Play@YSDC

Durward Street, Whitechapel
Saturday, March 11th, 1893 - After Midnight

The cobblestone in Whitechapel is uneven and not well-maintained, making for a bumpy ride and uneven walk. The area is a slum in the East End of London and is well known as a dangerous place for the well-heeled and vulnerable - perhaps why the Professor insisted on the danger.

Durward Street is a narrow, poorly lit street boasting some run-down and ramshackle houses and a horse slaughtering business, Harrison, Barber & Co, and at the far end of the street a Board School for the poor.

Outside 5 Durward street, you find Professor Smith, the young man dressed in a crinkled brown suit jacket with a small brown mustache, pacing agitatedly in the doorway, looking up and down, clearly awaiting someone. He appears unarmed. Fog and shadows blanket everything; figures loom out, only to be recognized as normal folk going about their business.

OOC,Entrances happen as you post. [b][i]Spot Hidden[/i][/b] rolls for everyone as they arrive.

Sylvia Warner stepped down from the taxicab, holding a doctor's case full of medical paraphernalia as requested by Professor Smith. She thought that there was a pregnant woman in urgent need of help...

"Prof. Smith, my husband is on call elsewhere, but I had to come--I'm sure to be of help." Sylvia cut a distinctly boyish appearance: old jodhpurs, tatty tweed jacket, and short, almost bobbed, hair, like the fashion will be thirty years in the future. She forgot to ask the cabbie to wait. Looking about at the mean street she had a sudden qualm--"Professor?"

Rupert's carriage rounds the corner at speed and comes to a halt outside Number 5. As soon as it comes to a stop, Rupert alights from the carriage. He is dressed in athletic wear and carries his shotgun under one arm, having left the rifle with Griffin, his valet. As soon as he emerges, he takes a look around the darkened street, but he can barely see the nose in front of his face.

OOC,Spot Hidden roll (55% skill) on Durward Street: [dice]0[/dice]

Mrs.Sylia Warner Spot Hidden (25%) [dice]0[/dice]

As David’s path brings him closer to his destination, he can see one of London's infamous fogs blanketing the streets.
Why tonight....He thinks.
He can begin to feel his heart pound and the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
It's just fog, nothing worse than a few thugs lurking out there. Get a grip.
His right hand curls tightly round the brass knuckles in his pocket, plus the weight of the pistol in his jacket, lends him the strength to go on. He turns into Durward street. The fog and gloom swallow him whole.

Shuffling steps, hacking coughs and whispering voices echo around him. Spectral figures Lear out of swirling mist, yellow eyes and claws sent to rend, the howling desert wind lashing sand into his face.
No, you damned fool , it's just a fog, just a fog. He berates himself.
His heart hammering, the figures resolve themselves into people travelling the night.

As he approaches the house,he can see the shadowy form of a carriage outside and that of a couple of people on the doorstep. As he scanning the street carefully, he approaches, he recognises Julies Smith “ Hello professor I've come as you requested. What can do to help you?”

Michael's cab sped through the streets of London, the fog swirling around the vehicle as the horse's hooves echoed ominously in the night. After a journey that seemed like an eternity, they finally arrive at 5 Durward Street.



Michael gets out and lights a cigarette, trying to make out the four figures amassing near the building. He steps closer and they come into clear sight.

"Professor Smith, I came as soon as I...", Michael stops suddenly as he discerns Rupert's shotgun.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Smith's telegram so clearly implied trouble and now he'd walked so blindly into it.

"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?"

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

"I only know what Professor Smith told me in his message, sir," says Rupert. "He was quite specific that I bring a gun. I've actually brought two." He turns to face Julius Smith. "I've come quick as I could, Professor. What do you need me to do?"

Clarence's cab comes round the corner into Durward Street and as he looks out the window he can see a crowd of people gathering a couple of doors in.

OOC:   I'm assuming it's the third house in - numbers one, three and five being the first three - if not then amend accordingly

Hastily he hands the fare over to the cabbie - along with a generous tip.

"Please wait here for a few minutes my good man if you would be so kind." Clarence intones. As he alights the cab, he slowly draws his service revolver eyeing the assembled crowd suspiciously; especially the man with the shotgun.

"What-ho chaps - anyone seen my good friend Professor Smith." Nodding towards the shotgun man he continues "Do you not think you are a trifle ... overdressed Sir?"

Clarence Spot Hidden:30,

[dice]0[/dice]

"Rupert Chesterfield,' says Rupert, sticking out his free hand. "I was in bed when I got the Professor's message. It sounded quite urgent, and also as though he was expecting trouble. This was faster to put on than a coat and tails, and undoubtedly better for running about in if such became necessary. Professor Smith is right here." He nodded towards the man in the brown suit.

As the group beings to assemble in front of 5 Durward Street, Professor Smith looks visibly relieved. "Thank the heavens you've come. Something terrible has happened." He looks over Sylvia, "Dr. Warner couldn't come? ...No matter, another set of medical eyes will help."

The professor looks the group over and frowns slightly, staring down the street he lights up and begins waving to a figure. A man in a bowler cap and leaning heavily on a cane slowly saunters up to the group and tips his hat. "Professor, I came as quickly as I could... thought not as quickly as others it seems," He nods towards the gathered group, "Bernard Mottram, at your service."

"Right thank you all for coming, like I was saying" the professor continues in a hushed yet frantic tone, "something terrible has---, What's that?" The professor points towards the bottom of the street.

OOC,Those who failed their spot hidden rolls can see nothing at the end of the block. Maelstrom, you succeed, but I'd like you to make a sanity roll (0/0, so there will be no loss) due to the heavy fog, before I tell you what you see. Bernard's Spot hidden: 25% [dice]0[/dice]

Michael and Clarence,At the far end of the street you catch sight of a man near a low-burning street gaslight. He appears to be wearing a hat shaped like a fez. When the group turns their attention to where he is standing he quickly moves out of sight around the corner

Sylvia replied to the Professor: "No, Dr. Warner isn't available, so I've come instead. Forgive my appearance"--indicating her clothing--"but I left my house in a mad rush." She smiled thinly at the Professor's comment about 'medical eyes'--for of course she wasn't qualified; and she realised, with the gathering crowd, that she'd made an embarrassing mistake--there wasn't a pregnant woman in extremis.

The others: the jovial captain-like gentleman, the one with the Irish brogue, the scarred fellow, the newcomer, and the young chap holding the--"Oh, my word!"--shotgun. She is about beat a hasty retreat when--

"Master Chesterfield," she said to Rupert, "is that really you?"

Michael is startled when he hears Sylvia speak, he hadn't expected women out at this hour or in that outfit. He starts to apologise, but then notices the man in the fez.

"A Turk!" He shouts out, almost laughing. "And he seemed to have an interest in this gathering!"

Clarence extends his hand towards Rupert but when the young lady starts to speak, he nods and steps back.

Peering through the fog when the young man exclaims about the Turk Clarence swivels his head and spies a man make to run around the corner to be swallowed up by the fog before the building obscures him from sight.

"Wait here everyone!" Clarence barks out as he runs diagonally across the street so that he can see if he can see where the Turkish looking man went to. Reaching the junction he crosses back to the side where the group are assembled and peers into the almost ever-present London fog.

"Why, yes," says Rupert to Sylvia, a little embarrassed. "Fancy meeting you here, Mrs. Warner. The shotgun - that's because the Professor specifically requested that I bring a gun." He carries it tucked under his arm, broken open to prevent accidental discharge. "Don't worry about your clothing, I did much the same thing. It's actually a relief not to be the only one."

"A Turk?" said Sylvia, "he's strayed from his embassy in Westminster. I wonder what he's doing in Whitech--" she stopped abruptly when an obvious answer presented itself.

To Rupert: "The Professor requested my, well, my husband's presence, too, and I thought I'd come along instead as it seemed so urgent, hence"--she curtsied--"my unladylike appearance. Your athletic outfit--very suitable," she added kindly. "I wonder what the Professor wants?"

"Thank you, ma'am," says Rupert. "I don't know why we're here, but it must be important. I'm sure it will make for a good story when it's all said and done!"

David squeezes his eyes tightly shut, his breathing heavy and rapid. He puts his back against the wall and opening his eye, scans up and down the street, his hand subconsciously reaching into his jacket and curling around the grip of his pistol.

Damm it, get a grip.He yells inside his head. David, realising he has gripped his pistol, let's go and rams his hand back into his outer pocket.

”Professor maybe we should move inside, before we draw any more unwanted attention.”

Clarence returns just as the party with Julius goes to move indoors. Ensuring he is the final one in the house he looks long and hard each way along the street before entering.

The group looks on as Clarence barrels down the road to where the fez-topped man was, after a few moments he walks back disappointed. "No sign of anyone there" he says.

Unnerved, Professor Smith agrees with the group consensus, "Yes, let's get inside, this isn't something we should discuss so openly." He leads the group into the foyer of 5 Durward Street, it seems to be something of a fleabag boarding house. In front of them is a set of stairs leading up, beyond the stairs appears to be a kitchen as the smell of the night's stew wafts down the hall. Smith motions for them to wait as he goes into the room on their right, the small parlor that doubles as reception occupied by an elderly women dressed in a drab high-collared blouse and long skirt. The professor and the elderly woman have a hushed and rapid conversation during which Smith gestures to the group and presses money into the woman's hand. The group can only make out the last part of the conversation, "...make sure you get that...thing...out of here when you leave, the guests are bothered." Nodding, Professor Smith beckons the group to follow him.

The Professor leads the group up the narrow stairs, carefully treading on the soft and rotten boards in desperate need of attention. At the top of the stairs is the small, unlit landing of the second floor. A little drawstring seems to lead to a pull down ladder for the attic. There are three doorways on the second floor each leading to a tenant's room, but it is the second room that draws the eye, the door is ajar and appears to have a small amount of light pouring out. A fearful stench comes from it, of old fish, offal, and ancient curdled vomit.

Inside the room is a sinister tableau lit by two candles in wooden candlesticks: a wasted man on a small sagging bed and a black-cloaked figure beside him. Scraps of old food and discarded notes and pieces of paper make it look as if someone has been here for a while. The bad light, however, makes it impossible to search effectively. To the right of the entrance appears to be another door that links the room to the first tenant bedroom the group passed.

The stench seems to emanate from the man on the bed. He looks ancient, withered, and near death. He is naked except some stained smallclothes. Strangest of all, he wears a fez upon his head. Closer examination reveals at one point the main appears to have been bound to the bed. Loose leather strips depend from his wrists and ankles and flap about like rogue skin. The cloaked figure standing nearby steps forward.

"You lot must be the assistance that Professor Smith called for. Doctor Niels Hobbs" the older man extends his hand to no one in particular, "A pleasure. I work as a medical examiner for the police and believe me when I say that this is an odd one."

Professor Smith takes a few steps into the room before turning to the group, "So, I suppose I should explain what's going on..."

OOC,I'm going to stop here for a moment for reactions etc. I want [b]listen rolls from everyone[/b]. I apologize again for the late update, it's been a hectic week and I expect next week will be more of the same with midterm tests and papers.

"Rupert Chesterfield," says Rupert, stepping forward to shake the doctor's hand. "Pleased to meet you, Doctor."

OOC,Listen roll (45% skill) at the crime scene: [dice]0[/dice]

"As a group I believe that many of us are not yet introduced to each other yet either. I am Clarence Leatham ... "House" to my friends. Dr. Hobbs." Clarence steps forward and extends his hand, Once he has shaken Dr. Hobb's hand he puts his hand towards Rupert. "Very pleased to make your acquaintances gentlemen, and who else do we have here."


Clarence listens hard [dice]0[/dice].
[dice]1[/dice]

OOC:   For some reason it came up with two rolls - discount the lower please.

"Likewise," says Rupert, shaking Clarence's hand.

Sylvia Listen [dice]0[/dice]

"Sylvia Warner," she said to Dr. Hobbs, and, "How do you do, sir," to Clarence. She tried not to wrinkle her nose in disgust.

David steps forward.
"Miss Warner, Doctor, Gentlemen. David LLewelyn. Pleased to meet you all" a further round of handshakes passes.
Looking around the room and taking in the sight of the poor unfortunate lying in the bed.
"By the looks of this professor this is going to take some explaining"

Michael joins in the introductions rather absent-mindedly as he is transfixed by the man on the bed.

"Interesting to meet you all here. I'm Michael Connolly, I'm Professor Smith's research assistant."

Listen 20%,[dice]0[/dice]

Clarence clears his throat ...,

"Well professor, you have got us here - surely not just to observe the seemingly imminent passing of what I assume is a poor Turkish man."

Professor Smith clears his throat, " From what we can gather about four days ago a rather well dressed fellow around forty, with silver hair, a top hat, and a swallow-tail coat offered Mrs. Grim, that's the landlady downstairs, a handsome amount of money for this room. Soon after, some men in fezzes, accompanied by a woman, dragged a semi-conscious man into the room. The door was locked, and only the top-hatted man came and went. On the second night weird sounds afflicted the tenants, as if the building was filled with whispers. Tenants also reported strange shadows on the landing." Smith looks on grimly as the doctor nods in agreement, "By the third night there was shrieking and thumping and the top-hatted man appeared and offered the landlady more money for her connivance, saying he had a drug addicted brother he was trying to cure. But by the fourth night, tonight, things could not be ignored. Shrieks of agony burst from the room and unearthly noises, rattles and thumps shook the whole building. The landlady sent one of her tenants out into the night to call the police."

The doctor picks up where Professor Smith paused, "This is where I come in. The man in the top hat and the men in fezzes must have seen and fled, leaving only the old withered body on the bed. The police came and called me in and I called Professor Smith when the withered man had whispered Smith's name before passing out. The police cent and brought Smith here, but they discount the other tenants' talk as nonsense. They say that there is no crime, just a diseased man who needs to be attended to or hospitalized. Then they left."

The Professor chimes in, "Yes, but here's the rub. I don't think that this is just some diseased old man. I think that this is a student of my colleague Professor Demir from Constantinople. I think this is Matthew Pook. But, that is a much longer story and one that I need to confirm with my colleague." He looks at the withered man and back to the group, "And this is why I need your help. I think that the men in fezzes will return now that the police are gone. I need to make certain that this man is safe to move and not contagious. I need your help to remove and guard him from potential assailants, because believe me these men in fezzes are part of a larger and more nefarious group, wholly evil and you should not hesitate to defend yourselves if they show up."

As the professor finishes Dr. Hobbs responds, "Perhaps the young woman can assist me in that regard, this isn't any sort of disease I am familiar with." He gestures to Sylvia.

As the group collects themselves and processes all of the information given, Bernard Mottram - the man with the cane - hears something and speaks up, "Professor, you think the men with fezzes may return... but there appears to be something or someone next door and their making an awful lot of noise if they are trying to be stealthy." Sure enough as the group listens closer they can hear a rhythmic thump...thump...thump, coming fro mthe next room which connects through a door on the interior of their current room.

"Then perhaps they aren't trying to be stealthy," whispers Rupert. "We might wish to be, though, when we go to see who's in there."

Sylvia Warner felt bewildered by what she had heard. But she ignored it all and did as Dr. Hobbs asked: she went and examined the withered man. "Hot water and clean towels, quickly." She looked up from the sickbed. "Someone tell Mrs. Grim what I require."

Sylvia's Medicine roll (31%) [dice]0[/dice]

"Tell me Professor, it the Landlady of this ... house, is she about, this Mrs Grim, there never was a name more apt? If we could ascertain from her the identity of the occupants, and then we can plan our next move armed with information; after all, forewarned is forearmed and all that. Ah, Rupert is it? I do believe that a frontal assault more often than not can yield the best results so once we get this information we can go and temper our actions accordingly." Looking round the party, Clarence suggests;

"If someone could please go in search of the landlady and inquire as to the occupancy, I shall go and ensure that no-one leaves till your return." Fishing in his wallet Clarence withdraws some money and puts it in his pocket, ready to pay for repairs to the door - if, but more likely when it will be needed.

"I'll go ask her," says Rupert, "if someone will tell me which door is hers. I doubt it will be necessary to kick in the door. I expect she has a key."

Clarence says, smiling at Rupert;

"Perhaps the first doorway on the right as we came in, where the Professor spoke to a woman - I guess that was the Landlady, is that right Professor? Does anyone have a glass please? We could maybe use it to hear if there is any conversation emanating from next door."

"Good thinking," says Rupert. "Unless anyone has anything to add, I'll be off to see Mrs. Grim now."

"Hmm? Right you are down the stairs, if she isn't in the parlor, she will be in her room right next door." The Professor responds.

As Sylvia and Dr. Hobbs examine the man, the doctor adds to Rupert's chore, "Get some warm water and rags while you're down there."

There appears to be two glasses on the table next to the candles as well as a pitcher of lukewarm water.

As Rupert descends the staircase to the first floor, he spots Mrs. Grim reading a nightly news article in the paper and tutting about what the nation is coming to.

Sylvia,As you gingerly examine the man you can confirm that he is not old at all, but in fact in his twenties. There seems to be some sort of rot or wasting sickness affecting him. Let me know how you further wish to examine the man. Your Medicine success will be maintained for anything pertinent in this examination.

Clarence,Where will you be standing to watch the door?

Everyone OOC,I fear I haven't done an adequate job describing the interior of Durward so I'll post a poorly drawn map here and in the background section to give you a better idea. Darkened squiggles on walls indicate a door, so there are two doors leading to the room with the noise - One in the room you are current in and one on the outside. It is fairly clear that at one point both rooms were either a larger single room split for getting more rent, or a larger two room apartment. [img]http://i.imgur.com/GLErM4f.jpg?3[/img]

"He's not old at all!" exclaimed Sylvia. "In his 20s I should guess. Dr. Hobbs, do you agree?" She unbuttoned the withered man's shirt, and pressed a stethoscope to his heart and lungs.

[

"Pardon me, Mrs. Grim," says Rupert. "We have need of a your assistance in a few things. First, some warm water and clean towels for the doctor to help the man who was found upstairs. That pitcher would do nicely. Also, we need to know who the tenants are in the upstairs apartments. It seems there's still somebody in one of them: the one that shares a connecting door with the apartment where the man was found. And can we please borrow the keys?"

"In his twenties? He looks more like he's from the twenties."

Michael looks over the two doctors' shoulders.

"Do you have any idea what may have caused this?"

OOC:,Can I roll something to see if I've ever heard of this strapping young lad? Academia was a lot smaller back then.

OOC 2:,Here's the roll for if I can :p [dice]0[/dice]

Sylvia cupped her palm and gently bounced her bob of hair round her neck, and blushed. "I was focused on the 1920s campaign," was the thought that ran through her mind.

David walks across to the window and edges the curtain back and peers out into the gloom, looking to catch sight of any returning fez wearing men.

At the mention of the stricken man's age David turns back to take a good look at the man then to Michael, who seems as disbelieving as himself.
” No offence intended doctor, but are you sure. It doesn't seem possible.”

He turns back to the window and then back to the man in the bed.
“One more thing" David says with a puzzled look on his face,
" if this man is lying here in this appalling state of health, why is he wearing a fez?”

As Rupert approaches Mrs. Grim, she puts her paper down, "What's that dear? Someone is still in there? Curious. All of those Turks ran off I thought. Of course, please make sure it's clear." She fetches the key to the room and hands it to the young man and seems to remember something, "Oh! Maybe it's that young woman, I didn't see her leave. Please check on her for me. Her room is no longer paid for, naturally." She heads off towards the kitchen, "I'll bring up some water and rags for you, but please leave the unconnected room alone. That's Miss Habiri's room. Long-term tenant, private, rent on time, and not a trouble-maker."

Up in the room the group continues to examine the man, Michael doesn't know Matthew Pook - likely he is a new academic and not published widely. Dr. Hobbs replies, "Well it seems he has a wasting sickness of some sort, but is stable. To say the exact cause is a little more... well difficult. It sounds mad, but I want to say it is this fez," he gestures closer to it. "It seems to be bound to the man's head."

Sylvia,It is currently 1893 - there is no 1920's campaign unless I am misunderstanding. As you are close enough and examining the body I'll give you this description. Dr. Hobbs appears to be right, the fez appears to be bound to the man's head and the skin has grown around it, the wasting is worse near the contact point to the head. The Fez itself is the color of old dried blood, it smells foul and it dank looking, as if it were soaked in sump oil then dried out. Its surface is shot through with strange symbols that seem to lie under the surface of the fabric itself, and twitch and writhe in the candle light. As you look closely, you begin to hear a low hum coming from the fez. Let me know what you're doing.

OOC,Where is everyone in the room? In my mind, Sylvia, Dr. Hobbs, and David are close to the withered man. And Clarence is outside of the room.

"Yes, ma'am," says Rupert, taking the key. "Thank you." He hurries back up the stairs to inform the others about what he's learned and then check out the connected room.

Clarence nods as Rupert goes past him to the room where the fez-bedecked man lies on the bed.

OOC:   Taking over Sylvia as an NPC for Tabs

"Dr. Hobbs is quite right, David, do you mind if I call you David?" Sylvia stays hunched over the withered man as she explains, "The fez seems to have grown into the man's scalp or perhaps he had a head wound that healed around the fez, really quite grizzly, see?" Sylvia reaches over to give the fez a light tug. As the lady-doctor touches the fez you see her grimace and shudder, as a result she jerks the fez a little harder than expected. The fez remains firmly affixed to the man's head, rather his head moves with the motion of the fez' pull. "Oof, this thing is... unpleasant."

Rupert enters the room, key in tow, and relays Mrs. Grim's message that she will bring water and rags as well as recalling a young woman that had come in with the Turks and had been in the adjoining room.

"If there is someone in there we must take them now, quickly open the door Rupert. Either she was to be the next victim of these Turks or she is in league with them and must be captured." Professor Julius exclaims with a hint of worry in his voice.

Rupert nods and slips over to the door, his shotgun tucked under his arm as he unlocks the door.

Michael frowns at the mention of the fused fez and gladly grasps the opportunity to check out the next room. He goes to stand across the door from Rupert and nods, signalling that he's ready to accompany him into the adjacent abode.