Resurrection City IV: Et In Arcadia Ego

"Well, not right in," Sosostris/Harrington says. "You'll have to be speaking with Ferencz's bodyguard first. Tell him your reasons, and that I sent you."

*****

The men proceed up the plank road outside of Madame Sosostris' parlor to a garishly painted wagon in bright reds, golds, and blues. On a bench outside the door sits a Gypsy man. He is a massive, round-headed man and as you approach he is engaged in cleaning his teeth with a thin knife.
 

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"Are ye Ferencz's bodyguard? Madame Sosostris sent us. We'd like an audience with the doctor." Jamison pauses and looks at Trevor and Hewitt, stumped for a reason that doesn't end up as "we're wondering why the East End can't sleep, and we'd like to stop yer nefarious plans."
 

Trevor smiles disarmingly.

[OOC: Trevor doesn't really have anything useful to add to what Diggory's already said. Just wanted you to know I hadn't disappeared. :) I WILL be out tomorrow and through the week-end, though.]
 

The man looks at you with narrowed eyes as he slams his knife into the bench. It sticks there, its blade in the wood. "Just a moment," he says as he raps on the door.

After a moment, the Gypsy re-emerges. "Very well," he says, "go on in. Mind the dark," he calls after you as you enter the wagon. "Mr. Ferencz can't abide the light."

Inside, you find a large desk along the far wall, an aged bald man, exceedingly bulky, hunched over it. His back is towards you. A large section of the far wall is covered in large shelves, the shelves lined with a number of jars. The man raises his head as you enter. "So, you must be the ones Sosostris sent." He turns to look at you, and you recoil in horror as you notice that he has no eyes.

Will check time.
 

Trevor raises an eyebrow and regards Ferencz steadily. "Dr. Ferencz, I presume," he says with a short bow.

[OOC: Will Check: (20)=20 Natural 20!
If it's a Will Save, that's a 22, if it's a Wisdom check like before it's a...20! :) ]
 

Diggory says nothing. No matter how much he seems to want to be an occultist, he just can't seem to get used to the things he's been seeing.

[Will Save, roll of 7 on d20, +5 Will, total 12]
 

JimAde said:
Trevor raises an eyebrow and regards Ferencz steadily. "Dr. Ferencz, I presume," he says with a short bow.
"Baron Walsingham, I presume," the eyeless man says. Seeing Trevor's confusion -- "I know your voices, you see. I know all of your voices, although I know only the Baron here by sight. Let me see who I am talking to. Doctor, would you be so kind as to fetch me the jar on yon shelf with my name upon it?"

Dr. Hewitt walks over to the shelf. His eyes widen as he grabs a jar and hands it to the man you know by so many names -- Verdain, Yesset, and now Ferencz. As he takes it, you notice that the jar -- and presumably all of the others on the shelf -- contain two eyes. Ferencz unscrews the jar and sticks the eyes into his empty sockets. "Ahh, yes. You're a bit shorter than I'd pictured you, Inspector. These," he taps his finger on the jar, "are how I control them. You know who I speak of. Now, what is this all about?"
 

Jamison almost laughs at the man's comment, flashing a dumb grin. "My apologies, Doctor. We cannot choose our height." The Irishman pauses and resumes in a more serious tone, although his manners are carefully polite. "At the risk of sounding impertinent, I should think that if ye know our voices, ye already have a good sense of what this is all about. So, and I ask this with my most sincere apologies as I know how it must sound — what do ye suspect this is all about?"
 

"Why, about Pan, I should presume," he says. "About John McCarthy, also? And likely the Ripper, oh my yes. And poor, sweet, dear Mary. Oh, yes. Mary was a special one, she was. But one cannot rewrite the past, can they? One cannot see what... course a woman's actions may take. But at any rate, I assure you men, you will thank us for what we do here today. Pan will change things. For the better. While you may see only the beginnings of that, Inspector, Baron, Doctor, certainly your children, and your children's children will look back and thank us.

"The early details of my life are of no import to you, and too painful for me to recount. But it was then I began to read Spinoza and some of the Greeks which influenced him. Nature is God, they said, and an extremely powerful one it is. I developed then the beginnings of my current interests. It was 1817, then, when first I arrived in England from France. I set up a medical practice in... Fleet Street, I believe my first was. Then I moved to the London Hospital, and gave several lectures at Oxford and Cambridge. It was a man named Thomas Pellgraine - a rake through and through, I assure you - who helped me with my early works. I was trying to create a Panspermia, you see, a child born of no father, or rather, to Pan himself. So then..." he trails off.

The men turn to see the door of the wagon slowly swing open. Silhouetted by the evening's twilight is the figure of Harrington/Sosostris. She walks in unbidden. "Good evening to you, gentleman," she says, nodding towards you. "And Nystor, or should I say, Yesset?"

"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" Ferencz says in a shaky voice. "I was engaged in a conversation here. Gorgo!"

"Gorgo is, ahh, indisposed at the moment, you may find," she says. She takes a seat beside the door and places her finger on her chin. "You know, Nystor, it seems to me that your role in Hawksmoor's plan has been written out. You have served your purpose here."

"My role, Sosostris, but your interpretation of the role. I must still be here to guide it, to help it take the proper shape."

"There is your first mistake, Nystor," she says, rising. She draws a pistol and levels it at him. "Not Sosostris. Tera. Finally I have a name again. A name, and my own plans. Plans which do not include you!" There is a crack as the pistol is discharged and a crimson stain blooms on Ferencz's jacket. She smirks at Dr. Hewitt as he rushes over to Ferencz. "What did I tell you men? An unexpected turn of events." She points at a spot in the shadows along the wall and vanishes.
 

Walsingham swings his walking stick hard through the space Tera had stood a moment before. "Blast that woman and her flitting about," he mutters through gritted teeth.
 

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