IC-Ep 1: Ain't No Rest For The Wicked (Elizabeth Walker)

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IC-Ep 1: Ain't No Rest For The Wicked (Elizabeth Walker)

Post by CrackheadC. »

Durward Street, Whitechapel, London.
Saturday, March 11th, 1893 - Around midnight


It seems that "Lucky" Lizzie's luck may have finally run out. What Elizabeth thought was just another job had gone horribly wrong.

Not four days before she had been at the Hogshead pub with Jeanette and Mary, two rather beautiful women who shared her profession. While the pair had already taken to their cups, Elizabeth sighed nursing a water and pecking at a particularly light meal of bread and a small clay bowl of the pub's stew. She noticed with a smile that Ronald Black, the cook and occasional client, sneaked an large piece of meat and an extra ladle of the vegetables into her bowl. She was feeling lucky as business has been a little slow for her lately.

That's when the men started to arrive at the pub, some sailors, others laborers, the occasional academic trying to keep a low-profile - the Hogshead wasn't exactly the highest class of places. The other girls were quickly propositioned and left Elizabeth to finish her meal alone, and just as she thought she might be leaving alone again a peculiar dark-skinned man in a fez approached her. He had a job proposal for her: she was to entertain him and a small number of his friends for a week, lodging would be taken care of, she would be expected to sing, perhaps dance, converse, and help them....relax, while they were in town. While Elizabeth had a gut instinct to refuse, the man had quite a compensation package. He gave her a pound simply for listening to his proposition, nine more if she accepted, two pounds per day, and twenty-six pounds upon completion of the job. A fifty pound job! Completely unheard of for a woman in her position. She could pay a lot of debts and even take some time off - earned time off, not simply being out of work - if she wanted to. So many ideas rolled through Elizabeth's mind that against her better judgment, she had agreed.

It was a terrible mistake.

She had been taken to a small lodging house on Durward street in Whitechapel - a neighborhood with a rough reputation she knew, but if the men were looking for privacy while they conducted their business, there was no better place. In fact, she believed she had done business there once or twice a number of years back. When she arrived there were a number of other men in fezzes who appeared to be dragging a young semi-conscious man into the lodging as well. The man she met at the pub saw her questioning looks and told her that the man was the reason they were all together - he was a family member and good friend who had sadly become afflicted with addiction to morphine. They hoped to be able to help him kick the habit. He smiled as he led Elizabeth up the stairs and into the room next to where the fez-wearing men brought the muttering, and sweating man. Inside the room was a large double bed with a nightstand, a small table with a number of chairs, a desk near the door with a pair of candles, a window facing the backyard and a door that connected to the next room.

She had a nice meal with six of the men and learned they were Turkish. Not just from their accents and clothes, but from the spread of spiced lamb, flatbreads, and the large variety of cold appetizers laid out for the meal. During the meal, feeling a little playful and deciding to earn her money, Elizabeth snatched one of the fezzes out of a nearby Turk's lap to tease him, but the moment she did she felt overwhelmed with nausea. The table fell silent and the men quietly got up and cleaned up the meal. The Turks brushed off her ill feeling as "Not being used to all the heavy Turkish food", but it wasn't simply that, Elizabeth could swear when she touched the fez she saw some unfocused, yet shimmering monstrous form in her mind.

That night she was left to sleep by herself in the large bed, but in the middle of the night she was jolted awake as she was pinned down on the bed. Four of the Turks had pinned her arms and legs and gagged her. They tied her tightly to a chair that learned against the shared room wall, something she wished they hadn't done.

During the days and occasionally during the nights one or two of the Turks would come into her room to entertain themselves with her, but never all of them at once. They would always make sure to check her gags and restraints before they left.

During the first night the whispers started. Very quietly at first, she thought it was coming from the room adjoining hers, but the longer she listened the more she lost focus of where it was. Eventually it sounded as though it was coming from every side of her room. The second night she swears her eyes are playing tricks on her. The shadows seem alive, or at least like someone was living in the shadows. Someone or something that was all-black. Sometimes it looked like it had wings, other times it looked like it had a large mouth filled with shark like teeth, but it was never there long enough for Elizabeth to tell.

That's when the screams started on the third night. They came from the room next to her, along with a pounding on the floor. Sometimes there would be wailing, and other times it was quiet sobs, but by the fourth night the shrieks of agony, wails, unearthly noises and rattles became unbearable. One of the Turks was 'enlisting' her services that night, when two more of the men burst into the room and shouted at him in what she assumed was Turkish. He dressed himself and quickly tied her back to the chair before running out and slamming the door.

Elizabeth could hear a number of men marching up the stairs and into the room next door. She could make out a few words, these men appeared to be speaking English. "...fetch....Smith.", "fezzes...", "...old man....". They way they spoke and the sound of the gait as boots thumped against the floor made Elizabeth think of the police. Oddly the screams stopped. Elizabeth could hear a few men leave and after about thirty minutes another set of footsteps came climbing up the stairs and into the adjoining room. "My god!" she heard and another muffled shout. She heard the man talk to someone in the room, something about messages, before he ran out and down the steps again.

And Elizabeth found herself sitting in silence, still gagged and tied to the chair.
OOC,(Sorry for the heavy railroading at the start, but I was trying to come up with an adequate way to get your particular character into the action and invested in the scenario, which is why your character has the longest and most detailed start. If it was too much or too uncomfortable of a start let me know. You did say that this character and her occupation could have some less than nice implications so I hope it wasn't unnecessary or unacceptable for a start. That said, welcome to [i]The Blood Red Fez[/i] and you may begin posting as you see fit now.)
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Re: IC-Ep 1: Ain't no rest for the Wicked (Elizabeth Walker)

Post by Victoria Silverwolf »

Should of knowed better. Ain't been that long since the Ripper done his business,and there's been other gals killed since. Stupid to let that blighter tempt me with all that money. Well, they ain't killed me yet. Nowt to do but raise a hue and cry. Better the Peelers than a pack of bloody heathens.

Liz does her best to cry out through the gag, pound the chair against the wall, and stamp her feet on the floor, hoping to draw some attention.
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Re: IC-Ep 1: Ain't no rest for the Wicked (Elizabeth Walker)

Post by CrackheadC. »

Elizabeth recalls dryly that Durward Street was formerly known as Bucks Row - incidentally the location where the Ripper's first victim, Polly Nichols, was found five years ago. Another red flag that she ignored?

The gag muffles your cry fairly well, but you begin to rock the chair against the wall. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Your leg bindings aren't as tight as they usually are so you manage to get a little more force into your stamping. Thump. Thump. Thump.
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Re: IC-Ep 1: Ain't No Rest For The Wicked (Elizabeth Walker)

Post by CrackheadC. »

OOC,I know you are out for now, but I figured I'd give a little update. Let me know if there is anything more specific you'd like to do when you get back, there is no rush as the other investigators have a bit more catching up to do.
Elizabeth makes as much noise as she can while struggling with her bindings. After what feels like an eternity, but what she knows is only a few minutes, she rests for a moment to catch her breath and listens for any signs of a response. She hears a light moaning from the adjacent room, and another voice telling the man to stay still. The Turks couldn't have kept that man here the whole time as she had been, could they?
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Re: IC-Ep 1: Ain't No Rest For The Wicked (Elizabeth Walker)

Post by Victoria Silverwolf »

Well that didn't do much. Best be still a bit. Bloke in t'other room might not be friendly-like. I'll rest and see if I can hear aught. Might tell me what's what and who's who.
Spoiler:
There might not be anything to hear, but I'll give it a try. Listen = 40%

[dice]0[/dice]
Can't make out a thing. Rest a little more than back to bangin' me feet on the floor.
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Re: IC-Ep 1: Ain't No Rest For The Wicked (Elizabeth Walker)

Post by CrackheadC. »

OOC,I deleted your post in the other thread, but you'll be in shortly. I'll tell you when to move to that thread. I need to do one more update for them and I'll mention your racket, I'm sure someone will check since they are going to the next room.
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Re: IC-Ep 1: Ain't No Rest For The Wicked (Elizabeth Walker)

Post by CrackheadC. »

Outside of Elizabeth's room she hears what appears to be a large group of people come up the stairs and enter the room next door.
OOC,The group has just entered the next door room. Listen rolls are for them to hear your racket. If you want to do anything particularly drastic to be heard you can, but between all of them I'm sure someone will hear you. Once they enter your room you will be allowed to post as normal in that thread.
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