Play@YSDC

"I'll hold onto the idol too," says David. "These glyphs are Martin's way of saying that he planted the hidden thing in the raised up place, which must be a reference to the idol we've already found. He must have known I'd find these papers and be able to translate them."

Right then ... After passing the information on to O'Grady you all retire to your respective homes agreeing to meet at a predetermined time and place in the morning. Who is going to be chivalrous enough to offer Ms J. Thorndyke a bed ... at least for the night? Are you withholding anything from O'Grady or giving full disclosure?

Joseph,As requested Joseph spends a restless night, tossing and turning amid dreams of terrible sacrifices, monstrous idols and murderous fanatics all out to get the party. You feel strangely drained [color=#FF8000](Lose 1 Magic Point)[/color] by the way.

David,Where have you put the idol? As stated the thesis is very dry and dull reading and although it's conclusions seem fantastical in their nature - they are arrived at with evidence that is not wholly proven in fact. You feel strangely drained [color=#FF8000](Lose 1 Magic Point) [/color]by the way. As you sit reading the thesis, you hear something hit the window. Upon investigation, you open the curtain to reveal, perched upon your window-sill, a mottled crow like bird which you recognise as a member of the order [i]Oro Pendulo[/i] from your time on Central American digs. [color=#FF8000]Make a POW x 5 roll please - basically don't fumble[/color] The bird stares straight at you before it shuffles along the ledge, maintaining eye contact all the while.

Meredith,You feel strangely drained [color=#FF8000](Lose 1 Magic Point)[/color] by the way. Your nights rest is unquiet, spent with flashing images of bloodthirsty rituals and the strange man with his dogs from next door to Sorrell's House and being pursued through dark and dense undergrowth by ... by ... well you don't know what by, but you do know it is imperative that you avoid getting caught by your pursuer(s).

David overcomes his tiredness and returns the bird's gaze. "And what do you want, I wonder?" he asks.

OOC,I'm planning to tell [b]O'Grady[/b] everything, and I will also include the full details of my findings about the Mayan stuff so far, which may bore him enough to ask me to skip that part. I'll keep the idol locked in a trunk.

David is perplexed, but practicality takes precedence over his bewilderment. He wraps a blanket around his hands and picks up the idol, placing it on the floor and putting out the smoldering wood with the blanket before anything can catch on fire. "All right, I see," he says. "You don't like being locked up."

David resumes his study of the thesis, keeping a wary eye on the idol to make sure nothing starts to smolder.

Joseph offers a place to sleep for Jemima. His parents are on a Journey abroad and he have plenty of space at his parents house. She is offered a delicious supper.

Jemima is appreciative of the roof over her head. You surprises yourself by how hungry you are and your supper - delicious as promised - soon disappears.

You also dream like the rest of the group. Your dream self is miles above the ground and suddenly you begin a headlong rush towards the earth and suddenly you find yourself prostate and naked upon an altar, your hands and feet shackled at the corners of the cold, stone slab. A man you half recognises as your ... your father? stands to one side of the podium. As you turn your head away to try and hide some of your embarrassment at your nakedness and you see that your supine form lies atop some sort of elevated platform and there are hundreds of people swaying rhythmically below watching events as they play out in the dream-state.

The man you believe to be your father says something you cannot understand repeatedly, and in rising cadence. You turn your head slightly and see that he is now standing beside the altar with what looks like a black knife in his upraised hand. Your mouth forms a silent scream as your distant memory indicates that it is a ceremonial knife - made of sacred obsidian. Moon-light glints off the serrated edge of the blade and off the crimson hands of your father, his hands and forearms slick with blood.

The knife arcs down and cuts deep into your body, shattering your ribs as it plunges deep into your chest cavity. His hands plunge deep into the gash created by the serrated blade and the searing pain causes you to scream out loud as he rips your still beating heart from your body. As your sight dims you can see your still beating heart lofted above you and the copper taste of blood enters your mouth.

You come awake with a start, sitting up, your hand to your chest ... Your eyes dart around the room "Wh .. where am I?" you manage to croak