Masks of Nyarlathotep - Chapter 1: New York City

[Festy_Dog]

Hamish reloads his pistol and returns it to his pocket, he then turns to his brother to make sure he's alright.

"Y'alright there bro'ter?" he asks, then looks to everyone else, "Shorty said this voodoo is bad stuff. We needs some lookin' to."

Hamish glances at the wound in his shoulder, frowning more at the damaged clothing than the injury. All this time though he avoids looking at the dead zombies, and the pit which contains the creature, as if he's pretending they're not there.

 

[Yellow Sign]

With Father Joes words, Carter stands and you see him try and compose himself. Wiping the vommit from his mouth, he turns to Joe a wild look on his face. "But Father, how are we going to get out of this hell hole. Don't forget there are God only knows how many crazed murderers up that stairs waiting for us. And who knows what other horrors await us down here. WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE DOWN HERE!!!" screams Carter. The pistol in his hands begins to shake and tears start to stream down his face again. The pistol drops to the floor and Carter places his hands on his face and he begins to sob again.

Thomas watches as Professor Carter begins to break up. He then thinks he hears what sounds like gun shots and yelling from the corridor and up the stairs.

 

[Toric_Arthendain]

Joe looks at the professor helplessly as he begins to break down again. He then picks up the professor's dropped gun and turns to Thomas. "The professor needs help but there is nothing we can do for him while we're stuck down here. We've got to find a way out."

Upon hearing the gunshots upstairs, Joe turns quickly to look in that direction, holding the gun in his right hand and the spear in his left. "Now what?"

 

[Krug]

Thomas goes to the trapdoor and tries to open it. The claustrophobia and the zombies lifeless bodies is getting to him. "GET ME OUT OF HERE GET ME OUTTA HERE GET ME OUTTA HERE!"

 

[Festy_Dog]

Hamish opens and shuts his mouth, wanting to say something reassuring to the others, though upon hearing gunshots his head darts to their direction.

"It's coppers!" he says in a panic, "Out the fckin' fryin' pan an' inna' the fire! We get caught down 'ere packin' heat and we're in deep sht!"

Hamish now really starts to appear panicked, looking for a place to hide and muttering that they might not find the trapdoor if they're lucky.

 

[Yellow Sign]

The sounds of gunfire and shouting fades as Thomas yells and pounds on the trapdoor with his good hand. Shorty swings his head from looking at the trapdoor to his brother Hamish who begins to look about for a place to hide. Father Joe comforts Professor Carter whose sobs have begun to quiet down.

Thomas hears feet above him and the sound of something heavy being moved away from the trapdoor. Someone tries to open the locked door and then he hears a voice yell. "Move away from the door we are going to shoot the lock." Four muffled shots later the door swings open. Two policemen look down on Thomas with their guns drawn. One of the policemen has a bleeding cut on his cheek. He yells "Drop that gun mister and come out with your hands in the air!"

 

[Yellow Sign]

January 16th, 1926 - 10:43 PM - New York Times Writer's Bullpen

Evelyn was working late on a friday night. She was trying to finish up that piece on the blackmail attempt on a important city judge. Guy Randle was working late too. She could see him glance over in her direction every minute or two. The mug was nice to look at but pure creep inside. His phone rang and he picks it up. After a few yes's and ok's he hangs up. He looks over to Evelyn with an excited look on his face. "Hey there is some sort of riot going down in Harlem. Police are mixing it up with some big gang of negros. Lots of gunplay too! What a story!" He stands up and grabs his coat and hat.

 

[Krug]

Thomas drops the gun and steps carefully out, hands in the air. "Oh the horror... the horror!"

 

[KitanaVorr]

New York Times Writer's Bullpen
January 16th, 1926 - 10:43 PM

The radio played in the background while she chewed on her pencil, alternately tapping it against her lips. Just a couple more sentances...the right sentences and the whole piece would be finished.

Guy Randle's presence didn't help her concentration any. Another one of those annoying men who thought just because she was a working woman, it was quite alright to oogle her like some jazz singing tramp in a speakeasy.

Yet she knew that her looks were pretty exotic even for New York at times...the combination of an American father and an Egyptian mother brought out her mother's spectacular skin, dark eyes and father's stubborn chin. Not to mention that she, as always, dressed in fashion two tiers higher than anyone in the entire office, including the editor.

"Gunplay in Harlem?" that caught her attention right off, and she grabbed at her handbag which served as her carry-all, her coat and perky hat. Setting it on her head, she headed out the door, heels clicking against the pavement to the nearest taxi.

"What are you waiting for, slowpoke? It'll all be finished by the time we get there if we don't hoof it!"

 

[Toric_Arthendain]

Hearing the police telling Thomas to drop his gun and come out with his hands up, Joe closes his eyes briefly and sighs. After a moment to compose himself, he drops Professor Carter's gun and the spear and moves to the bottom of the trap door.

"Officers, we have injured men down here, including Thomas there." Joe points to the Englishman. "His arm doesn't look too good. And you might want to send down men with strong stomachs. There are things that aren't natural to be seen down here."

If any of the officers come down, Joe will introduce himself. "Father Joe Savino, from Saint Catherine's in the village." He'll then point to the bodies of the zombies. "What do you make of those? And there is something in that pit," he says pointing to the hole in the ground, "but I haven't had a chance to look at it yet."

Joe tries to sound calm as he talks to the officers, hoping that the strangeness of the scene will keep them from asking too many questions about why the group is down in this place to begin with.