Briar joined Robert in swearing immediately, dropping his coke and grabbing the bottle of painkillers before dashing over to the dorm closet. The fire had a good chance of wrecking the building, but he could take a few steps to make sure it didn't wreck his life.
Well, if the delay didn't get him killed.
"What the hell are you doing?" Robert yelled as Briar continued to rummage through the closet.
"Building! On Fire! Need to leave!" Briar nodded absently to himself, Robert was probably actually being the voice of reason here... still... He had to get that book.
"I need to get a few things, just go I'll be right behind you!" [Persuasion 50-20 -Good Friend- (Margin -5, bare fail)]
"Like hell I'm going to leave you trying to stuff every one of your damn books into your pants while I run to safety!" Robert yells back, grabbing his jacket off the back of one of the chairs and storming back over to Briar.
"We leave together, even if together means me dragging your whacky ass out of here." Briar grit his teeth and bore it, Robert could have an irritating sense of honor occasionally. One the only cropped up when it was inconvenient. Regardless Briar stuffed Robert's wallet back into his roommate's hands before grabbing his own wallet and recovering his rather special volume from its place underneath his slacks. That of course left him to contemplate what else from his closet he literally was willing to exchange possible seconds of his life to grab.
((Objects Taken: Wallet, Strange Tome, Painkillers)
Location: Owned room, Miskatonic Dormitory, Fourth Floor.
Status Affects: Painkillers (10) Health: 40/40
Sanity: 70/70
Head: Reading glasses (No spots)
Body: Black Houseshirt (No spots)
Legs: Black pants (4 Small)
Feet: Brown Shoes (No Spots)
L. Hand: Strange Tome (Needs medium spot, 2 pounds, can be read)
R. Hand: Empty
Other Worn items:
Wristwatch
Carried Weight: 3/35
Available Spots: 2 Small
Inv:
Painkillers (9 doses, in pants pocket)
Wallet ($50 in small bills, in pants pocket)
One exit out into the main hall, windows facing north.
Robert Denver (Close Friend) is here.
There is a pair of beds here.
The building is on fire.
Loose Items,
College Textbook (Needs a medium spot, one pound)
Pen x3 (needs V.Small spot)
Notebooks (Needs Medium spot)
open Containers,
Closet, Items contained:
Slacks x2
Suit jacket x2
Pants x3
Dress shirt x2
Coat x1
Button Down shirt x2
Briefcase x2
Trench watch
---~~~---
Clay was a smart man, he knew to ignore the instinct that told him to run immediately to the burning building would be as noble as it would be useless, they needed more help than one professor could hope to give. Turning and running back inside the library at a dead run Clayton tried to remember where the library dial-phone was... [Knowledge 39-10 -Familiarity - Stressful situation- (Margin 61, Complete success)] Receptionist for the restricted stacks on the second floor had one, but the curator for antiquities had a private one in his much closer office. Good thing the old man never locked his door...
Dodging through the mess of chairs and tables Clay barged into the Curator's office, spotting the glossy black phone amid the shuffle of papers that adorned the man's desk and dialing in with shaking hands.
Nothing happened.
Desperately Clay attempted to dial again, hoping that his trembling fingers had missed a number in their haste. Again the telephone responds with nothing but eerily dead silence. Clenching his free hand he dialed for an operator, time was of the essence and he simply didn't have enough spare to spend it on a line that didn't work.
The sound of the line opening was music to Clay's ears.
"I need to report a fire at the corner of West Church and south west street. The Miskatonic Dormitories are burning and I don't know how many students are still inside!" Clay said as clearly into the phone as he could, not even waiting for the operator to greet him.
There was a startled sound from the other end of the line and a stuttered something midway between "hello" and "what".
"There. Is. A. Fire. Corner of West Church and South West street, I can't connect to the fire station. DO SOMETHING!" The man's stammering fails to improve on the second attempt, if anything it gets worse.
"I- Yes sir, I'll-... W-what should I do?" The dorms are burning down, the line to the fire station wouldn't connect, and the night operator was incompetent. Either lady fate had taken a dark turn of humor or there was something very foul afoot.
Location: Inside the Miskatonic Library, Office of the Curator of Antiquities
Status Affects: None
Health: 50/50
Sanity: 50/50
Head: Hair (No spots)
Body: Dress shirt (1 V.Small), Greatcoat (2 medium, 4 small, 4 V.Small, 2 pounds)
Legs: Brown slacks (2 Small)
Feet: Brown Shoes (No Spots)
L. Hand: Empty
R. Hand: Empty
Other Worn items:
Wedding Band
Carried Weight: 2/35
Available Spots: 3 Very Small, 5 Small, 2 medium, both hands
Inv:
Silver Pocket Watch (V.Small Coat pocket)
Pen (V.Small Dress shirt pocket)
Wallet (Small, slacks pocket, contains $100 in small bills)
The office is in something of a cozy disarray, numerous papers are scattered about the room.
There is a phone here.
Loose Items
Unsearched
Closed Containers
Unknown, multiple.
---~~~---
David opted for the straightforward route, it wasn't as if he had anything to hide yet. For now he was just a Five-two armed civilian, nothing wrong with that as long as he didn't get patted down. David strode forwards through the glow of the streetlights, approaching the front door with the somewhat cocky air of somebody who doesn't care if they're seen visiting a house of ill repute.
Unlike most establishments of its type the Dancing Saint didn't require a cover charge, it made its keep through the... off the menu orders rather than through simple patronage. The lack of an up-front cost suited Hadjem just fine, nothing like a free entrance to let you appreciate the way a place looks.
The dancing saint had been stripped down farther than any of its employees, and it had been refurbished in a warm comfortable way. Low walls and crushed velvet seats, classy bouncers in suits, and of course the less than fully clad women offering refreshments for those who had grown dry in mouth watching the even less clad dancers. David quirked up a smile at the edge of his mouth, there were times when his job wasn't actually that bad. This place could be fun, a nice relaxing getaway where he could technically work on the case and get paid to boot... All for the low, low, price of his soul.
Eh, maybe later. Right now he had work.
Tapping one of the waitresses on the shoulder David put on what he hoped was an oily smile.
"Ah, yes... I'm looking for particular woman, a... ah... friend of mine." David said, still smiling in a way that made him want punch himself. From what he heard it wasn't uncommon for an entertainer to have a small private following, not being able to remember the woman's name was pretty common in that kind of circle. "
Can't quite recall her name, shoulder length blond hair, green eyes, tall, olive skin, would you know her by chance?" [Gather Information 29 (Margin 11, Slight Success)]
The serving girl's eyes widen a little too much, her entire body tensing slightly at the woman's description.
"Why I don't believe so sir, she sounds lovely, but there are so many lovely dancers here it is hard for me to remember all of their names." She said, her voice at odds with her body language.
David smiled, the girl knew something about what had happened and was trying to hide it. Poorly.
"I never said she was a dancer, just said she was a woman." The girl tensed further, her body attempting to back as far away from him as possible while her feet stayed rooted to the floor.
"I'm sorry, I must misunderstood, sir. Can I perhaps get you something to-" David held up a hand to stop her from going further, he had a choice of options now... He could attempt to intimidate the information out of her, he could bribe her with what little he had, or he could just try and sweet talk her out of what she knew.
That or let her go get him a drink.
Location: Inside the Dancing Saint, main display floor.
Status Affects: None
Health: Base 50/50
Sanity: Base 45/45
Head: Fedora (No spots)
Body: Dress shirt (1 V.Small), Trenchcoat (2 medium, 2 small), Concealed Shoulder holster (1 small)
Legs: Black Suspenders (2 Small)
Feet: Black Shoes (No Spots)
L. Hand: Empty
R. Hand: Empty
Other Worn items:
None
Carried Weight: 3/45
Available Spots: 1 V.Small, 2 Medium, both hands
Inv:
Pocket Watch (V.Small pants pocket)
Pen (V.Small coat pocket)
notepad (V.Small coat pocket)
Wallet (Small, pants pocket, contains $50 in small bills)
Colt detective special (6/6, Small, Shoulder holster, 2 pounds)
Loose .38 special rounds (13, small, coat pocket)
You're inside the main floor room of the dancing saint, the room is large. There are a great many people here. There are many chairs, tables, and sofas. Partitions have been erected to separate stages and the seating surrounding them from eachother. There is a bar at one end of the room.
You can see several bouncers from where you are. (Observation check required for specific count)
There is an exit behind you.
There is a guarded door leading up to the rentable rooms.
There is an unguarded side-door on the east side of the room.
There is a guarded door marked for employees at the south end of the room.
There is a bathroom on the west side of the room.
Loose Items
Unsearched, All have owners nearby
Closed containers
Unknown, Multiple, all have owners nearby.
---~~~---
Patric wasn't about to stay in a room with his employer a second longer than he had to. Nodding in what he hoped was a polite and respectful way he grabbed the poor girl and slung her corpse up onto one broad shoulder and opening the door with his free hand, closing the door silently and quickly behind him before carefully traversing the flight of stairs back down to the main hall of the back floor.
Angelo was thankfully already waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed across his burly chest and looking somewhat impatient as he observed Patric's slow progress down the stairs.
"You ain't dead." He says observantly as Patric draws level with him.
Patric didn't exactly know how to reply to that, saying that the boss was a insane would probably land him a one way ticket to a three foot ditch.
"He... he said you'd know where the dump was." The security head shrugged.
"I do. Need to cover that girl up first, wouldn't do to have her seen by accident, even by one of ours. Got a carpet to roll her up in just to make sure." He adds, patting a roll of dully colored interwoven brown and green fabric.
Patric's blood ran a little cold, if they didn't want the body seen by other employees then why had the boss asked him to deliver the corpse personally?
"Thanks" he said as he began to sling the dead girl's stiff body down off his shoulder, there really didn't seem to be much else to say.
Angelo unfurls the carpet all the way and helps center the corpse on the right hand side before the pair of the roll it up. [Concealment, General oppose 43-10-20 -Tool assisted, second pair of hands- (Margin of success -3, Bare fail)] The carpeted shroud isn't going to fool anybody if they look at it directly, the short lock of hair sticking out the front and the lacquered toes poking out the back see to that pretty well.
Angel grunts disapprovingly at the cover but doesn't seem to think it bad enough for a do-over.
"It ain't entirely bad, still looks a damn sight better than carrying a body. Won't have to walk far in the open anyway." He wipes his hands on the carpet shroud and looks thoughtful for a moment.
"So. You've met the boss, what do you think of him?" Patric froze for a moment in the act of slinging the barely concealed body back up onto his shoulder before resuming.
"I've never had an employer like him." Angelo barked a short laugh at that.
"Don't imagine you had... He ain't crazy you know, no matter how much he acts it." Patric raised an eyebrow at that, all of the evidence including his gut reaction pointed in the opposite direction.
"Heh, felt the same when I first met him." Angelo said, still smiling somewhat brutally.
"But he's been in his job for more than a decade, and if he really was as crackerjack crazy has plays out do you think the Trades would have left him in charge? He's dangerous, but don't make the mistake of thinking him crazy." Patric only shrugged, Angelo had a point though... he had a point.
((You will automatically travel with Angelo next round, this is a time for questions and the like, or if you feel the need you may add a different and more compelling action.))
Location: Back rooms of the Dancing saint.
Status Affects: None
Health: 75/75
Sanity: 55/55
Head: Hair (No spots)
Body: Cheap Suit (2 small, 1 V.Small)
Legs: Tan Slacks (2 Small)
Feet: Black Shoes (No Spots)
L. Hand: Carpet wrapped corpse
R. Hand: Carpet wrapped corpse
Other Worn items:
Wristwatch
Carried Weight: 117/55 (Heavily Encumbered)
Available Spots:
Inv:
Brass Knuckles (V.Small, Slacks pocket, 1 pound)
Wallet (Small, Slacks pocket, $50)
The room consists of a long southbound hallway. There are numerous doors to the on the left and right sides of the corridor. The north end of the corridor leads back onto the main floor, the south end is a back exit from the building.
There are many doors branching east and west off the hallway
There is a door leading out of the building to the south.
There is a door leading back to the main floor to the north
There is a door leading to Tragedy's office behind you
Loose Items,
Rubbish
Closed Containers,
Nothing
Author
Topic: City of Madness; Arkham. Ch. 1: The Lord of Broken Song (Read 30307 times)