Play@YSDC

Chapter One - New York City, January 1925

It is the City That Never Sleeps. During the day ships, barges, tugs and pleasure boats ply New York’s bay and rivers, dashing beneath bridges and disgorging thousands of people upon the city’s shores. Each brings hope and dreams of a new life. At night the city blazes with myriad lights, diamonds dazzling in buildings that scrape the sky. Music, food, dance, dark rituals, and clandestine cults flourish beneath the mantle of New York City – Secrets of New York (Chaosium 2005)
Columbia University - West 114th Street, New York
3:35pm - Wednesday 14th January, 1925


Low Memorial Library, Columbia University

The icy start to 1925 has done little to lift Amy's disappointment that Jackson did not after all make it back to New York in time for Christmas. There have been two heavy snowstorms in the last two weeks, and the newspapers warn of more to come. The last storm saw over ten thousand men mobilized to clear the streets, and deep piles of snow still cover many of the cities sidewalks. The skies above Manhattan are clear today, but the low winter sun cannot hope to bring the temperature above freezing.

It's a worse winter than most New Yorkers can remember, but the talk of the city in every university campus, coffee shop and speakeasy is the total solar eclipse in ten days time. Street parties are planned to celebrate the momentous occasion and the Navy are even sending an airship to observe the eclipse more closely.

Amy is concentrating on her studies when the news the she's been longing for finally arrives; a maritime telegram addressed to her:

Amy Lawrence leaps for joy when she reads the telegram, squealing with delight. She twirls around, clutching the piece of paper to her chest in both hands and grinning wide. Finally, Jackson is coming back! The astounding story he has promised interests her too, but not as much as the man himself. She begins to telephone their other friends to tell them about the telegram and the planned meeting at the Coffee Pot, starting with Michael Anderson.

Anderson is surprised to hear Amy.
"So, he is finally returning? It was time! And as usually, I bet he will bring some incredible news! Of course I will go to the meeting."

Thank you miss Lawrence. I will be there on time.
Clark says. The Jazz musician hangs the phone of the "blue bar" in Boston where he works in. It is the afternoon when Amy reached him and the kind owner was letting Clark to take the call. After the show tonight he will return back home to pack ... luckily, he does not have a show in the "blue bar" till the next week and he can always cancel the "Mistress" bar prior the show informing that he is sick, the owner over there is an easy one.

"Marko Investigations, this is James Marko. Whaddya need?" James rattles off his standard greeting as he boredly pokes at a couple photos and makes another drink... work had been pretty slow and of the uninteresting kind for months on end.

"Oh, Miss Lawrence! What a pleasant surprise...is that so? Tomorrow? That is pretty short notice... No no, I can be there, not a problem... Yep, tomorrow at 7pm, I'll be there with bells on, girl." James hangs of the receiver and is in a noticeably better mood. Maybe seeing Jackson will get him out of this funk - better still if Jackson has one of those weird jobs that pays well.


James Marko began to lay out some things he might need and began making up stories of exciting investigations he worked on in the six months since they had last gotten together - though there was no doubt his fiction would pale in comparison to Jackson's reality.

Amy sighs after she finishes calling everyone, wishing it were tomorrow evening already. She knows she won't be able to wait, so she resolves to keep herself busy. Perhaps some research on the Carlyle Expedition is in order. That will let her keep her mind occupied and allow her to go into the meeting with a basic understanding of the background. Also, she knows Jackson would be proud of her for taking the initiative.

Jordan wasn't at home when Amy called, but a friendly housekeeper told her she'd relay the message as "Mr. Jordan is out fishing on the ice".

Amy bundles herself up against the cold and sets out for Columbia University's library to do some research on the Carlyle Expedition. The sight of snow still covering the ground makes her smile wistfully. When she was a little girl, she would have made snow angels. Now that she's older, the impulse is still there, but she is able to resist it. She has more important things to do. She trudges through the white-blanketed campus to the library, which has always been an excellent resource. She wipes her boots off before entering, stowing her coat in the cloak room and proceeding to the periodicals section to begin her research. It takes her some time, but she eventually finds what she wants.

OOC,[dhdr]7a862a54-ead2-4885-a782-eed1c8fdef41[/dhdr]

Low Memorial Library, Columbia University - New York
3pm - Thursday 15th January, 1925

The Carlyle Expedition certainly sounds familiar to Amy, although she's not exactly sure why. A produtive morning and part of an afternoon in the library reveals a wealth of information about the ill fated expedition, led most suprisingly by the flamboyant New York playboy Roger Carlyle and famous English Archaeologist Sir Aubrey Pewhew, and massacred by native tribesmen in the forests of Kenya in late 1919.

New York Evening Post wrote: Big Apple Dateline
ROGER CARLYLE, the playboy whom everybody knows - or knows about - is quietly leaving New Yawk tomorrow to check out the tombs of Egypt! You've seen the cuties ROGER has found in the nightspots. Who can doubt he'll dig up someone - er, something - equally fabulous from the Egyptian sands?
-New York Evening Post - April 4, 1919

New York Evening Post wrote: CARLYLE EXPEDITION EMBARKS FOR ENGLAND

Led by the fabulously-wealthy playboy Roger Carlyle, the Carlyle Expedition departed this morning for Southampton aboard the crack British steamship Imperial Standard.
Contrary to earlier reports, the expedition will perform researches in London under the auspices of the Penhew Foundation before continuing to Egypt next month.
Readers may recall the enormous party which Mr. Carlyle, now 24, gave at the Waldorf-Astoria Hotel upon reaching his majority. Since then, scandals and indelicate behavior have become Carlyle's trademark, but he never has become tarnished in the eyes of Manhattanites.
Members of the expedition have been reluctant to reveal their purpose in Egypt.

OTHER EXPEDITION MEMBERS

Renowned Egyptologist Sir Aubrey Penhew is assistant leader of the team, and in charge of excavations.
Dr. Robert Huston, a fashionable 'Freudian' psychologist, accompanies the expedition to pursue parallel researches into ancient pictographs.
Miss Hypatia Masters, linked in the past to Carlyle, will act as photographer and archivist.
Mr. Jack Brady, intimate to Mr. Carlyle, accompanies the group as general factotum.
Additional members may be secured while in London.
-New York Evening Post - April 5, 1919

New York Evening Post wrote: CARLYLE DEPARTS EGYPT

CAIRO(AP) - Sir Aubrey Penhew, temporary spokesman for the Carlyle Expedition, indicated Monday that the leaders are taking ship to East Africa for a 'well-earned rest.'
Sir Aubrey debunked rumors that the expedition had discovered clues to the legendary wealth of the lost mines of King Solomon, maintaining that the party was going on safari "in respite from our sandy labors."
Roger Carlyle, wealthy New York leader of the expedition, was unavailable for comment, still suffering from his recent sunstroke.
Discussing that unfortunate incident, local experts declared Egypt entirely too hot for Anglo-Saxons at this time of year, and suggested that the young American had not been well-served by his democratic enthusiasm, rumored to have led him to personally wield pick and shovel.
-New York Evening Post - July 3, 1919

New York Evening Post wrote: IMPORTANT-VISITORS

MOMBASA (Reuters) - Leading members of an American archaeological expedition arrived here on holiday from digs in Egypt's Nile Valley.
Our Under-Secretary, Mr. Royston Whittingdon, held a welcoming dinner for them at Collingswood House, where the wit of Sir Aubrey Penhew expedition co-leader, was much in evidence.
Accompanying Sir Aubrey are two Americans youthful financier Roger Carlyle and medical doctor Robert Huston.
The party leaves inland tomorrow, for Nairobi and hunting.
-New York Evening Post, July 24, 1919

New York Evening Post wrote: CARLYLE EXPEDITION FEARED LOST

MOMBASA (Reuters) - Uplands police representatives today asked for public assistance concerning the disappearance of the Carlyle Expedition. No word of the party has been received in nearly two months.
The group includes wealthy playboy Roger Carlyle and three other American citizens, as well as respected Egyptologist Sir Aubrey Penhew of the United Kingdom.
The expedition left Nairobi on August 3, ostensibly on camera safari, but rumor insisted that they actually were after legendary Biblical treasures.
Carlyle and his party reportedly intended to explore portions of the Great Rift Valley, to the northwest of Nairobi.
-New York Evening Post - Oct 15, 1919

New York Evening Post wrote: ERICA CARLYLE ARRIVES IN AFRICA

MOMBASA (Reuters) - In response to clues, Miss Erica Carlyle, sister to the American leader of the lost Carlyle Expedition, arrived in port today aboard the Egyptian vessel Fount of Life.
Several Kikuyu-villager reports recently have been received concerning the putative massacre of unnamed whites near Aberdare Forest.
Miss Carlyle declared her intention to find her brother, regardless of the effort needed. She brought with her the nucleus of a large expedition.
Detailing agents to coordinate supply and other activities with Colony representatives, Miss Carlyle and the remainder of her party depart for Nairobi tomorrow.
Her companion, Mrs. Victoria Post indirectly emphasized Miss Carlyle's purposefulness by recounting the rigors of the voyage aboard the Semite ship.
-New York Evening Post March 11, 1920

New York Evening Post wrote: CARLYLE MASSACRE CONFIRMED

NAIROBI (Reuters) - The massacre of the long-missing Carlyle Expedition was confirmed today by district police representatives.
Roger Carlyle, New York's rollicking playboy, is counted among the missing.
Authorities blame hostile Nandi tribesmen for the shocking murders. Remains of at least two dozen expedition members and bearers are thought found in several concealed grave sites.
Erica Carlyle, Roger Carlyle's sister and apparent heiress to the Carlyle family fortune, led the dangerous search for her brother and his party. She credited Kikuyu tribesmen for the discovery, though police actually found the Site.
Among other expedition members believed lost are Sir Aubrey Penhew noted Egyptologist; New York socialite Hypatia Masters, and Dr. Robert Huston. Many bearers also are reported dead.
-New York Evening Post - May 24, 1920

New York Evening Post wrote: MURDERERS HANGED

NAIROBI (Reuters) - Five Nandi tribesmen, convicted ringleaders of the vicious Carlyle Expedition massacre, were executed this morning after a short, expertly-conducted trial.
To the end, the tribesmen steadfastly refused to reveal where they had hidden the bodies of the white leaders of the expedition. Mr. Harvis, acting for the Colony, cleverly implied throughout the trial that the massacre was racial in motivation, and that the fair-skinned victims were taken to a secret location, there to suffer the most savage treatment.
Miss Erica Carlyle, defeated in her efforts to rescue her brother, left several weeks ago, but is surely comforted now by the triumph of justice.
-New York Evening Post - June 19, 1920

Marko Investigations - Brooklyn, New York
3:15pm - Thursday 15th January, 1925

As Amy is leaving the library, James is about to set off for Manhattan, the bad weather means it'll take a while to get there. He considers not picking up the phone when it rings, but he can ill afford to turn away work.

"Marko Investigations, this is James Marko. Whaddya need?"

For a few seconds no one speaks at the other end of the line, and even when the silence is eventually broken James barely recognises his friend's voice.

<<James, it's Jackson. Bring your gun tonight, and take care in case they're watching>>
<<I thought it would be safe in New York, I should have known they'd be here too. Damn it, I'm sorry!>>

The phone line goes dead before James can even speak, leaving the detective holding the receiver, shocked at the stress in Elias' voice. In all the time that he's known the author James has never known anything to scare Jackson Elias.

James thinks in stunned silence for a moment after the phone call. "Who could be after him this time and how serious is it if Jackson is this scared?"

He grimly gathers his things. Taking Elias' warning to heart he slips a knuckleduster into his pocket and his M1911 into its snug fitting shoulder holster. "Seven in the magazine, two spares: one in the jacket and one in the sock." James makes a mental note of his protection as he heads out the door. He'll take his car into Manhattan and get to the Coffee Pot as early as he can to scope the place out. He is careful to park the Model T close to the Coffee Pot, but out of sight. The isn't anything flashy, but if some one is keeping an eye out, James didn't want them to know he had a quick getaway available.

James leaves for Manhattan and as he drives tries to think back to before Jackson left - "Had he said anything about who he was looking into this time? He went to Africa didn't he?"

After Amy returns from the library, she gets ready for the meeting at the Coffee Pot. While it's far too cold to wear her red dress, she wears a lovely black sequined dress under her fleece overcoat. Her hair and makeup are as good as she is able to prepare them, for she wants to look her best when Jackson sees her. She can hardly wait to see him again after all these months.

Anderson finishes reading his papers and decides to go to the place that Amy told him.

Placing his trumpet and a cold weather outfit in a small hand suitcase Clark embark a bus to New York. He takes the rear sit and enjoys the early morning ride from Massasuchets across Providence, Rhode island to New York city. Luckily the weather was fair and it was a good time to exit Boston since forecast said a snow storm is coming.

Archie Tremayne had, after Oregon, found himself an elegant little garret in bohemian Greenwich Village. The hope had been that the artistic congregation of the Village would inspire his writing. Although, the cold winter, after so many hot years in India, was a serious shock. Fortunately, a friend in the Royal Navy had found a way to regularly supply Tremayne with decent Scotch through the Port of NY.

In any event, Tremayne was very pleased to learn of Jackson’s return. With any luck, Jackson would have some good stories of exploration.

The weather remains fine and so Clark's bus isn't delayed too much, although at many points in the journey the bus slows to a crawl as it slivers perilously along roads only partially cleared of snow. Inside the city limits it's somewhat better, the edges of the street - sometimes including the entire sidewalk - have mounds of snow piled high, but most roads have been cleared enough for motor vehicles to travel in both directions.

Looking though the window of the bus Clark can see that the sidewalks are still bustling with busy New-Yorkers wrapped in overcoats and scarves, their breath clearly visible in the freezing January air.

Despite the poor road conditions, he's arrived safely in New York City and should be able to make it to the Coffee Pot with time to spare.


The Coffee Pot - Corner of 8th Avenue and West 23rd Street, New York City

James is the first to arrive at the Coffee Pot; he parks his Ford on 8th Avenue, close by, but safely out of sight of both the Coffee Pot and the Hotel Chelsea, where Jackson is likely to be staying as usual. Walking carefully from his parked car around to West 23rd Street nothing seems out of the ordinary. Other than the icy sidewalk and the heaped mounds of snow at the roadside, everything is exactly as it was back in June when the friends last met Jackson Elias. Yet the sun is already setting, and the temperature is dipping sharply. The streetlights illuminate the snow and the hustling pedestrians in a way that feels strangely eerie as James looks out for whoever it is that has so spooked his fearless friend Jackson Elias.


The Coffee Pot

Inside the cafe it's business as usual, the proprietors Jimmy and Nel O'Healy are working behind the counter, while waitress Jenny serves the tables. Half the tables are taken and the atmosphere is a friendly mix of chatter, laughter, clinking cups and music from the radio set. The air is thick with the smell of coffee, cigarette smoke and damp wool; it is warm and cosy inside and it feels great to step in from the chilly evening.

Amy is the first to enter the Coffee Pot, barely able to contain her excitement. She is so eager to see Jackson that she arrives early, no longer able to wait. She looks around, but not surprisingly, none of the others is here yet.

James sees Miss Lawrence enter The Coffee Pot early, "She must be eager to see her crush" he thinks. He steps aside into a nearby alleyway mouth and huddles up for warmth, though the cold metal of his gun on his side is ever present. He lights a cigarette and tried to inconspicuously watch The Coffee Pot and its entrance - a strange feeling in the air eats at him and he isn't quite sure what to make of Jackson's warning, but James wasn't ready to go in and bear the brunt of Miss Lawrence's prattle about Jackson all alone.

William Jordan had gotten up early to go for a brisk walk in Central Park. The rush of his latest book launch had taken its toll and he needed something to take his mind of things, Elias' return would surely help distract him.
After a hearty breakfast and a short writing session, not working on anything big, just a few short stories, he grabbed his coat and hat and left his hotel.

On the way to the Coffee Pot, Jordan bought a fresh pack of cigarettes and smoked one in the cold air of 8th Avenue, before making his way inside. He didn't care about arriving too early, he'd have a cream coffee and write a few more lines before the party arrived.

Relieved to be in the warmth inside the coffee shop, Amy unbuttons her coat. She turns to watch the entrance so that she can see when others arrive. She tries not to look disappointed when she sees that William Jordan is the next one through the door rather than Jackson. "Oh, hello, Mr. Jordan!" she calls with a smile and a wave, her eyes and her dress sparkling.

Seeing Mr. Jordan enter The Coffee Pot gave James a little more reason to head in. The man was smart, quick with a joke or story, and had a taste for the drink - James' kind of guy. He stamped out his cigarette, crossed the street and headed into cafe and out of the cold. He gave a quick order to a server "Coffee, black." he pointed to the table with Ms. Lawrence and Mr. Jordan, gave the server a smile, and headed over to greet his friends.


"Ice cold out there isn't it?" James smiled and extends his hand to William. "Good to see you Will, hope you're thirsty, I could use something to warm my bones."
He then gave Amy a smile, "Miss Lawrence, I hope school is treating you well."

Amy smiles back. "Thank you, Mr. Marko," she says, pausing to take a sip from her steaming mug of coffee, the nectar of students everywhere. "My studies are going well. How has your work been going?"

"Work has been good. It's all cycles. Mid to Late Summer business picked up a bit, but now that Winter is here and in full force I have less cases." James takes out a cigarette, lights up and continues, "Which you know, that never really made sense to me. I understand in the Summer the heat gets people going and gets them more exasperated and they come to me or do something worse, but I never got why the cases slow to a crawl in the Winter. Do people think cheating doesn't happen then? That folks and things don't get lost, or that spouses don't lay a hand on their partners? Or does everyone just calm down cause they're stuck inside with each other?"

"I never really gave it much thought," says Amy, considering it now. "Maybe people just don't go out as much if they don't have to. Oh! And people have less money to spend in the winter, after all the Christmas shopping."

He had greeted Amy warmly, he liked the young student, although he sure as hell couldn't stomach her being more taken with Jackson than with him.
He had greeted her warmly and ordered a cream coffee.


Jordan cringed at hearing his first name, he'd never gotten to like it and seldom used it.

"Marko, you old lout!You won't find anything in this place to warm your bones other than coffee, unless you brought something yourself."

Jordan enthusiastically returns the handshake and sits back down.

"I'm not surprised that you're low on work, people are like the seasons, in Spring our blood starts flowing again and in Summer even the most morose man is aflame with burning desire. Autumn is still sweet, as it savours the last memories of Summer, like a good wine, or making love to mature woman. Winter is cold and men's blood turns cold as well. Everything sleeps and waits for the first light of Spring to inspire them again."

He sips his coffee and grins.

"It is in the darkness of Winter that an artist gets most work done, though, he has to work to keep warm and in the other seasons he is too distracted by other things."

The coffee pot's door rings as Clark enters the place, he brush his coat and nods the waiter. It's been a nice walk in the chill outside and the warm place is more than welcome. Looking around he spots the others. "Miss, Gentlemen, it is pleasure to see you all again."
Clark place his hand suitcase behind one of the chairs and takes a seat without saying another word but smiles now and than.

Anderson finally arrives. He smiles when he see Amy.
"You look beautiful as usual. So, our friend hasn't arrive yet? He is probably waiting to be sure we are all here to make us a big surprise" -he says with malice.

The Coffee Pot - Corner of 8th Avenue and West 23rd Street, New York City
7:15pm - Thursday 15th January, 1925

Tremayne is the last of Jackson's friends to arrive at the Coffee Pot; held up by the wintery conditions, it is already five past seven by the time he steps through the door of the café.

Ten minutes later it is starting to become obvious that Jackson Elias is not going to appear. While he often disappears for months at a time to investigate the death-cults that he writes about, Jackson is normally a most punctual man. When he says seven o'clock, he means seven o'clock; and assuming that he has taken his normal room - 410 - at the Hotel Chelsea, then he literally has less than five minutes' walk to get from his room to the Coffee Pot.

"This isn't like Jackson," says Amy, clearly worried. "Maybe we should go over to his room and check on him. It's just across the street."

Archie Tremayne had been enjoying the wintry day. A few hours at the typewriter. In the afternoon, he'd spent an hour at Stillman's famous gym near Madison Square Garden, working on the pugilistic arts. Famous and famously unhygienic, he thought. Tremayne relied on the boxing, together with long walks exploring the city, to keep him up to snuff for future explorations.

After the training, Tremayne had returned home to his garret, cleaned up and changed into his second suit, dark navy Indian cotton with matching fedora. Grabbing a camel coloured duffle coat his mate in the Royal Navy had supplied and an old uni scarf, Tremayne dashed out.

Running slightly late, Tremayne was quite surprised to find Jackson not at the cafe already but it did give him a chance to greet the others. When Amy suggested walking to the Chelsea, Tremayne had not even taken his duffle coat off.

Grabbing his fedora, Tremayne grinned at her. "Absolutely, Miss Amy, ready when you are. Perhaps the old lad has fallen asleep?" He offers Amy his arm.

James checks the clock as the time passes by, when it becomes clear that Jackson isn't coming he gets up and readies to go to Jackson's hotel room. "This may not be like him, but I had a bad feeling something like this was going to happen." James straightens his coat and puts some money on the table before heading outside. He stands outside of the cafe in the coat with a cigarette, hoping the cold might sharpen his mind a little bit and help brace him for what he may have to do. "You know, you don't all have to come, I can probably just grab him and drag him down here if he's sleeping."

Jordan gets up with the others and makes to go out with the others.

"Yeah, sure, you could go alone and enjoy the surprise on his face, but I that surprise will be even greater when he finds his room invaded by a true horde!"

He laughs and breathes deeply in the cold winter air.

"Let's give the old bastard the fright of a lifetime."

"Thank you, Mr. Tremayne," says Amy, buttoning up her coat and smiling back. Then she takes his arm. "I'm ready."

Clark nods and gets up. He joins the others outside.
"To the hotel than"

Arm in arm with Amy in gentlemanly fashion, Tremayne stepped off.

Tremayne addressed the group as he walked. "Right, lady and gentlemen, let's go and see what Jackson's about. I stayed in his room at the Chelsea for the last few days it was paid up, after he headed off last June. With any luck the staff will still remember me. Anyway, I'm pretty certain he'll have booked the same room again, I think it's his favourite."

The Hotel Chelsea, 222 West 23rd Street - New York City
7:20pm - Thursday 15th January, 1925



Until twenty years ago the twelve story Hotel Chelsea was the tallest building in New York. Ever since it's construction it has been home to many artists and authors, the most famous being Mark Twain who lived there in 1898. Some stay there for just a day or a week, others live in the famous Hotel's bohemian community for years or decades. Jackson just rents a room whenever he's in the city, although he normally takes room 410 if it's available. That room is one of those with the distinctive decorative iron balconies that face onto West 23rd Street, so the investigators can clearly see that the room is lit as they cross the street and enter the hotel.

The receptionist looks bored in the Hotel lobby, but he smiles as he recognises Archie immediately and he readily confirms that Jackson has his normal room on the fourth floor. A walk up the hotel's beautiful open iron staircase is always a pleasure though, as it's outer wall is adorned with the artwork of past and current residents. It's good though that Jackson doesn't have a room on the twelfth floor!

Amy admires the artwork as she strolls up the stairs. Being young and healthy, she has no problem with them. Her excitement is almost palpable. I'm finally going to see Jackson again after all this time! she thinks, smiling broadly.

Clark admired the main lobby and stared in awe, but when the white folk began whispering he hurried and followed the others up the stairs.

James trudged heavily up the steps towards Jackson's room, paying little mind to the artwork on the wall - it was all pretty much the same to him anyway. By the time they reached the room he was a bit out a breath and wordlessly cursing his lack of exercise.

On the fourth floor landing the winding central staircase opens onto two well lit corridors, one of which includes the door to apartment number 410.

Jackson's door is closed, as are all of the other doors leading from the deserted corridor.

Unable to wait any longer, Amy goes up to the door to Room 410 and raps lightly on it.

Seconds pass by, then a minute, but no one answers Amy's knock.

"Jackson, it's me, Amy!" she calls, trying the doorknob to see if it is locked.

After some time, Jordan finally arrives on the fourth floor. He makes for Jackson's room and observes as Amy tries the door in vain.

"Come on, Jackson, you big slouch! Lift your carcass off the bed and come open up for your lovely lady friend!", he bellows, dispelling any romantic thought Amy might have cherished on her way up.

"Is he even moving around in there?" James listens a bit closer to the room.

The door is locked.

James cannot hear any sounds from inside the room, and still nobody opens the door despite Amy and Jordan's shouts.

Amy listens carefully at the door. If there's any noise inside, her keen hearing is sure to detect it.

Maybe he went to grab something he needed before arriving to the coffee pot?
Clark says before he departs and walks down the corridor, trying to spot someone from the cleaning staff.

Tremayne enjoyed the lovely artwork but on the fourth floor the current nagging problem reared its head again. Tremayne looked about for such a thing as a hall phone.

"I think, chaps, we need the management here to unlock the door. Jackson had lights on in his room but he isn't answering. Maybe he's ill? Can anyone see a telephone or bell? Otherwise, I'll pop back down to the front desk and bring someone back."

"You don't think he has drink too much last night and he is now sleeping, do you?"- says Anderson.

Luck: 1d100 93

Clark returns after a while. "No luck, I can't find the cleaning staff, maybe we can try to force the door open"

The rooms of the Hotel Chelsea are very well soundproofed, but listening carefully with her ear to the door Amy hears something unexpected, that much is clear to everyone.

For Amy Only,From inside the room Amy can hear the faint sounds of movement, and drawers and cupboards being opened and closed. She can also hear frantic speech, but the language is most certainly not English!

Amy's heart nearly stops. She backs away from the door, covering her mouth with a hand. "I think you'd better break down the door, and fast," she whispers. "There are people in there rummaging through the place, and they're speaking some foreign language." Please, God, let Jackson be all right, she thinks, her eyes welling up with tears. Maybe he wasn't there...maybe he went out and we missed him on our way up...maybe whoever's in there waited for him to leave before searching his room...maybe...

OOC,Can I roll Know to try to identify which language it was?

Tremayne heard Amy's whisper and was a tad relieved to have an excuse not to have to go back down those four flights of stairs. Right, no time like the present, he thought.

"Mind yourself Amy," he yelled as he ran past her, fedora in hand. Tremayne then charged the door and threw his lanky frame shoulder first at it, rugby style.

OOC,Can Tremayne make a STR test or similar to bust the door?

Anderson will help Tremayne.

"To the back, Amy and maybe cover your ears." James draws his M1911 and holds it at the ready for when the door breaks open. "Make sure you clear the door." He warns.

Amy nods, moving down the hall and pressing herself against the wall, clapping her hands over her ears. Please, God, let Jackson be all right, she thinks. Please...

Jordan stands back to let the men assault the door.

Clark stands nearby, nervous by the unexpected situation, he holds his briefcase tightly, shifting his gaze from the others to the door.

DL left work a bit early to meet the group at the Coffee Pot diner, but half-jogging through the snowy streets, slipping and sliding, took time and he finally arrived at the diner to find none of his friends inside. He exited and saw the last of the group entering the Chelsea Hotel, across the street. "That must've been a quick bite to eat," he thought, as he crossed the street, dodging a few cars, and ran into the hotel lobby.

No friends were there to be seen. He gazed up at the staircase, whistled in admiration, and quickly walked over to the receptionist, asking, "Jackson Elias' room please? My friends just came through."

"Fourth Floor, sir," responded the clerk in a monotone, and then he loudly blurted "Ahem," as he frowned and glared down at DL's tracks of slush across the carpeting.

"Oh, heh, sorry," DL shrugged and said, "I'm in a hurry to meet my friends," then he turned and ran up the staircase, taking the stairs two at a time with ease, excusing himself as he brushed past well-dressed patrons on his way up. He arrived on the floor to see Amy, Jordan, and others clustered around a door down the corridor.

Amy has a good idea what sort of language was being spoken in the room.

Dayton could see that his friends were anxious, and he even saw that one had readied a gun, so he moved quickly down the corridor to meet them, asking in a low voice, "Hey everyone, what's with the pistol? Is Jackson in trouble?"

Amy nods, her lip quivering. "There are intruders rummaging through his room," she hisses. "They were speaking some African language."

Together Tremayne and Anderson attempt to kick down the door to room 410, although it doesn't break open on the first attempt, it does crack loudly, so they kick a second time.

This time the door finally succumbs to the pounding and bursts open, revealing the inside of Jackson's hotel room.

Before they have proper chance to look inside the room, a large man wearing a hideous African tribal headdress steps through the broken doorway. The intricately carved wooden mask completely covers the mans face, and features a long red tongue or trunk that protrudes grotesquely from the front of it's bestial visage.

In his hand he brandishes a wickedly curved machete-like knife, and ignoring the two unarmed investigators he immediately raises the cleaver to swing at James, even as the detective steadies his aim.

Beyond the thug, the three investigators catch a glimpse of a second masked figure climbing down over Jackson's balcony to the floor below.

OOC:   Everyone can see the machete wielding thug, only Tremayne, Anderson and James can see beyond him to the second masked intruder

Clark will swing his filled hand suitcase to the man's face.

Upon seeing the horribly-masked attacker with a machete, DL crouched low and readied for action. From his years of professional baseball training at second base, he'd become expertly capable in this position to react quickly, whether diving and catching line drive bullets from hitters or leaping over oncoming baserunners to throw a quick strike to first base. He sees James with his pistol drawn and the attacker raising his blade, but he also sees Clark swinging his suitcase. DL dives at the attacker's knees to take the man down, remaining low to the ground to avoid getting shot or hit by his friends.

Jump roll,[dice]d100[/dice] vs. 65% skill in Jump. [dice]0[/dice]

Tremayne was stunned by the bizarre sight for a second. His first instinct was to drop into a boxer's stance, balled fists up in front of his face, elbows in tight. As the masked man moved past, Tremayne yelled "Stillman's!" and let fly with a lightening right jab to the attacker's kidney.

OOC:   Tremayne will make a punch attack.

James grits his teeth and squeezes off a round at the masked thug in the doorway.

Roll,Handgun 40%, I believe this should count as point blank range (double skill firing at a target less than player's dex (9) feet away), so 80% to hit: [dice]0[/dice]

Confirmation,I rolled an 11. That is less than 1/5th my point blank skill, but not less than 1/5 of my base skill. I'm not sure if this counts as an impale or not, after confirmation I will roll damage.

Amy screams when she sees the blood and bits of flesh on the machete, her blood freezing when she realizes that they must belong to Jackson. However, she has enough presence of mind to remain rational. She runs back the way she came to the stairway in the hopes of reaching a telephone in the lobby to call an ambulance, knowing that she'll be useless in a fight. She's relieved that at least she's wearing boots due to the weather rather than heels, so that she'll be able to handle the stairs quickly.

OOC,Sanity roll (current level 70) for seeing the bloody machete: [dice]0[/dice]

James' gun kicks heavily in his grip as his shot finds its mark in the machete wielding man.

Damage,[dice]0[/dice]

Clark swings his handbag at te wounded man.

[dice]0[/dice]

The masked assassin would probably have gone down anyway, smashed by suitcases, fists and speeding baseball players, but James’ .45 slug hits him straight in the chest and ensures that he will never get up again.

The thug’s lifeless body collapses onto DL as he slides in, but he manages to shrug it off and spring back to his feet without being covered in blood.

Jackson’s “room 410” is a small apartment, like all the Hotel Chelsea’s rooms. DL is now standing inside a short hallway with side doors that open into a bathroom and the guest/butler bedroom where Tremayne stayed last June.

The door at the opposite end of the entrance hallway connects to the main bedroom of the apartment. The balcony doors are open, curtains blowing in the chilly wind. The other masked assassin has now vanished over the balcony – descending to the floor below.

A double bed is visible near to the balcony windows, there is a body lying on the bed and a lot of blood on the bed and splattered on the window and walls.
Meanwhile Amy is running back towards the Chelsea’s big central staircase, desperate to reach the lobby telephone.

OOC:   It’ll take her a little while to reach the phone.

Gerald awoken by the noise in Elias' room and horrified with the gun shot, looks at Irene on the other side of the double bed. He pushes her rather abruptly, "Are you awake?" He puts on his spectacles and a white shirt. Without buttoning it and leaving his trousers on the chair, he moves to the door. "What in all heavens is going on?", he mutters to himself.

Clark goes inside, his suitcase ready to strike another intruder who might surprise him. Once he sees the body, he goes to see if he knows who lies dead over there.

Jordan looks at the dead assailant sprawled on the floor. The smell of gunpowder and blood, combined with the hideous African mask transport him back to the Kenyan plains for a moment and that time he hunted Wildebeest with Jackson.
Jackson!

Jordan storm into the room with Clark and looks around, snarling as he sees the body on the bed.

Spot Hidden 25%,[dice]0[/dice]

Amy continues running, fighting back tears and hoping she won't be too late.

Tremayne watches the masked man drop dead, more or less at his feet. "Well, that did the trick."

He races into the room and takes in the scene for a second, then bounds over to the balcony. "Come back here, brigand!@

With no further ado, Tremayne starts climbing down after the second assailant.

OOC:   Climb skill is 80% and he rolls [dice]0[/dice]

Anderson follow Tremayne for the second attacker.

Irene hurriedly throws some clothes on and ties a robe over the top then heads towards the door after Gerald.

"Wh ... what's Happening Ger?" I peer over his shoulder at the chaotic scene in the corridor.

"Oh my!" I exclaim to nobody in particular as my hand goes to my mouth.

Room 410, Hotel Chelsea

Even before they reach the suite's large bed Clark and Jordan can see that the body on the bed is that of their good friend Jackson Elias. It looks like Jackson was probably in a bad way already - before these hoodlums got hold of him - his hair is unkempt and knotted, his face gaunt, unwashed and unshaven. Such things are trivial now though compared to the brutal savagery of Jackson's death; the author has been disemboweled, his abdomen hacked open and his intestines dragged out across the blood-soaked bedsheets. Also a strange curved symbol has been carved into Jackson's forehead - this wound has bled profusely, suggesting that it was done before he died. Finally Jackson's throat has been cut almost deeply enough to decapitated him.

DL and James enter the room behind them, James with his gun held ready.

The room has been ransacked, drawers and cupboards are open, clothes tossed out onto the floor.


Jackson Elias head wound

Outside Rooms 409 and 410, Hotel Chelsea

Gerald and Irene arrive in the corridor and see that the adjoining door leading to Room 410 is open. Just inside the doorway lies a body, apparently dead from a gunshot wound - the corpse in wearing a most hideous wooden tribal mask featuring an obscene red tongue made from thick leather over a foot long.

Gerald's acquaintance Jackson Elias often stays in Room 410 and he's sure he spotted Jackson in the hotel yesterday, but the author is nowhere to be seen. Inside apartment 410, beyond the corpse and just inside the main bedroom the couple can see a man with his back to them holding a handgun.

OOC:   The gunman is James.

The Staircase, Hotel Chelsea

Amy rushes headlong down the Hotel Chelsea's beautiful iron staircase, never has it's beautiful design seemed so irrelevant. As she reaches the second floor level she is sure that she can hear screaming coming from the third floor - which is strange as Jackson's room is up on the fourth. Below her though, she can now see the reception desk in the lobby as well as the payphone mounted on the lobby wall.


Hotel Chelsea Staircase

The balcony, Room 310, Hotel Chelsea.

Tremayne climbs down to the balcony below Jackson's with Anderson following right behind him. The door into room 310 has been smashed open, a well dressed man is on his knees clutching uselessly at a deep machete wound to his neck and chest - blood sprays between his fingers. Behind him a middle aged woman is screaming and beyond the couple, not one but two masked assassins are fleeing back into the hotel towards the apartment's entrance.

Amy races for the phone and snatches up the receiver. "Operator, I need an ambulance at the Chelsea Hotel, Room 410!" she cries. "Hurry, he's hurt bad! And send the police!"

Seeing the PI holding his ground with a pistol, Gerald asks, "Oy, is Elias all right?" He steps over the shot assailant and unmasks him, to see what kind of thugs Jackson Elias had got tangled up with.

Tremayne takes a quick look for a split second at the injured man and decides to keep chasing the thugs. "Stop!! Murder!! Police!! Stand and face me, blaggards!!" He continues after them as fast as his legs will carry him.

Jordan is stopped in his steps as he recognises Elias's body.
Damn it, Elias, this is no way to go...

He recomposes himself quickly, having lost many friends in the Great War, and to more terrible weapons than machetes. He rummages through his pockets with purpose and pulls out his hipflask, unscrewing it and taking a hefty swig.

'There is no dignity in death, and only in life can a man prove his worth. And yours was of great worth!'

He then thrusts the flask into Clark's hands.

Clark drops his bag with his precious trumpet on the floor
Oh...no..Jackson ... why?

He says in agony but keeps his nerves. This is not the first time the black man saw a body. He than catch the flask, take a swig, nods and eyes Jordan
should we cover him ?


Clark eyes run across the floor and bed for any clues before he picks up his bag and goes to the dead assassain. He don't want to stay in the room, the first suspect is always the black dude.

'No, covering him would be disgraceful. You cover a tea pot or a typewriter, not a man.', Jordan says decisively.
'We should look for his journal, or any indication why those savages massacred him. And best finish before the police get here.'

Jordan takes another good look at the face of his friend, at the carved sigil and a cold rage fills his heart.

'I will find out what led to this, Elias, and we will bring it to light in your stead. That is what I swear here and now.'

He then looks around the room for Elias's journal or anything that might help.

Spot Hidden 25%,[dice]0[/dice]

Anderson continues running to try to get at least one of the murderers (with one caught, it's easier to get the second he thinks to himself).

Room 410, Hotel Chelsea

James looks back at Gerald and shakes his head grimly before continuing to the balcony. Leaning over he can easily hear the commotion from the room below, he holsters his revolver and shouts, "They're on the third floor!"

He then begins to carefully lower himself over the balcony to the floor below, but cannot get down safely and, frustrated, clambers back onto Jackson's balcony.

*** ***

When James shouts from the balcony DL sprints from the room towards the hotel's main staircase, heading for the third floor.

*** ***

Jordan and Clark look quickly around the room, but it appears to be pretty well ransacked, there are no obvious items such as journals visible.

*** ***

Pulling the hideous mask from the assassin's face Gerald reveals a black man with thick unkempt black hair. Well built, his skin tone is very dark and his features are unremarkable, other than a small scar on his chin.

The knife that the man carried is unusual, it appears to be basically a large machete, but the blade bends at almost a right angle in the middle, similar to a boomerang.

Rifling quickly through the killer's jacket Gerald finds three items:

• A letter, addressed to Roger Carlyle. Dated 3rd Jan 1919
• An elegantly engraved business card for the 'Penhew Foundation' in London
• An empty matchbox, labelled: Stumbling Tiger Bar, 10 Lantern Street. "Shanghai Fun & Friends"

OOC:   Handout images inside spoiler button:

Handouts,[img]https://i.imgur.com/IrcYv6I.jpg[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/qqXXyis.png[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/Dg5aWen.png[/img]

3rd Floor, Hotel Chelsea

The two fleeing assassins open the apartment door and run into the corridor before either Tremayne or Anderson can catch them. They turn right, running towards the laundry room and the fire escapes, rather than left towards the central staircase.

A man stepping out of his room cowers in terror as the two machete armed men barge past him, and with nobody else in the way the first man makes it through the window and onto the fire escape. The second man doesn't have time though, as the investigators have almost caught up, he turns with a snarl waving the huge knife wildly, the red leather tongue appendage of his grotesque masks swings about madly.

Through the eye slits in the assassin's mask both investigators can see that his eyes are filled with the berserk fury of a drug fiend or a madman.

OOC:   You cannot see the face of this second assassin due to the mask, but the skin of his hands is white.

The Lobby, Hotel Chelsea

It seems to take an eternity for the operator to answer Amy, but when she does she speaks calmly, "Ok miss, don't panic, I'll get help to you straight away. Room 410, Hotel Chelsea? Are you safe?"

Irene looked at the horrendously mutilated body on the ground, and tried not faint. "Oh dear, what should we do?"

Tremayne briefly thought it ironic that earlier in the day he had been in the boxing ring at the gymnasium. He quickly adopted the approved boxer's stance, balled fists in front of his face, elbows in close to his torso.

He took a deep breath and roared, "Stillman's gym!"

OOC,Let me know order of battle and Tremayne will throw a punch at the assassin.

"Yes, thank you," says Amy, speaking quickly in her desperation. "I'm safe, I ran back down to the lobby to use the phone, but Jackson Elias and my friends are still up there! There were at least two strange men in the room when we arrived to see Jackson. I could hear them through the door, rummaging through things and speaking to each other in an African language, and Jackson wasn't answering. My friends had to break the door in, and one of the men came out. He was wearing an African headdress with a horrible tribal mask, and he had a machete. There was blood on it...and...flesh..." Amy gulps. "Jackson..." She begins to sob, her heart twisted in a knot.

Anderson will pretend to make a move to see if he can distract the killer, so Tremayne can punch him.
"Hey, ugly face, why don't you fight someone of your size?"

Punch,Tremayne's Punch is 70% and he rolls... [dice]0[/dice]

Tremayne dances forward and lets fly with a right jab to the gut.

Damage,[dice]1[/dice] + [dice]2[/dice] Total 5 hp damage unless he dodges.

Third Floor, Hotel Chelsea

The berserk assassin makes no attempt to avoid Tremayne's expert punch.

The jab hits the masked man solidly in the gut, but the raging assassin barely flinches in his efforts to hack Tremayne apart with wild swings of his machete. He appears to be untrained, but his uncoordinated swings could still be deadly.

Assassins Attack,Roll to hit [dice]0[/dice] And damage if it hits [dice]1[/dice] [ooc]The attack will hit for 4 damage unless you dodge or parry. This attacker actually has quite poor skills, so I will allow unarmed parries without the chance of taking damage anyway.[/ooc]

Room 410, Hotel Chelsea

As soon as he's safely back onto Jackson's balcony James sets off running after DL, drawing his revolver again as he runs, "They're still in the hotel, can't let them get away!"

With that he runs past Gerald and Irene, heading towards the hotel's staircase.

OOC:   You can assume that Irene, Jordan and Clark have all at least glanced the three clues that Gerald retrieved.

The Lobby, Hotel Chelsea

"Try to stay calm Miss," replies the operator, who sounds a little disturbed by Amy's description herself.

"A patrol car will be there in a few minutes and I'm arranging the ambulance as well. Please remain where you are until the officers arrive."

Irene saw the few snatches of the documents, and realised that something is afoot. The fact that wild murderers are lurking in the hotel disturbed her severely. She picked up a small knife-like object from the room to defend herself and followed. Determined to be able to contribute to the arrest of those maniacs in any way possible.

"Thank you," says Amy, "but I have to go back. I may be the only one who can keep him alive until the ambulance gets here." She hangs up before the operator can try to talk her out of it and races back up the stairs.

Unarmed Party,Tremayne's First is 70% and he rolls... [dice]0[/dice]

Tremayne blocks the incoming machete attack with a well timed sweep with his left arm.

Anderson will help Tremayne and punch the the assassin:

Although Anderson's punch doesn't do much damage, combined with his earlier challenge it momentarily confuses the masked man. He pauses his wild swings of his big knife, the moment of hesitation offering Tremayne and Anderson the opening they need.

Room 410, Hotel Chelsea

Gerald quickly shows the matchbox, letter and business card to Irene, Clark and Jordan, "Should we show these to the cops? What's Elias gotten himself into? I'm Gerald by the way."

Royya,[ooc]I've assumed that Clark is in his way to the door, but hasn't left the apartment yet.[/ooc]

Irene decided to shows these to the cops. "We wouldn't want to be copped with obstructing investigation or hiding evidence, now, would we? Besides, the more people investigating this, the better. These monsters should be put behind bars!"

Punch Two,70% Punch and Tremayne rolls... [dice]0[/dice]

Damage,[dice]1[/dice] + [dice]2[/dice] Total [b]7[/b] HP

Delighted with the distraction, Tremayne dances in again with a hard left round-house to the side of the ribs (he is avoiding punching the mask, it looks like it would hurt).

"Blaggard!"

Anderson don't hesitate and attack again.
Punch: 50%
[dice]0[/dice]

Raiko wrote:Room 410, Hotel Chelsea

Gerald quickly shows the matchbox, letter and business card to Irene, Clark and Jordan, "Should we show these to the cops? What's Elias gotten himself into? I'm Gerald by the way."

"Here, put the things in my trumpet case ... I may have the sources among my people to find who they are"
The black Jazz man replies. "I will meet you in the lobby, it's too dangerous for me to be here."
Once the findings are in his bag, Clark goes down.

Irene disagrees. "You can have temporary ownership of the evidence, but if the cops request them, we are turning them over. A criminal sentence is the last thing me and Gerald needs!"

HelplessBystander wrote:Irene disagrees. "You can have temporary ownership of the evidence, but if the cops request them, we are turning them over. A criminal sentence is the last thing me and Gerald needs!"

Clark nods.
"We can hand them over after we copy them"

“That would be a wise course of action. Let’s do just that.” Irene harrumphed.

Third Floor, Hotel Chelsea

Tremayne's punch hits the assassin in the chest with brutal force, the big machete clatters out of his hand and he collapses in an ungainly heap onto the laundry room floor.

Tremayne takes a moment to collect himself, blowing his cheeks out with a whoosh and flexing his knuckles.

"Well done, Anderson, good team work." He nods appreciatively.

His wits coming back to him, Tremayne kicks the machete out of the fallen man's grasp. "Now, where the other blighter get to?" He races to the fire escape and looks out carefully.

'Hi Gerald...'
Jordan looks somewhat unimpressed by the casual introduction.
'Let's just keep those things to ourselves and let the pigs deal with their own research. Where are they keeping? And where are the others?'

Anderson protests:
"It was you who have done the most dangerous work".
Then he uses his handkerchief to tie up the prisoner to prevent him to escape; only then he will resume the persecution.

The Third Floor - Hotel Chelsea

Looking out of the window, Tremayne can see the remaining assassin is still running down the fire escape, although he has just about reached the alleyway below.

DL arrives in the hallway from the central staircase, with James not far behind him.

Anderson notices a folded sheet of paper poking out of his prisoner's jacket pocket.

Room 410, Hotel Chelsea

More of the Chelsea's guests and residents are venturing into the hallway now, either gasping or crying as they spot the bloody corpse of the assassin; and everyone has a question.

"What's going on?"

"Someone call the cops?"

"Was that a gunshot?"

"Irene are you okay?"

"Who are you?"

"My god, he's dead! What's happened?"

Anderson will take the paper and read it.

"I'm quite okay. The gentleman over there...not quite." Irene said, wincing.

Jordan moves outside into the corridor and tries his own particular brand of crowdcontrol.

'A great man and good friend was murdered by these cowardly assassins. It's best that you all get back to your rooms and lock the door. The police are on their way and will be arriving shortly. Everybody just move back to your chambers and let the professionals deal with this.'

Persuade 55%,[dice]0[/dice]

Third Floor, Hotel Chelsea

DL and James arrive as Anderson unfolds the letter, typed on Harvard University stationary and addressed to Jackson Elias - care of his publishers.




Fourth Floor, Hotel Chelsea

Jordan's words seem to do the trick for the moment and people back off and return to their rooms. As they do so Amy bursts breathlessly back through the door from the staircase.

"Hello, young lady, what happened down there?" Irene said. "Any luck getting the authorities involved at the moment?"

Tremayne looks down the fire escape. "Blast, he's down to the ground." He looks back at the figure on the ground in the laundry. "Perhaps I'd better stay here to explain this to the authorities, I don't want the New York Police thinking I was fleeing the scene of a crime."

Tremayne moves back to the crumpled machete man and Anderson. "Is he still alive?" He checks for signs of life, at the same time calling out to the others in the hallway, "These fiends hacked at some poor soul in the apartment they just charged through. He was terribly injured but might still be alive!"

"Yes, they're on their way," Amy gasps as she runs for Room 410. "Jackson, I'm coming!"

"I think he is alive, he is only sleeping"-says Anderson with a smile.
"By the way, I discover this, it may be important"- and he gives to Tremayne the letter.

Irene stayed silent. It's obvious that the young woman that had just rushed up the stairs knew the victim. Pity he looked like a convincing dead body. But she supposed saying this at the moment would be...difficult.

Jordan positioned his sizable frame between Amy and the room.

'You don't want to go in there, Miss Lawrence.'

He sighed, his voice somewhat less loud than otherwise.

'Jackson is no longer in there.'

He wasn't lying, to Jordan the vibrant man had passed, and in the room remained nothing but the ghastly, inanimate husk of his once friend.

"Where is he?" Amy asks, stopping in her tracks. "I must go to him! How...how badly is he hurt?" Her lip quivers, but she doesn't dare admit to herself that there's any possibility that she's too late.

"You'll need to look elsewhere for good news." Irene faced away from Amy. A look of sorrow plastered on her face.

Spot Hidden,[b]Tremayne[/b] had a 45% skill and rolls... [dice]0[/dice]

Still concerned about the poor man hacked at by the machete thugs in the third floor apartment, Tremayne quickly races back there to see if there is anything that can be done.

Marko

James' keen and experienced eye sweeps the surroundings, trying to take everything in at once. If there's ever a time he needs to live up to his (often self-promoted) reputation, it's now.

Spot Hidden,Spot Hidden 50: [url=http://orokos.com/roll/571624]Spot Hidden[/url]: [u]1d100[/u] [b]7[/b]

Clark will wait for the otherss in the hotel's lobby, not far from the reception.
He will take a stand with all the other guests when the police arrive

Irene will stay on the fourth floor with Gerald for as long as possible in this situation, after all, they booked the hotel room with money and she's pretty sure the hotel isn't going to give her any financial compensation. Might as well as squeeze every pennies' worth of this stay out.

Jordan takes Amy by the shoulders, and speaks empathically.
'We were too late, Miss Lawrence. I am sorry for your loss, as I am sorry for ours.'

The floodgates open as Amy's heart shatters into a million pieces. Her legs give way, and she falls into Jordan's arms and weeps uncontrollably, pressing her face into her friend's shoulder. "Why?" she sobs.

Anderson sights with Tremayne reaction and keep the letter. Then he try to transport the prisoner back to the room where his friends are.

Irene attempted to comfort Amy. "Young lady, calm yourself. Let the Lord guide your way in helpless times. Let us remember Revelation 21:4, for He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away. We pray for the soul of your friend, and can only hope that penance befall the wrongdoers."

Room 310, Hotel Chelsea

Tremayne finds that the victim in room 310 is in a very bad way, he has lost consciousness and his desperate wife is screaming for help and sobbing as she holds a blood soaked kitchen towel onto the poor man's wounds. The attack appears to have severed a major blood vessel and although his partner is doing her best, the man will bleed out without immediate assistance.

Third Floor Hallway, Hotel Chelsea

With a helping hand from DL, Anderson has little trouble lifting the unconscious prisoner enough to drag him unceremoniously back towards the central staircase.

As the other two lift their captive, James spots a piece of card dropped near to the fire escape. Crouching to examine the card he finds it is a business card for Emerson Import on East 47th Street. The card is splattered with fresh blood. On the reverse someone has written the words, "Silas N'Kwane." James is unsure, but he thinks that the handwriting might well be that of Jackson Elias, although it is not as neat as Jackson's usual script.



The Lobby, Hotel Chelsea

The first cops have arrived by the time Clark arrives in the lobby. They pay him no attention as he joins the crowd of concerned patrons who now pack the lobby. The officers speak to the Chelsea's receptionist and then make for the grand staircase.

Jordan gives Irene a withering look, the author wasn't exactly known for his piety.
He holds Amy close, enveloping her in comforting arms.
'I don't know, Amy, but I swear we'll find out and make these bastards pay.'

Amy continues to cry and tremble, letting Jordan fold his arms around her. She glances back, seeing Irene for the first time through a curtain of tears. "Th-thank you, Miss," she says. "That does make me feel better. I know I'll see Jackson again in Heaven, but that's a long time from now. I'll miss him so much..."

James slips the card into his pocket and then goes to help the others with their captive.

"We'd better give this guy over to the cops" he tells them.

"No worries, miss." Irene said, "Anything to make you feel better, dearie."

Tremayne swiftly pulls a pressed white handkerchief out of his jacket top pocket and attempts to assist providing first aid.

First Aid,Skill is 30% and he rolls... [dice]0[/dice]

HP Recovered,[dice]1[/dice] HP

Tremayne looks over his shoulder. "Is there a doctor in the hotel?!"

HoneyDog wrote:James slips the card into his pocket and then goes to help the others with their captive.

"We'd better give this guy over to the cops" he tells them.

"Yes, let's see what he will say to the police".- Says Anderson.

Room 310, Hotel Chelsea

Once it becomes clear that Tremayne has managed to stem the flow of blood, at least for the moment, his wife almost collapses as she sobs uncontrollably.

He needs to tend to the wounds for a few more minutes, but eventually a doctor arrives.

The Machete,[b]Tremayne[/b] checks to see if the machete is still lying on the floor in the laundry. If it is, he'll pick it up with two fingers and bring it with him.

With a heavy heart, Tremayne heads back up to Jackson's room and his colleagues.

Fourth Floor, Hotel Chelsea

Eventually there are eight uniformed NYPD officers at the Hotel Chelsea, two in the lobby keeping potential witnesses in, two outside the front doors attempting to keep the public - and the press - out, and two on each of the third and fourth floors.

Other than keeping order and taking note of the most basic witness details, the officers do little, instead waiting for the arrival of a team of four detectives from the NYPD Headquarters building at on Centre Street. They give few details to Jackson's friends, but do reveal that Jackson's death is the thought to be the ninth in a series of ritualistic killings, that the cops believe are probably tied in to a vicious bootlegging gang in Harlem, rather than voodoo cult or similar. Until now the cops have had few leads, and so they appear grateful to James for shooting one of the perpetrators dead, and even more to the others for catching a live suspect.

That suspect is secured in handcuffs and dragged off to the police HQ before the detectives arrive.

The senior detective on the case Lieutenant Martin Poole, wants to speak to each of the investigators when he arrives, discussing how they came to be at the crime scene and what their own actions were. Like the uniforms he seems genuinely grateful of finally getting leads in a case that's been ongoing for almost two years. This process takes a couple of hours.

OOC,[ooc]To try and get through this part as quickly as possible, please could you each give a short summary of what your investigator reveals, or prefers not to reveal to Poole. There's no need to post every detail of what you say, unless you wish to - after all you've all witnessed the same events that are detailed above. Also include a summary anything you'd like to ask about yourself (make a roll using the higher of persuade and credit rating - you can make a roll even if you don't actually ask anything specific). Depending on what you say and ask (and whether Poole is a good guy or a corrupt lackey of the bootlegging gang), Poole will decide how to treat you all going forward. I've not added a photo yet for Poole, as I'm trying to sort out a common 'NPC card' template for all NPCs you meet. I should have it uploaded later today. I'm using a photo of "Jim Brass" the homicide detective from the original CSI series.[/ooc]

Clark eyes the events from the lobby, waiting for the others to go down. He will not speak to anyone but if confronted he will slip with a shy look and a "sorry mr. I don't know" statement outside.

Irene attempted to be as truthful as possible, but avoided rambling about racial connotations of the crime. She believed that this muddy the case and make inefficient. She will not reveal that they had already made copies of the evidence and only vaguely explained their relationships to Jackson Elias, she hopes that others will not offer contradictions to her testimony.

James is glad at the cops' attitude - the last thing he needs is an arrest on a murder rap.

He relates how the companions were visiting their friend Jackson Elias, only to find his room occupied by the assailants, so James fired in self-defence. He keeps the knowledge of the business card to himself, however. Jackson was a friend, and he wants to solve this mess himself.

Amy tells what little she knows and holds nothing back, hoping it will do some good. She freely and tearfully acknowledges that she loves Jackson, in case it wasn't completely obvious. She asks who the other eight victims were, pointing out that there may be some connection between them and Jackson, whom she and her friends knew very well. Thus, it would be a good idea to share this with them in case they recognize any of them.

OOC,Persuade roll (65% skill) to get the detective to answer her question: [dice]0[/dice]

Anderson will tell that he was visiting Jackson after being invited, he saw him death and followed the criminals and managed to get one (but won't tell anything about the letter).

Tremayne will explain as follows:
* He had been a friend and colleague of Jackson's since India days.
* Jackson had been traveling for sometime.
* Amy had invited all to meet with Jackson on his return.
* Jackson didn't appear so the group went looking for him, instead finding his murderers.
* Marko had no choice but to shoot one in self defence.
* Tremayne and Anderson pursued two other attackers down to the third floor, getting into a fight with the one, the last getting away.

Addendum: After gaining access to a third floor room by breaking in through its balcony, the two machete thugs grievously wounded an innocent occupant.

The Hotel Chelsea, 222 West 23rd Street - New York City
10:05pm - Thursday 15th January, 1925

After around two hours of questioning and waiting around, Lieutenant Poole tells all of the investigators that they are free to go. Gerald and Irene will not be able to return to their room tonight, but the cops expect to be finished with all but Jackson's room by the morning.

Poole shared the names of the prior victims with Amy, in the hope that some sort of connection could be established, but none of the names are familiar to her:

• Walter Van Buskirk, a private investigator;
• Rev. Elijah A. Johnson, a Harlem minister and activist who preached against immorality in Harlem;
• Michael Conley, a longshoreman from the East-side docks;
• Max Hillman, a Brooklyn based freelance reporter.
• Richard “Ritchie C.” Cederecci, a suspected low-level mafia thug;
• Roberta Barlow, a Harlemite waitress;
• Adolf Thurmond, the estranged son of a successful Wall Street stockbroker.
• One further female victim who has never been identified.

All the victims have been murdered in the same way as Jackson. The symbol carved into the victims' heads is of African origin, but the police have not been able to establish it's meaning.

The lieutenant tells the investigators not to leave New York without contacting him, and says that he may require further information from them after the prisoner has been interviewed.

James Marko

"I need to get some coffee. Anyone who wants to talk to me about what happened and what we're gonna do is free to come with me."

Amy nods, still dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief, which is now thoroughly soaked. She doesn't know what connection the other victims have with Jackson, let alone with each other for the most part, but she's hoping that the others may have some ideas or that further research into the other murders will yield clues.

"Oh dear! Where ever shall we stay now?" Irene gasped. She would faint, but she doubted that doing so would get her anywhere closer to finding another place to stay. "I don't suppose anyone is willing to us out and give us a place ta' stay?"

James Marko

"Maybe hotel management can find another room for you" James tells Irene.

"I see. I will have to ask them, then. Thanks." Irene said thankfully.

Jordan hadn't told the police anything useful. Emphasising that he had rushed in to help his friend and fellow author, but that his leg injuries prevented him from chasing after the assailants. Just like Amy, he'd asked about the other victims, but he'd also mentioned that Jackson had been to Africa and had the habit of uncovering things that a lot of people liked left uncovered. He also added that he'd be very grateful if the police managed to put an end to these thugs and avenge Jackson's death.

Credit Rating 60%,[dice]0[/dice]

After the interview he joins the others.

'I think we have all deserved a drink right about now, there is nothing better for grief to be shared, though the comfort of solitude may be equally appealing, it will more often than not turn sadness into madness.'

HoneyDog wrote:James Marko

"I need to get some coffee. Anyone who wants to talk to me about what happened and what we're gonna do is free to come with me."

"Yes, I suppose we have a lot to talk".- says Anderson

Tremayne rubs his sore knuckles. "Oh yes, a coffee is definitely called for. And a bit of planning on what we do next I feel."

Fourth Floor, Hotel Chelsea

Lieutenant Poole takes Jordan to one side to talk.

"Your friend might have stumbled into something here then, there is definitely an African connection. That symbol, the only thing that we’ve learned is that it's an old, old symbol with connections to a tribe or religion in North East Africa with a dark reputation.

"In Harlem, no one will speak of these bootleggers, but people are scared, in all my years I’ve never seen anything like it. No one is talking, not a soul."

Poole makes sure he's out of earshot of anyone else and lowers his voice, "To be honest with you, if it was just the bootlegging we wouldn't give these guys a second thought. I like a drink as much as the next man, and as long as they stick to Harlem no one would care. Let the Feds deal with the mobsters and the speakeasies.

"But these killings, real nasty stuff – and they might be the tip of the iceberg, people have been disappearing in Harlem and no one will talk to us cops. If your friend Mister Elias got mixed up in that…"

The detective shakes his head grimly, "These guys make the Italians look like babies."

West 23rd Street, outside the Hotel Chelsea

It is snowing again outside, but that's not stopped a crowd of onlookers gathering, including several newspaper reporters looking to speak to witnesses.
On the corner of Eighth Avenue nearby the Coffee Pot is still open, familiar, inviting and warm.

James Marko

When everyone is together, James speaks.

"Let's go to the Coffee Pot then. Not as a big crowd though, we don't want to attract the attention of the newshounds."

"Agreed. Let's go." Irene said, nodding nervously.

Amy nods again as well, trudging along through the snow, overwhelmed by sorrow. She goes with Irene, finding her presence comforting.

Irene waited for Amy to catch up. She empathises with Amy's sorrows and made an attempt to help her feel better, if only for a little bit.

Fourth Floor, Hotel Chelsea

Jordan fishes a couple of cigarettes out of his pockets and offers one to Poole.
'I appreciate your candor, Lieutenant, and I will return it with my own, like soldiers who await certain death in the trenches speak their mind. They have nothing to lose, because death will keep their secrets, as will their brotherhood should they be spared in the morning.'

He lights up his cigarette and offer Poole some fire too.

'I'm going to pursue these tracks, and find out why Elias and those others were murdered by these cretins. I don't do it for the glory of the NYPD or my own, for there is no glory to be found in this matter of death and carnage. I do it for the memory of a true man, a man's man, whose life was as the sun to me and whose murder was like the destruction of my heart. I have traveled widely in and around Africa and I know the hearts of these men. I am sure I can find results where the police can not.'

Tremayne pulls his duffle coat and scarf on again for the short dash/snowy shuffle to the Coffee Pot. Inside he swiftly signals for coffee and lights a cigar, awaiting the others.

Fourth Floor, The Hotel Chelsea

"Take care then Mr Jordan, these are dangerous people," Poole looks intently at Jordan, "and please don't go doing anything that means that I've got to come looking for you."

With that the lieutenant turns and walks off towards the other detectives, leaving Jordan alone.

The Coffee Pot - Corner of 8th Avenue and West 23rd Street, New York City
10:10pm - Thursday 15th January, 1925

The Coffee Pot is much the same as it was when Tremayne and his friends left it nearly three hours ago, except it's certainly not the same anymore, no longer the place for a relaxing chat with Jackson Elias.

Six months earlier they'd all gathered here with Jackson and his publisher Jonah Kensington, with Jackson excited to be heading to Africa pursuing his biggest story yet; then the cryptic telegram to Amy about the ill-fated Carlyle Expedition, and now he's gone.

James Marko sits down and takes off his coat. Ordering coffee, he produces the business card he found earlier.

"I think this is worth checking out. I want to find out who killed Jackson and why. Anyone who wants to help out is welcome."

The coffee warms Amy, but it doesn't take away her anguish. "I'll do whatever I can to help," she says. "We can't bring Jackson back, but we can still bring his killers to justice. I think all this must have to do with his trip to Kenya. The African connection can't be a coincidence. After I got the telegram, I did some preliminary research on the Carlyle Expedition, and I can look through periodicals to find out about the other murders. That should give us more information so that we can piece all this together."

James Marko

“Good” says James. “This Silas N’Kwane guy is obviously African. I’m going to Emerson Imports first thing tomorrow and see if I can find out about him.”

Raiko,Does James know anyone or anything which could help him find out more about the company before he goes? Any contacts at the docks, or something?

Jordan said goodbye to the lieutenant and made his way downstairs, lighting a cigar as he stepped out of the hotel. He looks around at the reporters for a moment and then raises his hand.

"Alright, calm down, my good friend Jackson Elias was brutally murdered inside the hotel. He was the inspiration for my last novel and his loss has me grieving, like a man who has lost a limb to a shelling, I still feel his presence though he is no longer here. I will reward any valuable clues with the sum of one hundred dollars in cash, information to be issued to my publisher."

He pulls out a paper and draws the glyph. Holding it up, he shows it to the press so they can get a good look.

"This is the only lead we have for the moment. Help us."

He crumbles the paper into his pocket and marches of to the Coffee Pot, growling: "No further questions."

HoneyDog wrote:James Marko

“Good” says James. “This Silas N’Kwane guy is obviously African. I’m going to Emerson Imports first thing tomorrow and see if I can find out about him.”

Raiko,Does James know anyone or anything which could help him find out more about the company before he goes? Any contacts at the docks, or something?

Irene sips her coffee, and said, "Well, Gerald and I are more than willing to help out in any way possible."

James nods his head in appreciation. “Let’s see if we can find out something about this company first. It might be better to get a sense of what we might be walking into.”

"Thank you," says Amy, smiling at Irene. "I really appreciate it." She nods at James. "If this Emerson Imports is involved in criminal activity, it might be best to inquire of the police. I can help look through more public sources of information about the company and its history."

Mr. Handy wrote:

"Thank you," says Amy, smiling at Irene. "I really appreciate it." She nods at James. "If this Emerson Imports is involved in criminal activity, it might be best to inquire of the police. I can help look through more public sources of information about the company and its history."

"Well, we have a plan of action thus far, then. I suppose Gerald could help with communicating with the police, heaven knows how charming he is." Irene says, clapping her hands. "I'll follow...James, was it? I'll go with him and help out, I suppose this'll bring closure to all of us, we're all shaken by this, and we can all do our part and bring justice to Elias' murder."

West 23rd Street, New York

Several reporters snap a photograph of Jordan after his speech, while others pursue him as he walks through the snow towards the Coffee Pot, notepads open in their hands they shout questions asking for more details:

What is his name, who is his publisher, did he witness the murder, why was Mr Elias attacked?

"I have another clue. The guy that Tremayne arrested had this paper. Maybe we should go to Harvard library to see what book they Jackson was looking for?"- He shows the note.

West 23rd Street, New York

Jordan is stopped in his tracks and he grabs the young reporter by the lapels.
"Who I am?!", he bellows. "I'm bloody William Jordan, that's who I am! As for the rest of your questions, read a damn book!"
He glares around, steam almost coming from his ears.
"The damn lot of you!"


With that he storms off and into the Coffee Pot, rejoining the others.

"So, what did I miss?"

"Not too much," says Amy. "We're just starting to come up with ideas about areas of further inquiry. We should also talk to Jonah Kensington, Jackson's publisher. If anyone knew anything about what he'd been working on in Africa, it would be him. If we're very lucky, maybe he even sent him a manuscript."

Gerald seemed traumatised from his encounter with Elias' dead corpse. Irene found that he was unable to recall many things. She professed a lack of knowledge of the case and hoped that someone could help.

"Jonah's an okay guy, I'm sure you'll like him. He's my publisher too."

The author appeared to have calmed down considerably.

"We should also look into this Carlyle Expedition Elias mentioned."

"I've already started on that," says Amy. "As soon as I saw it mentioned in Jackson's telegram, I began doing research on the Carlyle Expedition. I thought he'd be happy to see I'd taken the initiative..." She dabs at her eyes. Once she recovers, she shares what she's learned.

"The information seems to be interesting. The occult symbol carved onto...Elias' head certainly seemed to suggest occult activity. How it all ties together, I don't know but there seems to be some sort of connection between the two." Irene said.

James Marko downs the rest of his coffee.

“We have a lot to go on. Why don’t we all chase down our prospective leads, and meet back here tomorrow 4pm. I'll track down this N'Kwane character. What do you all say?”

HoneyDog wrote:James Marko downs the rest of his coffee.

“We have a lot to go on. Why don’t we all chase down our prospective leads, and meet back here tomorrow 4pm. I'll track down this N'Kwane character. What do you all say?”

"James, Gerald and I will help, I suppose." Irene said, planning to follow after James.

Jordan nods in agreement.

"I will go and visit Jonah at Prospero House. I think it's wise not to go about this Silas N'kwane business alone. Miss Lawrence, this is some proper work, I'm sure Elias would have been charmed. Maybe we should go and ask this Miss Erica Carlyle some questions and see what that turns up. Shall we gather back here in at ten am, the day after tomorrow?"

"I'll go with you, Mr. Jordan, and thank you," says Amy. "We should see Jonah Kensington first, and then go visit Miss Carlyle. After having read about her, I'm dying to meet her. She and I have much in common. She went to the ends of the Earth to find out what happened to her brother and bring his killers to justice, and I would do the same for Jackson."

For Archie,[b]Archie [/b]remembers the news story about the dead PI [b]Walter van Buskirk [/b]from last June when he was last in New York to visit Jackson. If he remembers correctly, Buskirk had been investigating the disappearance of the stockbroker's son [b]Adolf Thurmond[/b]. Adolf's father [b]William Thurmond III [/b]had also offered a reward of $100 at the time for any information about his son's whereabouts. Archie doesn't recall reading about Adolf's murder, so he's no idea whether it occurred close in time to Buskirk's death.

OOC,[ooc]Royya hasn't posted for a while. Assuming that he doesn't post something before you all spilt up, then we'll say that [b]Clark [/b]travels with [b]Anderson [/b]to Boston. Clark's from Boston, although I assume that a black face would be an unusual sight at Harvard in 1925. [b]DL [/b]will tag along with one of the other two groups - preferably whichever one invites him along. :)[/ooc]

"I think we can have one more person join the group." Irene offered.

Dayton Lomax Williams

DL nods, "Yeah I'll join you finding out what this N'Kwane guy's all about."

Tremayne scratches his head. "I feel like we have a large pile of jigsaw puzzle pieces but no idea how they fit together. And I wonder how much we should investigate ourselves, or just leave to the authorities."

"Two of those other murder victims the detective mentioned are connected. Walter Van Buskirk was a PI investigating the disappearance of Adolf Thurmond on behalf of Thurmond's father, some wealthy stock broker. One presumes the investigation took the PI to whomever did away with this Thurmond chap. It might be interesting to talk to the father, he may have some insight into activities the son was involved in, which perhaps led to his demise."

"Perhaps I can tackle that one. Shall we meet back here tomorrow night to compare notes?"

"Will the store be open tomorrow night?" Irene asked.

"Hence my suggestion to get together two days from now in the morning.", Jordan reiterates.

"Either way works, I suppose." Irene shrugged.

"That should give us enough time to make some progress so that we have something to report," says Amy.

Tremayne nods, keen to keep everyone's emotions on an even keel.

"I'll come in tomorrow night but if no one is here or no one has anything to report, I'll come back the following morning anyway."

"I'll speak to this gentleman Thurman, anyone is welcome to come with me."

"I suppose we'll go our separate ways, then." Irene said, sighing.

Dayton Lomax Williams

Dayton Lomax Williams speaks:

OK, so those of us who will be going to Emerson Import tomorrow, at what time should we all meet outside in front of of their premises ?

James Marko

"9am should do it".

"Indeed. I see nothing wrong with this time-frame." Irene agreed.

Dayton Lomax Williams

I will be there on the dot.

Fast-forward to the following day: All three of us are standing in front of the door of Emerson Import at 09:00.

Dayton Lomax Williams speaks to the two others: So what will be our strategy once we go through these doors ? Any suggestions ?

OOC:   Since we are now separate groups, should we be using spoilers from now on?

Hide,Show,1,2, 1,2 Testing

OOC:   Sorry I was too fast here: I should have waited till the GM tells us that the day is finished and that we can move on to the following day.