Masks of Nyarlathotep: Chapter 2 (London)
Barendd Nobeard
Explorer
Father O'Malley can feel the warmth drain from Croydon's hand. The newcomer grows pale; he disengages his hand from Fr. O'Malley to steady himself by placing his hand on the table. He closes his eyes for a few seconds, as he attempts to regain his composure.
"M-murder?" Sadness washes over his wan face. "When? How? By whom!?" The sadness has been replaced by determination and a hint of anger. A bit of colour has returned to his face.
"M-murder?" Sadness washes over his wan face. "When? How? By whom!?" The sadness has been replaced by determination and a hint of anger. A bit of colour has returned to his face.
Vendetta
First Post
Of all the... Jack thinks as he shovels a forkload of eggs into his face. How is it that we come to the other side of the world and someone knows us? The ex-cop starts shoveling the food in faster, pretty sure that any minute now, their breakfast is going to be over. When he's cleared most of his plate and notes the hint of anger in the new arrivals voice, Jack picks up his coffee cup (blasted lousy Brittish coffee and their d@mn tea), as he interjects, "How?" Jack takes a drink from his cup while everyone looks at him, "You said you wanted to help... how? What do you know? What sort of books did you acquire for Mr. Elias?" Jack takes yet another deep drink of coffee, thinking perhaps that will be the last of it... not that it would really have been much of a loss.
Barendd Nobeard
Explorer
"I-I-I'm not sure," he stammers. "I mean about how to help. I just came to offer help. I didn't really iron out the particulars on the way over."
"As for the books, there were two books and some other items. I was stationed in Dublin, during the Anglo-Irish War. My sister put us in touch, for Jackson had mentioned to her that he was interested in some Gaelic manuscripts. Mr. Elias had contacted the owner, but could not travel to Ireland due to the war. He wrote that he needed someone in country to handle the transaction."
Croydon cocks his head to one side, with a thoughful expression on his face. Then he continues. "There was a large bound volume called the Lebor Bretnach--this would translate as the 'Historia Brittonum' but is known informally as the 'Irish Nennius'--and a smaller volume of bound writings with no title. I tried to read them, but could not. The 'Nennius' was in Gaelic, which I know, but was not of a form with which I am familiar. It looked like Middle Irish, to my unscholary eye. The smaller volume was something else entirely. I could not read it, so I have no idea what it contained.
"The other items were fragments--single pieces of writing, each lasting no more than a few pages. One of these was in Gaelic, and appeared to be some sort of translation of another text. Another of them was in the strange language of the smaller bound volume. The third was definitely a translation, for it contained both Gaelic and what I believe to be the same language as the unidentified volume. Also, Jackson mentioned that it was the key to some of the other writings. He even called it his 'Rosetta Stone'. And that it what I know of the items I procured for Mr. Jackson."
He looks around the table. "Are there any other questions for me?"
"As for the books, there were two books and some other items. I was stationed in Dublin, during the Anglo-Irish War. My sister put us in touch, for Jackson had mentioned to her that he was interested in some Gaelic manuscripts. Mr. Elias had contacted the owner, but could not travel to Ireland due to the war. He wrote that he needed someone in country to handle the transaction."
Croydon cocks his head to one side, with a thoughful expression on his face. Then he continues. "There was a large bound volume called the Lebor Bretnach--this would translate as the 'Historia Brittonum' but is known informally as the 'Irish Nennius'--and a smaller volume of bound writings with no title. I tried to read them, but could not. The 'Nennius' was in Gaelic, which I know, but was not of a form with which I am familiar. It looked like Middle Irish, to my unscholary eye. The smaller volume was something else entirely. I could not read it, so I have no idea what it contained.
"The other items were fragments--single pieces of writing, each lasting no more than a few pages. One of these was in Gaelic, and appeared to be some sort of translation of another text. Another of them was in the strange language of the smaller bound volume. The third was definitely a translation, for it contained both Gaelic and what I believe to be the same language as the unidentified volume. Also, Jackson mentioned that it was the key to some of the other writings. He even called it his 'Rosetta Stone'. And that it what I know of the items I procured for Mr. Jackson."
He looks around the table. "Are there any other questions for me?"
Vendetta
First Post
While the newcommer rattles on, Jack lights up a cigarette... Looks like he'd have had a bit more time than he had thought. Ah well... a nice smoke after a meal always helped relax him...though, a Vodka tonic... THAT'd really do the trick. Funny though, they were in England now and that meant booze was legal! Yet, Jack hadn't drank very much, if any, since their arrival. He drank like a fish on the way over the Atlantic (he'd always hated boats), but since then... none. It was good, he thought to himself, that he wasn't drinking. He couldn't think straight when he was liquered up... even when he was sober but between benders.
"How about symbols?" Jack asks when Croydon finishes. "Any symbols that you might be able to recognize if you saw them again in all those papers?"
"How about symbols?" Jack asks when Croydon finishes. "Any symbols that you might be able to recognize if you saw them again in all those papers?"
Barendd Nobeard
Explorer
"Yes, I suppose so. There were some unusual symbols mixed in with the text. I might recognize them if I saw them again."
Barendd Nobeard
Explorer
Croydon studies the paper for a few seconds. "No, nothing like that."
Gomez
First Post
Willian looks at Croyden and as if I light went off in his head as his face brightens. "Is your sister, Jenny Talbot? I remember Jackson talking about you and your sister. You did some research for him on one of his books!" He stands up and shakes Croyden's hand. "I am William T. Llewellyn-Phelps, I was born in Merthyr Tydfil, Wales but I have been living in New York for the past 10 years. Let me introduce everyone. This is Jack Chance, Jibril al Qurayshi, and Father Sean O’Malley"
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