The Watchtower Affair: Vampire to the Rescue?

Part 6
The Watchtower Affair - Now You See It, Now You Don't

Bridgette's Diary
13 February, 1925 (cont...)

Before the implications could really set in, I stood up, gathered my medical bag, and, squaring my shoulders, I started back down the stairwell. Even if Keira tried to convince me otherwise, I was still leaving the building and the others could deal with it as they saw fit. The Tunnel Monster in Boston had seemed truly impossible, as well as irrational. It had shaken my reality, but it hadn’t totally changed or challenged it. And there was another vampiric monster tossed into the mix. I had more than had enough of it all.

            After several minutes spent descending stairs, passing far more landings than were necessary, I finally arrived at a door. It was marked with a small plaque that read “32^nd Floor”. I nearly yielded to a scream of frustration. Honestly, Diary, I had started to actively hate this building, as though it were a living thing. In my defense, it was acting like it was alive – and spiteful as all get out. Standing there staring at that door, I fought back tears and prepared to open it and meet my fate, whatever it might be. Obviously it was what the damn building wanted!  And then there was a familiar whirring, clicking noise behind me. Pounding my fist uselessly alongside the doorframe in frustration, I struggled harder to control my mounting panic. I would not cry, even if I was holding onto what control remained using only my fingernails.

Turning around, I came face to face with Pathos once more. He had a slightly puzzled look on his face, or maybe it was one of frustration. After staring at me for a short moment, he said, “I thought you were going back down the stairs.”

Shrugging helplessly, I retorted, “I thought I was, and yet here I am.” I waved a hand in the direction of the door plate. “Up instead of down. I don’t understand this place at all!”

He gave a nod, as if in answer to a question only he knew. “I’ve been watching you crawl backwards up the stairs ever since our meeting.”

My lower lip quivered again as those frustrated tears fought hard for release. “I’ve been doing what? It’s really is this building, isn’t it?”

“You could say that. Actually, it’s what’s behind that door,” he answered gently. “Would you like my help?”

 “Just a moment, please. How come it doesn’t seem to affect you?’ I asked, instead of answering his question. “It’s having a grand ol’ time with me.”

“We have an arrangement.” He actually flashed a rueful smile, giving one the tiniest glimpse of the metal within. “Now, about that help?”

Honestly, Diary, what could I do? I couldn’t very well just stand on the landing forever, nor did I really want to walk through that door. So, I nodded to him. “Yes please. I would like that very much.” Yes, I was both worried and hopefully that he wouldn’t kill me. It seemed like he truly did want to help, which puzzled me a great deal. True, I’ve never really met a vampire until now – Labana didn’t really count since we never really talked to her and had only fought her – but there was still the fact, according to Mr. Smith, that they could steal the skins of their victims, wearing them to pass as human. However, Pathos and I were standing close enough right now that I would have hoped to see some sign that his flesh wasn’t really his own. And I didn’t. Also, he was being so danged polite and, well, helpful.  

Next thing I knew, I was squealing in surprise as he picked me up and casually tossed me onto his shoulder. It was only out of reflex that I managed to hang onto my lab kit. If I had left it behind, that would have been it. I would not have gone back for it, I can assure you.

After settling me on his shoulder, he lightly hopped up onto his knees on the stair railing. I’m afraid I squealed again in surprise, although perhaps by this point I should be getting used to them. And then he sprouted wings from his back! Spreading them to help steady himself, he proceeded to slid down the railing towards the lower floors, deftly managing the corners without so much as a wobble. I quickly closed my eyes to keep from getting sick, and to stop squealing in his ears. No need to tempt fate by annoying him needlessly.

Fortunately, we made it to the first floor safely, where he carefully deposited me once more on the ground. I think I was more grateful then than our landing in Chicago earlier that same day. (Amazingly, it was still the same day!) “Thank you so much for your help.”

He nodded at me once more. “You’re welcome.” And with that he spread his wings and took off back up the stairwell towards the upper floors. Most of me was relieved to see him go. Although there was that small corner of my being which found him wonderfully exciting.  Except for that biting thing – I awkwardly rubbed the back of my left hand with my right, trying not to drop my bag – he had been nothing but kind and helpful. Heck, he’d even seemed concerned when he found me on the 32^nd floor. So what the bite? Perhaps he’d simply lost control for a brief moment and hadn’t been able to help himself. I might never know.

Saturday Matinees - The Link Collection for Bridgette's Story Posts



I started to list all of the story links in the left-hand column of the blog, but quickly realized somewhere into the second adventure that it was quickly going to become rather unwieldy. So everything's been moved to here. I'll update the page as the links go live.

 

The Boston Tunnel Affair: Beneath the City, the Tunnels are Alive!

Part 1. The Adventures Begin
Part 2. The First Crossing
Part 3. Up and Running
Part 4. Into the Tunnels
Part 5. Preparing to Return
Part 6. Back Into the Sewers
Part 7. It Ends Now
Part 8. After Effects and Wrap-Up

The Watchtower Affair, Or Now You See It, Now You Don't

Part 1. It Begins Again
Part 2. Peril Aboard the Plane
Part 3. What Building?
Part 4. Up the Stairs We Go
Part 5. Bridgette is Smitten, er, Bitten
Part 6. Vampire to the Rescue
Part 7. Enemies Are Made
Part 8. The Building Get's Its Wish...For Now
Part 9. Bridgette's Back in the Lab

The Watchtower Affair: Bridgette is Smitten, er, Bitten

Part 5
The Watchtower Affair - Now You See It, Now You Don't

Bridgette's Diary
13 February, 1925

(cont...)

            Somewhere around my 4^th recitation of the mantra, I heard a whirring, clicking sound from above me. Looking up I see a man perched on the ceiling, dressed in a black suit with a smart white shirt and a blood red tie. Tilting his head to the side, he appeared to study me, a puzzled look on his face. Noticing my startlement, he effortlessly, nimbly, rights himself, landing lightly on his feet before me.

            Realizing there were stray tears sliding down my cheeks, I blushed lightly and quickly wiped at them with my hand. The stranger waited patiently, a half smile on his face, before extending a hand in introduction.

I gave my head a sharp shake, hoping to toss off the remains of my mental fog. I desperately wanted to think clearly. The man before me was very handsome, which only seemed to leave me tongue-tied and bashful. Fully extending his hand, he looked over at me and said something along the lines of, “I’m sorry to have startled you. Let me introduce myself. My name is Pathos. And you?” He looked at me expectantly, obviously waiting for me to extend my hand for him to take. Given the strangeness of the last few minutes, and my lack of a clear head, I was still rather hesitant.

            I did manage to nod at him in reply before answering, “I am Bridgette McCleary.”

            “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss. McCleary.” He glanced over at where my medical bag was resting on the floor. “Are you a nurse or …?”

            I gave an awkward smile. I’m usually not that easily swayed by a person’s looks, but something about him had gotten to me. “I’m a doctor,” I finally managed to stammer out. Diary, the interesting thing is that he had so distracted me that I actually forgot about the scorpion sting and my missing clothes.

            “Ah, so it’s actually Dr. McCleary.” He smiled, which was a bit unnerving as I noticed a glint of silver. Was he made of metal like the vampire we had encountered? Dear God, I hoped not. That would be just my luck, to cross the path of such a creature. However, he’d been nothing but friendly so far. And in all honestly, I found him intriguing and attractive. In spite of any dangers, I was enjoying his attentions.

            Growing slightly more nervous, I nodded. “Yes, I suppose it is.” I hadn’t been called Dr. McCleary in a medical context in years. It felt good to hear again. For some reason his acknowledgement of my achievement made me feel special. However, I still couldn’t bring myself to take his hand. Flattered and flustered as I was, my sense of self-preservation hadn’t completely disappeared. He had to want something from me, but what?

            “I was just wondering which direction you were heading,” he told me next. “Up or down?”

            “Well,” I relaxed enough to run a hand through my hair, “I was going upwards, but I think now that I’d rather head back down. It seems to maybe be safer.”

            He gave an apparent nod of approval. “That would be my suggestion. Here, let me help you up.” He once again offered his hand in a helpful way – and I nearly took it before glancing down and remembering my current state of undress. Flushing deeply, I wrapped my arms back around my legs, hugging them to my body.

            Pathos looked puzzled for a moment, but then a small smile crossed his face. He quickly removed his jacket and placed it carefully around my shoulders. I grasped it tightly closed in front of my chest, giving him a grateful smile. Apparently please, another glimmer of a smile crossed his face. He offered his hand once again. “Let me help you up, Dr. McCleary.”

            I nodded, having realized that his jacket was more than large enough to cover the necessary stretch of my body. Carefully adjusting the jacket for maximum coverage,  I sent up a small prayer of gratitude at my short stature and finally offered him my hand.

            However, instead of taking my hand to pull me up, he instead turned it over and bent to kiss the back. Diary, the moment his lips touched my skin it was as though someone had sent a powerful electric shock through my system. A gasp escaped as I stared in wonderment at him. A long moment later I realized that he was still holding my hand and I didn’t really mind. Even so, I gently disengaged my hand from his. I’m sure it was less graceful than I intended it to be, but this man had made me more socially awkward around him than anyone else had managed in a very long time.

            We stared at one another for a long moment and then it was as though I’d done a long, slow blink. When I opened my eyes once more, he was gone. I could no longer feel the weight of his jacket across my shoulders. Looking down, I realized that my clothes were back as well. The miasma of swirling colors on the wall were still there, although they had now faded. This rendered them less disorienting, leaving me free to think more clearly. I examined the back of my calf, but could find no puncture mark from the scorpion’s sting. I relaxed – and let some of the tension ease from my shoulders.

Filled with a sense of amazement, I looked at the back of my hand, wondering if any of it had really happened. Then I noticed what looked like a snake bite. Looking more closely, it was clear that the marks on my hand looked as though they had been made by a pair of human canines. I sank back against the wall, staring at the back of my hand in horror. He really was one of the metal vampires. And I’d just been bitten by him.

 

 

 

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Thoughts on Running a Game

Some Advice to a Young Friend Before He Runs His First Game

 

(Stone Dice from The Dice Collector)

One of the young men who games with us on the weekends is going to start his own game tomorrow and asked me for advice. And I must apologize to him, because he caught me off guard and I wasn't sure what to tell him. Fortunately, after having some time to ponder the question, I've finally gotten some advice. I thought I'd share it here, because, well, this IS my gaming-related blog and maybe some of my readers could chime in some suggestions in the comments? (And then I'll be really, really happy because you've left me comments. :-D )

My suggestions, in no particular order...

1. Be flexible. Every one I've ever met who GMs will back this up. You can plan out 49 different ways the party can go and they'll find the 55th and take it. It never fails, especially if you don't have a backup plan.

2. Have fun. Just not at the players expense, unless they can laugh along with you. Seriously, nearly everyone should be having fun or something's seriously wrong with the campaign. (Although it might not be you.)

This also isn't to say that you can't have any fun at their expense. Really, I'll admit, I got a kick out of rolling a critical attack on you Tuesday, but it wouldn't have been enjoyable if it had been an insta-kill. And I love when I manage to hit my husband's characters, mainly because it's usually so danged hard to do.

3. Remember that however much fun you're having in combat, the players really are the ones who are supposed to win. You don't have to make it easy for them, but they should stand a decent chance of success. We once had a DM throw nasty stuff at us and then reply that we didn't need to fight it just because it was there. It was very frustrating because, in that setting, we had no idea of the strength of anything that we fought. How were we to know we couldn't take it?

4. Encourage backstories. And use them. I think the amazing Perry has done this some in our Adventure! game, but I really saw it put to effective use with my Sunday night game. And yes, I'll use it in both my Tuesday Wizard's Guild game AND my weekend game.

5. Encourage roleplaying. It's more fun. And sometimes, honestly, that might be all you get done in a session, but hopefully it'll advance the story in some way. It'll certainly connect the players with their characters all the more.

If possible, reward players for playing their characters, in character. I toss out some extra exp, but I also keep it in mind when they're looking for a particular item.

6. Don't be afraid to make a gaming call on the fly, ask long as it's fair. No, it might not be what the rules say when you get around to looking it up, but if looking it up is going to take 1/2 hour...either just go with what makes sense or have someone else check it out while you move on.

7. Stay focused. I've noticed on the days when I'm just not really all there then the rest of the group isn't either. And, no offense, but with teens play it can quickly get out of hand and dissolve into chaos. (With the adults it usually just leads to lots of chatting.) Once you lose that control, it can be hard to get it back.

8. Don't bully. This can sometimes be hard, but don't use your position to get back at someone you're annoyed with, just because you can. It's petty and makes the game unfun for pretty much everyone else.

The exception is that one player who just doesn't realize he's being a jerk...or doesn't care. And in that case, start softly and the escalate. We once had a friend who was just being the most annoying person. He thought he could have his character act how ever HE felt, just because he was chaotic neutral. Finally I invoked the "If You Say It, Your Character Says It" rule. He made a racist comment in the Mages' Library and then, when the librarian objected, cast something that nearly caught the place on fire. I had him arrested and tossed in the jail with some pretty serious charges against him. He continued being a jerk so my husband's character hired an assassin to take him out - in his jail cell. I didn't make him roll a new character, but instead reincarnated him as the same race as the librarian. The lesson was learned.

And finally, just because it's you,

9. DON'T METAGAME! Remember to stick to what the npcs and monsters know, which is not necessarily what the GM knows.

Oh, and have fun!

The Watchtower Affair: Up the Stairs We Go

Part 4
The Watchtower Affair - Now You See It, Now You Don't

Bridgette's Diary
13 February, 1925

(cont...)

            Once inside we noticed the others standing near the reception desk, interrogating the receptionist seated there. The woman was beautiful, with bobbed blonde hair and fashionable clothes. She also appeared to be looking off into the distance, reminding me of what had occurred aboard Belle’s plane just a short while ago.

            Mr. Rasicci was asking the woman, Miss. Dallas, who used the building. He was also questioning her on who owned it. Even in my current dazed state, it was fascinating to watch him at work. It inspired confidence in his abilities. One of the last questions I heard him ask Miss. Dallas concerned whether or not anyone else had come into the building recently. A thoughtful look crossed her face before she gave her head a slight shake. “No, I don’t think there’s been anyone in quite a while. Except for you of course.”

            Mr. Rasicci appeared ready to ask her another question when the elevator chimed and out walked a couple of security guards, or hired thugs. In this case I’m pretty sure it was one and the same. They were a mass of muscle-bound, arms and shoulders straining at the seams of their suit coats. Coming over our direction, they asked if there was anything they could help us with. Another security guard/thug cames bounding out of the stairwell as Mr. Smith took the lead with the mob men. (What else could they be, really?) Ever direct, he askes, “Have you seen the two hoodlums who came running in here? Not quite 10 minutes ago now.” He jerked his thumb towards the elevator to indicate the probable direction they must have taken.

            The three thick necked gents looked at each other and shook their heads before one responds. “Nope. Ain’t seen anyone come in here in the last hour.” He looked at his buddies once more. “But maybe we should check it out.”

            With a nod in our general direction, they all headed back the way they had originally come.

            Diary, I was still quite shaken up by the recent turn of events. Even now, I can’t fully remember we were or even why we were there. Keira had suggested that I needed to analyze the window glass on what seemed to be the 4^th floor, although I’d no idea why I would be analyzing window glass. However, it gave me a focus point, so, letting Keira know where I was headed, I walked past the rest of the group and headed for the door to the stairwell. Something about the stairwell seemed so much safer than the elevators in that building. I’ve always thought it would be easy to trap someone on an elevator. Since this building gave me such a sense of foreboding, I decide to go with my gut feeling and avoid them.

            As I entered the stairwell, I could hear Mr. Smith mentioning a similar case in London involving Big Ben several years ago. He was trying to recall other details as I headed up the stairs. My hope was that things would become clearer as I went.

            I learned afterwards that three large cars had pulled up outside the building. A number of mobsters spilled out and headed inside. Included in the group was the second in command for the Chicago Mafia. Mr. Rasicci apparently has one of the most amazing talents. Right before everyone else in our little group, he proceeded to transform himself into the mob chief of the city, engaging the lieutenant in conversation as the men outside came through the front doors. They all proceeded to converse while heading for the elevator. The doors closed and they were all on their way up to see “The Man.” What happened next was really a bit extraordinary and I promise to come back to it again in my narrative. First we should return to the stairwell.

With every step upwards, I began feeling more and more disoriented. It culminated on the 5^th floor landing. If I had counted correctly, and I’m pretty sure I had been, this should have been the 4^th floor - not that I could remember seeing any other doors between the first floor and here. At some point, the walls had taken on a kaleidoscopic patterned swirl of greens and reds, all in constant motion. It started faintly at first, but continued to becoming more and more prominent as I worked my way upwards. By the time I reached the 5^th floor door, my head was spinning, and I was disoriented, and nauseated by the mass of moving colors.

I began to panic, just a little as I paused that the door for a moment. Taking a deep breath while trying to steady myself, I debated the wisdom of entering further into the building. The sense of evil, of wrongness, seemed to pervade the very fabric of the walls, making it very tempting to turn tail and leave very quickly. I dreaded continuing onward and yet hesitated to turn back. As I stood there struggling with myself, there came a sharp, sting on the back of my right ankle. Looking down, I saw a scorpion that had apparently just stung me.

Kicking it away, I examined my ankle to get an idea of just how much damage the little beast had done. The horror continued as I then realized that my clothing was gone. It had simply disappeared. I’m standing there, outside of what should be the 4^th floor door, but instead appeared to be the 5^th floor door, having been stung by an insect that shouldn’t be here in this area, and I’m naked. The swirling walls seemed to close in around me as I huddled in the corner, rocking back and forth vainly attempting to wish it all away.

            “It isn’t real,” I muttered to myself over and over. “None of this is real. Something is playing with my mind. There was no scorpion. The walls are not swirling. And I’m not really naked. My clothing can’t just disappear. It is not real.”

The Watchtower Affair: What Building?

Part 3
The Watchtower Affair: Now You See It, Now You Don't

Federal Building, Chicago (Source: Wikipedia)

Bridgette's Diary
13 February, 1925

 

I’m not sure exactly what I expected from Mr. Rasicci’s office, since I’ve never been in a private investigator’s establishment before. Perhaps something from Sherlock Holmes where he operates out of his flat? “Rasicci, Private Investigator” was nowhere near his literary counterpart.

There was an anteroom intended for a secretary, filled with a desk and filing cabinets along the wall. We trooped on through another door into the larger office belonging to Mr. Rasicci. Behind the large desk sat a chair which had obviously seen much use. (Something about the wear on the seat made me wonder if Mr. Rasicci actually slept in it on a regular basis.) On the corner of the desk sat a humidor and used ash tray and over against one wall was a forlorn liquor cabinet, sitting nearly empty thanks to the America’s crazy notion of Prohibition. Across from the desk sat a pair of chairs for clients. There was also another filing cabinet, as well as a small table with a typewriter sitting on it. Another door led off into a small bathroom. Really, it looked like pretty much an office.

            Belle and I took the two seats while the men assumed various positions around the room. After we were settled, Mr. Smith began to fill us in on the problem. Apparently something has been happening to Chicago’s more notorious element. They have always been organized, but now there seems to be something other than orders from New York directing them. Mr. Smith also believes that it is all tied in to the rather bizarre occurrences we experienced approaching the city.

            We were in the process of brainstorming various possible investigative paths when the sirens of several police cards went careening by outside the office building. Looking out of the window, Mr. Rasicci noted that they were heading downtown, in the apparent direction of the US Federal Building.

            Mr. Smith led the way barreling down the steps and out the doors, where we all managed to somehow pile into Mr. Rasicci’s automobile. Once the last person had piled in, Mr. Rasicci wasted no time in careening off after the police cars.

            Mr. Rasicci’s hunch about our destination proved correct, as we soon pulled up outside the imposing stone edifice housing the area’s federal offices. The action seemed to be taking place on the lower two floors, where, Mr. Rasicci informed us, the US Postal Service for the Chicago area was housed. The bank robbers were fairly audacious in holding up the Federal Building in broad daylight and in such an obvious manner.

 

 

There were city police and federal cars ringing the outside of the building, ready to halt anyone coming out, one way or another. I’m still not used to seeing so many firearms in one location. The Americans certainly love their guns.

            On a hunch, Mr. Smith led us around to the back of the building, where we discovered several burly men loading sack after sack into the backs of two nearby vehicles. Of course, all of the men in our happy hunting party pull their weapons and go wading into the fray. We ladies hang back from the gunfire, watching from the safety of a nearby car. Fortunately it isn’t the car that explodes from a well placed bullet. As soon as they can, the bad guys managed to pile into their cars and take off. We also clambered into a couple of nearby cars – including Mr. Rasicci’s – and head off in renewed pursuit through the streets of Chicago.

            We found the autos stopped outside what appeared to be an empty lot and watched as the men ran from their cars and onto the lot, where they promptly disappeared from site. Yes, dear diary, you read that correctly. The vanished right in front of us, apparently into thin air.

Keira stated unequivocally that she could see a building before us, but try as I might, I couldn’t make it appear. Mr. Long, ever the strategist, picked up a rock and lobbed it at the supposed building. We easily heard a crash and watched in awe as a shower of broken glass trickled to the ground. That seemed to be the trigger for everyone else to now see the building. They wasted no time running towards it, hot in pursuit of the robbers.

 I still can’t see a thing, other than the empty lot. Concerned, Keira remained outside with me, trying to help my mind see the impossible – an invisible building. I’m sure it was out of sheer frustration that she finally suggested that I go inside to analyze the broken glass. It was a clever ploy, appealing to my mind’s scientific bent. I still felt a bit dazed and confused, so I went with her suggestion. Heading to Mr. Rasicci’s car, I retrieved my medical bag, which, after my last adventure with these folks now contained a small assortment of lab paraphernalia. I believe that I squared my shoulders and heaved a sigh before walking down the sidewalk towards what I hope is the building’s entrance. As I get within a few feet of where I hope to discover a door, the building suddenly materialized and I wondered why I hadn’t seen it there earlier.

            “I see it now, Keira,” I told my friend, before taking a firmer grip on my bad and heading through the door. “I’ll see what I can do, though.” Yes, diary, my thoughts were still a little fuzzy, but I was hopeful that my thoughts would clear while I was performing more normal actions

Running Behind

I'm terribly sorry to be running two weeks behind in the current story's posts, but the editing has been some of the most intensive that I've ever had to do. I have the next installment ready to go up and am hoping to finish up the editing of this current story by the end of the week. This piece has truly been a case of "just get it down". Nearly ever sentence seems to need work, even if it's only fixing the verb tense. After this, getting back to my novel should be easy.

Anyhoo, look for a new post this weekend. And in the meantime, here's a fun little link for 5 Speakeasy Cocktails...And Their Shady Pasts for you to enjoy. After all, this story may very well drive me to drink, which I don't often do.

Tanqueray Southside - I think Bridgette would have enjoyed this one.