[IC - SCENE 2] The Tea Room

September, 1915. On the western front, battle rages less than 100 km from Paris. Paris, the beautiful. Paris, the proud. Paris, a city on her knees. The government has fled the capital, seeking a safe haven in Bourdeaux. General Joseph Gallieni is now military governor of the city, and he faces a terrible task. There is not enough food for everyone. The city is dark at night, for fear of bombardments. Explosives and ammunitions are manufactured inside the city, sometimes resulting in terrible incidents that costs tens of lives. And this is just on the surface. Dark tales tell of monstrous, yet horribly human-like creatures, prowling through the battlefields and the graveyards, eating human flesh. Even darker tales revolve around a mysterious and incredibly powerful tome of ancient, dark magic; a tome that could destroy the balance of power between the Germans and the Franco-British coalition.
And yet, even among all this despair, human nature finds his hope. Hundreds of people arrive in the city every day: soldiers, journalists, thrill-seekers. Each one injects fresh energy into the agonizing city. Entertainment is the only thing that is not rationed - music halls, theaters and the Moulin Rouge are shining beacons of light, metaphorically if not physically. New forms of art cry out as newborn children.

Semptermber, 1915. Paris, the city of tears. A mysterious murder sets in motion a chain of events that, unknowingly to the rest of the world, will decide the outcome of the war. Millions of lives are at stake. There will be no glory for the unsung heroes, no recognition for the martyrs. A terrible power awaits those willing to use it - or seal it. What will you do? How far are you willing to go for your friends, your loved ones, your country?

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[IC - SCENE 2] The Tea Room

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You spend an agitated night, dreaming of darkness and whispers and beheaded bodies. The imagery from the paintings at Dupont's party also comes up in your nightmares. Morning comes almost as a relief, but you feel more fatigued that when you went to sleep. You call forth your inner energies, knowing that today is an important day, and your task is perhaps crucial to your motherland.

The city is already bustling with activity when you head out, although it's mostly journalists and military and other figures that remembers you at every step how war is less than 100 km away from the city. Children and women are lined up for the distribution of scarce quantities of food and other necessities. You know a law is about to be enforced to allow the State to requisition wheat and grain at a fixed price, and there are talks of extending this measure to milk, sugar and eggs. The government, and the city, are preparing for a long war, and to make things worse, winter is almost upon the city.

You meet near the cafe at around 10 am. You can see the tea room from here. It's open, although it doesn't seem to have any client at the moment.
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Re: [IC - SCENE 2] The Tea Room

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Jacques has decided to come in uniform, though it is an everyday uniform rather than the dress uniform he had worn last night. His rank may attract some notice, but he is willing to take the risk, and he has forgone polishing his rank insignia so they are less obvious. Still, there is no mistaking that he is an officer, not least because of the way he carries himself. His saber he wears in a scabbard on his belt, and his sidearm rests in its holster. In wartime Paris, he doesn't think he stands out too much. Always punctual, he is the first to arrive at the cafe.
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Re: [IC - SCENE 2] The Tea Room

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Andre Saint-Pasquet
A few minutes later, Andre arrives limping with his left leg, Looking up he espies Jacques and head to where he stands. As he crosses the road he puts his right hand over hos coat, to stop his revolver from jostling him as he walks. "Good morning Jacques, I hope you slept well - I know I struggled a bit myself." He smiles wanly at the gendarme as he extends his hand.
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Re: [IC - SCENE 2] The Tea Room

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Jacques rises and shakes Andre's hand. "Good morning, Andre," he says. "I slept as well as could be expected. Last night's events were disturbing, but as any soldier does, I've long since learned to sleep when I can. I've even slept through artillery barrages. Plenty of soldiers these days learn how to do that quickly, what the boches constantly firing their guns. At least my quarters were a lot more comfortable than the trenches. I fell asleep quickly and awoke later than I usually do, though I had been up fairly late."
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Re: [IC - SCENE 2] The Tea Room

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Dressed in his hunting garb, François looks more like a working man than a professor of languages, subconsciously he touches the pocket of his jacket checking yet again that he has his revolver. He grunts at the others and orders a coffee and brioche, tired he does not trust himself to speak until he has consumed both.
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Re: [IC - SCENE 2] The Tea Room

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Jean-Luc comes late, as usual. Dressed in something even less spectacular than the last time he hurries and looks for his comrades.
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"So, how shall we play this?" asks Jacques, pausing to take a sip of his own coffee. He takes it black, not wanting to adulterate it. "I don't think we have time for a proper stakeout, especially since we don't even know what we're looking for. One or two of us, preferably two, should go inside the tea rooms and make discreet inquiries about Monsieur DuPont and his connection to the place. Those who remain outside can then watch the front and the back."
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Re: [IC - SCENE 2] The Tea Room

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Andre Saint-Pasquet
"I agree..." says Andre; "...I shall go inside if there is no objections - that would leave those more suited to give chase, if needs be, in position to do so."
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"In spite of my age, I'm still in excellent shape," says Jacques. "I'll cover the rear entrance. If anyone tries to flee, that's the most likely route they'd take."
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Re: [IC - SCENE 2] The Tea Room

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Very well, I'm happy to sit out here and finish drinking my coffee says, François
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Re: [IC - SCENE 2] The Tea Room

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"I can enter a moment after André as a backup, should anything happen".
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Andrè and Jean Luc enter the tea room as the others wait outside, keeping an eye on the exits. The interior of the tea room is clean and tidy, with simple wooden tables and chairs. It's humble without being spartan, and there's a calm and tranquil atmosphere, along with a faint smell of cinnamon. Your attention is immediately called upon two paintings, sharing the same style as those displayed at Dupont's house. The theme is less dark than those, though, but the hand is unmistakably the same. One of the two paintings features a sort of enchanted forest, with white pillars of stone breaking the vast expanse of trees. The second painting shows a city full of high towers, disappearing into the clouds thousands of meters above the ground. The scenes are clearly fantastical, but they strike you as incredibly real.

As you're watching the paintings, a man approaches you. Tall, sturdy, with red hair and green eyes and a long beard, around 40 years of age. He speaks French with a strange accent you're unable to recognize immediately. "Good morning, gentlemen. Welcome to the Sunflower Tea Room. We don't usually serve breakfast, but I'm sure we can find some biscuits, or maybe a slice of cake, to serve along the best tea in the city". You don't doubt the last part: tea is quite rare in the city at the moment, just the idea of drinking some is extremely tempting to you.
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Andre Saint-Pasquet
"Merci Monsieur, I am certain that whatever you can provide would be the perfect accompaniment to what smells like proper tea, surely a rarity in these terrible times. If I may inquire Monsieur, these paintings have an very haunting quality about them. Could you please inform me of the name of the artist?"
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"Oui, Monsieur. The name is Edouard Savatier. A young artist, penniless, but talented, or so they say. I'm not really one to judge art, to be honest. An usual customer of ours, though I haven't seen him for a few days now. Are you interested in his paintings, Monsieur? I'm sure you can find him quite easily asking around in the Latin Quarter. That's where those artists gather in flocks". He finishes preparing a table, then gestures for you to sit. He then handles you a menu, or more precisely, a list of the available types of tea. The names on the list are familiar to you... Assam, Darjeeling... then you meet an unfamiliar name, that piques your interest. A tea called Sapna.
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Re: [IC - SCENE 2] The Tea Room

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Andre Saint-Pasquet
"Ah yes the Latin Quarter, I am familiar in passing with it. Edouard Savatier ... I'm not sure I've heard of him Monsieur. Now to the tea, I would have normally gone for Assam, but this, how do you say - Sapna how would that compare?"
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"Well, the Sapna... that's our specialty, Monsieur", he smiles enigmatically.
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Re: [IC - SCENE 2] The Tea Room

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Not knowing anything about tea, or spies for that matter, and completely oblivious to both, Jean-Luc just exchanges glances with André.
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Re: [IC - SCENE 2] The Tea Room

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Andre Saint-Pasquet
"If it is your specialty, then it would churlish of me to refuse the chance of trying it Monsieur. What would you like Jean-Luc?" Andre asks as he looks towards his new friend, catching the back end of the glance ... "Perhaps a Darjeeling may be more suited to your tastes?"
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Jean-Luc keeps thinking that people are supposed to drink water or wine but agrees with a nod to his friend's proposition. "Yes, something classic would be just fine."
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The man nods briefly. "Very well, Monsieur. Just a minute". He heads back towards the kitchen, leaving you alone in the room. There's quietness, an absolute silence that is extremely rare to find in a busy city - even in wartime - like Paris. The man comes back after a short while, bringing two cups and the tea, already prepared for infusion. "We recommend six to eight minutes of infusion for the Sapna, Monsieur. Some time less for the Darjeeling - 3 or 4 minutes shall be sufficient", he steps back and leaves you alone.

You follow the instructions and prepare the tea, waiting as the water darkens and absorbs the flavor of the leaves. Finally Andre brings the cup to the mouth, curious to taste this unknown tea. The Sapna has a strong scent, that vaguely remembers gooseberry, with a trace of something else... you can't quite remember... but surely familiar. A sweet scent. When did you savor it? It surely wasn't long ago... but you can't remember. You shrug and take a long sip. The warm liquid flows through your mouth and down your throat. It is good, definitely one of the best tea you have ever tasted in your life. It has a strong flavor, a wild one. You feel energized.
Andrè,You open your mouth to express your satisfaction, and then you realize you are in the darkness. Alone. Not a complete darkness... you still can see a few meters in every direction, but beyond that... a pitch-black wall. There's earth under your feet. Solid earth, black earth. Is it black because of the absence of light, or is it just black? You don't know. Above, only darkness. There is no sun, obviously, no moon and no stars. No light whatsoever. How come that you can see your immediate surroundings, then? Once again, you don't know. It's not important to find the answer, though, as you have more pressing problems. The worms. The ground is shaking under your feet, and that can only mean one thing: the worms are moving, hundreds of meters underground - kilometers, perhaps. You know that moving will attract their attention - you can feel them moving, they should be able to feel you moving. It's only natural. But you can't stay here, as well. You have to move. And so you take your first step. The direction doesn't matter - there's only darkness, after all. But it's vital that you keep moving. And that you do. One step, then another, then another. You can't run, or the worms will catch up to you. One slow step after the other, until you're safe. Then you hear the whispers. All around you, from just beyond the darkness. Are there people talking? It's impossible, and yet... You could try calling out, but the worms could hear you. So you remain silent, and listen to the voices. Some of them are just laughing, some of them are so low you can't quite understand what they're saying. But some are clear, and they're all saying the same thing: [color=#4000BF]"Hakuu gatha thsathun"[/color]. The words have no meaning to you, yet you understand what those words are for: calling the worms. If you say them out loud, the worms will surely come. They'll dismember you and feast with your flesh and your bones. You shiver. You must keep moving. One step, one step, one step. You don't know for how long you have been walking, when you realize your lips are moving: [color=#0000FF]"Hakuu gat-"[/color]. You stop just in time, before finishing the sentence. Why were you saying the words? You know saying the words would mean sure death. And yet, you want to say the words. The urge is stronger than anything you have ever felt in your life. You're breathing hard now, sweating, fists clenched. You don't know how long you can resist. Not much. Surely not much. And when you're just about to give in, you open your eyes back in the tea room. You're trembling, and sweating, curved on the table, gasping for air.
Jean-Luc has slowly drunk his tea, still wondering what so many people find in this insipid beverage. Suddenly, he realizes that Andre is staring into space, eyes wide open, his face gone white and glittering with sweat. Before he can do anything, Andre exhales violently and almost fall forward on the table, trembling. The waiter rushes towards you, but he doesn't seem worried. In fact, he is clapping his hands. "Fantastic, Monsieur. That is very auspicious, very auspicious indeed. Congratulations!"
Spoiler:
OOC:   Andre must roll against a stability loss.  
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