The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen

[Cracklord]

Act I

Assembling the Team
On the cusp of the changing century, London was a sprawling mosaic of crooked tile roofs, shuttered windows, cobblestone streets and garbage strewn alleyways.
What London was built on was mostly London, as new buildings are built over the shells of old. Amongst the familiar were remnants of older architecture, some that remembered a time before recorded history.
Fog crept through the city like a pestilence, mixing with the foul breaths of smoke from coal grates and great belches from factory smokestacks. Buildings huddled together as if seeking warmth against the nights chill.
London was old. Nearly two millennia of history had seen it evolve from a Roman settlement to a Saxon stronghold, then a burgeoning commercial centre and even a religious axis. Ultimately, London became the pinnacle of European political might and the industrial hub of England. World-shaking events would begin- or end – here.


Dracula
When at last your coffin is opened, you are starving, barely able to see an inch through the red haze of the hunger. You leap up… then stop. You recognize this man.
He doesn’t look particularly exceptional. He’s of medium weight, strongly built, with his shoulders set back over a broad, deep chest and a neck well balanced on the trunk as the head is on the neck. He’s not clean-shaven, his square jaw shows a smattering of stubble, and there are shadows under his eyes, which are as alert as ever beneath his bushy brows. They are stormy and wrathful, and they don’t shy away from yours. There is no fear in those eyes, and no mercy either.
You shudder. This man you remember. How could you forget him?
“It’s an animal. Of no use to anyone.” He says to a figure standing behind him. His voice is not made for hard pronouncements. It’s a doctors voice, compassionate and all-embracing sympathy. Yet he manages it. You wonder why he hasn’t killed you, before he answers it unasked.
“I would kill it, but it doesn’t deserve it. It’s not done suffering yet.”
You almost didn’t notice the man standing behind him. He’s unremarkable to look at, and you find your gaze returning to Van Helsing before he even speaks.
“That’s between him and God. In the meantime, we’ll put him to what work we can.”
“Keep him under control. I won’t have my conscience further burdened by your incompetence.” Abraham replies. “But you’re a fool if you think you can leash a wolf and make it your dog. I only hope God forgives you for your folly, for I find myself unable to.”
“We don’t require your approval, doctor. Just, ahem, your assistance.”


Carmilla
Your coffin is jammed shut, and doesn’t respond to your attempts to force it open. You don’t remember how this came to be, but you’ve been sealed within for a long time, and are growing desperate.
Voices can be heard outside, but they are so muffled you can barely hear more then low notes.
You have been moved here, wherever here is. And all you can remember how you were caught is blazing ice blue eyes, and sharp pain.


Watson
Holmes has been dead a month. It’s difficult to believe. And here you are, sitting in front of his brother, as the man treats it like a new development in a particularly interesting game of chess.
Mycroft is heavily built and massive, seeming almost inert, and one found themselves surprised when he did stir himself to move, finding it amazing he was capable of it. But however unwieldy his frame, perched atop his thick neck was a head so masterful, so alert in its steel-gray eyes, so firm and sure in the set of it’s features and so animated and expressive that one found themselves forgetting the oversized corpulent body and unable to see anything but the dominant mind.
“It stands to reason one or the other is not dead.” Mycroft said. “Quite the opposite, I am convinced that either one survived, or possibly that neither died. The strength of the detective is in many ways anonymity. An investigation is easier to conduct when nobody knows who you are. And I suppose the strength of the crimelord the same. After all, one must remain hidden and secret for him to survive for long. A public, well documented death with no recovered body would suit them both, I should think.”
He sighs. “And yet my worry is that, if my brother did indeed survive, how total is his disappearance? Has he found a farm somewhere and taken up Bee-keeping? He said he’d like to do it a few times, but I suspect that’s far from the case. My brother would never allow himself the luxury of a quiet life when there was still mystery in the world. Moriaty might be dead, but then what reason would my brother have to hide? I suspect if he was to disappear he would do it for the sake of us, to ensure we would not be targeted by his many enemies. And it is inconceivable that they are both alive, as then they would have finished it at the falls. They had their confrontation for a reason, afterall. I cannot see my brother letting him get away.”
You can’t be sure of his reasoning. It seems mostly conjecture, rather then the cool, icy logic your partner – your friend, favored. But it does make sense.
“No. Moriaty killed my brother and then faked his own death. Which is why I called you, Watson. I know how much you cared about my brother. Well now I’m asking you to complete his last case.” He leans forward, over his huge belly. “Watson, you have to hunt down Moriaty. I can't stress how important this might be.”


Wolf Larsen
The man is tall and lean, with gaunt, emancipated features and thin sticks of limbs. His eyes are deep-set and piercing, and his lips are thin, prone to twitching, as though concealing expression.
He's not, however, very good at it. He looks nervous, and slightly unsure. You intimidate him, that much is plain.
"Mister Larsen, the British government is interested in acquiring your services." He says levelly. "The mission is... of a sensitive nature, and so I trust your complete discretion. In return I have been authorized to be very generous. We are quite prepared to legitimize you. Furthermore, we will give you a... considerable property here, and a formal rank within the Royal Navy."
He shuffles papers that it's clear he doesn't need, he's already memorized them.
"In return, you will be assisting a... team that we are putting together, each one a special, even unique talent."


Artful Dodger
The policeman hefts you by the scruff of your neck, and deposits you on the counter in a back room of the court house. A man peers over his spectacles at you. "Well, this is the little outlaw? Sentenced to be deported to Australia, I hear. We never should have abolished hanging, it was a more elegant solution all round. So, are you ready to be worked to death mining copper? Or do you want a way out?"

[doliest]

Dracula
The withered body of an old man stands before them, his eyes narrowed at the Doctor, one of the men who had stopped him in England. His eye's do not draw away from the doctor as his voice comes out, rising through his dry, cracked throat, "Blood. And then we shall talk. Of what you have freed me for and what you wish me to do."

The Count stretches his arms weakly. Still on guard, not that he could protect himself in this weakened state. It had been so long. So very long; death would have almost been a blessing to so long in that coffin.

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
She does not panic. She knows that wouldn't get her anywhere. She merely waits for the coffin to open and hear them out. If they were able to capture her, then there was no point in attempting a fight. She was a civil vampire, after all.

[Limos]

Artful Dodger
"I told ya I ain't done nuffin. I got my rights as an Englishman and ain't going to the drum." Jack protests, adjusting his battered tophat. "But if'n you got an offer to make you best be makin' it afore I change my mind."

He slumps lower in his chair and pouts angrily. Pity that prig Oliver wouldn't help him out of this jam. 'Course Fagin weren't any more help when the escops got involved. Of all the indignities, the Artful Dodger in the lockup over a Silver Snuffbox. "I ain't got all day, keep me 'ead on me shoulders and out of the drag an I'll do wot you want."

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Wolf Larson sits opposite this cornstalk as he's come to think of the representative before him. He alternates between slight smiles, followed by sudden frowns that about causes the man to succumb to hiccups. A cornstalk alright, blowing in the direction of whatever wind is huffing.

Wolf idly considered puckering his lips and blowing, but such idle games could wait. Despite the representative they'd chosen, the back of the British was strong in its own way.

He finally speaks for the first time as 'formal rank' is brought up.

He allows his smile to broaden and his eye light, "Rank? Well now, that IS a treat. Choice quarters? Medals?"

[Cracklord]

Artful Dodger
"So you say. And your opinion no longer matters. You can't even be rightfully called a citizen, given your coming deporting. But given that you seem to be showing a, ahem, radical change of attitude," He says, irony so clear even you can spot it, "And character beneath this grimy exterior, perhaps you could, upon doing some particular service for her majesty, be cleared of charges."

Dracula
The man steps forward. "No. We will talk now, then we will consider feeding you."
Abraham scoffs. "Don't you people ever learn? Don't you see what you're doing? Just by being here it's turning you all into monsters."
"Thank you for your services my good doctor. I am happy to tell you we won't require them any more. You may leave."
"With pleasure." He replies, replacing his hat and leaving you alone with the man.

Wolf Larson
Missing the ironic tone of your turn of phrase, he nods. "Indeed, you can certainly expect to be granted some degree of formal commendation in return for your services. Perhaps even a knighthood or an entry into the ranks of peerage."

Carmilla
You hear somebody leaving. Now there is just one person. Yet he's talking to somebody.

[doliest]

Dracula
Dracula doesn't quite relax as Van Helsing leaves the room, but he's noticeably calmer. The man's continued existence was an insult. A slap in the face of everything he and his ancestors had been. And this man, who had never so much as faced him, was treating him like a dog. 'Consider feeding you', were Van Helsing not so near, he'd have made this man into a snack, but for now he would wait, for the opportune moment when he could strike. Fine, but my body is weary and my mind is like the fog on your streets. What is it you so desire that you have taken me from my rest?

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
And now we play the waiting game. She started carving her name into the wood with her nails. Very audibly.

[Cracklord]

Erich Zann
The music lifts you, taking you across boundaries not of time and space but some other, unknowable dimension, the place where your music comes from. You understand this, if you don’t have the words to express it, and keep playing your viola, knowing if you stop your soul will be lost forever, like a handful of sand tossed into a stormy sea.
The jarring, discordant notes form melodies within the chaos, patterns within the music beyond any human minds ability to express, or even comprehend. The sounds almost seem to have form, a shape as random and chaotic as can be.
Then abruptly you stop moving, and the song comes to an end. You are sitting in a stone room beneath the Brittish Museum (Bloomsbury). In the center of the room is a big circular table of mahogany, with tall, comfortable chairs. On the stone walls around are pictures, some oil paintings, some little more then sketches.
Were you more a historian, you’d be shocked at these people. Instead you are calm. This is where the music wants you. This is where you are meant to be.


Quatermain
The rifle feels cold in your hands. So this is the most dangerous game. Hunting man.
Not to kill, though the rifle is loaded with real bullets, but to capture. Here in the jungles of Africa, you will find your quarry and return to England with it.
You’re not sure how you feel about this. You’ve never had much time for civilization yourself, Africa s your home and it’s wilds are your love. It’s good to be in wild free places of Africa, even if it won’t be long.
And here you are, tracking a man to force him into civilization, which you both hate. You have no choice, you made a promise once to a dear, dear friend, Sir Henry Curtis, who you have bled with and once promised him you’d always help out at his need. A man can’t well go back on a word like that, can he? Regardless of his own feelings on the subject.
And yet despite your doubts the thrill of the hunt is singing in your blood, and the rifle feels good in your hands. One way or another you have to finish this.


Tarzan
From the bough of a tree, you see men coming ashore. Sic men row the boat, all tough and brutal looking. But you hardly notice them. At the helm of the boat a man stares ahead. He is small, wiry, and unattractive, with a beard and bristly hair. He’s dressed in dark clothes, has an elephant gun resting on his shoulder, and there is almost a jolt as you see him.
He’s a man like you. A wild man, whose broad shoulders and sun browned skin seem more a part of the mountains and forests of the world then anything that belonged here. His slightest movement spoke of steel-spring muscles knit to the keen intellect of a born hunter. There was nothing deliberate or measured about his actions, either he was at rest, in which he was still as a statue, or he was in motion, with the slow deliberate movements of a lion stalking prey.
More then that, it’s you he’s coming for. You can disappear into the jungles beyond the gaze of man, but here is a man who will follow you.

Dracula
"I prefer you this way. I have you at a disadvantage." He replies. "You were invited into England. And now we want you to do a service for us. If you refuse, we will line that coffin with lead, and drop you in the middle of the ocean, to wait out eternity."

[Limos]

Artful Dodger
"Bloody 'ell, just say yer piece already." Jack grimaces, "Wot's the job, an will it keep me from wearin' the broad arrow? A tooler wot's as good as me ain't for wastin' in no lump hotel."

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Wolf Larson leans forward in his chair, closing the distance between he and the cornstalk to awkward closeness.

"Let me ask you this. I saw on my way here an apple tree growing above a garden wall, its branches lush with fruit. On the other side of the street, just peeking through the bars of a sewer grate was a thorny vine of some kind. If you could choose between these, to become one or the other, which would you prefer to be?"

[doliest]

Dracula
And what service buys me my freedom, so I may return to my beloved homeland. The castle is likely in a state of disrepair far worse than when I left it. Or so that I may place Van Helsing's head on a plate! He twists his neck audibly, looking at the man.

[Cracklord]

Artful Dodger
The man is clearly disgusted with you. Just the same, he's making an effort not to let it show. "A book has been stolen from the British Museum in Bloomsbury. Stolen by a child.
There were several witnesses, all of who were maimed by this youngster, who used a knife. Several of them opened fire but where unable to hit him. He was laughing and showing every indication of enjoying himself as he did it. Why he stole the book is anyone's guess, but the contents cannot be allowed to be discovered.
Now, as you can imagine this book cannot be allowed to get into the wrong hands, whichever hands they may be, and so the authorities are making every effort to track down the culprit. I think you know who we suspect. Fagin."
He leans close. "We don't care about the old jew or his little operation. We have bigger problems. What we want is the book back. You know the inside of his operation. You can find him, and earn a pardon. Or we'll put you on a ship, and you'll never see England again."


Wolf Larson
He swallows, but his voice remains admirably steady. "Why, I fancy I'd become the tree, sir. Of the two it is far better placed and likely to lead a better life. Or is there some clever answer?"


Dracula
"Nothing. From this day forth, you are effectively the property of the crown. A slave if you will. Your continued existence relies on your continued service. In effect, you have no rights. We'd never have would have got Van Helsing to agree otherwise."

[doliest]

Dracula
WHAT! I am no slave nor property, dog nor Djinn. I do not live to serve the weak filth that rule this land. Should I serve to have the pleasure of serving more!? His arms defy their apparent frailty and fly about wildly, the man can easily get the impression that were Dracula not so weak at the moment, they'd be at his throat.

[Cracklord]

Dracula
"You work, you eat. Not before." He replies levelly, though he does take a few smart steps back, in response to your reaction.
You begin to notice things. A swaying, the gentle sounds ow water lapping. You are on a boat. Running water.

[The Vorpal Tribble]

"Far better placed." Wolf Larson mimics with a hint of a sneer.

"Aye, for you I'm sure. Well protected, given soft ground... while others pluck your fruits, trims your branches, force you to bear a swing. Perhaps that tree will some day displease the gardener, and down you go!" he punctuates with a slap of his palm on the table.

"But the weed... it grows where it will. No one takes of it, others may never know of it, but it is there, seeing what the tree sees but nothing directs it."

He rises from his chair, "Make me that weed. Keep your soft soil and walls. I want that freedom. A pass to go through the waters of your empire as I please. No searches, no boarding. Call it, what is it, 'diplomatic immunity'? That's what I wish in exchange. It costs you nothing, and I will take your nobs and lords wherewithal."

[Tricycle_Knight]

Erich Zann

Erich finds himself momentarily lost in fascination--it wasn't the first time he's traveled in such a way, but it's almost always disconcerting, especially when it happens without warning. The shabby man stands at the table and puts away his precious instrument into its resting place, a worn and warped case made of some exotic, almost otherworldly leather. Erich himself looks little better, his face obscured by a faded black-wool balaclava and his eyes by a pair of sharply tinted oval glasses, topped off with a worn gray homburg. He rises from the table, his scuffed brown shoes shambling across the ground, and begins to study the various paintings on the walls around him.

[Limos]

Artful Dodger

"... I can get ya in to see Fagin, but this ain't his style. 's too big for somethin' 'e would plan." Jack concedes, "More than one Kidsman in the city, but once we clear 'im Fagin'll know who to talk to next."

[industrious]

Watson

I stared at the chessboard before me as the elder Holmes explained his deductions and wandering thoughts about the best and wisest man I had ever known. Since the death of my friend, I had thrown myself wholeheartedly into my practice; I had taken up Mycroft's invitation only due to the sudden cancellation of one of my patients, who had been suffering from the malady of old age. I feared the worst for him, but knew that his soul belonged in hands other than mine.

We were currently seated in a particular club in London that I had never been to nor heard of before. I knew from experience, however, that it was not the Diogenes, where member and non-members alike where not permitted to speak. Mycroft Holmes had never seemed to my eyes to be the sociable type; I supposed that he came here to play chess against strangers at this exact time and table. The elder Holmes was very much a creature of habit.

I picked up the carved king on my side, and examined it. I then, slowly, and with great reluctance, placed it back upon the table, on its side.

"Mister Holmes," I said with reservation. "Your brother was the greatest man I have ever known. And when we were first introduced, he admitted that in terms of intellect, he was your inferior. And I have the good sense to know that my own gifts are in no way approaching either of yours."

My old war wound had been acting up of late, perhaps in remembrance of my friend, perhaps at the exertions that I had been undertaking for the past months, hailing cabs to destinations throughout the entire city.

"But I do know this, Mister Holmes. Your brother placed the utmost trust in me, in my abilities. And you now see fit to do the same. I have my practice, Mister Holmes. I have my Mary. But if you say that Holme's killer is still at large, and if you are confident in my paltry powers that I am able to do what Holmes could not, then I am your man, Mister Holmes."

[Krennel]

Tarzan
Tarzan drops from the tree he rests in. His day is ended, there maybe need for work. He must say good buy to Jane first, and the man will obviously track him. He tears off into the jungle, in the direction of his estate.
He says a hasty good bye to Jane, and puts on a suit more befiting a lord. He can understand why they are so often referred to
as "monkey suits" by those who were less
fortunate.
He is patiently sitting on the porch in the mid afternoon sun. He barely sweats in the humidity as he waits for the man to find him.

[doliest]

Dracula
I'm bereft of blood and crossing running water. You've done everything in your power to ensure I was at my weakest for this meeting. Van Helsing's request, I'm sure. Allow me the opportunity of feeding on the good doctor. That will ensure I accomplish whatever task you desire of me!

[Cracklord]

Wolf Larson
"Indeed?" He's warming to your game. Perhaps he has something of a spine after all. "That weed, however, must take scraps. It must endure far away from the sun, and grows twisted and bent, and if someone were to find it unsightly nobody would mind if it were cut. That weed will die alone and unmourned when it can no longer care for itself, and no one would spare a moment on it's passing. Or perhaps a younger, stronger weed will displace it, and it will wither and die." He replies.
"Letters of the marque is what you are asking for. You want to become a pirate, do you? A man under no law but his own? England knows how to deal with pirates, Mr Larson. Well perhaps we can oblige you. Let us instead make this a gentleman's agreement. We will pay you a significant retainer, and while you are performing your services we will indeed make you accountable to no one but your conscience. But you had best remember one thing, Mr Larson. Just as we make you, we can just as easily destroy you."
With that he stands up. "I will return with your pay and the requisite formal paperwork in a moment. Pray don't let me detain you."


Watson
"I am relieved to hear it. It is good to know by brothers faith was not misplaced." He replies, making a move without looking down. Checkmate in six moves, he said three moves ago, and you still for the life of you can't see how.
"Moriaty is a threat to the entire state, and at the moment England has more problems then it can deal with." He peers at you, tucking his thumbs in his waistcoat. While he has little in common with his brother in terms of appearance, in that moment you are struck with the similarity of the two as he prepares to divulge an answer to a problem he has been considering.
"Well, in times of crisis, there is an old fallback to rely on. Even now a team is being put together, a team of men with... unusual talents and abilities, with the intention of dealing with this and other threats. I myself will co-ordinate them in addition to my usual work with British intelligence, but it needs a leader. Someone I can trust."
He pauses, letting the pronouncement sink in. His pronouncement about his work is shocking enough (yet somehow, in a small way, expected), but your inclusion is equally strange. Then he continues, and even his prior announcement is swept away. "I want you to lead it, Watson."


Erich Zann
Each one looks different, some more shocking then others. They all are major British historical figures, each one famous in stories and tales. Solomon Kane. The Reverend Dr Syn. Gulliver.
You can't help but wonder, what brought all these people to this place?


Dracula
"He said you would suggest that." The man responds. "He also said he welcomes you to try. He's at the end of the hall."
He stands aside. It seems he intends to let you. It occurs to you that a confrontation is exactly what the doctor wants, and no doubt he has every reason to be confident. It also occurs to you that you'll never get another chance.
The man walks over to the other coffin, and opens it with a crowbar, showing surprising strength.


Carmilla

A crack of light, and then the lid is thrown aside. A man stares down at you, just out of reach.
"Carmilla. Would you like to be free again?"


Artful Dodger

"You'll forgive me if I don't trust your opinion." He responds. "Sergent." The bobby tips his helmet then turns and walks out, whistling a jaunty tune. The clerk turns his back on you (a silver watch is tucked into his back pocket, and his wallet is in his top pocket), takes out a few files then gestures for you to follow, leading you to a door.


Tarzan

Jane is humming to herself, dressed in shirt and pants. The dresses she used to wear don't last long in the jungle, and her inner pragmatist is glad to embrace the basic efficiency and function of them.
She is sorry to see you go, but knows and understands you well enough not to try to stop you, instead giving you a chaste kiss and telling you to hurry back.


Dorian Gray

There is a knock at your door. Who could be visiting you at this hour, a mere tick away from midnight? A lady caller perhaps? You don't remember making any arrangements of that nature, though it is a distinct possibility that you have simply forgotten about it.
The authorities do not bother you, and you are careful to keep you indiscretions to yourself, so you doubt it is anything so boring as that.

[industrious]

Watson

I confess that I was momentarily ataken back by Mycroft's pronouncement. While his work in British intelligence was indeed surprising, it was, as my friend would have said, elementary. Why would a man as gifted as Mycroft and as fervent towards the Empire allow his talents to be squandered?

"As I said before, Mycroft. Your brother placed his confidence in my abilities, and proclaimed you to be his superior. If you believe that I cam capable for this job, then I will gladly do so. I will, however, ask two favors of you if I am to act as leader."

For a short while, when I was a younger man, I visited the American city of San Francisco. While I summered there, a madman in imperial clothes, one who proclaimed himself to be Emperor of the United States approached me one day, seeking treatment for a minor case of joint pain. As a Christian, I obliged his request, and in return, he wrote me several hundred dollars worth of his own special imperial currency. The entire experience was, up until that point, the most strange and bizarre that I had ever been witness to. Throughout the process of treating the man, I was in something of a state of shock. Yet I performed my duty, seeking no reward but that of satisfaction and gratitude. For it was the good and Christian thing to do, to ease another's pain.

"I will need some way to ensure that, if I am to be away for any period of time, my wife is to be kept safe and not without knowledge that I am performing my duty as one of Her Majesty's subjects. And one thing more. In his will, Holmes left you the entirety of his possessions. I would ask of you for the use of one of those items."

[doliest]

Dracula
He had moved to the door, just about to leave...then that name. He turns on a heel, recent grudges being temporarily buried beneath older relationships. He'd met Carmilla several times over their many years. She had been an odd one; like none of his kind. Not a single one of his brethren was as undaunted by the sun as her; even he felt some weakness in it, but she strolled unimpeded. They had found themselves after the same prey. They had almost come to fight over it, a fight he would have won, even in the harshest of light, but he'd relented. She'd been after this one for a longer time than he. She was a Succubi in all but name; relying on the carnal and giving into attractions. Yes, an odd one. And Van Helsing had apparently captured her as well. Likely with little effort, considering her weakness and his wit. He would take Van Helsing, but perhaps he would share him. Just a bit; she was likely in a better state than he, at least on the water.

[The Vorpal Tribble]

"Pirate? Privateer more fits the mark. Well, if that eases your conscience, by all means! Call it piracy." Wolf says, taking the cornstalk's threatening hints as a small dog yapping.

He walks for the door, but before he leaves he puckers his lips and blows towards the officer. Then he is gone.

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
"Why of course, dear. Don't you know how hard it's been being trapped in this coffin for the longest of times?" she replies, smiling at the man opening this cage of hers. Her precious cage she couldn't be without.

[Cracklord]

Wolf Larson, Erich Zann
It is not the way you came in. Steep, narrow, and old, crudely cut, they bespeak ancience and brooding majesty from a time so long ago. deeper and deeper they cut, until you find yourself in a big, low-ceilinged room lit with gas-lamps. bare stone, but well cared for stone, without moss, rot or damp as you'd expect to find. In the center of the room is a big circular table of mahogany, with tall, comfortable chairs. On the stone walls around are pictures, some oil paintings, some little more then sketches.
Each of the pictures is of a famous figure. Baron Münchhausen stands beside Lemuel Gulliver, Doctor Syn, Horatio Hornblower, Long-John Silver and many others.
A man is already here, a small, foreign looking man with an instrument case.


Carmilla
"Indeed?" He says. "Good. We have use for you, and your charms. We will feed you, and give you the comforts you have become accustomed to, but in return we will expect obedience."


Watson
"Only fair." Mycroft returns, inclining his great head. "I could do you no less. As to my brothers possessions, help yourself. I admit I scarce know the wit or purpose of many of them, and would be more then willing to allow you to take what use of them you wish. Far better a fate for them then gathering dist in my study, after all." He gets ponderously to his feet, moving the bishop three squares and finishing your chess game.
"I had best accompany you, and then we'll take you to the headquarters to meet the majority of your team."

[mrcarter11]

Without care as to who, I open the door to greet my midnight guest.

[Tricycle_Knight]

Erich Zann

Zann perks up as someone else arrives in the chamber he occupies. He backs away warily of the stranger, clutching his instrument to his chest. he unwittingly backs up into a wall, and seems to compose himself at least a little better. He gingerly places the case on the ground and pulls a small yellowed pad of paper from his shirt pocket, along with a nub of a charcoal pencil. He hastily scribbles a note down in various languages; French, German, English, Latin, but anyone with an understanding of any of them realizes they all read the same message:

"Greetings, stranger. If you and I are here for the same purpose, do you have some sort of explanation to what that purpose may be?"

[doliest]

Dracula
"Welcome to the Gilded Cage, dearest Carmilla!" He stood in the doorway, still listening to the man and the Succubi in the coffin.

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
"That sounds fine to me," she says, her smile never leaving her face. She'd put up with this man as long as it took. She'd grown good at waiting for what she wanted.

"Ah, Dracula! It's been a very long time, my friend! I'm surprised that they got you here, as well," she says, looking to the vampire she held the utmost respect for. He was a true legend.

[industrious]

Watson

"I thank you, Mister Holmes."

It appeared that the game was afoot once more. Had my friend been there, he would have some words on the occasion, but Sherlock Holmes was no longer on this earth.

Sensing that haste was better than another repast that the club had served earlier, I summoned a servant to send for a cab. And opening the door for Mycroft when it arrived, I gave the address that had for so long been my home.

"To 221B Baker Street. And an extra sovereign if you can get us there in twenty minutes."

[doliest]

Dracula
Van Helsing. I believe he's the same one who brought you here. Would you like to walk with me down the corridor? He's brought lunch with him. He did not respect the Succubi; but they were on the same boat, in several ways, and he would need the help of one not so reliant on blood.

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Wolf Larson

The man that enters the room of portraits is powerfully built, and his walk has the slightest of sways, as if he is expecting the floor to list from side to side.

He gives the mute foreigner a lookover and then glances down at the paper.

"It depends, are you supposed to be on my ship?" he inquires calmly.

[Tricycle_Knight]

Erich Zann

Zann shrugs; the features under the mask contort to form a puzzled scowl. He beckons the man to the table, picking up his case and finding himself a seat. He pulls out a chair and pats the seat, and begins to scribble another note on his pad. Seeing that the man speaks the King's Own, he solely writes in English.

"Honestly, stranger, I do not know. I have just recently arrived here, and the host has yet to show themselves. If you have a ship, am I to assume it fitting to refer to you as Captain?"

He sits for a moment, pats his breast pocket, and makes an addendum to his note.

"Since our host has not arrived, would you be terribly offended if I smoked, Captain?"

[Cracklord]

Dracula and Carmilla
Van Helsing is indeed at the end of the of the corridor, seated on a chair and reading, seeming to all intents and purposes completely at ease. But there is a set to his shoulders and a tightness to his lips that bespeaks his ordeal and tolerating the unpleasantness of the two of you.
He snaps it shut and places it on the floor beside him, then draws himself erect, staring at you both levelly. "I beat you both. I can do it again. So back away, cling to your half lives in fear of death, spend eternity in the shadows, I care not." He says, his tone carefully controlled. "But do not make me suffer your presence more then I must."


Watson
The street is as you remember it. The office, however, is not. Dust sheets cover everything, the many oddments and ends have been carefully stocked away in boxes, and it is all clean and ordered.
"You will forgive me if I don't go in with you," Mycroft says,not getting up. "I find myself not willing to face that room again."


Dorian Gray
A man stares at you. He's young, somewhat handsome, though not particularly, and has the freshly scrubbed and enthusiastic feel one associates with academics. No doubt he is some fussy lords son who has freshly graduated and is now working for the government for the sake of having something to do with himself.
"Mr Gray? I am here on behalf of her majesty's secret service. I have a few questions for you, if you could take the time."

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Wolf Larson sits and glances down at the note, seeming to take mild amusement from the conversation.

"Captain Larson. Damned if I wouldn't mind a puff myself." he responds. He pulls an 'orange flower' cigar from a pocket and nips off one end, spitting it across the table. He then retrieves a match and lights it.

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
"Why, Vordenburg, you've changed a bit since we've last met. Don't worry about me, I'm more comfortable around a different crowd, as you know all too well," she says, her smile dropping to a mere look of distaste. She may be able to last a long time without blood, but she still hadn't fed in a while.
"However, I'm a bit parched. Can you show me to where I could quench this thirst?"

[mrcarter11]

With an easy smirk, "Well, by all means join me then" A slightly worried look appears as I let him in and close the door behind us.

[doliest]

Dracula
No, small man, you are weak. A miserable pile of secrets. You beat me, but only for a short time. You may have me now, but know this; I will break you and take your blood. I will give you unlife, bring you down to our level. He strolls closer and closer to Van Helsing, So, shall I turn you now, or would you prefer time to settle before unlife?

[Limos]

Artful Dodger

Jack Dawkins strolls out of the room after the clerk like he owns the place, a swagger in his step. A tension in his shoulder and jaw belies his projected arrogance. He surreptitiously liberates the man of his pocketwatch as he passes, secreting it inside of his left boot. Fagin, you better not be up to nothing wot I gotta turn you in. This is my ticket out of the drum, an I'm takin' it. he thinks wistfully.

[industrious]

Watson

"I quite understand, Mister Holmes. I shall only be a minute."

Thus did I step carefully amongst the dust of our old flat at Baker Street. Ms. Hudson, our landlady, was apparently on vacation. I supposed that with Holmes away, she would gleefully take the opportunity to do so. My own income was not inconsiderable, but a succession of high-profile cases had rendered Holmes more than capable of moving to a more lofty area at any point. Indeed, within three years of our acquaintance, I knew that he had little need of myself as a rent-sharer. But I did know that the rent collected from Holmes was more than enough to send our landlady to the Continent for quite some time.

The slim leather surrounding the object that I sought was worn and cracked in some places, but the my objective was still secure and unbeaten. Remembering Mycroft's deduction that Holmes was himself still alive, and that he had invited me to utilize whichever of his possessions I required, I then took another, smaller case of mahogeny, as well as my old service revolver, and placed them both inside my medical bag. Thus, with the larger in the same hand as my bag, took my cane from its traditional resting place. I was ready

[Tricycle_Knight]

Erich Zann

Zann nods in a silent agreement, and pulls a corncob pipe from his own breast pocket, along with a faded packet that reads 'Madak' and a box of matches. He cautiously pours some of the sickly green plantstuffs into the pipe bowl and lights it, shaking the match out afterward. With his free hand, he lifts the edge of his mask up above his mouth, just below his nose, revealing a pair of chapped, cracked lips covering a set of yellow, rotted teeth. The right edge of his mouth seems to extend as an awkward green scar runs from it up under the mask. Zann places the pipe in the maw, and goes back to the tablet.

"Good to meet you, Captain. Those in my acquaintance refer to me as Erich Zann."

[Cracklord]

Artful Dodger
The man books a cab, giving you room to get in, sits opposite you and then does his best to ignore you, glancing out the window, looking at his boots or the ceiling, and generally trying to pretend you don't exist.


Dracula/Carmilla
Van Helsing doesn't back down. When you are close enough, he simply raises a cross, throwing you back to the balls of your feet.
"I will never submit to you, Dracula. I won't lower myself as you did." The cross burns, like concentrated sunlight. You avert your eyes, backing further away.
"You lost. An old man and a few boys beat you. And now you're only alive on the charity of others." He then turns to Carmilla. "Immortality makes you weak. Once you have eternal life you become terrified of losing it. Maybe you'll win. Maybe you won't. How would you like your ashes sinking to the bottom of the Thames?"


Dorian Gray
He sits in your living room, and waits, expecting you to entertain him and begin the conversation, perhaps supply some wine.
You think that's a good sign. Opening with calm is good news.

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Wolf Larson nods and gestures with his cigar to Zann's face.

"Not many your age still dressing for Halloween." he says pointedly.

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
She backs away from the holy object. A man with a great belief in the higher power was wielding it, making it more effective. She backs away, lips near snarling. She was angry, but she would have to oppress it.

[Cracklord]

Watson
You arrive at a stone building behind parliament, on Whitechapple street. It seems Morcroft was, if anything, understating his importance and the significance of his work. Easing himself out, he pays the cabby, adding a generous tip, and steps through the door, making his way down a narrow staircase.
You arrive in the League Headquarters.


League Headquarters
Mycroft lights a pipe of his own, and stares levelly at you all. He's not siting down, instead resting his considerable bulk against the wall. "Thank you all for coming, I cannot understate the importance of what will occur here." He says, gesturing to Watson to take a seat. "I must hold on your patience a little longer, as there are still a few of us to arrive, and I would prefer to explain this but once. You may call me M."


Carmilla/Dracula
"Coward." He says levelly, smiling slightly. He has just again confirmed his belief about you all. "Afraid to die. Afraid of judgment. All you deeds laid bare. All your sins punished. So you took an escape. You have no power over me."

[mrcarter11]

"Please have a seat, I trust you have something important to say? Before we get to all that, would you like something? A glass of perhaps?"

[doliest]

Dracula
He let's out a hiss as he moves back. At his strongest the cross would have burned him. At the current weakness, it was horrific. But my loss was not a complete one, was it? How are Jonathan and Ms.Murray? He moves back again, shielding his eyes from the cross Know that I will turn both you and your friends. All of you will feel what it is to give and feed. Do not judge your betters.

[industrious]

Watson

I found myself in an area of London that I had only dreamed of walking. The rooms of the League were some of the most elegant that I had seen. The table in the center of the room I was in, likewise. While it was bereft of ornamentation, it was crafted from the finest mahogany.

As Mycroft, or, as he prefered to be called, M, had already indulged himself, I took out my cigarette case, and using a match, inhaled the Turkish tobacco.

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
"You seem to be under the misinterpretation that I chose to be this way. Mind you, I embrace what I've become to the fullest, but I never fully wanted to be this way. I used to have a life, I used to have a love. That was all taken away from me!" she yells at him, her anger funneled through her words.

[Cracklord]

Dracula/Carmilla
He smiles at your threats, and ignores Carmilla altogether. He's just a man, but a terrible one to have as an enemy. "Do not worry, for He is with you. Do not be afraid, for He is you're God. He will make you strong, and will help you when you need it most. He will support you with His right hand, and He will save ye from any peril." His faith blazes stronger, and he begins to force you back, step by step, towards the cabin you left. "Mina will be fine. Lucy is with God now, beyond you're reach. Neither will ever be yours. I killed your servants. I broke your home. I burned your castle to the ground. I leave you with only your travesty of a life. Now go before I take that as well!"


Dorian Grey
"Ah, you have discovered a weakness in my palate." He replies, his eyes lighting up. "What do you have by way of selection?"


Watson
You take a seat at what is essentially the head of the table, and see a file. There are perhaps twelve separate ones, containing information on your group, their skills and abilities. And how to keep them under control. A glance shows that while each one may be a considerable asset, you're going to have your work cut out controlling them.

[Noircat]

Quatermain


Alan instructs all but one of the men to stay with the boat.

“Johnson, was it? Take the large pack and lets not waste time.” Quatermain orders as he slings he rifle over his shoulder and heads into the foliage, not looking back to see if his order is being followed. The pack contains some rope, manacles, a net, and a few other things he’d rather not use. Its slow going trying to pick up signs of Tarzan while moving with relative stealth. It would be a simpler thing to hack and slash their way through with machetes, though they brought them, though stealth was imperative here. The normal hazards of the jungle that can kill without prejudice add to the excitement as the two men draw nearer to some sort of homestead as the ever more thickening signs of human habitation, small as they may be, become more frequent and pronounced.

Alan stops and crouches slightly behind some large leaves. He looks back at Johnson and nods forward. That must be Tarzan, about 30 yards away. By the way he's dressed, their efforts at stealth had been folly. Quatermain waits about 5 minutes, looking for signs of an ambush, before closing in casually with Johnson behind him, rifle slung over his shoulder.

[doliest]

Dracula
Dracula screams again as he backs away, I will break you, Van Helsing. Laugh while I am weak, for all too soon, I will be strong. Then I will come. I will come, Van Helsing, and you will scream for a mercy that shall never come. Sleep now, warrior, for in the night I shall come for you!

[Cracklord]

Dracula
The door is slammed on you, and the man inclines his head. "I'm afraid he told the truth. We have your coffins, here. Without them, you cannot rest. And the good doctor ensured there is no ready supply remaining anywhere. As long as we control these, we control you. You now depend completely on us. Because you still have to sleep, and there is only one place you can. Do I make myself clear?"

Artful Dodger
You make your way down through the same doorway, the clerk following you to ensure that you can't run off anywhere. You are now in the League Headquaters.

[doliest]

Dracula
Dracula turns on the man; he had just been insulted and bested by Van Helsing. Again. Not the best time to order him, Van Helsing may insult me because he has worked and prepared to best me. You, on the other hand, merely employ him. Do not think yourself capable of giving me orders, or you will become that ready supply. I will do as requested, for the time being, but only because of Van Helsing. Do you understand, little man?

[Tricycle_Knight]

Erich Zann

The old man grins; the moss-green scar on his face spreads open slightly. Zann is noticeably more relaxed; his posture less intense and his hands much less shaky. He seems to sit contemplating the pipe in his mouth, and continues investigating the room around him.

[industrious]

Watson

The dossier containing the people whom I was to be in charge of was a plain manilla envelope, sealed by the Royal seal. As a former soldier, and as a loyal subject, I was honoured by the trust given to me. And simultaneously, I was more than a tad nervous at it. The people the dossier described were legends in their own manner. They possessed strange abilities, and powers the like which I had never seen. I wondered if Holmes had encountered any of them, what he would say when given the list.

Initially, I was skeptical of some of the people contained within. I had been, up until that point, a fervent disbeliever in the supernatural, yet I was approached this task was approached with the utmost respect and seriousness. Therefore, as Holmes had told me: If you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Either Mycroft and the Her Royal Highness were deluded, or I had been. Given these options, I knew that I must have been wrong. For those who believe this to be blind faith in authority, know that my acceptance of the supernatural was founded on my faith in Sherlock Holmes, and in the trust he bestowed upon his brother.

I continued to smoke my cigarette as I read over the files. After the initial shock, there was only one aspect that puzzled me. Namely, why several of these so-called defenders of England were of other nationalities.

[Cracklord]

Dracula
"Quite. I think we understand each other perfectly." He says, getting to his feet. "Now then, we have decided in regards to your feeding we will let you dine on convicted criminals. If that is not to your liking, you may instead starve yourself. You will also be required to obey our orders, or you will find yourself with nowhere to sleep."

Erich Zann
Mycroft is staring at you. To one used to near omniscience, a mystery is always intriguing. You were brought here by the powers that be, rather then any earthly agency, and so how you came to be here is, to him at least, a mystery. One that is both unsettling and intriguing.
He does not stride over and ask you your business, this, somehow, would be cheating. Instead, by carefully considering what he can see and determine, he attempts to discern your identity and reasons for being here. However, even his considerable mental facilities do not seem to be up to the task.

[Limos]

Artful Dodger

The precocious young thief scurries through the doorway and begins rapidly scanning the room for valuables, as well as sizing up the odd profusion of people already there. "Mornin' Gentlemen. Jack Dawkins, better known as Artful Dodger. You 'ere wif the same deal as me or wot? The ink jockey over 'ere told me it was this or the broad stripe for me."

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
She stands in a corner and stays there. Didn't Vordenburg remember who she was? It seemed like he was a completely different person.
"If all we have is convicted criminals, then I'll make do. But can they be female? The blood of a woman is much more satisfying than the blood of a man," she says, trying to piece together what exactly happened and how Vordenburg could know where she was.

[doliest]

Dracula
Simply tell me who it is you wish dead. I am ready to handle that issue, and lunch. He was tired of this weak body. He yearned to feel the strength that could crush Van Helsing beneath his heel. The flow of the wind as he shifted forms and crushed minds.If my...companion in these services wishes the females, I will take the blood of males. It makes little difference if I am to be forced to have such a limited supply of victims.

[Cracklord]

Dracula/Carmilla
"Your needs can be arranged." he replies without missing a beat. "However, for now we have a pressing appointment elsewhere. Pray follow me." He says, and gets up. Van Helsing glares at the to of you as you walk past, then walks into the room you just left. Your coffins. He's dealing with your coffins.
You take a cab. It occurs to you that there is nothing to stop you ripping out his throat, vanishing into London and gorging yourself on people, except that Van Helsing has remained at the sight of your first and last resting place, and you still need to sleep.
At last the cab stops, to a stone building, and you get out. The two of you are now at the headquarters of the League.


Artful Dodger
Mycroft turns to look at the thief. "Take a seat if you please. We will begin detailing the mission shortly.

[mrcarter11]

"I have many fine things to drink here, tell me a preference and I shall find something fitting of the occasion."

[doliest]

Dracula
Dracula gets out and holds the door open for Carmilla, "After you." Dracula was an old warrior. Proud of his people's heritage. Of the blood that once flowed in his veins. Let it never be said that he could not be chivalrous, to his allies, at least. His enemies, on the other hand...

[Tricycle_Knight]

Erich Zann

Zann eyes back at the man, not entirely sure why he is paying special attention to him in particular, but makes little mind of it. He notes the man's game but has a vested interest in finding his purpose at the convention, and slips a note in the man's direction.

"You seem lost, sir. Can I be of service?"

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
"Thank you, Count. This is just wonderful! It seems like my kind of place: grand and exotic, bigger than needed to be. It reminds me of Styria," she says as she gets out of the cab. She has never cared what happens, as long as no one gets in her way. That impostor was waiting at their site of rest, so he would have to be taken out somehow. She never liked being held on a leash.

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Wolf Larson glances at M as he pulls on his cigar. He then begins eyeing the paintings, not interested in the urchin that comes scurrying in.

[Cracklord]

Dorian Grey
He names a vintage, and you come by it. The two of you take a drink, and then, as though making casual conversation, he says "You never reported the stolen painting to the authorities. We almost didn't know what to do with it when we recovered it. Until we tracked you down, anyway. Would you like it back?"

[doliest]

Dracula
Dracula closes the door and follows, Far too....well kept for my taste. It holds no history to it, no great tales. Just a building, no matter how big.

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
"The history is a good factor in a location. I know that most castles in Styria aren't kept up to date so as to preserve the ancestry. However, this place has a more modern beauty to it. It looks pretty, but has no meaning to it. A perfect place for a meeting," she responds, walking into the building.

[mrcarter11]

"Well, yes I would be interesting in having it returned to me. Can you do such a thing?"

[doliest]

Dracula
I lost track of time in that Coffin, it would be interesting to see how long it has been and what has come to pass. Van Helsing didn't seem to change all that much, but then, where it not for his Faith, I would swear the man had already become like...us. Still, as time goes on, the meaning of history and blood seems to fade away. A society in which everything is disposable, from it's people to it's history.

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
"That's why I choose to cherish what is important before it leaves for good. History and people may be forgotten, but a memory is forever," she says, waiting for their guide to lead them on their way.

[Cracklord]

Dorian Grey
The man admires your poker face, returning one of his own. "Alas, no. It's recovery was difficult, and we were of a mind to keep it. However, we would be willing to return it in exchange for a service."


League Headquarters
"You have been assembled for your unique skills and experiences. This is not the first time the League has been assembled, nor will it be the last. Everyone of you is a tremendous asset to Her majesty's empire, and so you were assembled with several aims in mind. Now that most of you here, I can divulge exactly why."
He straightens his waistcoat, then his jacket, then lets his hands fall limply to his sides. Those of you who don't smoke are all but choking on the smoke that is the thickening the air of the room.
"A book was stolen from the British museum, a book acquired at no small loss of both coin and human life. This book is called the Necronomiconn, and it should not be read under any circumstances, that I warn you. The information within is not the sort we can allow to fall into the wrong hands, or any hands at all if that can be helped, and so it must be recovered."
He stares at you. He's quite serious. "It was stolen by a child. A boy, not yet twelve, crept into the Museum, killing or maiming all those who crossed his path with a knife, somehow broke into the vaults and stole this book. Nothing else was taken, so we can assume he had decided on this as his target from the start."
"Which is why we brought the urchin. He has connections to a man who controls most of the orphan criminals in the city. In exchange for amnesty, he will be helping you with your inquiries."
He sighs expansively. "We have expanded considerable effort towards reclaiming the book, and will spare no expense. If you have any demands of the secret service, I am sure we can oblige you."


Carmilla/Dracula
You arrive in the headquarters. Mycroft is halfway through his speech, and doesn't spare you a glance.

[Rizban]

Nicolas Flamel

"Ah, the Necronomicon, quite the treasure, or so I've heard."

The group turns to see a squat, darkly tanned European man with a chest length beard and wearing dark blue robes. A bag with several scrolls sticking up from it hangs from his shoulder.

[doliest]

Dracula
Fine then; we should first clarify what kind of monster the child was. A Vampire, like I or Carmilla? Maybe some type of magician? A daemon in an illusory shape? It's unlikely he was natural, if he was so capable. Despite Carmilla and he arriving halfway through, he inserts himself seamlessly with the question. He'd heard enough to know what the job was.

[mrcarter11]

"A service? That doesn't surprise me. So I help you this once and you return my portrait? Is that correct?"

[Krennel]

am I at league headquarters?

[Rizban]

Nicolas Flamel

"Count? Is that you? I do believe it has been awhile since last I made your acquaintance. Ah, but I see you probably don't remember me. You always did have more important things to handle than a simple scholar like myself."

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
"And since he was so capable, he's still likely to be highly trained if he's able to break into the vault so easily. It's most likely not just some random criminal child from off the street," she says, looking at Artful Dodger.

[Cracklord]

Headquaters
"Welcome." Mycroft says, slightly irritated that you're late but making a point of not mentioning it. "It is good to see you Flamel."
He then replies to the vampires question. "I myself wonder if it was truly one boy, and not a team working in concert. The supernatural is rarer then many would have us believe."


Tarzan

Quatermain
Alan instructs all but one of the men to stay with the boat.

Alan stops and crouches slightly behind some large leaves. He looks back at Johnson and nods forward. That must be Tarzan, about 30 yards away. By the way he's dressed, their efforts at stealth had been folly. Quatermain waits about 5 minutes, looking for signs of an ambush, before closing in casually with Johnson behind him, rifle slung over his shoulder.


Grey
"Well, it certainly can't hurt your case, can it? We will return it, and allow you to keep it, as long as you remain on retainer. We will even allow you to continue your... nightly activities unopposed."

[Rizban]

Nicolas Flamel

"As it is you, Mycroft. The Necronomicon. Indeed, you did say it would be worth the visit. I say, you certainly do not disappoint."

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Wolf Larson sets his cigar on the table and lets out a string of curses and blasphemies that could curl nose hairs.

"What the fornication of dog and damsel is this?" he rages. "I thought you needed a captain, not a librarian!"

[doliest]

Dracula
Fine. Dracula takes a seat at the table We need to figure out whether the child is supernatural or not. If he is, then almost all the sources are going to be useless and we should start checking- he grins at everyone around him the obituaries to discover his movements.

[mrcarter11]

"And what nightly activities do you speak off. You should be very careful of what you say to a man in his home."

[Cracklord]

Wolf Larson
"We need a ship, and a man willing to sail it." Mycroft responds. "Make no mistake, the worth of this book in incalculable for the information it contains. Beyond measure perhaps. Indeed, the expense we have already gone to for the simple price of a book should tell you that. Assembling you all was not cheap."

Dorian
"Of course. A gentlemen's discretion is his own business. However, he should take care, lest he find his activities not so secret as he thought. I have a carriage waiting outside your house, Mr Grey. You may come with me and recover your painting, or we will give it to someone who will put it to a different use.

[Rizban]

Nicolas Flamel

"Have you considered that he may simply be augmented or a construct? Are we certain that it is indeed a child and not some form of homunculus or golem merely disguised as a child? That would certainly do much towards explaining the situation.

I must say, I agree with Mycroft. This book hold inestimable knowledge and dark wisdom. I dare say it is worth more than the lot of us combined."

[doliest]

Dracula
Possible. More likely, certainly, then a vampire or a magician. Still, a daemon taking the form of a child is just as likely. Dracula shakes his head, sharing a knowing smirk with Carmilla over the Alchemist's words about 'Dark Wisdom'

[industrious]

Watson

The sailor's invective offended me. And while the Count's words were morbid indeed, I had seen Holmes act in a similar vein during the Ripper episodes. His contribution was his own.

"Captain Larson. You were summoned here because you were needed. Unless you are prepared to call the agents of the most powerful Empire in the world a fool whilst in their company, I think you should retract your statement. And apologize for your language in the presence of a lady."

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
She sits down opposite Dracula. They may be on good terms now, but they still had a natural disliking of each other.
"That is a valid possibility. Do you know of any other accomplished Alchemists who might want this Necronomicon?" she asks Flamel.

[Cracklord]

Nicolas Flamel
"With respect, when all you have is a hammer you see nails everywhere. He appeared an ordinary boy, and I have interrogated the guards who witnessed him myself most thoroughly. Bar his abnormal celerity and skill, he did not act in a supernatural manner. Indeed, they claim he acted much like the children one sees every day, and seemed to be playing some private game of his own."


Wolf
"And we have need of your services now. The League is yet to be completely assembled, there remains a few members to pick up."

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Wolf Larson

"So I get some leave until you have need of the Ghost? As long as I see my share, quid quo pro." he responds, his anger debating as rapidly as it came. He looks to Nicolas, "Explain those words, I'm unfamiliar with them."

He stands and smiles serenely at Watson, and says with mock civility, "Of course, I shall indeed."

Still looking at Watson he bows to the gentlemen and says, "My apologies madam for my colorful invective. I pray your skirt was unlifted, nay, nor your petties ruffled by my unseemliness."

"Good." he says to M. "Where are they?"

OOC
Everyone posting so fast by the time I post someone else has talked to me :smalltongue:

[mrcarter11]

"And what is to stop me from killing a man such as yourself and pretending no one ever stopped by?"

[Rizban]

Nicolas Flamel

"Captain Larson, was it? A golem is generally a statue of some sort, usually clay or stone. It is brought to life through the binding of essences into it of both arcane and religious significance. A homunculus is something quite different. It is a piece of alchemical work blended with the blood of the alchemist who creates it, sharing his life force. They are mechanically the same. The difference is that a golem is independent, both in motive force and thought whereas homunculii are merely extensions of a chymist's will.


I agree that it is likely a human child, as all appearances would indicate, but it is certain that he has been augmented in some manner, either arcane, physical, or spiritual. I would suggest research into how this was accomplished combined with a cross referencing of who would be capable of such an augmentation, then proceeding with a thorough background search of all suspects. Proper research is certain to locate the culprit behind this child."

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
She chuckles a bit at Wolf's reaction. This was definitely going to be a fun adventure, to say the least. Research, however, was not going to be fun. She works better in a crowd, surrounded by people. She doesn't work well in a closed in space looking at data to pin down a culprit. She sits back and waits for the conclusion to be met.

[Cracklord]

Wolf Larson
"Switzerland. A psychiatric hospital in Zurich. Watson will be accompanying you. See them safely there and pick him up as soon as possible." He replies. "Then Munich, Germany, for one Harvey Griffin."

Grey
"Why, we would still possess your painting. And a man like you... some enemies are inevitable, aren't they. It would be a shame if they were to acquire the only weapon that has a chance of hurting you."

[doliest]

Dracula
I was not brought here for my knowledge of the natural. I can investigate the supernatural means with which the child could have accomplished this. The more natural ones are left to those more familiar with the subject. The child-like behavior rules out a homuculi, but still leaves Daemons; one could act like a child rather easily. It would make sense that the person who steals a book of foulest magicks would employ a daemon to do the actual thefts.

[Tricycle_Knight]

Erich Zann

Zann jolts up from the table and slams his fists down as hard as he can; a kind of subtle but harsh feedback rings throughout the ears of everyone in the room, slightly more aggravating to those with enhanced senses. His pipe falls from his mouth, spilling sparks on the wooden plane. Zann goes about hastily writing a single note and sends to Mycroft.

"So not only are you saying that the crown possessed the Al Azif, but that a child was able to take it from you? Do you have any sense of urgency or does such a grimoire seem harmless to you?"

[Krennel]

(sorry missed that)
"Well, what is it you implore of me this time? For what reason have you entered my domain?" Tarzan asks from his seat. He sounds incredebly bored.

[Cracklord]

Zann
He's impressed, and more then a little angry at your incrimination. "Ten men are dead and twice that many are wounded, sir. I suggest you ask them how easy the thieving was."

[The Vorpal Tribble]

"Weg zu abruf die bastarde derzeitig..." Wolf say with a nod. "We leave port in the morning."

[Tricycle_Knight]

Erich Zann

The maestro settles himself, and returns to his seat. He places his pipe back in his pocket and pulls his headwear back down over his jaw. However, his lack of purpose does not waver as he pens another message.

"What about other copies? The crown surely does not possess all of them; are you aware if some of the other sites were attacked in a similar fashion?"

[Rizban]

Nicolas Flamel

"Sie sind ein einzigartiges Exemplar, Herr Kapitän Larson.

Monsieur Zann, I believe our priority should be to recover the one we know to be stolen. Though, I admit some research should be conducted into the other extant copies."

[Cracklord]

Zann
"The crown makes every effort to destroy any copies we locate with the exception of the one we keep in storage, so we have no record of any others." He replies.

[mrcarter11]

"Your right it would be a true shame. So my services rendered in exchange for the portrait, a blind eye to my actives, and a payout? These are the conditions correct?"

[Cracklord]

Dorian Grey
"Indeed." He seems glad that the two of you are on the same page. "Quite a respectable offer, if you ask me."

[Tricycle_Knight]

Erich Zann

Zann shifts uneasily in his chair, and surveys his new comrades truly for the first time. Unaware where such a mission would take him and those around him, wondering exactly how far down--or up--the implications of such a theft would reach.

"I am meant to be here, Mr. M, so I will offer you what little assistance this frail old man can muster. You've mentioned sending a team to retrieve the rest of our comrades; perhaps there is something the rest of us can be doing in the meantime?"

[Cracklord]

Zann
"Indeed. Locate Fabin, and question him. Now, I regret to say that my work necessitates I leave you now, for the world will not sit still however much we wish it too. Good evening." With that Mycroft turns and makes his way out.

[mrcarter11]

'It is an offer that I shall take. Shall we be going then? I would like to get this business over with and have my portrait returned."

[Rizban]

Nicolas Flamel

"I believe that those of us remaining behind will be attempting to uncover the methods by which the boy was empowered to steal the Al Azif.

I ask one question though, was the copy held by the British government in Greek or Latin?"

He looks up just in time to see M leaving.

"Well then, I suppose we shall just have to locate the copy and and find out for ourselves.

Who then will be joining me in the research of this none too natural boy child?"

[Cracklord]

Flamel
"An early dialect of Arabic. One no longer spoken." He says, before leaving.

Dorian Grey
You arrive just as Mycroft leaves. It's a relief, the cabby (Frank) wouldn't stop nattering about his wife, his horse (Strawberry) or anything, really.

[Limos]

Artful Dodger ((OOC: Jesus, fast posting around here))

Jack watches the proceedings with dismay, studying the group of lunatics he was being saddled with. "Roight, since you lot are a bunch of raving loonies 'm not even gonna ask what any of this means." He says finally, "I used to work for Fagin, 'n I'm only helpin' you cuz the other choice is Australia. 'm thinking that might 'ave been safer really. I don't know whatchoo," He indicates M, ", know bout all this but I keep sayin' this ain't Fagin's style. He ain't never been nothin' but small potatoes. Stealing the Necromominom, middle a' the day in a museum, isn't somethin' 'e would pull."

"Now whose wot comin' to see Fagin wit me?" He finishes, regaining some of his characteristic swagger.

[mrcarter11]

I step out and look about for someone to instruct me on where it is that I am supposed to be going.

[Rizban]

Nicolas Flamel

I muse to myself for a moment before muttering to himself, "If it's truly an Arabic copy of the Al Azif, then it is a copy that has been lost to history for centuries. Truly, this is a remarkable discovery the like of which would be unprecedented. To my knowledge, all such copies had long since been destroyed... This thing could likely bring disaster to anyone foolish enough to make use of it."

He clears his throat and abruptly stands. "Any of you willing to aid in research should join me immediately. I believe I know precisely where to begin our work."

[doliest]

Dracula
Dracula stands up I will aid in the research; the sooner we find the boy, the sooner I am...compensated.

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
Field work. It suited her more than research.
"I'll go with you, child. This Fagin seems to be interesting and you'll need backup in case anything goes wrong," she says, getting up from her chair.

[Tricycle_Knight]

Erich Zann

"I will aid in the research with the alchemist and the Nightwalker. Walking into the den of a murderer seems less appealing than aiding research that I am already somewhat familiar. I too was unaware that a copy of the tome in Arabic still existed, but it must be purged nonetheless."

[Noircat]

Quatermain


“I’ve come here because I promised a close friend. England needs you. There is a boat waiting for us.” Alan speaks with conviction as he walks forward, “I cannot yet say much more.”

[Krennel]

Tarzan feels the cold steel of the knife hilt against his bare breast under his jacket. He stands slowly, and approaches the man.
"Then it seems we have a journey ahead of us." He says casually as he strolls past the man. "though we are at a bit of an impasse. You seem to know who I am, but I do not know you." He begins to swing slowly as they walk back to the boat he saw earlier.

[Noircat]

Quatermain


"Ah, yes, of course. How rude of me. My name is Alan Quatermain." Alan looks slightly towards his companion.

"Daniel Johnson." Johnson says with a bland nod and a weak smile as he wipes the sweat off his face with a handkerchief.

Alan walks between Tarzan and Daniel, realizing Tarzan is leading them right back toward their boat. It was going to be a long boat ride.

[Krennel]

"Any idea what I'm wanted for?" His eyebrow raises with a sudden question, and he asks. "Or is it us they need, not just myself?" He will leave the question of who they are for a later date.

[Rizban]

Nicolas Flamel

Stepping aside with Mr. Zann and the Count, Flamel muses to himself for a moment before saying, "Whoever is responsible obviously is either learned in this ancient Arabic dialect or possesses a document which can render a translation possible. This is our lead. I suggest we try to compile a list of all peoples known to have knowledge within this field who could understand the language and see if any have gone missing recently. We should also contact any other establishments known to house artifacts from that era which might aid in translation to ascertain if any of those have gone missing of late. Either avenue is likely to aid us in discovering the culprit.

Should we then cross reference a list of suspects gathered through that manner against the compilation of which I have earlier suggested, I believe we can uncover the identity of the orchestrator of this crime."

[Noircat]

Quatermain


"I'm sure its both of us that are needed. I can only say that your, and our questions are to be answered in England. Only..." Alan trails off as they reach the coast. "Johnson, please ready the boat and we'll be along in a minute." He waits until Johnson is just out of hearing range.

"In times of great peril, sometimes it is neccessary to assemble a small group of highly skilled men. I believe, that is what is occuring now."


Want to montage along to League Headquarters?

[Krennel]

"We are needed, and so they call. Nor wind, nor snow, nor hail, shall stop them from finding us. Also, please call me John. That is my name primary name in england. My surname is Clayton."
Sounds like a plan. Begin the montage

[doliest]

Dracula
We should also find out just how many known practitioners of the arts exist withen this city. It is unlikely this theft has a monetary point behind it, so we would be safe in assuming the perpetrator is a trained magician of no small skill.

[Noircat]

Quatermain


"So it seems we are in this together, John." Quatermain said. Then they departed on the smaller boat to a larger one. Long, uneventful days passed by. Quatermain cleaned his elephant gun and stored it away with the others, and mostly kept to himself. Soon enough they'd arrive in England.

[Krennel]

Tarzan
Upon arriving in england, Tarzan calls for a taxi. "Humor my urges." is all he says to his companion, as the asks the taxi tot take him to his small estate. He hasn't visited in years, and the place is in poor repair with minimal staffing. He grabs a small bag, one he keeps in case of such adventures in a less wild setting.
He reenters the taxi, paying the driver for the trip. "Now where are we off to?" He asks Mr. Quartermain.

[Noircat]

Quatermain at the League Headquarters


"To a meeting I assume. We'll find out for sure exactly what they want us for this time." he answered, directing the driver to an address on an envelope he had just opened. When they had stopped and offloaded Quatermain's heavy steamer trunk, two familiar men walked up to them, nodded, picked up the trunk and started walking down an alley.

Much grunting later, Quatermain follows the men as they wordlessly lead on to through League Headquarters back doors and take his trunk down one hall. Alan leads down a different path and come to a set of heavy doors. On the other side is an ongoing meeting. "John, welcome to the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Over the years, the greatest allies of England have been called forth to defend her and face the greatest of threats."

[Krennel]

Tarzan
Tarzan glides through the doors as quietly as death. His movements are graceful and measured, and he sits down a the nearest empty chair, listening to the meetings going's on, trying to catch up.
His movements scream apathy, but his eyes say something else, something more disgruntled, something abrupt. And then it is gone like a warm wind in Glasgow.

[Noircat]

Quatermain


Alan follows Tarzan through the doors and closes them behind him, staying standing next to Tarzan until there is a pause in the conversation. "Hello gentlemen, for those of you whom I have not yet met, I am Alan Quatermain and this is John Clayton of Africa."

He tries to hide his eagerness to know what is going on this time, but introductions certainly are important.

[Cracklord]

League Headquarters
Everything is explained, some of it second hand, and some of it omitted, but all well enough.
You divide into three groups. Wolf Larson, Alan Quatermain, Dorian Grey and Watson head to the wharf where their ship is docked. Wolf feels no small satisfaction as they arrive, once at sea he will be in charge again, whatever the situation might be on dry land, and the others will have to respect that.
The crew are far from discrete, having been chosen mostly for their brutality, and the mate has spent the majority of last night rounding them up, or hiring new hands as it becomes necessary.
You push off, and make good time, but you have a long journey ahead of you. in order to minimize overland travel and keep the ship near at hand, you have opted to go around France, Portugal and Spain, then through to Italy. 'M' claims to have arranged transport from there, which means with fair wind and good lick it should be possible to make the trip in barely more then a week.
The mate clears his throat behind you, removing his pipe and waiting for your attention. Of your crew, he is perhaps the only one you can trust. Reliable, solid, dependable and tough, he’s also without ambition. You suspect he’s simply at peace with his place in the world, but regardless he won’t try to betray you.


Dorian Grey
A lot of the men are giving you hungry stares as you board, and you can't help but shudder. A gentlemen has heard stories about sailors too long at sea, and if you do say so yourself you are a paragon of masculine beauty.


Alan Quatermain
A big man with a thick neck and the blotchy face of a religious drinker, prominent sideburns and brawlers jaw light on teeth, takes a theatrical sniff at you, then waves his hand in front of his nose.
"You're even starting to smell like a negro." He says. "Maybe we should call you 'boy. What do you think of that?"


League Headquarters
The second group who intend to investigate Fagin consists of Carmilla, Tarzan and the Artful Dodger, intend to investigate Fagin.
There are several problems in the tracking down of the old jew. First up, the Artful Dodger doesn't actually know where Fagin lives. The man was very careful to make sure nobody 'Peached' on him, and so always met them when receiving their stolen goods in an arranged place. He had no idea where to look for his house.
The second problem was that there were quite a few things he was unwilling to tell his accomplices. Good old self-interest pointed out that if he was a known snitch, even if he got that pardon he'd never be able to return to his old way of life, and even if his help in the proceedings never got out there were still quite a few things he'd rather the authorities never learned.


League Headquarters
Dracula, Erich Zann and Nicholas Flamel remain to investigate the book and who might have arranged it's being stolen. After investigation, you find that most of the people who would have the motive to do such a thing, and the means, are already here in the League. You wonder if you aren't all suspects, and being quietly investigated yourselves even as you investigate the case. Regardless, you narrow the list down to five known names.
In addition, there are several public schools where a gang of lads might come from, assuming they don't have connections to the underworld or the supernatural.

[doliest]

Dracula
Hm. Five names and a group of schools. I suggest we divide it up. I shall take three of the names, one of you take another two, and the last investigates other, less likely, leads. The less supernatural, and maybe discovering where one could have found out about the book from and how they could have discovered a way to read it. That would help narrow down suspects.

[Limos]

Artful Dodger

"Listen up chaps. Fagin's a careful bloke, so's I don't actually know where 'e lives." Jack explains as the group leaves the League Headquarters and heads out on to the street. "You two try an look like you ain't flatfoots an I'll keep an eye peeled for toolers. If'n I recognize em as one a Fagin's lot e'll be able to arrange a meetin' next time e's set to pick up today's acquisitions."

"That's a fancy word wot means the stuff we steal," he offers helpfully. "Follow afta me, but don't go trippin' on me 'eels. If they think I turned snitch on 'em we ain't never gonna catch wind of Fagin." Dodger runs ahead of the other two, into the streets. He remains in sight but tries not to look like he's with the two strangers. Passing through the crowd he sizes up likely targets that he would steal if he was on the job, and then watches for any of the old gang.

[Krennel]

Tarzan
He stands up, looking at the group. The boy seems a weakness, but he knows where this "Fagin" character is. He bows to the pair, sweeping his arm gently across the ground. "As you heard, my name is John, However you will find most know me as Tarzan. I am an expert in languages, speaking that of many human tribes, as well as animals. I am also a tracker, and an adventurer of sorts. I come from Africa, for those of you curious as to my origins. Now, does anybody have a plan for tracking this 'Fagin' Fellow?" His long brown hair falls into his eyes as he comes up from the bow, but he seems unconcerned.
As Dodger explains his plan, one similar to the plan he had tendered in his mind, Tarzan follows behind. He slips about expertly, as the city is merely another jungle to him.

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
"So where are the usual meeting places of this Fagin? If we can determine a pattern on the buildings, then we can figure out where he'll be next," she says to Dodger, still thinking about how to get around that impostor near her bed.
She keeps behind the group, looking like a normal woman on her way to the shopping district.

[Limos]

Artful Dodger

"Well 'e moves around a lot, don't 'e? 's usually jus alleys an old workhouses mostly. Since I got pinched I ain't been to any of the meetin's, so I dunno where the next one is." Jack whispers, falling back for a moment to speak to the others. "That's wot we need to find one a the gang for. Gotta be hunnerds of places Fagin could use, can't check em all can we?"

[Krennel]

Tarzan
"And If they do not agree to meet. What if they ignore your calls, what then?" Tarzan asks flatly.

[Cracklord]

You split up again.

Carmilla
Given the part of London you are in, you draw many less then discreet admiring glances, and a few openly covetous ones. Fortunately, they stop at staring. It would be a shame to have to kill anyone at the moment.
You don't know who the man at you coffin is. He has the remnants of a dutch accent and the bearing of a warrior, and Dracula seems very familiar with him.

Tarzan
The thieves highway, as it is called, is no challenge to you. The walking from roof to roof with the ease of a man walking down a street, you pause to examine things.
It is a clear symbol of everything you hate about civilization. Oppression, misery and squalor. Just the thought of people living like this where a few streets away the wealthy have their estates is to disgusting a concept to dwell on.

Artful Nudger
A few prostitutes try to find prospective clients, a few drunks, homeless and sick slump against walls, and a few young, rakish gentlemen prowl the streets in gangs, looking for a good time. It occurs to you that a particularly snooty and arrogant looking one might find his time more adventurous without a crutch to fall back on, so you relieve him of his wallet without being spotted.
Then, ahead, you see a burning dummy made of straw and cast-off timber. "Penny for the guy sir?" Says one of the urchins, turning and cupping out a hand, then shakes his head, looking disappointed. "Oh. It's you." Charley Bates

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Wolf Larson stands with legs well braced against the bucking boards beneath. He turns to his mate.

"What's that, Thompson?" he inquires.

[Limos]

Artful Dodger
"Hai Chaley boy. Wot's the news whiles I was in the drum?" Jack says calmly. "I picked up a few thin's an I need to unload. Any chance a tellin' me where I can meet up wit Fagin?" He tries to project an aura of confidence and nonchalance. Discreetly he shows him the silver pocketwatch and the pilfered wallets.

[Krennel]

Tarzan
Watching the exchange from above, Tarzan flattens himself against the roof. The pack is heavy against his back, the food, ropes, fabrics, and Revolver are surprisingly heavy all together, despite being to light apart.
Should this exchange go bad, he intends to track the boy. He will not fail on this, if it means returning to Jane in a timely manner.

[Cracklord]

Wolf Larson
“Call me Ishmael, sir. You know that’s my name.” He says, staring out over the ocean. You've wondered occasionally about his past, he's clearly got a lot to hide. You also wonder why he prefers the alias to his given name. “Yer’ve stepped in a nest o’ snakes and no mistake. That Watson’s a decent Cove, and Quatermain’ll do right by you, but the rest I can’t say I like, and most of the crew agree. Least'ways the ones worth talkin' to."
He turns to look at you, his slightly haunted eyes worried. "But that's the least of the problems. If the government mean to pay you I'm a Turkish monk, I can't help but think it would be cheaper to send a battleship our way. And that Dorian fellow's bad luck if there ever was. I say drop him off before he kills us all, or at least throw him in the brig where he can't get his talons in us all, begging you're pardon."
Superstitious. Almost all sailors were, and the Mate more then most. He had enough to begin his own religion. Of course, the sea was a dangerous place, and most sailors don't dare tempt fate.


Artful Dodger
His hand stays exactly where it is. That's cold, but you all have to make a dishonest living one way or another.
"Wot you doing out then?" He asks, eyes squinting suspiciously. "The Bobbies don't let you just drop out lest' yer rich."
The clerk told you that the term was 'parole' but you don't think Charlie will accept that.


Tarzan
The two boys are talking, a bit too far away for you to hear the words. The one your not working with seems suspicious.

[Rizban]

Nicolas Flamel

"I say we divide them by categories in relation to which of us is most familiar with their individual practices. What were those names again?"

[Limos]

Artful Dodger

"Now there's a tale Charley boy," Jack puffs out his chest proudly. "After they threw me in the lockup I thought for sure I was off to wear the broad stripe. But one a the bars was loose in me window. So I waited til the guard weren't payin' attention an I wriggled an wobbled it til it popped loose. Maybe a lesser man wouldn't 'ave managed to escape but I'm the Artful Dodger. Ain't nobody slipperier this side of the Thames."

While he speaks he peppers his tale with flourishes of hands arrogant sneers at the stupidity of his captors. "I wriggled me way out of the cell an climbed over the wall. I told em I weren't stickin' around to go to no Australia. So nows I gotta find Fagin so I can sell my swag and get out a the city. I'll miss the work, but I can't get fingered by the constable again or they'll make sure to chain me to a rock afore they lock me up. They said it was solitary for me for the rest of the day. So they probly haven't even realized I'm gone yet."

[doliest]

Dracula
Dracula looks down at the list and reads them aloud for the benefit of the group.

[Cracklord]

Artful Dodger
Charlie is impressed despite himself. "Cor, that's a rum trick there." He says, and means it. Nobody makes it out of the prison. "Good timin' to. Fagin's comin' around tonight. Something's got him worried, an' that's the truth there I'm tellin' you. An' some kids are missing, we fink they musta been caught to, only nobodies seen nuffin'."

League Headquaters
You look at the list, seeing a few names you recognize. One stands out in particular. Randolph Carter.

[Krennel]

Tarzan
Tarzan quietly slips off his shoes and socks and puts them in the pack. He prepares to lower down and grab the boy from the other end of the alley if he bolts.
He carefully slides the knife out from the holster by his heart, making the slightest swish as it's sharpened blade come free. He is in full view of Dodger, but the other boy has his back to him. He will wait for either the boy to run, or Dodger to signal him, though he does not know the signal he is waiting for.

[Limos]

Artful Dodger
"That's a roight shame about the boys. I heard some bobbies talking about some bad business at some museum. Think that's what got em all riled up?" Jack muses, then shakes his head. "Anyways, where can I meet up wit Fagin? I'd wait till the meetin' usually but I can't stay on the streets if'n they realize I'm gone an go lookin' for me."

Seeing Tarzan descending Jack keeps his tone even while making a shooing gesture as though trying to swat a fly. He hopes the wildman takes the hint.

[Krennel]

Tarzan
He slides the blade away and smiles. It seems all went well.

[doliest]

Dracula
Dracula looks up from the list, Randolph Carter. I'll take this one. He doesn't leave any room for debate. He checks for an address and sweeps around, leaving the room.

[The Vorpal Tribble]

"Man is a fickle creature, Ishmael." Wolf Larson replies. "Threaten to take away his meat and he's just another beast growling. Feed him a little extra and he'll wag his tail. Like a dog. Do you want a hunter, or do you want the pet? We'll find out what the empire wants with these darlings and what good they are. Give or take a little meat as to their nature, and I have them to sic on the lords of briton."

His gaze turns to the fine-dressed dandy, "That Grey one does have the airs of one with nothing to lose, but I see a fear in 'em just the same. Have Cookie set out the china, it's time to wave some meat around."

[Cracklord]

Artful Dodger

"Can't help you there, 'fraid I dunno where he is 'til he's here. Just wait at the house, have a drink an' keep your head down. We'll be going back in a few anyway. Just lookin' for the last pickins. Sure you don' want to stay around? No one can nab like you." An honest complement, although what he really wants is a cut of what you've already got.


Dracula

You ascend the steps and stop at the street. On the corner, a young gentlemen and his lady friend are giggling as he spouts nonsense masquerading as wit. Neither have noticed you, and you feel a hunger rising in you like a fog.
It would be so easy...


Wolf Larson
Ishmael nods, replacing his pipe. "Right you are, captain." He replies turning and walking down into the hold, to organize your meal and inform the others that you were ready.
You are now alone on the deck. The sailors scampering around their duties like desperate rats don't count, of course. The spray feels good, and the feeling of command feels better. This ship is your kingdom. Here your word is law. What more could a man want?
Then the sounds of a scuffle begin below deck.

[doliest]

Dracula
He needed food. He couldn't fight, not in this shape, and if Randolph was the culpritm there would be a fight. A horrific fight, to be sure. He would need blood in his mouth to crush the man beneath his heels as was proper. He moves close, but stops. Van Helsing. Always was the fear....no, not fear, though, of Van Helsing. After the fight, Van Helsing would manage to slay him. He would not lay down and crumble before the man. Never. He turns his back on the couple, he needed a less...obvious source of sustenance. He begins walking the streets toward his destination. Keeping his eyes on the alleyway's. A less obvious source of sustenance.

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
She walks past the area where the exchange is taking place. The looks from passerby make her start thinking about the limitations on her release. Could she kill someone if it was self-defense? No, she couldn't risk it. If anyone attempted anything, she'd just break some bones. Simple enough.
She stops at an alleyway a couple of buildings down from Dodger. She'd keep a discreet eye on him. She feigns like she's thinking about directions and keeps up a smile.

[Cracklord]

Dracula
This close to parliament, for the most part the streets are clear and empty of the usual nightlife. A few more gentlemen prowl around, dressed their best for prowling the taverns, whoring and wenching. A few carriages, all of which speed up slightly as they pass you. Nothing that won't be missed.
You're in the wrong part of London.


Carmilla
The boy seems to be doing well. The other boy seems to trust him, and is opening up and telling him what he needs to know.
A foppish man, dressed in a fine suit with a theatrical cane and a fussy mustache approaches you. His features a relatively well formed, and if not for his piggy eyes he could pass as a fine member of the peerage.
"I must question my fortune to find a lady of such beauty here." He says, his eyes roving up and down your body hungrily.

[Limos]

Artful Dodger
"Thanks Charley. I'll see you at the house." Before he leaves he pulls out the pilfered wallet and tosses it to the other boy with a smug expression. "That should square us. I'll make a few more picks afore Fagin gets in. An slippery as I am even the Artful Dodger can't keep away from the bobbies forever."

With the boy sent on his way Jack leaves the alley and waits for Tarzan to catch up. In the meantime he makes good his cover by liberating several pedestrians of their valuables. He would need a good haul to bring to Fagin if he wanted to get his tags in to see him.

[Rizban]

Nicolas Flamel picks up the list to examine the other four names.

[Cracklord]

Artful Dodger
"Cor. Cheers." He says, catching the wallet with a hungry expression and slipping away from his flaming wicker-man. It's not drawing much of a crowd, but then it's not the fifth of November so what can you expect. The pickings are pretty good, nobody is keeping much of an eye on their valuables.

[doliest]

Dracula
Dracula sneers; he was stuck in the part of London full of people who's names were known by someone of importance. Someone who would get a page in some paper. He needed someone who didn't matter, but was stuck in the 'showcase' part of the city. Not where Carter lived either. He attempts to hail a carriage; he needed to get to the part of every city that was never shown, but was always there. The part were the most disposable part of society was kept.

[Krennel]

Tarzan drops into the alley after the other boy leaves, hanging by his feet from the roof before dropping gracefully and springing off his hands. He walks up behind dodger, and realizes for the first time how tall he truly is. The boy must be a third or even fourth his size.
"Glad to see that went well." He says. Never actually looking at the boy after he walks next to him.

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
He wasn't her type, but she was getting thirsty again. She walks into the alleyway and waves her finger, prompting him to follow her. She makes sure that no one is able to see her before she digs her fangs into his neck. If anyone saw them, it would look like kissing. She drains him of all the blood she could take, then stabs him in the heart with a knife she keeps on her leg. She didn't need any other vampires at the moment. She wipes her mouth with a handkerchief and walks out to see that Dodger is with Tarzan. She walks over to them.

[Limos]

Artful Dodger
"Cor, I know me business" The boy murmurs, never acknowledging the large man. "I'm going to take me time on the way to the 'ouse. Make sure we don't shake the Judy an keep yer distance. Find a place where you can see wot's wot an follow when we go meet Fagin. If I need 'elp I'll take off me 'at. Got all that?"

[Krennel]

Tarzan's muscles clench as Carmilla comes into sight. There is something off about that girl, he can feel it. However, it is of no concern, and he has no inkling what it is. Not yet anyways.
He listens to dodger's proposal. It is sound enough. He slips his wallet to the young lad, and walks off towards Carmilla.

[Noircat]

Quatermain


This big man is looking for a fight? A couple things that would earn him a punch in the face speed through his mind, though he decides on a better approach, "How about this, you are off duty right? You can call me boy if you can beat me at target shooting. Got some clay targets and some rifles below in my cabin. First one to miss a target loses. If I win though, oh, how bout I get those?"

Alan points to the big man's feet, or rather, his footwear.

[Cracklord]

Dracula

The next cabby stops, intimidated by your corpse-like appearance, focusing instead on your fine clothes. "Where to gov'nar?"


Carmilla
He chortles in pleasant surprise, gasps in terrified shock, struggles pitifully then dies. You feel better already.
The wild man returns before you get back.


Nicolas Flamel
None of the names seem very likely. The issue being that the sort of magic they understand is more your sort. Alchemy and sorcery, not the ancient magic of Hyboria and Melnibourne that first communed with the dark beings of beyond. That in mind, you think that your best chances are to go find Carter.


Quatermain
"I'm sure you're very brave indeed with a gun in your hand, boy." He says, angry at being dismissed. "You know, I used to hear stories about you. Don't look like much to me."
It's clear he wants a fight to assert his power and place in the crew pecking order. You don't want to indulge him, but an understanding of his sort makes it clear you have to. If you don't he'll come at you behind when nobody is around, or try to push you over the side. And Wolf doesn't seem the sort of man who'll stop him.

[doliest]

Dracula
Dracula smiles at the man, a long smile that last a few seconds too long, with his eyes on the Cabby's neck. He gives Carter's address as he slips in, ordering the Cabby to drive slowly, so he could take in the...sights.

[Cracklord]

Dracula
"Right you are gov." He says, opening the door for you then setting off at a modest trot. Soon your out of the wealthy districts,a nd now the only problem is choosing a target.

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
She approaches the tall man.
"So, I can assume it went accordingly?" she asks him. She didn't trust him, but to be fair she didn't trust anybody and she knew that she couldn't be trusted at all.

[Krennel]

Tarzan
Still tall. He thinks.
"Yes. And I see your little excursion went well." He says looking into the alley. "I have learned from many years, If you wish to continue hunting, you should hide your kill."

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Wolf Larson's expression turns black as his moment of contentment is intruded upon. He walks slowly, his knees locked stiffly in anger as he stomps across deck and descends below to see what is making the commotion.

[Rizban]

Nicolas Flamel

"Well, Zann, it seems this Carter is the only viable suspect we have uncovered. Shall we investigate ourselves or attempt to inform the others prior to it?"

[Cracklord]

Wolf Larson
You go below deck to find one of the crewman attempting to start a fight with the old adventurer. Allan doesn't seem particularly worried, or even intimidated, but just the same is trying to defuse the situation.


Tarzan and Carmilla

The 'gentleman' is slumped against the wall. To an uncaring eye, the only sort of glance he was likely to get here, he might be sleeping, in a stupor brought about by alcohol. One looking very closely indeed might be able to discern the truth, but for the most part he blended in with the surroundings fairly well.

[doliest]

Dracula
He keeps his eyes open for someone particularly destitute and alone. It would be even better where they a criminal; feeding openly and all Van Helsing would be able to do was call him a monster for doing their policemen's work for them. A certainly hilarious sight.

[Noircat]

Quatermain


"Did you want to see if the stories are true, or not?" Alan says with a scowl, being careful with his words, if only to help this fool save face so he doesn't try anything later.

[Cracklord]

Dracula
While it is beneath you to sup on the diseased and sick, you can if you so choose. You don't even have to be fatal, taking meals from many at a time.
At last, you choose your target, immobilizing him with a glare of your intense eyes. He staggers then holds still, baring his neck to you, unable to flinch, cry-out, unable to even blink.


Quatermain
"Come on then if you fancy a ruckus." He says, taking a step back, then whips out a knife normally used to gut fish. It's sharp enough to shave with and serrated, the sort of knife that goes in cleanly, but can't be removed without leaving a gory hole. He thrusts it up in a jab, trying to drive it into your belly, his forearms bulging.

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Wolf Larson descends into the dim, blinking his eyes to adjust. He stands within the doorway and with arms folded eyes the two. He doesn't make any move to halt the altercation, but he chews vigorously on his cigar.

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
She was different from most vampires, and she loved it. Her fangs punctured with a more narrow point, for one, so the bite marks would look like some form of kiss was made there. Further inspection would show that there are some punctures, but they would have shriveled into mosquito bites or bee stings by the time they found the body. It would appear as a simple back-alley murder, most likely over money. She knew how to feed quite well.
"Yes, I hide my kills well. Now let's track this boy so he doesn't get into any trouble," she says, walking off towards Dodger, but keeping her distance. She could always find him by smell if she lost sight of him.

[Noircat]

Quatermain


Time slowed as Allan recognized the big man going for the knife and his hand slipped under the longcoat he had taken to wearing against the cold of the ship and just as importantly to conceal the revolver beneath.

A single-action .45 appeared in his right hand with his thumb cocking the action back as Quatermain unconciously lined up his shot so that no one was beyond the trajectory of the bullet when he fired.

Bang!

[Cracklord]

Quatermain
The man staggers back, taking a few moments to realize he's dead. Then he topples, crashing against the floorboards. In the wake of the gunshot, everyone is silent.
One by one, they turn to their captain, expecting direction.

[Noircat]

Quatermain


Allan looks around with flared nostrils, scowls, and furrows his brow before slowly walking past Larson. "Captain." he curtly spits out as he passes, meeting eyes. His face reddens and his heart pounds but he maintains a stoic facade. He'll continue to the Captain's quarters if not stopped.

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Wolf Larson takes a step forward to inspect the dead man. He then steps in front of Quartermain to block him.

"You've killed one of my crew, Mr. Quartermain." he says with an emotionless voice.

[Cracklord]

Following his lead, the crew surround the adventurer, glaring but not moving in yet. Not one of them were keen to be the first to be shot, but just the same nobody dared not support the sea-wolf.

[Tricycle_Knight]

Erich Zann

Zann picks up his case and shakes his head, pointing instead towards the door which the Count has already exited. He begins making his way out of the room, shuffling slowly backward, watching Flannel to make sure he follows his lead.

[Noircat]

Quatermain


"I trust the rest of your men aren't fool enough to think killing some old man is going to make them a legend." Allan spat out the words as he stared the Captain in the eyes, his gaze losing its intensity, clearly none too happy with himself or the Captain. Again, if the Captain had nothing more to say, he'd meet him in his quarters.

[The Vorpal Tribble]

"I repeat, sir. You've killed one of my crew." Wolf Larson says again in the same flat tone.

[Krennel]

Tarzan turned to follow the woman. He saw no wounds the on the man, though he was obviously dead. That made the feeling worse. Still he fought it, and came up behind her, he moved his head to her ear. "Let's make this look natural, shall we?" He whispers almost silently. He slowly moves his hand into hers, assuming the position a father or married man would take with his little girl or wife. He is close, but no closer than society deemed scandalous, hovering over his prize. He nearly pulls the knife out of reflex at being in contact with the unholy creature, whatever she may be. He attempt to relax, realizing he has been squeezing her hand, but it never gave.
He almost regrets his decision. However no man would give a second look to richly dressed man escorting a beautiful woman by the arm through dangerous city streets. It is only proper that he do so. Proper. He nearly sneers at the thought of the word.

[Noircat]

Quatermain


"One of 'your crew' tried gut me." Allan spoke, his eyes darting, expecting to get knifed any second. He could shoot his way out of here, but swimming for it was going to be grueling if he could manage an escape. This was ugly enough with having killed a man, now this. If he got punched, he knew better than to dodge it but to instead roll with it or duck it a bit and take it off the skull and let it look impressive.

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Wolf Larson

"That he did, and here I stood. You've a reputation as a hunter, Mr. Quartermain, and you killed off a beast as is your oft-told nature. It was my beast however. One I could have called off, but I heard no asking. Nor did I hear you ask permission. You took from me, Mr. Quartermain, while I watched, and though his worth was small, he was mine. What does it say in the King James, that the Lord wishes to be asked? Here my word is law. I am the Lord, and you are no 'hunter' Mr. Quartermain. In your incapacity to seek my permission, and prove your status as a Man, you proved you are a dumb, but stronger beast who has bled a weaker beast, a beast that, though only of meager use, was worth more to me than you. Such a beast is generally put down. What worth do you offer me, Mr. Quartermain?"

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
"Yes, normal," she says, taking his hand and smiling all the way. She had class, she was nobility. She didn't make a notion to hide it, either. She had an air of arrogance, but none could see it. The path before them was clear as they traveled down the streets, people parting in front of the duo for reasons that they couldn't quite explain. The same feeling Tarzan has been getting has gotten to them, too. Only Tarzan was knowledgeable on these feelings, while these people were like mere pups, understanding not what they felt for the first time.

[Noircat]

Quatermain


"That was a man, I am a man, don't think I took his life lightly and nor do I lack care protecting my own. If you want to fulfill whatever agreement you have with M, then just my breathing is its own worth to fulfill that agreement." Allan took a half step onto the blade of the knife on the ground, closer to Larson.

[Krennel]

Tarzan Could not bear it anymore. With the wide berth their noble appearance afforded (In fact, he hoped nobody would recognize him as Lord Greystoke) he spoke quietly. "You are a predator, that much is apparent. Had we met in my domain, or under circumstances counter to our current objective, we may have had the pleasure of the hunt." He smiles with the thought of chasing such quarry, though he imagined it would be she who was chasing him.

[Rizban]

Nicolas Flamel

He accompanies Zann in an attempt to find this Carter and rendezvous with Dracula.

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Wolf Larson

"Ah, the beast continues to bear its teeth. It growls, but where are the words?" the captain asks of his crew. He then holds his hands out, palms up.

"Let me see your hands, so I might inspect them for resemblance to paws. Show me."

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
"Yes, that would have been quite fun. Yet, I'm a different class of hunter, one that uses bait to bring my prey to me, instead of going out for my prey," she replies, keeping her voice down. She then laughs, a short, sweet laugh, so that they might be seen as making a joke. No need to be too suspicious.

[Noircat]

Quatermain



Quatermain doesn't know what to make of this madness, but decides running will be a poor choice unless someone other than the Captain throws a blow. Then, gunning his way through the Captain seems the only survivable way. He readies to attempt to reduce the seriousness of any injury he is about to gain, his pulse and breathing picking up again.

[The Vorpal Tribble]

Wolf Larson seizes the older man's hands and inspects them, running his fingers along the edges. He takes Quartermane's thumbs last.

"Remarkable is the thumb. It sets us apart from the beasts. With them we are the tool makers, the pistol holders. Without..."

He applies a steady pressure that increases by the moment with the strength of a madman the Hunter thinks him to be. There is no pulping of the digit as Captain could obviously have produced, nor even the snap of bone, but they are almost certainly sprained as a livid bruise rises.

"...we are beasts." he concludes, releasing Quartermain's hands.

He looks at the corpse and nods to his men, who take the arms and legs of the brute. They follow Wolf up to deck with the body.

Hope I didn't cross the line, Noircat. I can alter any of the above if you like

[Krennel]

Tarzan
Smiling, he trains his eye on dodger. once he reaches the house, he will climb aboard a nearby building and hide, helping Carmilla if she care to join him

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
Once the kid reaches the house, she would follow Tarzan up on top of the roof. She could take care of herself, and wanted him to know it.

[Noircat]

Quatermain

About right.

He resists invisibly to lessen the injury but loudly growls in pain for plenty long enough before the Captain lets go. He stomps through doors and down corridors, holstering his gun awkwardly. His left thumb is sprained but the right with the gun not so much, to his relief. Cocking a hammer won't be easy, he'll use the flat of his other hand for a while to make sure everything heals up fine. He goes to see if he can't find some ice or anything cold for this, and maybe something for the inevitable swelling. He knocks on the door to Watson's cabin.

>knock< >knock<


That could have gone much worse, but his hands are his livelihood and the Captain just used up all of Allan's patience in one shot.

[doliest]

Dracula
Dracula strides forward, cool and calm. It was time to feed; and nothing was going to stop him. Then he would solve this little job with strength, rather than his current weakness.

[Cracklord]

Wolf Larson and Dorian Grey
Your crew return to their work, very conscious of the newly established chain of command. You have asserted yourself dominant, but none of them will try to interfere with Quatermain again.
At least, without your say so. It's already turning into an intriguing voyage.
Dorian Grey is seated in the quarters, affecting an air of nonchalance. Around him the men are setting your table for four. Though you somehow doubt that Quatermain will be here tonight.

Dracula
After feeding, you feel strong once again. Not yet strong enough to change your shape, but strong enough to again rip men apart, to crawl up walls and force your will on animals as easily as you do humans.
It's a start.
The Cabby didn't notice anything (in London it pays not to notice anything) and takes you the rest of the way. It is then that you realize your second mistake. Carter has a big house. A house that is as off limits to you as heaven itself. A house that you need an invitation to enter.

Carmilla and Tarzan
Both of you slip atop the building with ease, unchallenged and unseen. It's all up to the Dodger now.

[Rizban]

Nicolas Flamel - At Carter's house.

Upon seeing Dracula step out of the cab, "How nice of you to finally join us. Unfortunately, it seems like we can't just walk in."

[Cracklord]

Nicholas Flamel
Quite the contrary, there is no magic protecting his house, bar the oldest and purest sort. A threshold, that Dracula cannot cross without an invitation from the one who lives within.

[Rizban]

I understood that. I meant "we" as in "Flamel, Zann, and Dracula." :smallwink:

[doliest]

Dracula
Dracula nods, taking a shudder, "I cannot enter without an invite, unfortunately. A simple part of the curse, I'm afraid." Dracula shrugs.

[Rizban]

Nicolas Flamel

"Well, at least the weather is nice, eh?"

Flamel turns and approaches the front door/gate to announce his arrival.

[Cracklord]

A melancholy figure opens the door. Carter is well dressed and thin, almost emaciated. He moves with all the grace of an arthritic grandfather, and has an air about him of a quiet contemplative dreamer with a sensitive disposition.
"May I help you gentlemen?" He says, obviously quite surprised by the ancient corpselike man, the bandaged musician and Flamel. He looks like he wants nothing more then to close the door in your face and resume whatever he was doing.

[doliest]

Dracula
"May we come in?" Dracula says, his most charming smile on the corpse-like face. He was in much better condition after feeding, holding the appearance of health to him, though still an old man.

[Cracklord]

He doesn't move. "You'll have to forgive me for asking what brings you to my doorstep."

[doliest]

Dracula
Dracula stares at the man, We are agents of the Queen, sent to investigate a theft, of which you are a chief suspect, unfortunately.

[Cracklord]

He stares. Indecision flashes, then he sighs. He looks ready to faint. "Well then you'd better come in." He says, standing aside and letting you in.

[doliest]

Dracula
Dracula steps into the house, a smile on his face. He'd stepped over the barrier; should Carter be responsible, nothing would save him now. He takes a seat withen.

[Tricycle_Knight]

Erich Zann

The maestro follows the Nightwalker inside, keeping an eye on his new comrade to make sure he doesn't do anything...rash.

[Cracklord]

He sits down in a rather shabby dining room, and pours himself a glass of gin. His hand is shaking more then a little.
"So how may I assist you gentlemen in your inquiries?"

[doliest]

Dracula
Dracula stares directly into the man's eyes, "Tell us, Mr.Carter, do you know of the Necronomicon?"

[Rizban]

Nicolas Flamel

Flamel follows the others in but remains silent for the time being. Dracula has taken point, and it would not do well to show chaos within a perceived chain of command among the three.

[industrious]

Watson

Sensing some presence at my cabin door, I opened it.

[Noircat]

Quatermain


Allan looks around quick before he steps inside, his falso bravado deflating like a swelled balloon. "One of the crew just tried to stab me. Had to shoot him. The Captain decided to try and wreck my thumbs as retaliation." he blurts outs before closing the door behind himself and finding a seat.

"Somethings not natural, I can feel it, I've been challenged occasionally by young bucks looking to push me around or beat me at a test of skill, but trying to outright murder me seems pointless for him..." he trails off, holding his hands out as he gestures with them.

[Cracklord]

Dracula and Flamel
"I know of it." He says. "Only a little. I find that some things are better left uncontemplated. Why are you asking, and what do you wish to know?"

Artful Dodger, Carmilla, Taran
At last, Fagin arrives. The old jew is thin, hideous to look at with lank, greasy hair, a lumpen, swollen face and crooked teeth, and getting old. He now walks with the aid of a cane, and glares hatefully, as though resenting everything he sees. You've long suspected thats why he's so thin, he hates everything he takes into his body.
He limps along, staring at everyone. He stops at you. Suspicion flickers over his features. "Back, are you? How's that?"

[doliest]

Dracula
"Because a copy has been stolen; and as I mentioned, you are our prime suspect." Dracula smiles at the man, the smile of a predator drawing in his prey.

[industrious]

Watson

The Captain, as the files given to me by Mycroft had suggested, was a tyrant aboard his own vessel. And as I was the head of the League, his actions were my responsibility.

"I apologize, Mister Quatermain for the Captain's actions. Please, come in."

Pouring the older man a glass of whiskey-and-soda, I gestured for him to show me his thumbs.

"I am Doctor Watson, Mister Quatermain. I assure you that the Captain will be dealt with."

[Cracklord]

Dracula
"I can assure you I did no such thing!" The man is clearly shocked and affronted, but more then that he is terrified. "I have never stolen anything in my life, I can assure you!" He looks ready to feint.

[Krennel]

Tarzan
moving as close as he can without being seen, Tarzan draw the dagger on his chest. He waits silently, crouching like a tiger, every fiber in his body ready to spring. He is a powerful coil, the powder in the bullet, awaiting release. Should the man raise a hand to Dodger, or have him attacked, he will find himself on the ground with a blade to his throat.

[doliest]

Dracula
"Then do you know who might have?" Dracula starts working his charm, trying to gain some control over the man to make him tell the truth.

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
She watches in amusement. The hunter next to her could hand any bad situations, leaving her open to watch as a person would watch TV in our time.

[Noircat]

Quatermain


"Thank you." he stakes asmall swig of the whiskey and shows Watson his hands, "Hardly your fault. Myc- er M never has had much a mind or luck for choosing seaman. I swear each one he finds for these events is worse than the lasht. This one... I wouldn't confront him alone or unarmed." he looks his thumbs over, "The right one doesn't feel too bad at all. Its that left one that I fear is going to take too long to heal. Don't know what he was thinking, if we have work to do I want to be in a decent condition."

[mrcarter11]

Feeling a little bored, I decide to talk to the captain. "So, what has been promised to you in exchange for your assistance?"

[Cracklord]

Dracula, Erich, Flamel
"Only a madman would want anything to do with that thing, sir." He says, sounding recovered. "The knowledge within can't serve man. So your answer lies among the mad, or those not bothered with morality."
He gets to his feet. "I've said too much." He adds, quite self consciously. "May I offer you refreshments before you leave?"


Carmilla, Tarzan, Artful Dodger
Fagin seems an inch away from violence. He's clearly very paranoid, is is a logical response considering where he lives and how he makes his money, but he still seems particularly on edge. A guilty conscience? Or simple fear?
It occurs to the little pickpocket that a plan for what to do once they locate Fagin was never talked about. Are you supposed to play along, lure him outside, try and take him yourself?
His knotty hand clutches the hand in a bony fist, shaking more then a little.


Watson and Quatermain
Your cabin is somewhat comfortable, with enough space for you to stretch and have room to spare, but still small enough to be claustrophobic in the darkness. There are no windows, the light that trickles in is second hand.
Abruptly, the boat rocks, nearly displacing the two of you from your seats. You think you might have hit something.


Wolf Larson and Dorian Grey
The table sways dangerously despite being bolted to the floor, and the food come perilously close to spilling all over the floor.
Ishmael swears and grabs the door frame, then the boat rights itself. Whatever it was, it's gone now.

[Limos]

Artful Dodger

Jack knew Fagin wouldn't be as likely to believe his wild tale of escape, so this would take a different tack. "Is like this Fagin, there's some people wot want to talk to you, an they got nuff pull with the bobbies to get me out an on the streets. I got two a ways off waitin' for me ta come back an tell em if'n yer willin' to talk. They ain't bobbies , and they ain't lookin' to break up the gang." Jack tries to maintain calm and confident, and hopes to god that Fagin wouldn't take this the wrong way.

"They says they got bigger fish to fry, but that you might know somethin' about it." Jack says awkwardly, "I can take you to meet 'em, or if you want I can go get 'em an bring 'em back 'ere."

"Thin' is, they told me if I can't get you to come an talk, then they are going to 'ave to 'ave the bobbies arrest you so's that you will. Whatchoo say Fagin?"

[Noircat]

Quatermain


Picking himself up off of the floor he grumbles, "I'd keep anything irreplaceable with you."

[doliest]

Dracula
"I never drink..vwine." Dracula says, waving his hand, "But continue; do you have knowledge of who might have stolen it, then?" If he had not done it, it must have been some other name on the list...but they needed to discover who it was quickly, if he were to get his legal meal.

[Cracklord]

Dracula
"If only a madman would steal it, I suggest you look among the mad." He says, making his way out of the room. He's clearly not going to tell you anything else willingly.


Artful Dodger
For a moment, you think he's going to his you. His face contorts cruelly, and he lifts his cane. Then he raps it back down on the floor.
"Get out. All o' yer. 'Cept you, Dodger." All the children, scarcely able to believe their fortune, trickle away, their hard won loot with them.
"Now, you go an' tell 'em I might be willin' to talk. But I'm not handin' over any o' mine, or any o' my earnings. And I ain't ending up in the joint. You go tell your new friends that, boy."

[Limos]

Artful Dodger

"Cor Fagin, be back in a snap!" Jack says quickly then sprints from the room. He would have to make sure Fagin didn't have enough time to hobble away while he fetched the others. As soon as he hits the street Dodger snatches off his hat and waves it in the air. He heads for the other side of the street and waits.

As soon as they show up he outlines his needs in a quick burst of frantic speech. "Fagin says 'e'll talk to ye but he might make a run for it if'n 'e thinks it's a trick. One of ya needs to go round back an watch the door case Fagin rabbits. Other comes with me an we talk. No time fer wastin'!"

[Krennel]

Tarzan
After Dodger's little outburst, Tarzan speaks up. "I'll talk with the man. He will respect me because of my size and gender." He states this blankly. Women are often little more than things, and a man that old won't see any differently. and he always has the knife if he tries to run.
He sheathes said knife.

[Cracklord]

Tarzan and the Dodger
"So yer're the toff wot wants ta talk to me?" Fagin says, his eyes squinting suspiciously at you. "I'll talk, but that's it. Got it?" He's smart enough to know that not co-operating wouldn't go well.

[The Shoveler]

Carmilla
Standing in the back wasn't normally what a lady was left to do. Then again, she wasn't really a proper lady, was she? Oh well, this still fared her better than doing research. She sets up 'round back, waiting for something to happen.

[doliest]

Dracula
He looks at his two companions, "So....if our chief suspect didn't do it, and doesn't seem to know much else, at least that he's going to tell, ...what is our next step?"

[industrious]

Watson

I was near the end of applying a cast to Quartermain's left thumb when we were jolted. I admit that it was a small struggle to regain my vertical state; my old war wound had been acting up as of late. Seizing my cane, and doffing my hat once more, I turned to the mighty hunter.

"We best investigate this. But first..."

I took out the package I had retrieved from Baker Street, and with the most tender delicacy that I could, unfurled its contents. Holmes's old Inverness lay before me. And with trembling hands, I took the garment, and placed it upon my own shoulders, and my hands through its sleeves.

"Let us be off, Mister Quartermaine. The game is afoot."

[Krennel]

Tarzan
Crossing his arms, he stares down the little man. "I'm as much a pawn in this as you are." He says bluntly. He shifts his weight onto his back foot, and uncrosses his arms.
"I will only ask each question once. Unlike other men I have no willingness to be coy. I don't care about your petty criminal endeavorer, nor will I likely ever. I want to know one thing." He drops the bag that was over his shoulder, and it hits the ground with an ominous thud. "Where is the Necrinomicon?"

[Noircat]

Quatermain


"Indeed." Allan agrees cooly as he exits Watson's cabin, leaving the door wide open behind him. He'll wait a second for Watson, before jogging towards the uppermost deck.

[Cracklord]

Tarzan
"Necromosonon? Wot's that?" He peers at you suspiciously, clearly suspecting some trick.


Watson and Quatermain
The sight on the deck takes your breath away. A whale. A monstrous white whale, it's hide scarred, torn and mangled after years of fights. A red eye gleams reddly with surprising inteligence, and it's fangs are almost as big as an upright man. So huge, so monstrous a creature should have no place on this earth, no way to exist. But more then terror is a feeling of awe. The beast in majestic in it's terrible splendor, like the living avatar of the wrath of the ocean.
It submerges, seemingly content after ramming your ship to let you go.

[Krennel]

Tarzan
Patience has never been his strong suit. And this fool was trying his.
"It was a book, it was stolen by a child. We believe you know where it is."

[Cracklord]

Tarzan
"Nobody from this city took nuthin' like that. I control 'em all, I know." He says the last bit a bit too quickly. He's leaving something out. "Why'd we steal a book anyway? Wot's the point if yer can't hock it?"

[Limos]

Artful Dodger

"From wot the other loonies was sayin' it might be a magic book or somethin'." Jack offers helpfully, "Charley told me some of the boys have gone missin', some new kidsman must 'ave been involved wit the necrowhosawhatsit, so maybe that's where they are goin'?"

[Cracklord]

Artful Dodger
Fagin considers this, and nods. "Nothin' down here happens like that. I'd know. Probably them rich boys up there."

[Krennel]

Tarzan
Tarzan groans. Not the rich, they were the most unbecoming wind bags. and he would be the way to them. The league would probably make him throw a party at his estate, or some other convoluted scheme.
"Do you have any idea who?"

[Cracklord]

Tarzan
"Don't quite walk in the best of circles, boyo, so you'll forgive me for not being up to date on current gossip. Try one of them fancy schools, that's where they go wild and start gangs."
While he's doing his best to help you, now that he's not a suspect he's a lot less helpful.

[Krennel]

Tarzan
With a movement as fast and smooth as greased lightning, Tarzan grabs the mans skinny neck. "Did I ask you to stop." He lifts the man off the ground, taking care not to choke him. "As it stand, you are not valuable enough to me to keep you alive. You have hidden something from my minds eye, stolen it from my ears. And now you will give it to me or suffer the law of the jungle."

[Rizban]

Nicolas Flamel

Leaning over towards Dracula, Flamel produces a small hypodermic from within his robes and whispers to him. "Thiopental salt, an interesting little dissolution which should lower his mental state just enough to coerce some answers from him."

He subtly hands the hypodermic to Dracula.