[Game Thread] Meetings

[Alexius]

"Evening, gentlemen," said the figure before you.

And although he is technically correct (it's almost 8:00 o'clock) the sun is still blazing outside. Through the wide window you can see the dust of the day settling in the town below, a far off collection of browns and tans, dominated by a mountain range to the far right and a beautiful blue sea to the left.

All in all, it is a very pleasant panorama. A rich desert aroma wafts in through the window, and although it is still fairly light, a breeze coming in off the beach is finally cooling off those of you not used to a tropical climate.

The room around you is calculated in every way to complement the view from the window. Deep mahogany and finely patterned tapestries make you feel the desert around you, while firmly reminding you that you are, in fact, in one of the most luxurious and expensive hotels in Casablanca. It is in fact not in the city itself, but a few kilometers along the coast, all the better for those who enjoy their privacy (as the fabulously wealthy often do.)

If you saved every penny you'd earned for an entire year, you still couldn't afford to spend more than two weeks here. For the last three days, you have been pampered while awaiting the arrival of this man, given cigars and caviar and champagne and vintages of wine older than you.

And all of this is due to your mysterious benefactor, in whose presence you stand in now.

He's not a tall man, nor bulky, but he carries the certainty of arrogance and power: he exudes calm without trying, produces an aura of dignity and surety none of you could ignore. The only betrayal of his age is his iron-grey hair -- otherwise he's anywhere between 30 and 60. His clothing is fine, but unobtrusive. His voice is soft, but it carries -- lesser men might almost be hypnotised by its mellow tones.

"I have never been one for delays, so I shall be as blunt as I can: I need you to do me a certain favour, for which you will be duly and excellently recompensed."

He has the slightest accent to his English.

"As my secretary will have already told you, my name is Eckhart de Rothschild. Some of you may recognise the name; and yes, I am indeed one of the male heirs of a part of the Rothchild fortune. Leave it at that and ask no more questions of my lineage."

"Each of you is present because he posseses a particular skill or attribute which I feel will help me achieve what I want. And what I want you to do, gentlemen, is to find for me an artifact of enormous importance and value. It is called the Cross of St George, though I doubt he himself had anything to do with it.

Before I continue into the particulars, do we have any questions? I would like you all to stand and introduce yourselves, since I expect you will be working together."

[CareyZW]

An old looking man dressed in a rather dapper suit was sitting in one of the chairs in the room. He appreciates the comforts of the thick chairs more then the others might. Its good to have some nice cushioning on his old bones. He personally has been greatly enjoying the pampering of the last few days. It sure beats living in squalor in a native village, even if he did that by choice. I really shouldn't have any more of these... He thinks to himself as he puffs one of the fine cigars provided. Smoking was a luxury he wasn't sure his health would afford him.

When they are all prompted to stand, the older gentleman reaches for his cane, placing it squarely between his knees and rising to his feet. For his old age, his back isn't bowed at all and he stands in a crisp military 'at the ready' position, only missing a salute to complete the motion.
"Major John Hurley, retired from the Kings Royal Rifles. I've made my living in South Africa for the last 40 years or so." This is said matter of factly, and its with the same crisp precision that he reseats himself. Once comfortable, he gives a polite tip of his head to the rest of the associates gathered, and his cigar finds its way back to his mouth.

[LupusRegalis]

Evan leans away from the window railing, where he'd been gazing out of before Mr. de Rothschild had entered. He's a little uncomfortable around such obvious signs of wealth, though he has taken advantage of and enjoyed the last three days. Right now he's feeling like a monkey in a suit, though a nice suit. Hotel management had provided it and explained if he wished to make use of the restaurant or evening club he would need to wear it. Out of respect for his employer he had agreed. Truth be told he liked the way it looked and fit, but he'd never tell a soul that. Taking a few steps further into the room he introduces himself after Major Hurley.

"Names Evan MacGill, and I've been around the block a few times, here and elsewhere. I'm ex-Army Air Corps, and I'll be your pilot and navigator." he seems to think on something for a second or two, then adds "Mostly I don't care what you call me, 'cept if you call me 'Mic' or 'Mac'...then we're gonna have words."

With that last bit he wanders back over to the window. He finds a spot on the wall to lean into, and settles himself. Pulling his pack of Lucky's from a pocket, he shakes out a smoke and lights it up. With a quick motion he slides his hand through his hair, and listens to the rest.

[sixgunNinja]

Pacing in front of the wide window with one hand on his hip, the other holding a perspiring glass of scotch, Peter Rainer turns to address the others in the room. "Its good to meet a couple Old Soldiers. I was in the ANZAC at Gallipoli myself. Goddamn tragedy that was." Shaking his head and sipping his scotch, he continues, "Since then I've been hunting big game and exploring Africa."

Finishing his scotch, Rainer walks to the sideboard, pours another glass of scotch, adding a touch of water from a decanter. "So, for us uncouth military types, no offense mates, does anyone know anything about this Cross?"

[GRAVATRON]

Embers glow, followed by a puff of smoke. A man dressed in a dark blue suit, pinstriped with light blue, takes a step forwards. He had been standing back so that a column of shadow had hidden his facial features.

As he steps out of the shadow, the sunlight reflects off his circle-frame glasses and his facial features are now made apparent. A young face greets the group with a smile, the tail end of a well smoked cigar is wedged in the corner of that smile. The suit is well tailored, fitting this young man's form and accenting his powerfull physique. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a silver Zippo, which he raises to the stump of cigar left. Using his left hand to flick open the lighter and ignite the lighter, he steps quickly towards Eckhart with his right hand extended in an unmistakeable jesture. He deftly brazes the end of the cigar in his mouth and closes the lighter with a flick of his left wrist, as he takes hold of Eckhart's hand, giving it a single solid shake. He turns on the ball of his left foot and breathes out a puff of smoke, now facing the others in the room.

"Well, well. A room of ex-soldiers and I'm the muscle"
He says, cigar butt still in his mouth. He is still sporting a wide grin as he turns back to Eckhart.
"Your show of hospitality has been great, and I for one, would like to thank you. This is definitely a high class gig and I will be sure not to let you down."
He turns again towards the group and takes a few steps, so that he can see all the people in the group.

"So, I guess I should introduce myself, proper like, to everyone here. My name is Russell Donaldson, but I know we all going to be chums so you can call me R.D. It looks like I am the muscle here, and I bring the heat in any fire-fight. I own a P.I. agency back in the Big Apple, so I am not clueless, and it's a foolish man who makes that mistake."
R.D. looks at the group, he mumbles under his breath slowly pointing at each person.
"So we got Old Hurley, Mac... MacGill, and..."
He points at the man who had mentioned ANZAC and who was presently sipping watered scotch.
"I didn't catch your name there?, maybe you can pour me a scotch, neat, and speak up"
He then looks back to Eckhart.
"So what about this cross?"

[sixgunNinja]

Forgive, Mister Donaldson, Rainer says as he pours a second glass of scotch for the New Yorker. Crossing to the middle of the room, the Aussie smiles ever so slightly as he hands Donaldson the drink, Rainer, Peter Rainer.

[GRAVATRON]

"No worries, mate"
he says in probably the worst australian accent ever. He takes a deep drink of the scotch.
"Mmm, this is good stuff. Thank you Peter. Well it looks like we are all going to get along just fine. Thing is I am still wondering who that is"
He says pointing at the last figure in the room who had, so far, stayed silent.
"Come on now. Stop lurking and present yourself to the rest of the guys."
R.D. puffs steadily on the end of the cigar while quickly drinking from his glass of scotch.

[masternate]

A well dressed man turned his head from away from the window to watch what the other people in the room were saying. After a few minutes he turns his head back to the window, letting out a deep breath before standing up and heading to his new allies, but not before straightening out his suit. As he walks over those paying attention to him get a better view of him, without obstruction from the sun. He was a short man, deffinately less than 5ft 6, and quite skinny too, his skin was white many years ago now it is tanned. His hair has streaks of gray running through oiled black hair. In his left hand the man is carrying a Homburg hat, which compliments his formal Black Tie outfit.

Good evening gentlemen. He starts, his voice deffinately American, but laced with a hint of superiority over his companions. My name is Dr Steven Collins, Doctor of Archaeology. It appears as if we have an assembly of fine skills tonight, now doesn't it. Steven was actually quite relieved for now, it appeared that he didn't have to compete with another Doctor, just a bunch of soldiers.

After shaking hands with his companions Steven speaks up. I have heard of this Cross of St. George in myth only, supposedly quite a powerful artifact, although I had always thought it was always just that, myth. Seems I may have been mistaken. However I think I will let our host answer the specifics of such an artifact, as I am sure he has more details on hand.

 

Knowledge check With a low of 29 I am pretty sure he knows something.

[CareyZW]

Major John continued to sit quietly in his chair, watching the others. A fly-boy? Wish we had those in my day... He thought inwardly. Would of made a world of difference, but, thats just how things go.

"Gallipoli?" Major John says with some surprise as one of the other men mentioned that. "Thought you blokes did pretty alright, considering the odds." His attention shifts along to the Russell, and the tone from the old man is stiff, though not exactly cold. "You can call me Major, or Major John." He says simply. If he was rankled by being called old, he didn't seem to show it. After all, he -is- old. Can't really pretend you aren't what you are.

He had nodded his head to the introduction of Doctor Collins. In the literal sense of the word, there was another doctor present, though one without any certificates. Proved through trial by fire.

[Alexius]

"Well now, since we're all reasonably acquainted, let's deal in details, shall we? First to clarify something: the cross is a myth. What we have found is to the cross what the Mask of Agamemnon is to Agamemnon, if you know what I mean. But the item itself is of tremendous historical value: it was cast in the 9th century somewhere in France, and made its way to England in 1066, where it remained in the possession of the king for two hundred years.

Each king has, according to an immensely sacred ritual, added something of intrinsic worth to the cross: we know, for example, that Richard Coeur de Lion added to it an Afghani sapphire, acquired, we imagine, during his time on Crusade, and the peculiar tobacco leaf sealed in glass is attributed to Queen Elizabeth."

He swallows, grimacing slightly. Speaking seems like a natural and easy state for this man, who can make even this obvious show of distaste a part of his performance.

"Unfortunately, it has been stolen from me. One of my analysts has made off with it, and hasn't been seen in three weeks. I want you to find him, and get me my cross back. If you succeed, there will be other, more interesting and lucrative jobs for you, but first, you must prove your loyalty. Any questions? We will deal with payment in a minute."

[sixgunNinja]

"One of your "analysts" eh? Not my usual kind of hunt, but one does have to branch out every once in a while. Variety being the spice of life and all." Rainer says, gesticulating vaguely.

Continuing, he asks, "What can you tell us about his analyst of yours? What was his area of expertise, what was he working on when he disappeared with the Cross? You seem like a thorough chap, so I'm hoping you might have a dossier on him? Where he's from, where he went to school, known associates, that kind of thing. If he has any kind of record, criminal or government service that would be of great help as well."

Turning to his new associates, "Well, that seems like a good place to start to me, but does anyone else have any ideas? Dr. Collins, might the thief be trying to sell the Cross? Do you have any contacts in antiques or archaeology that might have heard something through the grapevine?"

[LupusRegalis]

"I'm sure he does, Mr. Rainier." Evan speaks up "'Cause I'm sure I've heard his name in passing..." He concentrates on the Doctor for a few seconds, then takes a puff on his smoke. "Never heard much really, just in passing conversation as I picked up cargo. You've liberated a few pieces in your day havn't you, Doc? Though I doubt you ever stole them first...er, not from the living anyways."

He looks to their host and says "If ya give me a day or two, I should be able to find out if anyone's buying 'priceless' objects recent like. Leastwise I can tell you the most likely to be able to afford the thing..."

Evan stops and his face goes blank. He quickly stands straight up from where he'd been leaning on the wall and looks pointedly at their host. When he starts talking again it's rapid. "Did you say test of Loyalty?! Why would we need to do that, not like we're joining the Mob. Are we?"

[CareyZW]

"We are chasing down an analyst with a stolen cross?" The old man muses aloud, his voice not carrying very far as he puffs his cigar a few more times. His hands shake a little as he moves to butt the expensive amenity, deciding tto try and avoid any future damage to his lungs.

"Loyalty?" The old man says sharply, his eyes keenly staring at the baron through the thin spectacles that adorn his nose. "What kind of loyalty will you find in people being paid to return an item to you?" He asks, his eyes not wavering. "As you hinted at, we are going to be rewarded for our acts. You are paying us for a task. That makes us no more loyal to you then a carpenter you hire to fix a door." Major John shifts a little, planting his cane beneath his feet as he leans forward on it.

"Perhaps your 'analyst' was 'loyal' as well? Paid to work, and assumed to be trusted?" He leaves the rest unspoken, considering their task. Said analyst ran off with a very valued item.
Major John sighs lightly after his point, and sinks back into his chair as he raises a hand and waves it lightly. "Forgive an old man Baron Rothechild. Perhaps I see shadows where there are none. But if all the men in your employ are trusted in the same fashion we are to be trusted... Well, I worry what else may go missing." He makes a point of not looking around the room. He doesn't want to imply that any of them might steal something.

[masternate]

Dr Collins listened to Baron Rothschild's account of the Artifact, the corner of his lip curling up in a slight smile as the Baron seemed to miss a detail, either on purpose or by ignorance. I am still the best. He thought to himself, his Archaeological superiority still intact for the moment.

I do believe that the interpretation that the Cross was struck in the 9th Century is a sticky point. In the 7th Century, the Bishop of Cappadocia made mention of an artifact that matched it's description, he claimed that it was stolen by the Beast, and that it is one of the basis' for the belief that a standard bearer will always die. He looks at the Baron, although he was beginning to suspect he already knew this fact. It has also been mentioned as early as the 5th Century.

Now as for our friend the Thief, there is deffinately a market for an Artifact like this. However I doubt he was getting paid a minimal amount for his efforts, so I think we may have to look for ulterior motives. Blackmail? Or even personal gain. Perhaps he figured out how to use the device and is heading off to use it.

Steven turns to Rainer. Yes I can put my feelers out to see if there is any word on the market. Although it could take some time to receive a telegram back from them. I would suggest starting where we know the thief was last known to be. He stopped to listen to before letting out a laugh. Oh heavens yes, it is good to hear my reputation proceeds me. His smile had widened as he continued. But I will say, it is easier to acquire artifacts from the dead than it is from the living.

It was the Baron's last comment that made Steven stop for a moment. I believe I am agreement with my friends here. While I do not wish to imply that I nor these gentlemen are untrustworthy, how can you be sure be won't run off with your artifact? Even the most obedient canine is capable of biting his master. He stops speaking for a moment, as he dusts some dirt off his hat, before placing it under his arm. But in the interest of fair play, I am willing to under go your test, good Baron Rothschild.

[sixgunNinja]

"Gentlemen you raise a good point," turning to the Baron, "Considering that our quarry is a former employee of yours, sir, it would be imprudent of us to continue this endeavor without a clearer picture of what you are expecting of us."

"That said, I'm already here and it too late for me to put together an expedition for this season, so it is my intention to see this project though. There are some details that need to be worked out, first among them transportation and other expenses. I know that I, and I expect that the others here, do not posses the funds to chase your Cross from one end of the earth to the other. You have hired a pilot, so I must assume that either he owns a plane or that you intend to provide us with one? Your man has been gone for three weeks, he could be in the Orient or the Andes by now. Additionally, while I am prepared to bivouac in the wilderness, I doubt your scholar will be found in the Savanna, so we will need accommodation. And potentially ground transport and supplies as well."

"I do not mean to take advantage, but I think the best way to arrange all of this would be through your secretary. This way he could book us accomodations and supplies in advance and would be constantly apprised of our location. This way any new information that comes to light could be telegraphed to us, provided Mr. MacGill and Dr. Collins instruct their contact's to send their information to your secretary. This could greatly expedite our search, and time appears to be of the essence."

As an aside he turns to Evan, "Mr. MacGill, as you've asked not to be called Mac, you'll forgive me for correcting you, its Rainer not Rainier. I am many things, but French is not one of them."