[CoC] Log: Fifth Session

[pyrephox]

Logfile from SamingaMU.

On first look, it appears to be a travelogue of the manner that many young men heading to foreign parts keep, organized exceptionally well, as if for eventual publication. Some small notes are scribbled in the margins here and there, the author critiquing himself. From a quick glance, there doesn't seem anything worth such worry.

Imogen leans over to get a good look at the book herself.

Roderick frowns over the book. "Not... quite what I had expected," he admits after a moment.

[OOC] Keeper says, "It will take a week to read this book, and about three days to skim it. It's a fairly hefty text, handwritten, and with no noticible index."

"This is going to take a while," Imogen says quietly. "Perhaps we could borrow them?"

Roderick taps the lending slip with one hand. "We'll have to take this one... and a few others... out." He gestures at the stacks on the table.

For what it is worth, the other book, resting underneath the bigger, seems much thinner.

Imogen snags it, and opens it.

'Darkest Africa' thumps to the table, dislodging more dust, as Imogen snags the slim volume underneath. This has the familiar heft and manner of a personal diary, with an engraved plate in the front cover with Alexander's name. The first few pages are definitely written in the same, small but elegant hand.

Imogen bends over the book, and reads a bit.

The first bit of the book is about the details of organizing a personal expedition to Africa. The time frame appears to be about fifteen years ago, based on some hints of London events in the text. The author seems young, excited, and idealistic. A passage towards the beginning is as follows:

"The aim of my mission is to further awareness and brotherhood between the Christian and the heathen. As we bring them from their benighted existence into the light of reason and civilization, it is my hope that we may forge a new understanding between us. In this endeavor, I am lucky to have such a patron as Mr. C_____, who understands the need to forge such relations"

Imogen makes a mental note of Mr. C____, and flips to the middle of the book, randomly.

Roderick looks towards Imogen, and towards the book, eagerly.

The middle of the book starts to...deteriorate. The entries are shorter, punctuated more strongly. There are stains, green stains from leaf or grass, as well as the circular markings of rain drops, or possibly sweat. A passage towards the middle catches Imogen's eyes:

"I believe I was mistaken. The N'gnwe, while certainly savage and fierce, seem possessed of some ability that I do not believe my White guides properly ken. I hesitate to, as other tribes do, label this 'witchcraft', for surely nought such as that can exist in these rational times. Perhaps it is, instead, a new understanding of the natural world that the rest of mankind may profit by. I must investigate further"

Imogen fairly /grins/ with interest. She taps Roderick on the wrist lightly and indicates the passage.

On the couch, Catherine's eyelids droop. The older woman seems to be nodding into a nap.

Roderick leans in, reading it himself. "Well, well," he murmurs.

"Mmhm," Imogen comments, and reads on. Perhaps he mentions the N'gnwe more...
As it happens, he does! After about three pages of anthropological and personal notes, there is an entry:

"Success! As it happens, Mr. C_____ has some knowledge of the N'gnwe. Although he is White, his wife is not, and she has a kinship acquaintance with one of their tribal chiefs. I shall be introduced on the morrow..."

Roderick frowns deeply as he reads that passage.

"A mixed marriage. How ... unpleasant," Imogen comments.

[OOC] Keeper says, "All of you give me Know rolls, please?"

Imogen rolls 1d100 for 81

Timothy rolls 1d100 for 8

Roderick rolls 1d100 for 15

You paged (Timothy, Roderick) with 'As it happens, you do actually know of /one/ mixed marriage in London society, although not among the nobles, of course. A French expatriate of the merchant class...a Gilbert Crescone. His wife is Indian, not African, however. They throw very extravagant parties, however, and it's just 'exotic' enough to irritate your parents, Roderick. Timothy, you know that they fired most of their good English staff, and replaced them with foreigners.'.

Timothy frowns slightly, but doesn't comment without prompting.

Roderick makes a noise in his throat, and shakes his head.

Imogen looks questioningly at Roderick.

"It would not make sense, if it was the gentleman I am thinking of," Roderick says. He looks towards Timothy. "Crescone's wife was from the Subcontinent, not Africa, was she not, Mister Timothy?"

Imogen's eyebrows go up.

Timothy nods briefly. "That she is, m'lord. Brought in a whole set of foreigners to staff the house, no doubt to make her feel more at home."

Imogen says "Then how would she be /kin/ to the N- ... nugin ... that tribe?"

Roderick nods. "My question exactly. I can not think of anyone else who would have financed young Mister Alexander's expedition, however." He shakes his head. "Still, perhaps..."

Imogen considers. "You know this Crescone?"

[OOC] Roderick looks to the Keeper. "I presume I've been to a party or three...?"

[OOC] Keeper says, "Yup. Been to a few of his more fashionable parties. You've not spoken much with the man himself, though. He has a reputation for being a dreadful workaholic, and only shows briefly throughout the evening, usually to talk to a business associate."

Roderick nods. "We've met a few times. He throws quite the party, you see."

[OOC] Roderick says, "Ever seen his wife?"

Imogen smiles a bit to herself, and bends back over the book. "Perhaps we should pay him a social call."

[OOC] Keeper says, "You have. A very attractive Indian woman, who dresses in formal British clothes, and doesn't seem to speak much. The ladies at the party tend to be terribly (although politely) condescending to her. The running theory is that she doesn't understand that they're mocking her."

[OOC] Roderick makes note, OOCly, that that could lead to all SORTS of trouble. ICly, Roderick quietly shuffles a few idle afternoon's thoughts out of his head.

[OOC] Imogen agrees, OOCly. Imogen is an information addict, though.

Roderick taps his fingers on the table. "You may have something there."

"Mm," Imogen agrees. She keeps reading -- what happened after they met this family contact?

For several pages, there is conspicuously nothing. The entries are terse, usually only one or two words, marking the date and 'More later'. Finally, there is a longer entry:

"More than I had hoped for, more than I had dreamed! The awesome, terrible majesty of it is not something I can forget. Every time I close my eyesI dream of nothing else. I have much to learn."

Imogen says "How ... interesting."

Roderick's frown deepens.

From the couch, a gentle snoring can be heard.

Roderick glances towards the couch, and the frown fades to a small smile. He shakes his head.

Imogen follows Roderick's gaze. "... the intellectual tends to tax Catherine."

"A rare blessing," the Viscount replies dryly.

Imogen says "Indeed."

Imogen touches the text on the page lightly. "I wonder what he found."

"An interesting question." Lord Roderick pauses in thought. "I wonder if we can ask him."

[OOC] Keeper says, "The diary doesn't end there, by the way. :)"

"We may not need to. Perhaps he'll tell us." Imogen keeps reading.

It appears that the page after that entry gets a bit odd. For one, only parts are in English. There's writing in French, Greek, and Latin, and unlike the neat lines that came before, the writing wanders and skips, writes over itself, and is occassionally just pure gibberish. The next (somewhat) readable entry is marked by brownish stains:

(A passage in French)(A passage in Latin)(A passage in Greek.) (English) Oh the feasting! It fills my head until all is stars and black."

[OOC] Roderick will make rolls, for he speaks French, Latin, and Greek! At... er... 10 percent each (5 on Latin).

[OOC] Keeper grins. Go for it.

[OOC] Roderick says, "F, L, G."

Roderick rolls 1d100 for 46

Roderick rolls 1d100 for 2

Roderick rolls 1d100 for 28

[OOC] Roderick says, "Hey! I can read the Latin! Go me!"

[OOC] Keeper says, "Check Latin!"

[OOC] Imogen says, "Can I try to read the Greek? I have 21 percent."

Imogen rolls 1d100 for 44

[OOC] Keeper says, "You may!"

[OOC] Imogen says, "I cannot!"

[OOC] Keeper says, "Alas!"

[OOC] Roderick says, "We'll have to go get translating tomes."

[OOC] Imogen says, "Oooo, dictionaries."

[OOC] Timothy says, "Mmm. Dictionaries."

[OOC] Roderick says, "...the brownish stains. They wouldn't happen to resemble the sort of brown that come when one bleeds on the paper, hm?"

You paged Roderick with 'The Latin passage appears to be only a part of a sentence: "...many things. Whole new vistas of knowledge open to my willing hands by..."'.

[OOC] Timothy says, "...I mean, er. Wouldn't know none of this funny foreign language stuff."

[OOC] Keeper says, "Y'know, Roderick, they just /might/."

[OOC] Keeper says, "Imogen, by the way, roll for the other languages. You have a 01 chance, but you may get one. :)"

Imogen rolls 1d100 for 58

Imogen rolls 1d100 for 36

[OOC] Keeper says, "Timothy, you can, too, if you're peering over anyone's shoulder."

[OOC] Imogen remains Ignorant.

[OOC] Timothy says, "...oh, what the heck, why not."

Timothy rolls 1d100 for 24

Timothy rolls 1d100 for 70

Timothy rolls 1d100 for 76

[OOC] Keeper says, "Alas, no DIs."

Roderick murmurs the Latin, then translates it. "I fear I don't recognize the other passages. It has been some time since my schoolboy days," he says with a small smile.

[OOC] Keeper uses this as an opportunity to point out, however, that you can always roll!

The Latin translation is a fragment of a passage: "...many things. Whole new vistas of knowledge open to my willing hands by..."

"He seems to have ... gone slightly awry, in his accuracy and scholarship," Imogen understates.

Roderick nods. "Quite," is all he says.

Timothy stands placidly to the side, waiting to be called upon to carry books, unconscious women, or what not.

"I wonder where he is now." Imogen flips through the book a bit more, looking for readable tidbits.

The coherency decreases as the number of languages increases. Alexander abandons all pretense of lines, and the words scrawl all over the page, along with strange sketches, and occassional dark stains. One of these sketches is of a squat, almost humanoid creature, with huge, clawed hands curled around gems. One of those hands looks awful familiar...

Imogen blinks at that. And fishes the hand out of its bag in her handbag, to compare.

Roderick frowns, and suddenly steps around to be between Imogen and Catherine, in the event she DOES suddenly stir.

The diamond in the statue's broken hand catches the light with a cold, almost yellow, sparkle as Imogen hauls it out. It does, indeed, seem to match that which is sketched.

Timothy attempts to peer at the page and hand alike without looking to be anything other than politely bored and staring off into the distance.

"/Ah/," Imogen says, satisfied.

The diamond sparkles again, a deep, poisonous yellow glint deep within, and the page that they are looking at begins to twitch and writhe.

Imogen's eyes go /wide/, and she stands up, her chair clattering to the floor.

"Well, we know where this came from, then." Roderick nods. "I was right..." He frowns and shakes his head to clear it.

Timothy moves to set the chair upright again. "M'lady?"

Imogen says "Did you see that?"

The paper parts with a soft hiss, and long, black, worms erupt from the page, welling upward and spilling over the text, across the page, and down onto the table, twisting and squirming with blind hunger.

[OOC] Keeper says, "Ye three make Sanity rolls, if you would be so kind?"

Roderick rolls 1d100 for 65

Imogen rolls 1d100 for 6

[OOC] Roderick says, "Wheefail!"

Timothy rolls 1d100 for 9

Cythraul has arrived.

[OOC] Imogen says, "My god, I pass!"

[OOC] Timothy is so /very/ stolid.

[OOC] Roderick says, "Yay for being Insane!"

[OOC] Keeper says, "Poor Roderick. 1d4."

Roderick rolls 1d4 for 2

Keeper rolls 1d100 for 14

Catherine, on the couch, twitches and starts to awaken at the sound of the falling chair.

Timothy gives the wriggling book a suspicious look, and takes a half step back. "...bookworms, m'lord? Some imported tropical snake that's been hiding in there?"

Imogen backs away from the worms. "/Eugh/."

[OOC] Timothy may be stolid, but even he at least finds this /odd/.

Roderick goes pale, and lifts a hand to his mouth. "God Above," he murmurs.

Imogen says "That is, ah. That is. /Eugh/. Very odd. Yes."

Timothy moves to grab a book and squash the mess, but hesitates mid-stride. The librarians might not take kindly to having their books used as bludgeoning instruments.

A few of the worms squirm off the table and fall to the floor with curiously heavy, liquid, plopping sounds. Catherine's eye is drawn to them, and she sucks in a startled breath. Instead of screaming, however, she shows English Servant Solidarity, and promptly stands up and begins crushing the fallen ones with her feet. To Timothy, she snaps, "Well, man? Swat them! I said this book learning would come to no good, so I did," she mutters.

Roderick scoops up his walking cane, and swings. Admittedly, he isn't swinging with particular accuracy -- is that an unease in his hands? -- but he's trying...

Timothy promptly picks up the second, heavier book, and goes for the brute force method of dealing with strangeness. Mostly what's still on the table, as they're conveniently centrally located.

Imogen attempts to stamp on the ones that fell on the floor.

Timothy gives Catherine a sharp look as he squashes, but doesn't say anything to her, politely or otherwise.

Each worm, hit by cane, book, or foot, bursts with a thick gush of foul-smelling liquid, as black as the worms themselves.

Imogen wrinkles her nose. "/Eugh/," she repeats.

Imogen says "Where did they /come/ from?"

Timothy eyes the gooey remains strewn across the book he's been using, and hopes the librarians don't blame it on him.

Once a sufficient number of the worms are squished, Theodore reaches over to close the journal. "They were in /there/," he points out.

Imogen says "Yes, but /how/?"

The journal closes easily, and lies there, utterly harmless. Catherine shakes a bit of gunk off of the toe of her shoe, and moves over to Imogen. "Are you well, my lady? Are you hurt?" She pulls out a hankie and offers it.

Timothy sets the book he was using gingerly back down on the table. "Possibly some...infestation of creatures from the jungles, m'lord. Carried across in the book."

Imogen takes the handkerchief. "I'm fine, Catherine."

Catherine sniffs at Timothy's suggestion. "I say. A very good reason to keep your feet firmly on home shores, I'd think!" She gives Imogen a Significant Look at this.

Imogen ignores the Significant Look, out of long habit.

Lord Roderick nods to Timothy. "Perhaps... eggs. Caught in the binding, yes." He swallows.

Imogen says "That sounds plausible."

Timothy is accustomed to these sorts of justifications, though more frequently to explain m'lord's suddenly discovered awkward circumstances, and nods politely along.

Catherine fusses around Imogen, checking her hems for worm infestation, or worse, too much flesh exposed.

Imogen ignores /that/, too, though she'd really prefer to not be infested with worms. Especially /those/.

[OOC] Roderick says, "Where's the hand? Imogen, still holding it, or...?"

[OOC] Imogen says, "I think I've still got it."

[OOC] Keeper says, "In your hand?"

[OOC] Imogen says, "...yeah..."

[OOC] Timothy snickers. Doooooom.

[OOC] Imogen meep.

As she's fussing, Catherine looks up to see the stone hand, and the diamond, in Imogen's hand. Her eyes widen. "M'lady! What..." She leans closer to it.

[OOC] Imogen says, "Ah, g/yah/."

"One of the library's artifacts," Imogen lies through her teeth.

Roderick nods his head. "If m'lady will return it to me, I shall see it returned." He holds out his hand.

Imogen pauses. Sighs, infinitesimally. Hands it over.

"Wha...but...is that a DIAMOND?" Catherine's voice rises on the last bit, as she tries to get a closer look at the artifact as it changes hands. "They have diamonds at the library?"

Roderick nods, smiling weakly, as he glances down at the diamond to see if it still glows. "It /is/ the Library of the British Museum," he says absently.

[OOC] Imogen says, "Thank you, having hysterical giggle fits now."

The diamond glitters coldly, but without any hint of yellow. Catherine blinks, confused, and suddenly recalls her duty. Eyes still wide with curiosity, she says, "Yes, m'lord," and pointedly looks away from the artifact, to the books.

[OOC] Keeper says, "Yay for giggle fits!"

Imogen looks at the book. Hesitates. Opens it again, very fast, like it was going to bite her.

The book flops open. There's a stain in the middle of the page where one of the worms wiggled under and got squished.

Imogen says "Looks normal /now/..."

Roderick nods. "Quite normal," he agrees. "Utterly normal. Where were we?"

"Crescone?" Imogen asks.

Catherine pulls out another hankerchief, and starts attempting to clean up the fluid left by the worms, first from her feet, then from the table.

Timothy quietly passes Catherine another handkerchief. Though he's not about to start wiping things down unless ordered to do so.

"Right. Absolutely. Crescone." He glances towards Catherine. Frowning, he gestures towards Timothy. Trying to look good, here!

[OOC] Keeper snickers.

Catherine accepts the hankie with a curt nod and falls to with a will.

Timothy briskly pulls out /another/ handkerchief (one does need certain emergency supplies for when m'lord has had too much to drink, before it sets all over his fine white shirts) and begins cleaning off the Book Of Thwacking.

Imogen says "Can we still ... take these out for further research?"

Roderick nods. "Of course we can. I'll have them stored in a safe portion of my study." He looks towards Timothy again.

Timothy finishes wiping down the book of thwacking, and promptly begins gathering books up into his arms. "All of these, m'lord?"

Catherine mutters, "I don't think these stains are going to come out, my lady. Not all of them. Oh, and your /shoes/," she exclaims, turning to look at Imogen's feet with alarm.

Imogen sighs a bit. "I have more shoes."

Catherine shakes her head and tuts.

Roderick nods towards Timothy. "Yes, all of them, I think. It will be a long night of research ahead, if I am to produce text."

Timothy says "As you say, m'lord."

Catherine gives Roderick another brief, approving look. The mental checklist can almost be seen: Studious, check. Hard-working, check.

Timothy makes a mental note to have a bottle of wine decanted in preparation. The sort that m'lord usually takes when drinking alone instead of in company.

Imogen is long-practiced at disguising her general disgust as to how /she/ never gets to stay up til all hours with the books, and has to do everything in fits and snatches. "I do hope to hear about your research, Viscount."

Roderick taps his jaw. "Perhaps, Lady Faville-Smith... you and your companion could accompany me back? Your facility with languages could prove useful." He looks towards Catherine. "If, of course, you have no objection to spending a portion of the evening at my house here in the city?"

Imogen actually /beams/ at Roderick. "I'd be honored."

Catherine sucks in a breath and raises herself up. "That wouldn't be proper, my lord. Not at all." She gives Imogen a Look. "My lady, think of your reputation!"
[OOC] Keeper says, "Fast Talk, for the record, would be appropriate here. ;)"

Imogen rolls 1d100 for 60

[OOC] Roderick says, "Should I roll?"

[OOC] Keeper says, "If you're going to try and persuade her, yes. :)"

Roderick rolls 1d100 for 97

[OOC] Roderick says, "Damn it!"

[OOC] Roderick mutters, darkly.

[OOC] Timothy says, "...damn. /I/ might have a better chance at sweet-talking her than you two are managing."

[OOC] Keeper facepalms. "There's always hitting her over the head."

[OOC] Timothy says, "Well, I do have fast-talk, though I don't know how I'd employ it in these circumstances. Should I go ahead and give it a try?"

[OOC] Keeper says, "By all means. Possibly by reassuring her of the propriety of the situation?"

[OOC] Timothy will give it a shot, and pose according to the roll.
Timothy rolls 1d100 for 60

[OOC] Timothy says, "...sigh."

Timothy makes a vaguely reassuring discreet gesture towards Catherine, but can't really put his heart into it, knowing m'lord.

Catherine raises an eyebrow and remains unmoved. "It simply isn't /done/ for a lady of quality to have such an...intimate meeting with a lord." She gives Roderick the evil eye. "My lord should not even have suggested it!"

Roderick retreats, on the defensive, trying to make up lost space. "You are, of course, correct," he says with some measure of contrition. "I fear my scholarly leanings got the better of my thoughts of propriety."

Imogen looks chagrined. "Mine as well, Catherine. I cannot tell what I was thinking."

Catherine hmphs. "You are too rash by far, my lady. Your lady mother was clearly right to have me accompany you."

Imogen nods to Catherine. "Quite likely," she says, wry.

Roderick nods his head. "Apologies are most certainly in order," he says. "Again, I can't imagine what I was thinking." He shakes his head.

"Perhaps," Imogen tries, "you could call upon me if you have questions about the languages. All within the proper courtesies."

Catherine looks moderately mollified, and nods to them both, smoothing down the front of her dress. "An afternoon visit would not be outside the realms of propriety," she suggests. "You could have a nice tea, and talk about the Viscount's research."

Imogen nods. "That sounds lovely," she says.

Roderick's smile returns. "Tea would be capital, yes."

Catherine nods, and starts attempting to wipe at another stain.

Imogen says "I should let you go read, Viscount."

Roderick nods, slowly. "I imagine so; I suppose I should be getting both yourself and your companion back to your home."

Imogen smiles a bit. "I suppose so."

Timothy stands ready, arms full of books, to follow along in the wake of m'lord.
Roderick nods to Timothy. "Very good, Timothy." He sighs. "Shall we?" He steps to the door, opening it.

Timothy follows along promptly.

Catherine takes up guarddog position behind Imogen.

Imogen follows Timothy, then.

[OOC] Roderick says, "I presume we go back to the carriage, and drop off Imogen... anything happening along the way?"

Keeper rolls 1d100 for 8

[OOC] Roderick says, "That just can't be good."

[OOC] Imogen says, "No, it really can't."

You paged Timothy with 'That carriage you saw before? Still there. As you pull away into the street, it just coincidentally seems to fall in some distance behind you, weaving behind a couple of other carriages. But you can keep a eye on it.'.

[OOC] Keeper smiles.

From afar, Timothy will certainly be doing so.

The carriage pulls back into the dreary day, and nothing notable happens on the way to Lady Imogen's house. The streets are full and bustling; London's day trade is in full swing.

Imogen bids Roderick goodbye, quite formally. "Until the afternoon, Viscount."
Roderick nods in perfectly formal reply. "Until the afternoon, Lady Faville-Smith."

Catherine curtseys when they leave the carriage, a polite shadow behind Imogen.

Timothy leans back towards the window. "Home, m'lord? Or elsewhere?"

Roderick flops back against his cushions. "The club, Timothy. If all else fails, there's always gin and a hand or three of whist... and perhaps someone's heard something more about Monsieur Crescone than you or I recall."

Timothy says "As you say, m'lord."

You paged Timothy with 'As you pull away from the Lady's home, you notice that you've lost your tail.'.

As they ride, Lord Roderick gingerly, almost -- but only because he's in private is it even that much -- fearfully lifts up that journal, and returns to the goo-marked page, flipping onwards... but only once he's set his hat down over the hand to make sure it and the page are nowhere near each other.

The page where the worms burst forth is torn, a neat little rip over the central mass of the sketch. That's the only page torn, and the pages underneath show no indication of eggs, larva, or other signs of infestation. They are scrawled in a wild profusion of languages, including, now, Egyptian hieroglyphs.

On what appears to be the last page of the diary, a final entry is made, in surprisingly legible, and suprisingly monolingual script:

"The Dancer spoke in the dream. I will be a missionary to my home land, disciple to a new age of enlightenment. The manuscript is almost finished. It is only necessary to find a printer who understands. Or does not understand..."

[OOC] Imogen ooo. Meep!

[OOC] Timothy drivedriveobliviousdrive.

[OOC] Keeper sends the ninja bluebirds after Timothy.

Roderick closes the diary, grimacing. "Madmen in league with heathens. This simply could not get worse," he declares. In all likelihood, utterly foolishly.