Play@YSDC

Mark Concannon wrote:She bugs her eyes at the Professor, and at Lady Annabelle, trying to indicate with jerks of her head that she means something about the waitress:

"..Otherwise, if we eat the wrong food, we might all degenerate into disgusting blobs!"

Annabel's eyes widen, clearly recognising what Maria is referring to. "Professor, I think she's right. Don't eat that."

The Prof barely looks up from his plate - oblivious of the turn the conversation is taking. He starts cutting up into equal sized pieces the morsels on his plate, lifting up to inspect what's on his fork before putting it into his mouth. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he is about to take a bite.

"I wouldn't, Professor," says Felicity. "It's gone off."

Annabel looks around to see whether the receptionist, waitress, or anyone of the hotel staff is within sight.

Maria, fuming at the in-attentions of the hotel-staff, throws her napkin deliberately at her plate (with the intention of knocking over a glass, or making some such loud noise)
"Really," she shrilly exclaims. "This is the purple pim! Where is the Manager? Where are my under-done chops!"

Maria looks to see the layout of the room - and specifically where the kitchens area (so she can cook her own chops)

You don't hear any sound now from the hotel staff. The whole building sounds empty.
Looking down at the plates and the delicious smell you realise there is no food on the plates. There never was.

All make your first SAN roll.

If you pass lose 1 San.
Fail 2d4.

OOC, Annabel's SAN: 55 Rolled 1D100: 13 Annabel's SAN now 54.

Annabel stands up and looks around, trying to see if anything else has changed about the room. "Ok, so now we all agree something creepy is going, right? We need to check around."

Felicity takes it all in stride, "Now that you mention it, that is a bit odd," she says with a grin. "I'm all for poking about. Only let's not split up. I don't want any of us to disappear too. Where do we start? I'm thinking the kitchen."

OOC, My Sanity drops from 45 to 44.

"Kitchen sounds good," Annabel agrees. In an attemptedly light tone she adds, "Lots of hard portable objects to pick up until I have a chance to grab my shotgun."

"And sharp," says Felicity. "I've got a shotgun in my luggage as well. I was looking forward to going shooting."

Maria rolls a "30", and so loses 1 SAN point

Maria stands up and kicks her chair away from the table.
"I thought I was put out by the rain on the coast road dripping down my neck, but now I'm jolly cross!"

With her right Maria whips out her .38 pistol from her purse, and takes one of the table knives in her left.
Muttering: "Not even a real Supper, the cheek! I'll show them how to cook..."

To Annabelle, Felicity and the Professor, Maria says:
"Agreed; we'll find the kitchens, and then get ourselves a proper supper."

{san roll},{prof fails and loses 7 san points}

The Prof bolts straight up from his chair and looks around him in disbelief. Clearly he's so shocked he has not heard a word anyone has said.

"Mummmmmmyyyy! Wha, wha, what's happening??"

"I'm not sure," Annabel says to the professor. "But we're being played with, and I only like games on my own terms."

Right on cue, Byron Orlock - fresh from the last train from Exeter - strides in, having missed his entrance for the second time that day.

(The first was that evening on stage at the Theatre Royal where he stars twice daily as Inspector Groves of the Yard in 'Self Made Gent', described the previous week in the Exeter And Plymouth Gazette County as "a perfectly good melodrama", though his own performance didn't warrant mention).

In his mid-thirties, smartly dressed though admittedly some of the creases in his trousers suggest the Nazca Lines in Peru, he fidgets with a cigarette case and searches his inside breast pocket for a lighter. A dark forelock of thick hair niggles at his furrowed brow.

Orlock purses his lips, inhaling from a now lit cigarette. 'What the blazes is this?' He mutters, as though to himself.

"Your guess is as good as ours," Annabel says. "We're just about to start trying to find out, and wait, haven't I seen you before, somewhere?"

"Well, I'm glad not everyone has disappeared around here," says Felicity.

"Ahem. Ladies!"

Orlock perks up. The woman who joined his carriage at Tipton St Johns had an awful hat and he'd been disconsolate ever since. Orlock pulls out his chair, still puffing at his cigarette, and sits at an empty place.

"I'm sorry I'm late to dinner, we had a technical problem raising the fire curtain in the intermission tonight and we overran. I say, the service here isn't up to much, is it?"

"You might say it's nonexistent," says Felicity.

"Tipton St Johns?" Maria crinkles her brow. "Now you've got me thinking of that marvelous jam."
Maria's tummy gives an audible growl.

"I say," Maria addresses all of the assembled group, "I may be wanting in nervous fodder with these under-done chops, but did anyone notice which of these doors leads to the kitchens, or indeed just what is on this floor at all?"

Keeper - please may I make a KNOW roll to determine a notion of the hotel's floor plan?

Hi Ash! Ok, my KNOW is 70, and I roll a 12

Maria (gun still drawn in her right hand, and a table knife in her left) approaches the door she thinks is for the kitchen and opens it, calling out as she does:

"I say, are there any kitchen-staff in there?"