Age of Unreason

[Astor]

London, December 20th, 1791

 

London, a city that never rests. The streets are bustling with people going about their business, filled with seasonal cheer, untouched by the fear gripping some of the cities on the continent.

 

Amongst the busy streets and good cheer, couriers are about their work, delivering messages all across the city. They are all being paid by one man, and they all carry the same message –

 

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King’s Theatre – 9.00PM

 

Thomas Leyton sat at his desk in the well-lit cellar, filling in his journal.

 

“…furthermore, I have sent messages to a select group of individuals. Persons whom, I hope will make valued additions to our organisation, and take the fight to our enemies, who, if the reports from France and Austria are to be believed, are growing in strength.

 

This may well be my last entry for some time, which is why I shall leave this book in the hands of my manservant, with instructions to hand it to the Bishop of London, a trusted friend, should anything befall me”

 

He set his quill down, closed the book, and placed it in a silk sheath, before handing it to his servant, who had been waiting patiently.

 

“Keep it somewhere safe, and don’t remove it unless it is necessary,” Charles, his servant, had served him faithfully for many years – and he considered him a valued friend. So valued, in fact, that he would be left in charge of Thomas’ holdings in England.

 

He sent him away, and then looked at his watch. In a few hours, he would be meeting with those individuals he had notes sent to this morning. He wondered how many of them, if any, would come, if only to satisfy their own curiosity.

 

He stood up, put on his cloak, and grabbed his hat and cane. He often liked to take in the night air, and savour the atmosphere of London, even on such a cold night as this – and he would require a clear head for what was to come.

[Chevron 7 locke]

Former Captain Velic of the British Army knew that his quarry was smart but he didn't expect it to be quite this smart.

 

The creature had attacked a woman in one of the other allys to draw Velic as far away from it's trail as he could. After making the sure the poor woman was alright he had resumed his chase and now watched the thing as it began to scale the wall that sperated two of the allys.

 

He's moving quite fast. Faster then any man could.

 

Velic slowly and quietly pulled his Blunderbuss off it's back strap, made sure it was loaded and took careful aim at the creature's back.

 

Blast!

 

The thing must have somehow detected his approach because the very second before he could fire it began to move even faster. The blast took the creature in the shoulder as it scaled over the wall.

 

Velic stared at the spot where the creature was and shook his head. It was his fault the blighters had come to London. And he intended to rectify his mistake.

 

He thought back on the letter he had recieved earlier...asking him to meet someone in the basement of King's theatre. It was a three hour walk if he started now.

 

Velic strapped the Blunderbuss back to his back and started on the way to King's theatre. Maybe someone there knows more about these creatures.

[CommanderQ]

Manfred Freiherr Von Hempel sat in the study of his small flat in Western London, overlooking the Thames river. He didn't really live in London, nor did he want to, even now he yearned for the Family's Estate in Berlin...but he had a mission to complete.

 

He was completely concentrated on writing down his recent discoveries in a small diary of his, all of these discoveries were vital to the discovery of his younger sister, Katherine.

 

She had disappeared 2 years ago, just as Manfred was returning from his Tour of Duty with the Prussian Navy, and was trying to get another transfer into the Cavalry, until he recieved a letter from his mother, regarding the strange disappearance of his sister.

 

After that, he resigned his commission, and embarked on a mission to find his sister. It had been two years, and the hideous discoveries and stress had taken a toll on Manfred's mind, and he was considered partially insane. Of course, he knew it, and didn't mind it one bit. One would need to be insane if they had accomplished as much as he did in the first thirty-years of his life{which was quite a lot}.

 

 

Found remnants of a strange secret society in the slums of London...all of course, are in some way infected with the strange 'Blood Plague'...it isn't too hard to identify them, as their distinguishing mark are two, circular, scars, often on the neck or some other major artery...found a remains of some strange ritual, something involving a sacrifice of sort, judging by the body of I found there, which was bloodless and mutilated...absolutley horrific.....

 

...I suspect the leaders of this strange 'Blood Cult' cannot be too far now. I have a possible location in the slums that may be where they are...it seems the Plague is far more frequent amongst the poor in London, which comes to me as no surprise...the slums probably make up for 70 percent of this dirty, English, city...

 

...will write down more tomorrow..tonight should be an interesting one..

 

He put down his writing quill and stood, stretching his arms. Suddenly, he heard a knock on the door, and thumping of his assistant's feet, as the man rushed to answer the door.

 

Manfred pulled on his black jacket and put his General's cap, which he had kept with him since the days of his military career, about 10 years ago.

 

His assistant, Hans, walked into the study and gave a small bow.

 

"Forgive me for disturbing you, Freiherr Von Hempel, but a courier just brought a message for you."

 

"Sehr gut...where is it?"

 

Hans handed a small, yellowish, scroll, and Manfred took it, being rather rough with it.

 

The Prussian opened it and began to read it.

 

"Meet me at King's Theatre...20th...midnight...."

 

He looked up at the clock at the top of the study.

 

"VERDAMMT! That leaves only 20 minutes!! Blasted ineffecient Britische couriers!"

 

Manfred missed the effeciency of Prussia...which he had not found in the British people, yet. He wasn't entirely enjoying London.

 

"Hans! Get your pistol and jacket, we must get to King's Theatre before midnight! I'll get a horse!"

 

He ran outside, and right into the middle of the busy street, right in front of an incoming carriage and four horses.

 

Manfred stopped, and began waving his hands and shouting at the carriage, and the driver abruptly tried to stop his horses from running the man over.

 

The Prussian stayed his ground, and the horses stopped but an inch from his feet.

 

The driver stood from his perch, "What in blazes are you doing? Do you mean to get yourself killed or are you going to kill my horses with your bloody crazy antics!"

 

Manfred ran over to the door of the carriage, opened it, and pulled it's occupants out, a man and a woman.

 

"Terribly sorry, but it seems the glory of the Fatherland needs this carriage."

 

He left the two people sitting in the street, there faces utterly confused. Hans came quickly and got on the other side of the carriage.

 

Manfred told the driver to take them to King's Theatre, and with that, he sat down, resting in the comfortable seat as the driver rode off with them.

 

Hans was looking out the back window at the well-dressed couple who were still sitting in the street.

 

"Mein Herr, I'm not sure we needed to do that...."

 

"Why not, we don't have a carriage."

 

"No sir, we do."

 

Von Hempel opened his mouth to say something, but didn't, falling back into the seat.

 

"Oh...of course, I knew that."

[Gob]

Blood dripped from the scruffy man's face.

 

There was nothing else besides the blood. He had his mangled skin, he had his red eyes, he had his decrepit features... but there was nothing in them. No life, no expression, no hope. Only a waterfall of blood that tainted and spread across the puddle of rainwater below.

 

This man, a common beggar, had saved a year's worth of assets acquired from grabbing at peoples' coats, holding his hands out, and praying, buying only a piece of bread a day. And now, it was gone. A man in dark clothes, torn and frayed, had descended upon his precious money like a vulture. But the specter had robbed him of much more. With only his fists, this villain had taken his last bits of faith, and now, nothing could rescue him but God, Himself. And even He shook his head at the filthy beggar.

 

"I'll... I'll get the police..." the beggar said through the pool of blood in his mouth.

 

The robber wiped the blood from his hands. "A bloody beggar like you? This police here would feel I did 'em a favor."

 

"I've done nothing to you.... Nothing. I'm an innocent man..."

 

"Is that right?" the man replied, kicking a whiskey bottle deeper into the dark alley. "I'll use this money on your behalf. The way you'd want it to be spent. Though I prefer ale, myself."

 

Before the beggar could respond, another figure stepped into the alley.

 

He spoke in a raspy voice. "Ay, you. I've got somethin' for you."

 

This new person was heavily coated, and not even his eyes could be seen. "Kamarov, right? Mikhail Kamarov?" he said, and handed the assaulter a note.

 

"Right..." Mikhail said, accepting the message. Immediately, he drew his blunderbuss and pointed it in the cloaked man's face. The cloaked man remained indifferent. "You're not telling anyone what you're seeing here, correct?"

 

The figure only said, "Why would I?", then stepped out of the alley. Mikhail glanced at the letter.

[Chevron 7 locke]

"Why would I?"

 

Velic had been heading toward King's theatre when he heard the unmistakable sounds of a scuffle in one of the many allyways.

 

It looks like I'll have to settle this problem myself. There aren't any police around and I doubt they'd even help.

 

He drew his long sword and stepped into the ally only to see a tall man threatning one of the many beggers who populated London.

 

"I say...Even though I'm not quite fond of beggers and that sort of lot...I can't let this behavior continue. Please step away from that man at once."

 

He quickly looked down at his pocket watch. Blast. Only twently minutes left.

[Gob]

"Oh, thank goodness you came. This beggar was in a drunken rage, and attacked me." Mikhail said. He turned around, and looked at this man who would hope to be a hero in this corrupt district. With a helpless expression, Mikhail turned towards the beggar, then back to the man with the sword. Then, the face of the victim he wore twisted into a sinister grin.

 

"How very noble of you, my heroic friend. Trying to fix a world thrown into permanent disrepair, and come out as some kind of paladin. Well, you'll be dragged down... You'll be dragged down one day. Anyway, it turns out that I have to get going anyway. I've got somewhere to be, don't you know. Cheers!" Mikhail stepped passed the man, and started towards his destination.

[Astor]

Thomas returned to the theatre from his walk. Checking his watch, he had around half an hour until his 'guests' would arrive. He had the Theatre's staff bring food and drink, and laid out on a trestle table in the cellar.

 

He sat down and filled out some credit notes - to the owners of the theatre, to the couriers, and one to his manservant, in thanks for his years of service.

 

The only thing left for him to do now was wait.

[Writer]

Anahera Douglas crumpled the note in disgust. Really? Did they honestly think she was that gullible to think that someone genuinely wanted her help? This was 1791, after all. Women were expected to stay home, do the housework, raise the boys until their fathers could shape them, and shape the girls into prim and proper women.

 

That wasn't to say Ana wouldn't go. In fact, she was certainly planning to do so. But she was going to prove people wrong. She smiled faintly as she considered shedding her dresses in favor of something that would cause an outrage among the men gathering. Pants.

 

"Who wears the pants now?" she asked the empty bookstore with a laugh. At the very least, this midnight meeting would provide her some entertainment.

[CommanderQ]

The carriage came to an abrupt stop, and Manfred held on hard to the side, just to make sure he didn't fly forward.

 

Hans stepped out first, opening the door for the Prussian, who was not too far behind.

 

He looked out at King's Theatre.

 

"We are early...for that we must be thankful, but I pray, never again will we be held up by British ineffeciency.."

 

"Jawohl, Mein Herr, I'm sure they'll learn..."

 

"Well, let's move fast, whoever sent the message chose a good location for a meeting...it's like hiding in plain sight...."

 

Manfred adjusted his General's cap and straightened his trench coat, walking up the stairs leading into King's Theatre. He had his hand in his coat pocket, he did not know what was inside, and the soldier would not allow himself to be caught off gaurd.

 

Hans was close behind, and he was ready as well.

 

Manfred opened the door into the Theatre, and walked inside, where two men, two servants, came over to take their coats. This was customary in most of these English places, so the Prussian took off his jacket and handed it to the servants, who hung it with a few other jackets on the rack nearby.

 

Manfred tapped on the shoulder of one of the servants.

 

"Yes sir, is there anything you need, sir?"

 

Manfred spoke in his thickly accented voice, "Vhere would I find the cellar of this establishment?"

 

He pronounced the W as a V...he was still trying to get used to English pronunciations.

 

"You'll find the cellar down the left hall, two doors down. The stairs will be there. I hope that helps, sir."

 

Manfred nodded and waved for Hans to follow, and the two of them walked down the hall.

[Chevron 7 locke]

"How very noble of you, my heroic friend. Trying to fix a world thrown into permanent disrepair, and come out as some kind of paladin. Well, you'll be dragged down... You'll be dragged down one day. Anyway, it turns out that I have to get going anyway. I've got somewhere to be, don't you know. Cheers!"

 

Velic watched the man leave through narrowed eyes. His fingers went down to his flintlock pistol and he entertained a brief thought about shooting the blighter where he stood but ultimately decided against it.

There will be a day we'll settle this...He and I

 

Velic grabbed the man's arm and pulled him up to his feet. "There you are. What did he do to you?"

 

"Stole everything..."

 

"The church is looking for some cleaning help. You look like a strong lad, They could use you. Why don't head on down there and ask for a job. Tell them Velic sent you."

 

The beggar nodded shakily and walked off toward the large church, hardly believing his good luck.

 

Velic turned and continued walking toward the Theater which was quite close now.

[Alkonium]

Technically, David didn't get the note. Fortunately for him, someone who do did was enough of a coward to hire someone to go in his place. Ethics didn't really come into play in this situation, and the money was good, so he took the job. As he arrived at the King's Theatre, he started to wonder how such a vague note could scare a man so much. Perhaps he knew this TL, or perhaps he had become such a recluse that he would leave his home for any reason. Still, his employer specifically mentioned needing someone of his talent, so it was probably going to be somewhat dangerous. As he entered, he was stopped by one of the servants. "I'm sorry sir, but you are not on list of those invited. Please leave immediately." He told David, to which David pulled out the letter, clearly addressed to his employer, and one of his pistols in his other hand. "Do either of these change your mind?" He asked. "Right downstairs, sir." The servant replied, backing off, which prompted David to holster his gun. Entering the cellar, he stated. "So, you must be TL."

[Gob]

Kamarov glided towards his destination, the King's Theatre, with a certain smoothness. Despite his rough appearance and even rougher behavior, years of creeping and theft had given him a formidable amount of balance and swiftness. The Theatre wasn't far. Even though it faced away from the slum he was stalking, it was close enough that Mikhail could see many details on its architecture.

 

As he walked, he noticed the beggar's rescuer walking in the same direction. This wanker following me? Mikhail disregarded the probability, and checked the pristine pocket watch he had acquired just nights before. A little early, but he had nothing to do; he had already robbed the district dry.

 

When he reached the Theatre, a servant greeted him, and Mikhail simply showed him the note. The servant checked it and said, "You, sir? Never mind, follow me." Mikhail was led down some stairs in the back of the building, and could hear someone talking. He stepped into the room below.

[Chevron 7 locke]

Velic finally arrived at the theatre only to see the man who had been accousting the beggar earlier walk in.

 

Blast.

 

A servant asked to see his invitation and Velic quickly showed it to him. "Very good sir. The meeting will take place in the cellar in...five minutes time."

 

"Thank you."

 

Velic descended down into the cellar and looked around. There were a few other people in the cellar besides himself.

[Astor]

Thomas remained sat at his desk as he heard footsteps on the stairs - one of his guests had arrived.

 

"So, you must be TL" He stood up, and took a short bow. "Sir Thomas Leyton at your service. I see that you had no trouble gaining entry to this little meeting of ours - your abilities are impressive, and I have no doubt they we shall make good use of them.

 

Please, help yourself to food and drink - I shall get down to business as soon as the other invitees arrive - speaking of which, it seems we have another guest" Thomas noted the man descending the stairs - a dishevelled looking man, who wouldn't look out of place begging on the streets.

 

"And you, Sir, must be Mr. Kamarov. Sir Thomas Leyton, at your service. A pleasure to make your acquaintance".

 

Things were off to a better start than Thomas had imagined - he only hoped that his guests would be interested in hearing his proposition.

[Lord of Hunger]

John Blake sipped his tea as he read the note.

 

At last, he thought. An awakening of minds, a gathering of protectors.

 

It was very easy for John Blake to guess what the purpose of the note was. Since he had experience hunting the nosferatu, others seeking to end the hell spawn had sought him out for the purpose of an alliance. While he preferred to work solo, John would not turn such an opportunity aside.

 

The nosferatu plague had been growing for quite some time. It had begun fifty years ago and Europe was gripped in panic. Then they went into hiding and the fear was gone, the West returning to normal. Finally, they had become strong enough that they could rear their heads without fear of even divine retribution and swarm into the villages of Austria and France.

 

John Blake lived to hunt the nosferatu, ever since they had stolen his parents. It was adventure and revenge that he lived for, the thrill of battle, the sense of justice.

 

John laid down the empty cup on the saucer, left his tip, and strode out of the tavern, his saber in its scabbard on one hip, his blessed stake tucked into his coat. King's Theater then.

 

------

 

He entered the cellar and beheld several men gathered together...just as he had anticipated.

 

"Greetings and salutations," John said cheerfully and as warmly as possible. His father had always taught him to make a good first impression. "Which of this company would be our esteemed host?"

[Master_Archon]

((I'm starting to notice a pattern in how I'm entering RP's lately....))

 

Twenty Minutes Before Current Events

 

Dante was riding through the streets of London on his trusted horse, 'Segno', his large signature hat covering his face in shadows, something uncommon for this time of night, well, unless it was cold, and, in fact, it was. Around his neck, Dante wore a light brown scarf ((no one told me that it would be during Winter! I added a scarf for aesthetic purposes.)) that covered the lower portion of his face, and his entire neck, leaving only a small dark sliver for him to peer out of with his cool dark eyes. As he passed people on the street, he found himself drawing many eyes, it wasn't uncommon though, he was wearing all the right clothes to suggest just what they were thinking, yes he was a Highwayman, and yes he was actually in a city dressed like one. Many people stopped staring when his head ominously swiveled in their direction, many policemen stared him down like hateful dogs, some reaching for their weapons, whatever they may be; whether billy club, or officer's sword, but the more respectable policemen would handle their weapons out of caution, but then usher the people to stop staring, so as to let him be on his way and do whatever business he had in the city, seeing as even a Highwayman had the right to ride down the street, as long as he wasn't causing problems.

 

Dante moved his head in the direction of his destination, the King's Theatre, only a ten minute journey at the speed he was going, meaning he would most certainly not be late, in fact, he would be early, but he preferred it that way, especially when he received anonymous letters in the night. Ones that said "come alone" often didn't bode well, and suggested a trap of some sort, by some maleficent group, or sort, ones that had a grudge against him, or Highwaymen in general even.

 

Dante checked his weapons out of habit when thinking on traps, or threats in general. He had his heavy crossbow on his back, wrapped up, and a quiver of crossbow bolts on his thigh, and some emergency bolts in his coat. He had his knuckledusters in his trousers, and his guisarme was in his hands, draped lazily over his shoulder, it's head wrapped in sackcloth so as not to draw any more attention, or even unwanted violence, for most of his weapons were concealed anyways, so none knew that he was practically carrying an arsenal, though some could probably guess he was. Last, but most certainly not least he had his sword-revolver, the 'Purgatus', the only weapon he didn't have concealed, simply because he needed to have one weapon he could access quickly, as well as the fact that he liked keeping up the Highwayman appearance when in town, it made children 'ooouu' and 'aaaaahhh', as well as made women swoon, men praise, and old folks tell stories of the 'Robin Hood-esque' Highwaymen who did good for the poor, by taking from the rich, and how they approached men face-to-face to take what they wanted, instead of lying and deceiving like most. Even if most of those stories were quite fantastical, in some ways they were true as well, and Dante liked instilling that feeling in people.

 

Dante arrived at the King's Theatre, ten minutes early, just like he'd wanted, and he made his way into the building. Once inside he was accosted by two menservants, one trying to take his coat, the other his scarf, then his guisarme, then his hat, then they wanted his name, and the letter to prove that he was who he said he was, but at every turn he denied their attempts at serving him, especially when they asked for his hat. he simply silenced them and produced the note that they required, prompting them to guide him to the cellar, but he denied them even this, and he vacated their presence immediately, heading to the cellar.

 

Once he descended to the cellar he found himself more at ease, it wasn't a trap, but it was most certainly odd to see the settings of the place.

 

"I believe I was asked for," Dante said, letting go of his sword-revolver with his free hand, and using it to make a half hazard bow, something relatively difficult considering he was carrying a polearm. And with that Dante placed himself on a stool at the edge of the gathering, removing his gloves, a sign similar to removing ones' hat, only Dante didn't remove his hat often, so his gloves would have to suffice for the host.

 

((Sorry, had to cut the post short a bit, needed to get it up there, sorry if it seems hokey.))

[Astor]

Thomas was amazed that the next three guests all arrived within quick succession, with hardly any time to introduce himself properly.

 

"My, my! It seems we have quite the little assembly gathering! Messrs Velic, Blake, and Eligius, I am Sir Thomas Leyton, and I have called you all here to discuss a matter of mutual interest - but not before our other guests arrive. Please, help yourself to refreshments while you wait - i'm sure the other invitees shall not be long in their arrival"

 

He smiled to himself - things were already proceeding far better than he had imagined.

[CommanderQ]

Manfred checked the nearby clock.

 

Never again will I be this late!! Nemats!

 

He took in a breath, and pushed open the door, striding in his arrogant Prussian way.

 

To his dismay, there were three others who'd come before, and he felt slightly embarrassed. To be late was to be rude, and it doesn't make for good impressions on Mlitary Officers.

 

He stood ramrod straight and looked at the others in the room.

 

"Which of you is TL?"

 

He had spoken with the booming and commanding voice of a Prussian Officer, he would get the info he wanted, no matter what.

[Astor]

Just as Thomas sensed the mood of the gathering was easing, someone burst in, shouting demands.

 

"Which of you is TL?"

 

"Damn your eyes, Sir! Have you no manners? How dare you burst into this meeting demanding answers! I am T.L, and I don't care for demands"

 

Thomas looked the man up and down - he was wearing a military uniform, and was obviously used to getting answers when he wanted them, in addition to ordering people about.

 

"My apologies, Sir. I am, in answer to your question, Sir Thomas Leyton" He turned to the other assembled gentlemen.

 

"And this, I believe, gentlemen, is Baron von Hempel. Please, make yourself at home. I will answer all your questions when everyone has arrived"

[CommanderQ]

"Damn your eyes, Sir! Have you no manners? How dare you burst into this meeting demanding answers! I am T.L, and I don't care for demands."

 

Manfred's face registered his offense at the way TL spoke. But then the Englishmen observed who he was and apologized. Manfred lifted his chin higher in a show of superiorty as TL introduced him to the others in the room.

 

"Sir Thomas Leyton, I should've known. It's been awhile since we last encountered eachother, and the circumstances were much different indeed...."

 

A question formed in his mind.

 

"Leyton, just how many people were invited to this meeting?"

 

He had other questions, regarding the reason of the meeting, but he decided to be patient and wait for the opportune moment.

[Chevron 7 locke]

"I will answer all your questions when everyone has arrived"

 

"I apologize for asking, but how long will this meeting be? I have a creature that needs hunting this night."

[Astor]

Thomas was puzzled by von Hempel's statement.

 

"Forgive me, Sir - I was unaware that I had previously made your acquaintance. And, in answer to your other question, we should be expecting a few others - all of you have been summoned for a reason"

 

The other military officer there - the British Captain piped up while they were conversing.

 

"I apologize for asking, but how long will this meeting be? I have a creature that needs hunting this night."

 

"I am aware, Captain, of your need to rid London of the evil you visited upon the city, but I think you will agree - I think you will all agree, that what we are to discuss tonight is of far greater importance."

[Lord of Hunger]

"I am aware, Captain, of your need to rid London of the evil you visited upon the city, but I think you will agree - I think you will all agree, that what we are to discuss tonight is of far greater importance."

 

John grinned. "By far greater importance I believe you mean the presence of many creatures that require hunting...correct?"

[Darth InSidious]

(OOC: I'm assuming this is in Haymarket?)

 

Thomas Arrowsmith frowned. He knew no-one with the initials of "TL" in England and he had scarcely arrived, so the chances of a trap were small; still... being sent anonymous messages was not exactly usual.

 

Had he been followed from France? It seemed unlikely, and the Assembly didn't have the kind of support necessary to track him; besides, he was too unimportant.

 

He finished his now-cold mug of coffee and sat back for a moment, glancing at the clock. There was a good few hours yet, and only one way to find out what the message was about. He got up, and paid with as little fuss as possible, and left. It was a good way to the King's Theatre, but he walked quickly, and couldn't afford expenses like a carriage.

 

As he made his way across Hyde Park, he thought a little on what the meeting could be about. It did seem odd that someone should send a message to him,specifically; and take such care as to see that it would arrive for him; of course, there were those who had the money and the position to avoid Protestantism, but they were few and far between, and undoubtedly would have chosen a rather more comprehensible manner of communicating with him.

 

At this point, he began pondering on the best way to Arundel and its advisability, and was caught up in this for some time. It was as he turned into Great Portland Street, then,that he realised he was wandering a little aimlessly, and was far from his goal. He set off at a quickened pace toward Haymarket, and smiled a little at the irony of his location.

 

He was tiring, now, however, and had slowed greatly in his movement, so that it was five minutes past midnight when he arrived at the King's Theatre, and rather pensively entered the cellar.

 

He smiled rather faintly at the candle-lit faces, and held up a piece of paper.

 

"I... ah, received a note. I hope I'm not too late."

[Astor]

(OOC: Yes, Darathy - this is in Haymarket.)

 

"By far greater importance I believe you mean the presence of many creatures that require hunting...correct?"

 

"Very astute, Mr. Blake - but I would rather discuss it when everyone has arrived."

 

As he finished his sentence, he noticed a rather haggard figure enter quietly, before smiling and holding up his 'invitation'.

 

"I... ah, received a note. I hope I'm not too late."

 

"Ah! Bienvenue! No, you are not at all late, Sir! Just in time, in fact"

 

He looked the man up and down in the candlelight - here was a man that had the distinct look of one who wished to avoid attracting attention.

 

"I am Sir Thomas Leyton, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Please, help yourself to food and drink - you look like you could do with some refreshment - we're almost ready to begin, I think, but for the arrival of another guest"

 

Almost everyone was here now. Soon, he could begin, and answer the torrent of questions those assembled no doubt had for him.