The Bloody Fog

Episode Two, Scene Three
London Museum of Natural History

The room erupts in chaos. The crowd screams and tears away from the stage in a blind panic. Seamus is caught in the flood of people, but he sees that up on the second floor balcony, a mysterious figure turns quickly from the railing. He suspects this was the source of the strange whispering right before Burnham was attacked. He points up and shouts at the guards that someone is upstairs. “There’s no other way out from up there but the main stairs,” one calls back. Seamus tells them to go after the man, but the guards quickly get caught up in making sure the crowd makes it out of the museum without injury. Seamus fights his way back towards the stage, deciding he should run out out to the carriage to retrieve the Hawthorne Club’s weapons, not knowing that Corman and Rikard are already on their way out back.

The Guardians and the Scorpions charge over the stage towards the Hawthornes. Both Pierre and Joel get overwhelmed by the 20-square-foot wave of arachnids, which works its way around their protective clothing to start stinging and clawing. Captain John meets one of the lanky Guardians, and catches a scimitar swipe across the chest that stuns him. The other Guardian mummy menaces Joel, but the bulky seaman dodges its attack. Joel uses the handy bottle in his hand to try to knock the thing’s head off, but the Guardian takes the glass punch like it was nothing. Capt. John shouts and points at the headless body of Francis Burnham, and Dr. Utric takes the hint when he sees the handles of two revolvers sticking out of the dead man’s belt. The doctor hurries over to the body, and fishes the weapons out from under Burnham’s coat. He hands one up to Capt. Feeney and keeps one for himself.

Capt. Feeney fires a shot into one Guardian’s shoulder. It slows the monster down, but does not stop him. The swarm continues to chew away at Joel, although Pierre is able to stumble away and shake the scorpions off him. Dr. Utric shoots through a Guardian, but it doesn’t flinch before chopping a slice out of the Doctor’s shoulder with its sword. Seamus has made his way through the crowd, but decides he’ll never get to the carriage and back in time to be of any use in this fight. He changes course and rushes up onto the stage, where he pries the lid off of the child’s sarcophagus and finds a young skeleton adorned with gold jewelry. To distract the monsters, he grabs the child’s skull and raises it up in the air, shouting at the Guardians, “Stop!” To his surprise, they actually pause in their attacks and turn to face him.

Capt. Feeney takes the opportunity to charge up to the Guardian and shoot it through the back of the skull. It explodes and the figure collapses in a heap of petrified flesh and bone. Pierre rushes forward and pushes the other Guardian, so that it trips into the marauding scorpions. The fallen Mummy crawls its way through the swarm towards Seamus and stands up again to attack. Det. Seamus shatters the child’s skull onto the stage and backs away up the stairs. Captain Feeney cocks his gun again, steps forward and puts the barrel to the Mummy’s head. He blows its ancient brains to dust, and its useless body tumbles to the floor.

Dr. Utricularious is getting eaten alive by the scorpions. He’s disoriented, and stumbles away from their stings so Pierre can cast a holy prayer of healing upon him. The swarm follows him, however, and continues to menace both he and Pierre. It is now that Joel realizes the damage his large feet have done to the scorpions he’s been stepping upon. “We can stomp them!” he shouts, and he proceeds to do just that, slamming his big feet down and down again upon the ugly black creatures, until the horrible, cursed swarm is nothing but a revolting paste in the center of the museum hall floor. “Fucking bugs!” Joel spits, and stumbles away to find another bottle.

Detective Seamus Gore makes his way back down the stairs and sifts through the sarcophagus’ remains, feeling a little bad for smashing the child’s skull. Then he finds an ornate gold necklace and a jade gemstone ring inside, and he feels a little better. Captain Feeney rushes up the main stairs to see what became of the whispering stranger. He follows a dark hallway into a room full of large stuffed hunting birds. In the back of the room is a large open window, the curtains blowing in the breeze. He assumes this was the man’s escape route, and hopes they’ll get another chance to avenge explorer and fellow Ripper Sir Francis Burnham’s gruesome death.

Episode Two, Scene Two
London Museum of Natural History

The Exhibit Opening honoring Sir Francis Burnham continues at London’s Museum of Natural History. The crowd mills around the room’s great Diplodocus skeleton, viewing and discussing the treasures and oddities of Burnham’s explorations of such exotic lands as Africa, New Guinea, and India. The Hawthorne group has split up to mingle, with varying degrees of success.

Joel Gumphrey stalks the outer perimeter of the room with a bottle, moodily avoiding contact with the upper crust patrons and supporters. Nevertheless, his attitude does seem to lighten as his bottle gets more empty.

Seamus Gore continues his flirtation with the Contessa de Mirenburg, who seems impressed that he is a detective, and invites him to a Social Club in St. James that seems to involve numerous women who would “love to meet him.” He makes sure to get the address.

As Pierre St. Victis studies the displays, he notices that one of the masked Tcho-Tcho savages, depicted in the African exhibit, is eerily realistic. As long as he looks at it, though, it remains motionless, and he’s unwilling to cause a scene by going beyond the ropes to make a closer inspection.

There is a stage up towards the front of the hall, at the bottom of the main staircase, upon which are the treasures of Burnham’s latest Egyptian excursion, mysteriously covered up with cloth. Dr. Utricularious Zoldyck is observing them when he is approached by a very masculine looking woman who speaks in a heavy German accent. “Oh, your mechanical eye, how fascinating! Did you do the modifications yourself?”
“Um…Yes,” Utric replies, caught a bit off-guard.
“Yes, fascinating. Look at this, Professor! Oh, what I could do with this! Do you have any… other modifications?” she asks suggestively, as a hawkish-looking man makes his way over.
“For goodness sake, Darling,” the Professor croaks, “Leave the poor man alone! I tell you, you can’t take a surgeon anywhere without her wanting to dissect someone! I’m Professor Burrows, I teach Archeology and Languages at London University, and this is the brilliant, if rude, surgeon, Dr. Rachel Darling.”

Utric shakes the hands of this odd couple, not sure what to say, but they talk so much, he doesn’t have to. Professor Burrows says they have a Lab in the St. Giles Rookery, where they perform certain procedures of a… delicate nature, just in case the Hawthorne group is ever in need of such talents.

Meanwhile, Conrad is about to introduce Sir Burnham to Captain John Feeney, when a weaselly, mustached man shoulders his way into the group. “Hello, there, Corman Scott,” he says snidely, with a thick French accent.
“Inspector LeStrade,” Corman replies distastefully. “I didn’t think you went in for these sort of… intellectual pursuits.”
“I respect Sir Burnham for his bravery. Not, however, for his ideas or the company he keeps. I’m here simply because I like to keep an eye on you and your circle of friends. You always seem to be up to something. And these are your new recruits, I imagine? I suppose they may as well know now, I consider your whole group to be nothing but a confederacy of charlatans, tricking these people out of their money with your stories of Ghosts and Devils.”
“Your opinion has been noted and will be given the consideration it deserves, Inspector.”
“Yes. Well.” He clears his throat, unsure whether he’s just been insulted or not. He assumes he has. “I’m sure I will be seeing you all again sooner than I’d like.” The Inspector blends back into the crowd.
“And now,” Corman says to Capt. Feeney and Dr. Zoldyck, who came over to escape the attentions of the unsettling Rachel Darling, “I present to you all, Sir Francis Burnham.”
“Hello, hello,” Sir Burnham nods and shakes hands, though the weakness of his grasp betrays exhaustion or perhaps sickness. “I’m always pleased to meet Scott’s new recruits, though I’m hesitatant to congratulate you. If I’m not mistaken, I was the sole survivor of the Hawthorne Club in my particular class.” He laughs as heartily as he can muster. Corman is less amused.
“Now, Francis, you know that’s not true. And rather indiscreet.”
“Oh, Corman, settle down. You can put the professional paranoia aside for one night, can’t you? For an old friend?”
“Not when the old friend insists on being so damned public.”
While their small talk continues, Capt. Feeney notices a layer of tough scar tissue around the base of Sir Francis’ neck on the back, and even more around his tired eyes, which had a certain animal quality to them. Scott is asking Burnham about “progress in Egypt.” Sir Francis sighs.
“Well, we’re getting quite close, I believe. Davis from America has been a big help. Still, there’s been a lot of eyes on us lately. Everyone all looking for the same thing. It can get dangerous.”
“Let us know if you need any assistance. The new team is willing, and could use the practice.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. But, I suppose I should sing for my supper before people start wandering off…”

As Sir Francis walks away, Capt. Feeney notices the bulges in his coat of heavy personal weaponry. Burnham climbs up on the platform and tears the sheets off of his Egyptian discoveries. There is a murmur of impressed responses as the crowd pushes forwards to see better the treasures: In the middle sits the small sarcophagus of what was probably a child, covered in gold and cryptic hieroglyphs etched into the stone lid. On both sides of the sarcophagus crouch “guardians,” tall figures- petrified corpses or statues, no one is sure- that are bent protectively over the coffin.

Sir Burnham starts his speech awkwardly, still seeming ill, and noticeably sweating in the hall’s electric lighting. He briefly describes his efforts in Egypt, trying to locate the hidden Tomb of Setmosis of the 7th Dynasty, a period of turmoil and vague historical record for the desert empire. “This sarcophagus here is as close as we’ve come so far. We believe it is the body of
Setmosis’ son, who died very young. We found this in a small buried tomb, well-hidden, and the sarcophagus is of course covered with the obligatory curses on those who disturb the body’s resting place. We’ve not yet realized the secret of how to open it, but I’m sure that will change.”

Burnham pauses here to wipe his brow and take a deep, steadying breath. He seems to be growing weaker. He goes on to thank the supporters of his expeditions present, and makes his case that it is important to know as much as possible about these strange cultures in order to better defend the expansion of the Great British Empire. Here, Burnham pauses again, sways slightly, and stares with growing horror up towards the back ceiling of the hall.

The perceptive members of the Hawthorne Club hear at that time the furtive whispering of one man from somewhere in the hall. Detective Seamus Gore, who was born with a sort of “danger-sense,” feels the sudden surety that something catastrophic is about to happen. He rushes to the back of the hall, where there are a couple guards, and quickly tries to explain to them that there is the strong possibility of impending violence. As they look at him in confusion, the sarcophagus on the stage starts to shake violently. A wave of dark energy passes through the room. The electric lights that hang from the ceiling explode in a shower of sparks. Sir Burnham is apparently frozen, staring ahead. He mouths the words, “Oh, god,” as the statuesque Guardians behind him rise slowly from their crouches, exposing the long curved scimitars they had hidden against their bodies. As the paralyzed room watches in terror, one of the Guardians raises his sword over his head, and brings it down swiftly, severing Burnham’s head clean off of his shoulders. The head flies forward, spewing streams of blood from the neck, to land at the feet of the horrified audience. At the same time, the sarcophagus shakes its lid partly off, and out swarms a mass of scorpions that flood across the stage towards the crowd.

Episode Two, Scene One
Rottingdale, UK

Again, our view flies over the rocky southern cliffs of Rottingdale. It is just evening, the sky is threatening storm, the wind is up. We descend over the town square and the village green to follow the main road Eastward towards the more private residences of Rottingdale, the old windmill, the graveyard, the shale caverns. We start to hear the shouts of an angry crowd. We see a mob of town folks, farmers and merchants, marching with torches, pitchforks and tools. Their shouts get more impassioned as they near their destination, and more specific: children are missing. No one feels safe. The “strange doctor” is, to them, the obvious culprit. Justice will be doled out tonight.

Out of the shadows comes a trio of men to cut off the group in the middle of the road. “Hold it!” calls the largest, also dressed in rural work clothes, but with a hand stamped metal badge on his chest and a revolver in his belt.
“Get out of our way, McLean!” called some of the bolder crowd members, but the man holds up his hand.
“It isn’t going to happen like that, neighbors. I know you’re angry. I know you’re scared-”
“What is he doing in there, McLean?!?”
“Who else could it be?!?”
“Look, I know the doctor’s strange. I know he keeps to himself, but we have no concrete evidence linking him to the disappearances. I know you want this to end, but we’re the law around here, and it’s our job to confront suspects, not yours. Let us do our job.”

The mob reluctantly agrees, and cautiously follows the three constables to the doctor’s old house, by the graveyard. The crowd hangs back as the lawmen slowly ascend the front steps. There are no lights or signs of life inside. McLean raps on the door.
“Dr. Sawyer! It’s Constable McLean! We need to talk!” The group thinks they hear some movement inside, but they can’t be sure.
“Cecil! Open the door please!” There’s no answer. The constables draw their revolvers and nod silently to each other. McLean kicks the door open. They enter slowly, holding forward a lit bullseye lantern. The door slams shut behind them.

The mob in the street hold their breath, looking nervously at each other in the flickering light of their torches. Twenty more seconds of tense silence pass. Suddenly the windows of the old house flash repeatedly, and the silence is broken by gunshots and screams from inside. Ten shots must be fired before they cease, and the unintelligible shouts of the men die out. Deathly silence returns.

Finally, the front door creaks open slowly. Chief McLean shuffles out, his eyes wide in horror, his mouth slack, his gun hanging loosely in his hand. There is fresh blood splattered across his chest and on his face. He raises his hand as though about to address the crowd, but his breathing is hard and shaky, and he looks unsure if he can speak. He opens his mouth. “I don’t…” he croaks, before being pulled violently from behind back in through the pitch black doorway. His scream is cut off by the door slamming shut. Chief McLean is not seen or heard from again.

From The Illustrated London News
Four Children Missing


Four children have disappeared over the last two weeks from the town of Rottingdale, near Broomgrove, on the Southern Coast. One girl, Suzy Bolland, disappeared from her bed at night. The other three- James and Janey Buttons, and Timothy Neal- disappeared on their way home from country school. Area Chief Constable Percy McLean suspects they may have been “playing some game” around the natural shale caverns that lie near the town’s ocean cliffs, but the only potential “clue” so far is a human femur bone found near a pond in the village green. Anyone with information is encouraged to inform their local police.


Episode One, Scene Four
London Museum of Natural History, Kensington, London

The electric lamps outside the theaters on the Strand are just coming on as Rikard guides the group’s carriage Southwest down Piccadilly towards the Museum of Natural History. The streets are packed with hansoms and broughams, carrying their top-hatted, perfumed, and tightly-girdled passengers towards the fine restaurants of Mayfair, the rich gentlemen’s clubs of St. James, the mistress dens of Soho, or the dark backstreets of St. Giles, depending on the resources and vices of the riders.

In the street outside the pillared Museum entrance, a number of fine looking Victorias are lined up to drop off their posh occupants. The Hawthorne party disembarks and makes their way into the wide central hall of the Museum. A large, central dais displays a full, long-necked dinosaur skeleton. “Ahhhh, the Diplodocus!” exclaims Dr. Zoldyck. “The longest of the sauropods, found exclusively in Western North America. I simply must see those unusual teeth!” Off he goes, elaborating on his subject to whomever happens to be nearby.
It is a fairly dense crowd of mostly finely attired older men, and an affair of sophistication befitting one of London’s top-class museums. There is a bar, a long buffet of fruits, cheese and bread, and a string quartet playing Brahms by the grand main staircase. Along the walls are large displays and dioramas showcasing the treasures and oddities collected by Sir Francis Burnham on his extensive worldwide travels and explorations.

The group splits up to mingle, which for Joel Gumphrey, consists wholly of going to the bar for a drink and staying there. Corman Scott converses and blends with the upper crust and guests of importance with ease, making the group think he may be rather better connected than they imagined. Seamus Gore, his imagination sparked by hearing of Professor Burrows “unique” research partner, Dr. Rachel Darling, looks around the hall for an attractive woman, and sees a striking Slavic blonde standing alone.

She stands before a Diorama depicting tribal cannibals in middle Africa. Two dark skinned natives of only four feet height and pale, haunting masks hold spears on either side of a black pool of what looks like tar. Behind them, strung between tall, crude torches are tied stringed rows of shrunken human heads. It’s an altogether unsettling display. A sign at the savages’ feet reads “Tcho-Tcho (cannibals).” The young woman is practically ignoring it, however, looking around the hall as if waiting for somebody.
Seamus clears his throat and says hello. She introduces herself as the “Contessa de Mirenburg.” He asks if she’s interested in exploration, and she replies, with a strong Slavic accent, that she likes events like this, as they attract “expensive men.” Seamus is pretty sure he’s not expensive enough for her, but continues making small talk anyway.

On the other side of the hall, Pierre St. Victis approaches a pedestal with a very strange idol upon it. About a foot tall, made of a dense greenish stone, it depicts a monstrous humanoid beast with bulging, slitted eyes, small bat wings, squat limbs and long claws. The bottom of its face becomes a tangle of thick tentacles that falls to the ground between its legs. Pierre uses a subtle spell to confirm something he suspects already: this figure is a tool of intense occult power, but he cannot not tell as to what purpose it might be used. Overall, the statuette creates a repulsively alien aura, so that once you observe it, a certain nausea will not leave you until you can get yourself far clear.
A stocky older man at Pierre’s side is staring at the Idol, seemingly transfixed, with a look of grim concentration on his face. “They say this was found on an abandoned ship to the North of New Guinea. The whole crew was gone. No one knows what happened to them.”

Pierre believes he’s seen or heard something about a very similar statuette at some point in his occult studies, but in his memory, the tale took place in the South of America, near New Orleans. He says this, and the old man nods slowly, never taking his eyes off the figure. “Yes,” he answers slowly, “That’s possible.” Pierre introduces himself, and the man finally looks at him intently as he shakes his hand. “I am Sir Dr. William Gull, Physician in Ordinary to the Royal Family.” Dr. Gull then goes into a short monologue concerning foreign cultures, and how “Any strange fixation or abhorrent human desire, is somewhere, for some culture, accepted as common practice. Cannibalism, sacrifice, torture… Anything one can think of.”

Dr. Utricularious Zoldyck, his interest in the dinosaur skeleton satisfied, now moves up towards the front of the hall, where upon a raised platform sits numerous large objects covered with sheets. This will be the first public viewing of artifacts gathered during Sir Francis Burnham’s recent extended archeological work in Egypt. Dr. Zoldyck has spent time in Egypt himself, and is very curious what new wonders might be here. At the bottom of the middle sheet, under what is shaped perhaps like a small sarcophagus, he can see a shape etched in the dirty yellow base. It looks like an Egyptian Ankh, with a jagged bite taken out of the side of it. He wonders if it might be part of a prayer, instructions for the land of the dead, or a curse for the defilers of this tomb.Indai-Guru_SML.jpg

Episode One, Scene Three
The Ghost Light Pub, Covent Gardens, London

Joel and Capt. John settle in at the end of the Ghost Light’s dimly gaslit bar. There’s a small clientele present quietly dedicated to getting drunk as soon as possible. Joel gets a whiskey and John a Guinness. Utric sneaks in and takes a table behind them without being seen, and Pierre chooses to remain out in front of the bar, keeping an eye on Joel through the dirty front window.

Back at the Lodge, Seamus decides that he, too, is bored, and wants to join the others, without knowing exactly where they are. He figures they must be at one of the nearby gin joints. As he leaves, Corman calls, “Seamus, could you bring them all back here, please? We should get going soon.”

The door at The Ghost Light slams open, and in piles a group of four expensively attired dandies, laughing and teasing each other, obviously adventuring on the seedier side of town for a lark. “Oh, my god, Charles! How did you find this place?!?” one cries.
“I know, isn’t it filthily perfect?!” another answers.
“Oh, goodness, I didn’t know there’d be a mountain in here!” says one, as he makes his way around the bulk of Joel at the end of the bar. The group finds a table in the middle of the room and proceeds to chatter gaily, in a manner totally at odds with the pub’s established mood. Joel and Capt. John shoot each other a look of weariness, as both wonder how long it will take for their tempers to get the better of them.

Pierre is eyeing the developing scene through the window, when he is approached by a hefty woman with sloppy make-up, dirty blonde hair and a couple missing teeth. “Hey there!” she slurs, “I’m an actress.”
“Oh, really?” Pierre responds.
“Sure, baby, I can be anyone you like.” She winks and cackles as she falls against him.
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be interested.” He holds up the Holy Symbol he wears around his neck.
“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that,” she says, still pawing him.
He has an idea to defuse the inevitable fight within. Pierre slowly guides her towards the door of the bar. “There are, however, some very nice, rich men in there who would love to meet you.”
“Really? Where?”
She stumbles into the bar, squinting in the gloom. She approaches Joel and Capt. John. “Hey, you guys rich?”
“I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong guys,” Joel says.
She wavers further into the room and a gleeful cry goes up. “Charles! Charles, your date has arrived! You simply must dance with her!” The dandy known as Charles takes the drunken woman into his arms, and they wobble around together as the group sings and catcalls around them.
Joel and Capt. Feeney have had enough. They both rise and approach the boisterous group, Feeney in the lead. He stops Charles from dancing by the shoulder. “Hey buddy,” John says, “I think you’re done here,” his voice oozing with menace. The gang’s laughter dies immediately. “Hey, mate,” one says nervously, “We’re just having a little fun, that’s all.”

Meanwhile, Seamus Gore, consulting detective, fingers the gun in his pocket with annoyance a couple blocks away. Apparently, he doesn’t know the local dive bars as well as he thought he did. He decides to try one more street before heading back to the Lodge without them.

“The fun’s over, boys,” Capt. John spits, with Joel Gumphrey clenching his fists behind him. Dr. Utric rises and joins them as well. The dandies don’t want this much trouble. They’re just out for a laugh. Charles clears his throat, and says to John, “Well, can’t we just sit down and finish our drinks?”
“No,” Capt. John says. “You’re leaving.”
The young men file out with seething looks, but remain quiet. Joel takes the prostitute’s arm and sits her on a stool next to him. As the gang files past Pierre, one says to him, “Hey Father, you might want to look in on some sinners in there.” Pierre ignores them.

Seamus sees the dandies pass Pierre from down the block, and he hurries down the street and into the bar. “Alright guys,” he says, “Corman wants us back at the Lodge.” Joel stares at him, with no intention of leaving his drinking to suck up to a bunch of rich phonies at a museum. Seamus pulls out his gun and waves it towards the whole group. “Seriously, let’s go.”
Joel glares at him for a second. “Alright,” he finally growls, “but I’m taking a bottle… and my woman.”
No one has the desire to argue with him, so off they go, Joel and the woman mumbling to each other and sniggering, arm-in-arm, the whole way. By the time they reach the Lodge, he’s calling her Eleanor.

“Who in God’s name is that?” Corman asks, once he sees the pair in the doorway of the Lodge.
“My new girlfriend,” Joel answers. “She’s gonna’ help me get into my suit.” But by the time he’s wrestled her up the stairs, Eleanor has passed out. As Gumphrey throws her on the drawing room couch to sleep it off, he realizes that he might’ve told her some things he shouldn’t have about the Hawthorne Club. He’s sure she won’t remember any of it…

The party gets into their upper-crust outfits grudgingly. “Now, I need you to be most impressive this evening, gentlemen," says Corman. "The guest of honor, Sir Francis Burnham, the explorer, is the most high-profile member of our organization, and there will be many donors and supporters of our cause in attendance. At the same time, please be discreet. You never know who might be listening, or who might not be on our side.”

Because of the possibility of some Cabal trouble, Scott says he’ll stash some weapons and ammo in the Hawthorne carriage, which, as usual, will be driven by the club’s Hungarian butler and chauffeur, Rikard Ragsdale. His wife and cook of the Lodge, Lili Ragsdale, will keep an eye on Joel’s new girlfriend.


Episode One, Scene Two
The Hawthorne Lodge, SoHo, London

The initiates have been members of the Hawthorne Club for a couple months, though Veteran Ripper/Lodge Leader Corman Scott has offered little to explain either the Club’s methods or its history. It’s apparent that the Lodge is only a small part of a much larger, perhaps ancient order, but Scott merely suggests that anyone interested in the past should explore the library. (The library at the Lodge is indeed impressive, as is the pantry, billiards room and gadget lab for Dr. Zoldyck, though the wet bar isn’t nearly well-stocked enough for Joel Gumphrey’s thirst).

Corman has called the first mandatory attendance meeting for this Thursday afternoon of May 19th, 1892. Earlier in the month, he’d already asked that everyone attend an exhibition that evening at the London Museum of Natural History, but this week he was told of a pressing issue that he thought would be an ideal mission for his new team: the Rippers have lost contact with an associate on the Southern coast, Dr. Cecil Sawyer.

Dr. Sawyer is a Ripper who trained under Abraham Van Helsing along with Corman Scott. According to Scott, he’s a brilliant scientist and surgeon who became mentally unstable after the Cabal murdered his fiancée, Genevieve Falcke. Sawyer became obsessed with using Rippertech techniques to bring the dead back to life. Corman believes that any Rippertech inevitably corrupts the soul of both the patient and the doctor, and the two men fell out over Sawyer’s “unholy” experiments.

tumblr_lpxpp4cxyB1qk931ho1_500_copy.jpgThough he still believed in the Rippers’ cause, Dr. Sawyer retreated from the crowded bustle of London to continue his work at a private lab in Rottingdale, a small town on the Southern coast. Because of the delicate nature of Sawyer’s research, the Rippers insisted that he remain in frequent contact with them, sending regular reports as to his progress and assuring them that he is not being harassed or spied on by the Cabal.

According to Corman’s associate, Ripper Prof. Lee Burrows, Dr. Sawyer’s last correspondence was three weeks ago. In his letter he claimed to be making good progress in his work, but that there was a “new foreign presence” in the small town that seemed unusually interested in the nature of his research. He didn’t seem overly concerned about it, but it’s enough to make Dr. Sawyer’s subsequent silence concerning. Scott has purchased train tickets for the party to travel from London to Broomgrove at 11:00 am tomorrow morning.

Considering the doctor’s specifically strange obsessions, Pierre St. Victis thinks it might be a good idea to seek out the grave of Genevieve Falcks, Dr. Sawyer’s fiancée in London, to make sure it has remained undisturbed. However, by this time, the group only has a couple hours before they should leave for the Natural History Museum. Pierre hopes they have time in the morning to track down the site of Genevieve’s grave.

Corman adjurns the meeting but asks that everyone be ready to leave for the exhibit at 6:30 (It is around 5:00). Pierre goes off to pray, Seamus considers taking a nap. As Joel makes his way over to the drawing room wet bar, Corman calls, “Let’s not imbibe too much before the event, OK, Joel?”

Gumphrey sneers and only pours himself half a glass of whiskey. He looks up into the mirror behind the bar, and sees not his own face, but the jeering smirk of Renfield, Joel’s personal demon that drives him to over-indulgence. “Hey hey hey, Joel, my boy! It’s getting’ a little stuffy around here! What say we pop over to a local joint for a quick nip, ey?” Joel nods, knowing his friend won’t relent until he follows instructions.

“I’m going out for a bit,” Joel growls, grabbing his coat.
“I’ll go wit’ ye,” says Capt. John Feeney, guessing Gumphrey’s purpose.
Dr. Utric, who’d observed Joel mumbling to himself in the mirror, decides to follow at a distance, and Pierre’s curiosity is peaked when he sees them walking past outside the window. He follows as well. Joel leads this odd parade to a nearby dive, The Ghost Light.

Episode One, Scene One
Rottingdale: Southern Coast, UK

FADE UP on a sweeping cinematic view of a small town on the Southern cliffs of Great Britain. We see the dark, soon-to-storm sky and a tumultuous shoreline of angry waves and jagged rocks. It is late afternoon. Our view soars inland, over the town itself, to eventually center upon a pair of young girls playing innocently with dolls in the town park. We hear a deep whooshing sound, like the flapping of heavy wings, as we descend towards them. As the first few raindrops fall, they look up from their dolls, squinting. A large black shadow grows larger around them as we descend faster. The girls open their mouths to scream as two huge black claws reach down and violently snatch one girl around the upper body. A razor-sharp talon pierces through her peasant’s clothes into her heart, and a splatter of blood paints the grass, her doll, and her friend. This winged fiend of black shadow drags her small, flailing body up towards the storm clouds. Her screams fade away as the rainfall grows heavier. Thunder.

From the Illustrated London News, May 19th, 1892
Corman Scott insists you all attend...

On Thusday evening, May 19th, at 7:30, The Geographical Society of London will host a one-night exhibit at the Museum of Natural History in honor of Sir Francis Burnham, famed geographer, explorer, translator, writer, soldier, orientalist, cartographer, ethnologist, linguist, poet, Egyptologist, fencer, diplomat, and founding president of the International Explorer’s Club. He is celebrated for his unprecedented travels throughout Asia, Africa and the Americas, as well as his extraordinary knowledge of languages and cultures. Sir Francis will be in attendance to mingle with guests, give a short address, and display some of the incredible and exotic treasures he’s collected from New Guinea, Africa, and most recently, Egypt.


I'm sorry, but we no longer support this web browser. Please upgrade your browser or install Chrome or Firefox to enjoy the full functionality of this site.