the small piece of paper.

Could I see this insoluble mystery? There is a remote chance that I can solve the unfortunate case and we will drink to celebrate. It's on me if it does!

He laughs and thinks "I should not have been drinking before eating something, I think I'm a little drunk." Now he too looks at the mysterious photo that seems to have ended the day for everyone.

"Another drink for the gentleman," says Rosa briskly. "Viscount Exeter will be paying!"

She pulls Helen by the arm, encouraging her to show the old man the photograph. "Now Mr. Barton," she says gently, "Perhaps you would be so kind as to tell us if you recognise the older couple in this picture?"

Helen feels her previous annoyance with Rosa returning and her feelings of growing warmth cooling rapidly. How dare she use that tone.
With a determination that she believes comes from her mother, she tightens her grip on the photograph deliberately covering the photographers mark with her thumb.
"If there is, my dear it is better left to an expert to decipher rather than a well intentioned antiques seller"
As she listens with growing tedium to the tale of the 'great flood', she is tempted to interupt and get to the question she, and everyone else it seems, want to hear asked - who are the Waring's and what is the story behind the photograph? But she will wait and see how much information Exeter can illicite with his honeyed approach.

She feels she should object to Rosa's rough grabbing of her arm, but lets it pass only making certain to keep her thumb obscuring the photographers mark.

Waiting to see that the promised drink was indeed on it's way, Bob looks intently at the photograph and frowns. His manner changes. Gone is the friendly bar room bore, replaced by a more melancholic man.

"Ah, that'll be Jack, Jack Waring. Not sure why it's on the wall over there, although he was a schoolmaster so s'pose he counts a dignitary. Not no more though." He shakes his head sadly and looks down at the table. "Not no more." At the arrival of the whisky, Bob takes a hearty slug. As he continues, the lights flicker strangely, and the shadows seem to close in around the darker corners of the room.

"Twas going back, what, maybe thirty years or so when that was taken over in Manesty, across the lake. That's him and his wife Victoria and their kids, before it all went wrong. That very year, Vicky, he wife, drowns herself in the lake. Rowed out to the middle, put stones in all her pockets, and threw herself in. It was about then that I last saw him. He started keeping himself to himself, never made no trips to Keswick no more. Years went by, then I hear one day I hear he just disappears. Just like that. One minute here, the next he's gone. Rum old tale if you ask me."

Having just given the old man his drink, Exeter speaks out.

"Now, what ho there, old timer? Those can't bally well be his kids! Look!"

He jabs his finger at the photograph, indicating the boy that resembles him most uncannily.

"That's me, or Bob's your uncle!You can't go around claiming I'm some son of a school teacher, headmaster or no!"

Afraid that Exeter was going to lose the moment Helen gently, and tactfully, pushes him aside, "Ahem! what happened to the children?"

Pedro pulls a chair and sits next Bob. He seems intrigued by what Exeter has just spoken, and now understands the distress, despite not having seen the photo.

He leans his elbows on his knees and holds his chin ecstatically of pleasure to hear a good story of mysteries and secrets.

Laws leans away from the photograph and draws on his cigar. "How can everyone here think they are in the picture? Some sort of trickery? Illusionist´s gadgetery? But no one is profiting...." He watches the girls fight over the photograph and smiles at the barkeeper´s dismay. Listening to the old man´s story, Laws downs the last half of his pint. Only to lean on the bar and sip gently at the Champagne. "Might be here, the story of missing children and haunted houses come in. That and an increase in cost for our stay here at Blackstone."

"Barkeep! Could I bother you for a Guinness more, por favor?"

He lift his glass of bubbly at the man called Pedro.

Pedro grins and picking up his glass he tells looking Laws :

"Cheers! Or as they would say in Portuguese 'Saúde!'.

I miss Portugal and my hometown, but a man who is curious about the mysteries of the world needs to travel a lot. I hope this distressing time for my friend can pass quickly, my mind is buzzing to travel! Unless, of course, this town has so many secrets that a man seeking knowledge can enjoy yourself for a while."

He looks at Bob from the corner of his eye whilst trying to hear more of the story.

A cold shiver of anticipation runs down Rosa's spine as she waits for Bob Barton's reply. 'What happened to the children?' She wants to shout, to shake it out of him but she can only wait until he speaks again.

Bob seems to come out of his reverie as Exeter demands an explanation, and as Rosa asks about the fate of the children in the photograph he grins his broad toothless smile.

"Don't know nothing much more than what I've told, but happen I could ask the wife when I get home. Since you both seem so keen, if you'll be kind enough to provide me with a little nightcap to make sure I gets home warm, I'll ask her indoors soon as I gets back if she knows anything more. I'll be back here again tomorrow evening with any news."

With that, he fends off all other questions as he awaits his 'nightcap'.

"Barman, a nightcap for Mr. Barton if you please" says Rosa, turning to the bar and opening her purse.

She tries a winning smile. "And how much will you take for the picture frame? Will a couple of shilling be enough to cover the cost or would you prefer me to get it mended for you?"

"Tomorrow evening?!", exclaims Exeter, "By Jove, man, if I don't know more as soon as possible I shall positively explode! You shall have lunch with us on the morrow, both you and your wife, sir, and I shall broke no buts or refusals!"

Tomorrow...evening? Helen snorts derisively, First thing tomorrow morning she intended to find the nearest library, if there was such a thing in this wilderness and see if she can track down the photographers who took this picture.
She studies the photo, front and back, looking for a date or something else.

Bob looks at Exeter and his eyes light up. "Well young sir, that's very generous of you. I'm sure me and Mrs Barton would be pleased to come here for something tomorrow lunchtime. I hear they do a lovely mutton roast. Twelve o'clock suit you? Me and Mrs Barton do enjoy an afternoon nap these days."

Hearing Helen, Bob bristles, replying testily "I think you'll find we have a very fine library here young lady. P'raps not up to those fancy pants places you has down south, but more than ample for our needs, and yours too I'm sure."

With that, he puts on his coat and cap, and leaves the Hotel.

Meanwhile, Helen continues to examine the photo. She finds nothing more of interest, but looking at the subjects she realises one of the younger children, 'Thomas', remains unidentified - assuming of course that the others really are the four adults who remain gathered around the table.

In response to Bob's acerbic comment, Helen shrugs and murmurs "Pshaw!".
With the old man having left and being unable to find any mark on the photograph other than that of the photographer she turns her attention to the subjects, the Waring's.
"There are five children in the picture" she counts those around the table, "So assuming that we four are here, where then is the fifth?"
Looking up from the photograph she lets her eyes wander over the hotels clientile.

Returning from the bar, Rosa says, "May I see the photograph please, Helen? There may be something else in it that gives us a clue about what's going on."

(bzr101 playing as Jonesy)

Jonesy lifts his head, finishes the wonderful stew and pushes the bowl to the side. He moves what remains of his pint in front of him.
"Awww.", he thinks, "What a fine stew, couln'ta cooked any better meself. And the 'igh class entertainment on top of it! Wonder who there going to dig up next from that picture?"
Jonesy takes a final swig of bitters and considers where he will need to spend the night. He saw a "underused" barn at the edge to town. That might make a dry place to bed down.

Helen shrugs,

[b]Helen[/b] thinking:   why not let her look,as if she will see anything I haven't

However before handing it over Helen has a good long look at the photographers mark so as to fix it in her memory.

"I say, this is one of those hoaxs. A Houdini or Tesla illusion even Francis Carter come to mind. How else could we all see a resemblance in the photograph? Might be a clever tampered photograph to have common features and common names?"

Laws thinking:   Did I just now say that?

Laws puts the glass of Champagne down and raises his eyebrows at the crowd.

Helen glances toward the doctor, "It's possible of course, but why would anyone go to all that bother?" She passes the photograph to Rosa, "Surely no one here is worth that much, or that important?"
She looks at the right honourable Exeter,

[b]Helen[/b] thinking:   of course he probably thinks he is

and blows a long stream of turkish perfumed cigarettes smoke towards him.

Rosa, taking the photograph back from Helen, has another look in an attempt to find some other clue to the identity of the subjects, but sees nothing of note.

The clock in the hotel hallway chimes ten o'clock. Outside the rain is unrelenting.

At the bar, Nigel suggests that Rosa gets the photo repaired.

OCC,Aside from the mystery of who the missing child is, the scene is probably played out as far as the plot goes. I'll leave it to you to decide when your characters want to retire.

For Jonesy Only,Watching the others with a mixture of slight distaste and amusement, you catch a glimpse of the photograph. Like Rosa, you catch your breath. There is something about it that you find very unsettling...

bzr101 playing as Jonesy

Jonesy rises from his chair, picks up his empty bitters glass and walks to the bar.
He faces towards Pedro and asks, "Thank you again Sir, do ye think ye might go for another pint on this cold and wet night?"
Jonesy then catches a glimpse of the photograph that Rosa has in her hand. Then he stares at it, as if he cannot understand what he is seeing.

For "Abdul Alhazred" Only,So, is it [b]Jonesy[/b] that is also in the photograph? If so, how is this going to affect him as his mother is a stability source?

Pedro smiles and say to Jonesy:

— No need to thank and I see no problem with it my good man. Take your time. But before I left town, I'd like a simpes interview. Let's say I'm a "collector of lives." This would be your payment to me! — He grins, then continues:

— I collect interesting lives in small books on a part of my personal library to my pride and to help God on judgment day! I hope your life is interesting to be present in it! — He speaks enthusiastically.

Now, getting up from his chair and pounding the hands in a one enthusiastic and solo clap, he says:

— All right! If anyone needs a ride in the car because of rain, you can talk to me. I will gladly help, in view of rain prevents me from traveling below.

He looks at Helen and Rosa and says:

— By the way, Visconde Pedro de Finado at your disposal.

He said bowing.

Rosa holds the photograph for Jonesy to take a look. With her other hand, she scrabbled around in her handbag, trying to find the magnifying glass she sometimes carried.

OOC,Nope... [url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4261347/]Rosa goes for the double. Is there a magnifying glass in there? (1d6=2)[/url]

Exeter mistakes Helen's derision for something different altogether and gives her toothpaste smile, raising a lascivious eyebrow at her. He suddenly wrinkles his nose as Jonesy appears on the scene and lights another cigarette against the perceived waft of cabbage.

Exeter thinking:   I say, what an engrossingly vile man!

He raises his voice and speaks slowly, as if talking to an infant as he addresses the man.

"Good-eve-ning-are-you"

He gesticulates as he speaks, pointing at Jonesy when he says "you".

"Are-you-the-hotel's-dogsbody?"

bzr101 playing as Jonesy

Fabio Silva wrote:Pedro smiles and say to Jonesy:
— No need to thank and I see no problem with it my good man. Take your time. But before I left town, I'd like a simple interview. Let's say I'm a "collector of lives." This would be your payment to me! — He grins, then continues:
— I collect interesting lives in small books on a part of my personal library to my pride and to help God on judgment day! I hope your life is interesting to be present in it! — He speaks enthusiastically. ...

Jonesy is facing towards Pedro and states, "A true gentleman you are Sir, a true gent. I'd be 'appy to supply ye with me small story, at your convenience."

DrPeterson wrote:... He raises his voice and speaks slowly, as if talking to an infant as he addresses the man.
"Good-eve-ning-are-you"
He gesticulates as he speaks, pointing at Jonesy when he says "you".
"Are-you-the-hotel's-dogsbody?"

Jonesy turns slowly to Exeter and replies, "No yer lordship, I'm a tramp. From the cut o'yer dress and yer sorry tone, ye must be one of the 'oristicratic 'orses asses that I sometimes meet." Jonesy smiles.

Rosa looks in vain for the magnifying glass, then curses herself when she remembers she left it on the desk in her shop in Stroud.

For Rosa Only,Sorry that was a fail.

For Jonesy Only,Looking at the photograph, you're disturbed to see that the child captioned as 'Thomas' bears a remarkable resemblance to you when you were younger, although you've never actually seen photos of yourself at such a young age.

Exeter strains his ears, but he obviously hasn't got the faintest idea what Jonesy just said.

"Yes, good man, good man!"

About to pat the man on the shoulder, Exeter suddenly realises he's not wearing gloves and stops mid-motion.

"Yes..."

He turns around to grab his glass and finishes his drink.

Rosa, who had caught the drift of Jonesy's retort if not its entire content, laughs despite herself.

"Mr Jones," she says, "Would you mind taking a look at the photograph and see if you recognise anyone there?" She holds out the photograph in front of the tramp.

Looking to Rosa, Pedro says:

— Can I see the photograph? I might know someone from my travels and contacts.

Helen, bursts into laughter at Jonesy's likening the honourable twit to a horses ass. and has to turn away to avoid eye contact with the mystified Exeter, who obviously has no idea of what the tramp just said.

Rosa turns the photograph so both Pedro and Jonesy can see the image.

"I say," she remarks as she looks at the photograph, "In what year were you all born?"

bzr101 playing as Jonesy

Philulhu wrote:...
"Mr Jones," she says, "Would you mind taking a look at the photograph and see if you recognise anyone there?" She holds out the photograph in front of the tramp.

Jonesy responds, "No Mr. ma'm. Just plain old Jonesy." He now takes a very close look at the photograph and begins to scratch at his head.
He utters, "It simply canno be! I only see one boy in the picture I might know. Now, I've never seen a picture of meself at such a young age, but that boy with the name Thomas looks like the spittin image o' old Jonesy meself.
I know me mum and from where I hail, that's not her and this is nowhere near where I grew up. Ye fine folks would not be making fun of old Jonesy now, would ye?"


]

"I really don't know," replies Rosa laying a consoling hand on Jonesy's arm. "Suffice to say, it seems highly improbable that we should all appear in the photograph, not least because I don't think any of us have met before and Lord Exeter here is only in town by accident."

She shivers visibly but continues, "improbable though it sounds, I can't discount the possibility that this photograph is genuine. One test of that is whether our ages match those of the children in the photograph, so I'll ask again if you can tell me in which year you were born?"

Rose looks at each of them intently, awaiting their reply.

"Why, I'm thirty two!" Exeter chimes in as he lights another cigarette.

'Only thirty-two?!' thinks Rosa as she studies Exeter's trembling hands, bloodshot eyes, receding hairline and blotched skin. 'Gosh, you've had a hard life!' She tries to keep the shock from her face, her grin rictus-like in its appearance.

OOC,[i]Sorry, couldn't resist it! ;) What's the current date?[/i]

Helen, a thin stream of cigarette smoke drifting from her pursed lips. considers momentarilly. "So how old are you Rosa darling, no do let me guess - 38"
She took another glance at the collection of children in the photograph.

[i]Helen thinking:   No chance her Mother was back in London where she had always been. The tramp was right it was all some kind of horrible joke,she could hardly imagine anyone wanting to be related to, what was it the tramp had called him? Oh yes the horses ass.[/i]

"Oh no, I'm only 35," replies Rosa breezily, annoyed but determined not to show it. "That would make us about the same age, wouldn't it?"

Helen, continues to smile, but her lips are a little tighter now, "33 actually darling. Its probably this light, you know less flattering to some. I do apologise sweetie I could have sworn you were in your late thirties, hard life probably"
Helen's smile increases, now with a hint of sympathy.

OOC,No idea of the current year, although ToC tends to be set more in the 1930s that CoC.

Michael Laws strolls away from the bar counter and lets a comment slip as he´s bound to tell the hotel clerk of the leaking faucet in his room. "This 35-year old is going to bed - then they were only five. Night-t-y.all!"

Although the photograph doesn't list the ages of the children, nor the date it was taken, it does seem feasible that your ages correspond to the relative ages differences of the children.

OCC,The current year is 1935. Oh, and don't take the photo I've used too literally, it was very difficult to find one that was spot on!

"Well" says Helen emptying the final drops of her glass and firmly stubbing out her cigarette before removing the butt from her holder, "That might be a good idea. Things might seem brighter in the morning, I'm off to my room to curl up with a good book."
She waits for objections, for invitations to stay longer. But it seems none are forthcoming.
"Chin chin, mind the bugs don't bite" allthough looking around at the shabby state of the Blackstone, that might not be easy to avoid.

"You're probably right," replies Rosa, "Things will seem different in the morning."

She slips the photograph into her handbag for safe keeping, takes a final sip of her ginger beer and heads upstairs to bed.

(bzr101 playing as Jonesy)

Jonesy can see the 'party' is breaking up for the night. He finished his pint, collects his 'gear' and says goodnight the barkeeper.
He goes into the kitchen and thanks the chef for the meal, "Thanks so much for the fine supper! Well, out into the cold and wet night,
I saw a 'underused' barn at the north edge of town, looked like a dry place to bed down. Night."

"[b]Jonesy[/b] thinking:   And, methinks I'll try to get back 'ere at noon tomorrow. Maybe I can get another meal for meself, and maybe, just maybe, I can get a line on the arse who is playin a game with the damned picture."

For ="Abdul Alhazred" Only,[url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/4263824/]Stability check + 3. For 'shaking' his belief that his mother is not his mother. (1d6+3=8)[/url]