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The Complete Masks of Nyarlathotep d20
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<blockquote data-quote="Nebulous" data-source="post: 3969505" data-attributes="member: 31465"><p><strong><span style="font-size: 12px">Adventure #1: The Death of Jackson Elias</span></strong></p><p></p><p></p><p></p><p>It is a cold and blustery January 15th, 1925, in New York City.</p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/Masks/02054.jpe" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /> </p><p></p><p></p><p>The adventure begins with the popular song <a href="http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/Masks/sfx/imafraid.wav" target="_blank">I'm Afraid</a> playing in the background of a coffee shop. Ice coats the buildings and gales whip through the streets, as our four disparate friends sit together for hot drinks. </p><p></p><p><span style="color: Red">Here were the main players at the start of the campaign:</span></p><p><span style="color: Red"></span></p><p><span style="color: Red">Jason: The Keeper (GM)</span></p><p><span style="color: Red"></span></p><p><span style="color: Red">Leo: playing Huey, a quiet bookseller in NY. He worked with his father in a small occult bookshop.</span></p><p><span style="color: Red">Jeff: playing a Private Investigator named Morty.</span></p><p><span style="color: Red">David: playing Chang Chin, a Chinese ex-mafioso/ex-karate teacher, now with the Catholic robes. </span></p><p><span style="color: Red">Kent: playing Arnold Silvermine, rumrunner and general bad apple. </span></p><p></p><p>Huey has recently received a radiogram from an old friend, a popular writer named Jackson Elias who has been well known for a few years from penning non-fiction books about obscure religious cults around the world. He’s a sensationalist writer with a penchant for wry writ and astounding bravery…and cynicism. Huey, the owner of a small occult bookshop on 5th Street, has long been a friend and keeps stock of his many books, such as Skulls Along the River, The Way of Terror, and Sons of Death. Huey knows that Jackson is friendly, feisty, and above all, fearless. </p><p></p><p>In fact, Chang, Huey, Morty and Arnold Silvermine all knew Jackson at one time or another. The details as to how each character (besides Huey) specifically knew Jackson are never brought up, but Jackson was the lynchpin between the group members. When Huey receives the radiogram from sea, Jackson tells him that he has AMAZING information regarding the Carlyle Expedition, and he needs Huey to gather together a small group of accomplices. The radiogram was received a month ago, and just two hours ago, Huey received the anticipated phone call from Jackson at his bookshop. </p><p></p><p>Jackson sounded irate, panicky, and cryptic on the phone, but he offered Huey (and whoever else he could scrounge up) some work, and he offered an undisclosed amount of money. Once again, it has to do with the ill-fated Carlyle Expedition. </p><p></p><p>Huey’s bookshop, co-owned with this father, is in dire financial straits, so the offer of money comes as a welcome incentive. </p><p></p><p>Chang, the ex-Chinese Mafioso and current man-of-the-cloth and Karate Teacher, has little need for money as he has seen the sin of corruption one too many times. But he is happy to help in whatever way he can.</p><p></p><p>Morty Jones, the Private Investigator, has been short on funds for some time and is willing to do anything for extra cash. He’s just not very good at his job. </p><p></p><p>Arnold Silvermine, the rumrunner, is a step above a common thug and plans to milk this cash cow for whatever he can. HOWEVER, he is an exceedingly rich thug with Wealth feats from illicit operations.</p><p></p><p>As the investigators sit in the coffee shop, waiting for 8pm to roll around so they can meet Jackson at his 410 hotel room at the Chelsea, they discuss the Carlyle Expedition, and what Jackson could possibly need them for. </p><p></p><p>Five years ago, as the investigators recall, the Carlyle Expedition was an extravagant group brought together by NY socialite and millionaire, Mr. Roger Carlyle. The entire expedition was heavily documented, and Huey has even done a little research into the matter while waiting for Jackson to arrive in the States. In 1920 Roger Carlyle gathered together a group of six persons who embarked on a journey across the world in search of fabulous artifacts. </p><p></p><p>They went to London, Egypt and finally Africa, but it ended as a massacre in Kenya. The party was wiped out by savages, or so the story goes, and their remains devoured by wild animals. But from what Jackson Elias has hinted at, there is more to the sordid tale, and he needed to tell someone. Quick.</p><p></p><p>Around roughly 7:45 pm the investigators leave the coffee shop and tromp through the snow to the Chelsea Hotel. Rapping on Jackson’s door at Room 410, they receive no response. Chang listens at the door and faintly hears movement within. They knock again, but still no answer. It’s about 8:03 pm. </p><p></p><p>Morty Jones, the PI without any clients, quietly unlatches the safety on his holster. He’s got a bad feeling about this. </p><p></p><p>Chang sees Morty arm himself, and Chang also happens to be carrying a small Walther 6mm pistol, a carryover from his days with the Mafia. He never leaves home without it. </p><p></p><p>Huey sees Morty and Chang pull out guns, and he steps back, hands raised and says “Guys, hey wait a second! What are you doing?”</p><p></p><p>Arnold Silvermine, rumrunner and general bad apple, sees their guns and he whips out a concealed knife, which incidentally, he never leaves home without either. He regrets not having brought a shotgun, an oversight he is sure to never make again.</p><p></p><p>The investigators don’t bother with any more subterfuge; something is wrong, they can smell it, so without further delay Chang SLAMS into the door! He bounces off, the hinges hold, but the second strike cracks the molding and Chang spills inside, with Morty and Arnold hot on his heels, Huey hanging back and wringing his hands. </p><p></p><p>The sight greeting them instigates instant Sanity Checks:</p><p></p><p><img src="http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/Masks/jackson elias.jpg" alt="" class="fr-fic fr-dii fr-draggable " style="" /> </p><p></p><p>Jackson Elias is sprawled on the bed, his entrails ripped out, a grisly spray of fresh blood on the floor, the walls, his face. A devilish rune marks his forehead and blood drips to the floor. But there’s movement! A black man is climbing out the second story window, and another is hiding right behind the door! A cruel hooked blade stabs down at Chang, but he ducks, and plants a bullet in his attacker’s gut. The negro man, wearing a bizarre headdress sporting a long red tassel, staggers back, blood blooming through his fingers. He hits the wall, when Morty steps in and fires twice more, one bullet puncturing the plaster, the other punching through his heart. He collapses, dead, but the second negro man has leapt out the window, the flutter of paper items falling into the room behind him.</p><p></p><p>Huey and Arnold rush to the windowsill just in time to see a black Hudson roadster waiting at the bottom. The murderer launches into the backseat and the car peels away, but it is too dark to see the license plate. Already, the investigators are hearing screams of surprise from the three gunshots that have echoed through the hotel. </p><p></p><p>Huey leans over Jackson Elias, stifling a sob. His friend has been hideously mutilated, and so recently that the body is still hot. Still, he takes the time to scribble down a replica of the rune scribed on Jackson’s forehead. Arnold and Chang rifle through the dead negro’s clothes, including an empty leather pouch, while Morty hesitantly straddles the doorway, his pistol shielded beneath his overcoat. Numerous residents poke their heads into the carpeted hallway, peeking tentatively around.</p><p></p><p>“Nothing to see here!” says Morty with false authority. “Police business!” </p><p></p><p>But they all know that the real police will be arriving very soon, and depending on how the investigators handle this situation, they may or may not be implicated in the deaths. They decide to stick around, which gives them a few more minutes to search the room and—</p><p></p><p>--a snake! </p><p></p><p>A black mamba slithers out from behind the dresser, sending everyone into a tizzy. Further gunshots are refrained from, so the highly poisonous (and foreign) snake is squashed with a dresser drawer before it can bite anyone. They gather up the dropped clues, wondering who the hell so maliciously killed their friend Jackson? And WHY?</p><p></p><p>ITEMS FOUND:</p><p></p><p>1) a letter from someone in Cairo named Faraz Najir, </p><p> addressed to Jackson</p><p>2) A Penhew Foundation card, with the name Edward Gavigan</p><p>3) A matchbox for the Stumbling Tiger Bar in Shanghai</p><p>4) Emerson Imports card, with the name “Silas N’Kwane” </p><p> written on the back</p><p>5) Letter from Miriam Artwright, a Harvard Librarian</p><p>6) The bloody symbol on Jackson’s forehead</p><p></p><p></p><p>The police eventually arrive and the investigators are initially cuffed and taken downtown for questioning. The cooperate, and are very carefully interrogated by Lt. Marvin Poole, a taciturn homicide officer who has also stomped on Morty’s toes in the past, and ruined some perfectly good jobs. Poole has also clunked heads with Arnold Silvermine over illegal business, but the police can’t find a connection with the investigators in this case. Wrong place at the wrong time, it seems, and they aren’t charged. </p><p></p><p>The party has nothing to hide (not yet anyway; their cooperation with authorities over the campaign will quickly downslide) and their guns are registered, and it was seemingly in self defense. The police know that something bad is brewing in Harlem; however, when Morty tries to glean more information out of Lt. Poole, he botches his roll rather badly and only infuriates the detective! </p><p></p><p>“Get outta here, ya bottom-scrubbing amateur. Leave the important stuff to the Big Boys. I don’t wanna see you and your friends involved with this anymore. We had too many killings of this nature already.”</p><p></p><p>The next few days feature headline articles in the Observer noting the death of Jackson Elias in the obituary and his funeral date. A little more digging around in the local newspapers unveils some leads above and beyond the scraps of paper they’ve already found (and kept hidden) from Lt. Poole. (and this more or less ends the involvement of Poole in the campaign). </p><p></p><p>They find references to the Prospero House, Jackson’s publisher, and Huey gives Miriam Artwright a call, asking about the book she failed to find for Jackson, Africa’s Dark Sects (Dark Sex! Which spawned a juvenile campaign-long joke that has never gotten old). It mysteriously vanished from the Harvard library a few months ago. They also tell Miriam that they want to drive up and show her the peculiar symbol found on Jackson’s head. She agrees to a future meeting. </p><p></p><p>The party decides they should next go to Prospero House, the publisher of Jackson’s books on religious cults, and speak directly with Jonah Kensington, the editor-in-chief. Maybe he can shed some more light on what is going on, and what exactly happened to Jackson Elias. </p><p></p><p>And there we stopped.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Nebulous, post: 3969505, member: 31465"] [B][SIZE=3]Adventure #1: The Death of Jackson Elias[/SIZE][/B] It is a cold and blustery January 15th, 1925, in New York City. [img]http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/Masks/02054.jpe[/img] The adventure begins with the popular song [url=http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/Masks/sfx/imafraid.wav]I'm Afraid[/url] playing in the background of a coffee shop. Ice coats the buildings and gales whip through the streets, as our four disparate friends sit together for hot drinks. [COLOR=Red]Here were the main players at the start of the campaign: Jason: The Keeper (GM) Leo: playing Huey, a quiet bookseller in NY. He worked with his father in a small occult bookshop. Jeff: playing a Private Investigator named Morty. David: playing Chang Chin, a Chinese ex-mafioso/ex-karate teacher, now with the Catholic robes. Kent: playing Arnold Silvermine, rumrunner and general bad apple. [/COLOR] Huey has recently received a radiogram from an old friend, a popular writer named Jackson Elias who has been well known for a few years from penning non-fiction books about obscure religious cults around the world. He’s a sensationalist writer with a penchant for wry writ and astounding bravery…and cynicism. Huey, the owner of a small occult bookshop on 5th Street, has long been a friend and keeps stock of his many books, such as Skulls Along the River, The Way of Terror, and Sons of Death. Huey knows that Jackson is friendly, feisty, and above all, fearless. In fact, Chang, Huey, Morty and Arnold Silvermine all knew Jackson at one time or another. The details as to how each character (besides Huey) specifically knew Jackson are never brought up, but Jackson was the lynchpin between the group members. When Huey receives the radiogram from sea, Jackson tells him that he has AMAZING information regarding the Carlyle Expedition, and he needs Huey to gather together a small group of accomplices. The radiogram was received a month ago, and just two hours ago, Huey received the anticipated phone call from Jackson at his bookshop. Jackson sounded irate, panicky, and cryptic on the phone, but he offered Huey (and whoever else he could scrounge up) some work, and he offered an undisclosed amount of money. Once again, it has to do with the ill-fated Carlyle Expedition. Huey’s bookshop, co-owned with this father, is in dire financial straits, so the offer of money comes as a welcome incentive. Chang, the ex-Chinese Mafioso and current man-of-the-cloth and Karate Teacher, has little need for money as he has seen the sin of corruption one too many times. But he is happy to help in whatever way he can. Morty Jones, the Private Investigator, has been short on funds for some time and is willing to do anything for extra cash. He’s just not very good at his job. Arnold Silvermine, the rumrunner, is a step above a common thug and plans to milk this cash cow for whatever he can. HOWEVER, he is an exceedingly rich thug with Wealth feats from illicit operations. As the investigators sit in the coffee shop, waiting for 8pm to roll around so they can meet Jackson at his 410 hotel room at the Chelsea, they discuss the Carlyle Expedition, and what Jackson could possibly need them for. Five years ago, as the investigators recall, the Carlyle Expedition was an extravagant group brought together by NY socialite and millionaire, Mr. Roger Carlyle. The entire expedition was heavily documented, and Huey has even done a little research into the matter while waiting for Jackson to arrive in the States. In 1920 Roger Carlyle gathered together a group of six persons who embarked on a journey across the world in search of fabulous artifacts. They went to London, Egypt and finally Africa, but it ended as a massacre in Kenya. The party was wiped out by savages, or so the story goes, and their remains devoured by wild animals. But from what Jackson Elias has hinted at, there is more to the sordid tale, and he needed to tell someone. Quick. Around roughly 7:45 pm the investigators leave the coffee shop and tromp through the snow to the Chelsea Hotel. Rapping on Jackson’s door at Room 410, they receive no response. Chang listens at the door and faintly hears movement within. They knock again, but still no answer. It’s about 8:03 pm. Morty Jones, the PI without any clients, quietly unlatches the safety on his holster. He’s got a bad feeling about this. Chang sees Morty arm himself, and Chang also happens to be carrying a small Walther 6mm pistol, a carryover from his days with the Mafia. He never leaves home without it. Huey sees Morty and Chang pull out guns, and he steps back, hands raised and says “Guys, hey wait a second! What are you doing?” Arnold Silvermine, rumrunner and general bad apple, sees their guns and he whips out a concealed knife, which incidentally, he never leaves home without either. He regrets not having brought a shotgun, an oversight he is sure to never make again. The investigators don’t bother with any more subterfuge; something is wrong, they can smell it, so without further delay Chang SLAMS into the door! He bounces off, the hinges hold, but the second strike cracks the molding and Chang spills inside, with Morty and Arnold hot on his heels, Huey hanging back and wringing his hands. The sight greeting them instigates instant Sanity Checks: [img]http://www.med.unc.edu/~saasha/Masks/jackson elias.jpg[/img] Jackson Elias is sprawled on the bed, his entrails ripped out, a grisly spray of fresh blood on the floor, the walls, his face. A devilish rune marks his forehead and blood drips to the floor. But there’s movement! A black man is climbing out the second story window, and another is hiding right behind the door! A cruel hooked blade stabs down at Chang, but he ducks, and plants a bullet in his attacker’s gut. The negro man, wearing a bizarre headdress sporting a long red tassel, staggers back, blood blooming through his fingers. He hits the wall, when Morty steps in and fires twice more, one bullet puncturing the plaster, the other punching through his heart. He collapses, dead, but the second negro man has leapt out the window, the flutter of paper items falling into the room behind him. Huey and Arnold rush to the windowsill just in time to see a black Hudson roadster waiting at the bottom. The murderer launches into the backseat and the car peels away, but it is too dark to see the license plate. Already, the investigators are hearing screams of surprise from the three gunshots that have echoed through the hotel. Huey leans over Jackson Elias, stifling a sob. His friend has been hideously mutilated, and so recently that the body is still hot. Still, he takes the time to scribble down a replica of the rune scribed on Jackson’s forehead. Arnold and Chang rifle through the dead negro’s clothes, including an empty leather pouch, while Morty hesitantly straddles the doorway, his pistol shielded beneath his overcoat. Numerous residents poke their heads into the carpeted hallway, peeking tentatively around. “Nothing to see here!” says Morty with false authority. “Police business!” But they all know that the real police will be arriving very soon, and depending on how the investigators handle this situation, they may or may not be implicated in the deaths. They decide to stick around, which gives them a few more minutes to search the room and— --a snake! A black mamba slithers out from behind the dresser, sending everyone into a tizzy. Further gunshots are refrained from, so the highly poisonous (and foreign) snake is squashed with a dresser drawer before it can bite anyone. They gather up the dropped clues, wondering who the hell so maliciously killed their friend Jackson? And WHY? ITEMS FOUND: 1) a letter from someone in Cairo named Faraz Najir, addressed to Jackson 2) A Penhew Foundation card, with the name Edward Gavigan 3) A matchbox for the Stumbling Tiger Bar in Shanghai 4) Emerson Imports card, with the name “Silas N’Kwane” written on the back 5) Letter from Miriam Artwright, a Harvard Librarian 6) The bloody symbol on Jackson’s forehead The police eventually arrive and the investigators are initially cuffed and taken downtown for questioning. The cooperate, and are very carefully interrogated by Lt. Marvin Poole, a taciturn homicide officer who has also stomped on Morty’s toes in the past, and ruined some perfectly good jobs. Poole has also clunked heads with Arnold Silvermine over illegal business, but the police can’t find a connection with the investigators in this case. Wrong place at the wrong time, it seems, and they aren’t charged. The party has nothing to hide (not yet anyway; their cooperation with authorities over the campaign will quickly downslide) and their guns are registered, and it was seemingly in self defense. The police know that something bad is brewing in Harlem; however, when Morty tries to glean more information out of Lt. Poole, he botches his roll rather badly and only infuriates the detective! “Get outta here, ya bottom-scrubbing amateur. Leave the important stuff to the Big Boys. I don’t wanna see you and your friends involved with this anymore. We had too many killings of this nature already.” The next few days feature headline articles in the Observer noting the death of Jackson Elias in the obituary and his funeral date. A little more digging around in the local newspapers unveils some leads above and beyond the scraps of paper they’ve already found (and kept hidden) from Lt. Poole. (and this more or less ends the involvement of Poole in the campaign). They find references to the Prospero House, Jackson’s publisher, and Huey gives Miriam Artwright a call, asking about the book she failed to find for Jackson, Africa’s Dark Sects (Dark Sex! Which spawned a juvenile campaign-long joke that has never gotten old). It mysteriously vanished from the Harvard library a few months ago. They also tell Miriam that they want to drive up and show her the peculiar symbol found on Jackson’s head. She agrees to a future meeting. The party decides they should next go to Prospero House, the publisher of Jackson’s books on religious cults, and speak directly with Jonah Kensington, the editor-in-chief. Maybe he can shed some more light on what is going on, and what exactly happened to Jackson Elias. And there we stopped. [/QUOTE]
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