Turn 2 Research Phase, Waxing GibbousThe day was like any other day, or at least, it seemed as such. The sun rose, a deep brilliant red splashed across the horizon and refracting through the choppy waters of the Grey Bay. The water shone red, dark and restless, a shifting omen of the danger to come.
As dawn turned into morning, this sign disappeared. Whether any of the nightstalkers had risen in time to behold its warning, it is difficult to decipher. Today was the day to depart on the expedition. Over the last week, members of your organization had been in close contact with Mortimer. Busy words of funds and payment discussed over cigar ash and squeaky floorboards in the gentleman’s manor. Servants scurried to and fro as your smooth talkers danced circles around the eccentric academic. In that time you had discovered the location of the expedition, an Arkia cenobium of some sort. While the details were obscured in the enthusiastic babble of a scholar with little people skills, riddled with jargon and blurred together by a man schooled in the written word only, the main points had become quite clear. Five of your men would serve as guards and laborers on this venture, netting you $20,000 in funds for the successful completion of this expedition. After a bit of schmoozing and bargaining, your agent was able to secure half payment now, totalling in $10,000 as an advanced payment for taking on the contract. With check in hand, the departure date was set.
Now the day has arrived. The ship is to depart from the Melting Pot docks this afternoon. As is a particular tradition, the group prepared for their departure with the near superstitious ritual of eating at Big Papa’s Pizzeria in the Melting Pot. Big Papa originally caught the attention of the Keepers when it was suspected his pizza had a supernatural component. It was quickly discovered that restaurant was built atop a ley line, making it a natural hotbed of magical activity. This fact seemed entirely lost on Big Papa however.
Today however was different. As the gang of Keepers enjoyed their Jalapeno Papa Pizza, the sound of screeching tires making a hard left alerted them. As the black SUV skidded to a stop, a window was punched out. Before the volley of submachine gun fire could pepper the storefront, Maliek Flightfoot flipped the heavy oaken table, sending pizza flying through the air. This was not the first time the joint had been shot up, and Big Papa had the foresight to invest in some very sturdy tables.
Following the initial volley, a second round of gunfire was exchanged between your Keepers and what has discovered to be The Jade Dragon gang members. The Dragons move in and one is shot down by one of your rifles as they break for the building. By this time civilians were fleeing the premise and Big Papa himself had grabbed a shotgun from under the register.
The firefight grows even more deadly in close combat. Your training has served you well here, being the difference between life and death several times during the fight. Big Papa's shotgun didn't hurt either. For the first few rounds you seemed to be winning, but a lucky shot from one of the gangsters seriously injured one of your acolytes! On the other hand, two of the gangsters had fallen, but the remaining three had eroded your position to the point that you were forced to take Big Papa and your injured acolyte out the back door.
By the end of this, you were forced to delay the expedition. Mortimer was fuming about the lack of professionalism over the telephone as your acolyte was bleeding profusely in an alley. The expedition will now depart next waxing gibbous, much to Mortimer’s chigrin.
Across town, at the East Docks, information gathering is going much more smoothly. Your nightwalker spent more than a few days staking out the docks, using binoculars they observed several of the armored trucks arriving from the south. Several refrigerated tanks, about 4 or 5 feet tall each, were loaded into the armored vehicles. About a week later, another shipment arrived, noticeably from the same ship. A strict schedule was followed in each case, from the ship arriving to the armored trucks leaving, it all took place in exactly 50 minutes. The tanks themselves displayed a strange logo, a red D in an elegant font was painted on the side of each tank. By the third week, it was clear that the shipments were being sent to a warehouse in South City.
Not only was one of your acolytes injured in the fire fight, but another, the one who struck by a strange affliction, falls deeper into the throes of madness. They babble about a woman, clad in violet, and singing trill of an ethereal tone. As time goes on, they begin to fade from reality, with each day becoming less and less lucid, making less and less sense. After a week, their affliction turns physical. Their lips turn violet, as do their glazed eyes, and patches of skin.
One of your acolytes has been injured. Seek medical help to cure them or risk a deadly infection.
One of your acolytes has been cursed. Seek spiritual assistance before they are lost forever.
Gained Mortimer Contract and $10,000 in cash.
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Topic: Twilight Cults: Keepers of The Dark Thread (Read 1416 times)