Sitting up in bed, I see the necklace I grabbed from Jacob. I put it on to commemorate his life, the man being away from his wife so much because he worked and partied hard. May I one day have his energy.
As I go to the meeting room, I see Garv loading up some knives in his coat, “The knives go on the other side of your plate for breakfast not in your coat, Garv” I jest. He smirks, without looking, picks up the next one and puts it away.
When I've had breakfast and the cart and “props” are here, we load up the carriage Morag's horse has been harnessed to. When that's done and everyone is ready, we head off, for a Monday morning delivery. When we're there it only takes me and Garv to unload the wagon, so Morag and Sir Bobby wander off for a bit, apparently they spied a puppet show on the journey here.
When Garv and me finish, we knock on the door. No answer, even after four tries. Looking around, we notice the celler door is boarded up, while all the windows are blacked out. Our delivery story just became that little less believable. But what club doesn't have goods delivered?
So we find a way of opening the place. I roll my sleeves up, but it's too late, Garv already has the door open “easy-peasy” he says. Me, Garv and the Reverend (after he turned away so as to not see the lock picking, innocent man) walk into a empty, clear feeling of a room. What I mean is, there was tables and chairs in the space, but it was like it was opening night, nothing had been touched. Just seemed odd, but maybe that's how they do things in a gentleman's club.
We tread carefully around the place. The reverend wanders under an archway and gets himself seen. God didn't warn him then did he! A broad gent in dapper clothes and an expressionless face, stumbles towards the Reverend. The man looked exhausted, his eyes were closed yet we could see his pupils, they looked crimson and angry. His face was colourless, it was as if he was death itself walking towards our beloved member of the cloth, whilst slurring “You should not be here". All the while this being, groaned as if he was on some drug craze, like I seen those addicts I'd seen coming out of the White Lotus opium house.
The Reverend being the simple man just stood there and was trying to tell the man that there was some misunderstanding, that he was a delivery driver and was “inquiring as to where the goods were to be put” as if some delivery driver would say “inquiring” whilst putting his hands in his jacket and looking happy about it. Never mind. Yes you can imagine by my description this being was not of this world, and by the fist raised above it's head, I was guessing it wasn't friendly either. Buuff! The reverend went flying into a table, recovering he looked surprised as to what had happened. The being just said “You should not be here” repeatedly, reaching it's arms for the reverend's neck. Crawling away, Steele looked deep into the man's eyes and was scared of what he saw, which puzzled me. Garv gave some assistance, went to restrain the man, but instead got a punch to the gut. I tried to shoulder barge the being, but again no avail, it was like barging the strern of a ship. “You should not be here” ringing in my ears as I picked myself up from the ground followed by the reverend shouting “Abomination of God!” drew his pistol. The being still sluggish with his movements sent a chair flying, staring at the Reverend, leaning towards him,a shot was fired, the being dropped to his knees and fell forwards.
There was a short pause of silence, it was sort of an awkward last words for the man we had just sent to the underworld because he was an “abomination of God” which was a dead give away some stranger was in the Umbral rooms, that wasn't suppose to be there. But no more came running to fight us.
After a good few minutes of trying to find the guy we're after, that shoulder barge must have knocked the name out of my head. Garv and Steele come back to me with our deceased drugged up friend and say “well he is not to be found upstairs”, so we all know where he is, but where is the cellar door.
Further Exploring - CellarEdit
More time passes and we find a spiral staircase leading down, seems the most likely one really. As we descend, looking around the new surroundings, I get the taste of sulphur or something that stings the back of my throat. The air here seems unclear, down here. I thought it would have been a body but Doc doesn't seem bothered. We walk down a short corridor with lots of doors either side and one straight in front.
We all warily checked the windows in each of the doors. The one at the very end was for me to check. I waited for other people to check and make sure there was no danger from the rear. Quite inappropriately Doc cries out “there's a man in this one, he may need medical attention” not sure what it is with this lot and understanding “quiet” but nothing came from my door. Garvin picked the lock and sure enough, he recognised him and turned away looking disappointed.
I cheer him up by nodding towards my door, he nods back and gets ready. Reverend aims at the door for a quick shot if its needed. Morag still at the back of the hall, Bobby near her but still in front, Doc tending to the man in the cell. I hold up three fingers and knock them on some imaginary object whilst subtracting a finger each time, on the fist, we lunge the door open and get a boot in the face from another drug addict. Lying flat on the floor the next thing I see is a man standing over me wrestling with Garvin, while three more men are trying to get through the doorway.
For quite some time it's a battle, where I hold three goons in the room with this man in a top hat laughing manically, the other guy that Garvin is wrestling and some screams from the rear that sound like Doc. All this while the man in the top hat, who sounds vaguely French is moving towards me slowly, with a slow movement of his hand, the goons as one, push me closer to the right of the room.
As I am battling away the whole time, grunting from these punches and pushes from these thugs, I hear the screams of Doc slowly getting less and less, more choking now. Morag I had guessed was far behind me, but the next time I turn around I see her at the door, looking at something behind the Frenchman, who by the way was totally fixated on me and had ignored Morag.
What happened next was very hazy for me, I must have been knocked out or something. Morag began to scream, it started out human, then slowly became deeper and more booming, then, a huge blinding light erupted from the middle of the room, next to Morag, the Frenchman knew this turned around and began to run out of the door, towards the staircase.
Behind him, was a woman, full in golden, white circulating flames. Moving away from her then swirling back like smoke, but the heat didn't match the brightness. Her eyes were amber like rivets just pulled from the furnace. She held her hands on something on a table, something swirling in a glass of some kind. Gently the glass glowed, and then shattered into many pieces. The men that I was wrestling must have takent the brunt of this explosion because they all collapsed at my feet.
So now it was me... and the woman on fire. I didn't move from sheer shock.
The woman looked at me, turned towards the doorway, glared at something, made a huge screech that made me put my hands on my ears and close my eyes at the same time. I felt a huge surge of heat flutter in front of my face, like someone had opened a stove door in a kitchen. Then the pain in my head stopped. I opened my eyes and there Morag was, collapsed on the floor and a strange burning smell wafting through the doorway.
I cradle Mrs Morag's head under my jacket, she seems sleepy and asks “What happened.” My only response at this time was “I dunno Ms.”
The police came a while later because they heard gun fire. Lord Wicks and the rest of the gentleman all sorted it out for us, that the man had dosed himself in flames because he was holding them as prisoners for there gambling debts. Garvin creeps in while the cops are here, to the inner room, spots the safe and goes to work, “Here, Riggs, close the door will ya”, I push it to slightly and garv pockets the contents he can muster, unbeknown to the Reverend and police. As we leave the place, Garvin having tucked some stuff into his big coat, we walk over some half charred remains of our top hat joker, who seems to be melted to his suit from the back to mid arm section. Still clueless.
Tuesday 15th March, 1892
I have a quiet celebration with the rest of the guys, our first adventure went sort of to plan, this is short lived as Garvin and Doc say they have an errand to run. That's fine, more booze for me.
Friday 18th March 1892
Nothing much in the papers, the air was nice and still. I missed the time away from the ring so I went back to a 'safe' ring I once trained at for some practice. An Irish feather weight throws a few soft jabs at my ribs, then gets a great swing at my jaw. But I club him back a few rounds later. Putting on my coat made me wince. I will have to get the Doc to bandage me up, next time I see her.
Monday 28th March
I pick up the paper and there is a short mention of a fire in the Umbral Rooms and the brave men and women who tried to rescue those people who were trapped in there. Willie Garvin and companions are thanked by Lord Wicks and others.
Wednesday 30th March
No sign of the Doc again, so I've just had bed rest. Movement is dodgy at times, but I have a seat at the bar for my dinner. There's an awkward silence I've noticed between the Reverend and Morag, he always seems to eat away and sit from her. He always keeps an eye on her when she enters the room it seems when she returns from her outings with Sir Bobby.
Saturday 2nd of April
I get back from the pub, coat off, legs out stretched and relax in a recliner chair for a god few hours. Doc comes over and whittles on about something Ripper tech or whatever, I was half asleep when she told me about it. I had to ask her to repeat it when she mentioned the morgue . She and Garvin, she was telling me, had been to the morgue, bribed the attendant to look the other way while they carted off the body of Mr French fry in the carriage back to here. “Mr Wilson Thomas has given me permission to us his ripper lab” “Good for you Doc” I congratulate her and carry on snoozing. “There's a chance the Sould Devourer's time-manipulating swiftness will pass to those who accept the Ripper tech” I opened one eye “In what way do you mean 'time-manipulating swiftness' Doc?” “Well the patient would be more in touch with his movements, with his procision” I laughed, “So Doc you could make me faster?” “No not faster, more accurate, you wouldn't have to out maneuver them, your mind would register it quicker”. I thought about it. “That would make me a much better fighter, Doc” imagine that, my power with the speed of that Irish twat in the ring last week. That would be lethal “Alright Doc, you have your patient.”
When I was under the gas, Doc removed my fingers and replaced them with "The Soul Devourer" from the Umbral Rooms. The surgery is a success, so I was told, but I had these dirty great stitches, it looked a bit horrific. I did many tests with Doc, lots of piano like movements to check all of them were working and nothing would rip. One thing I complained about, was a dryness in my threat, which water couldn't fix, but rubbing my fingers like I was asking for dosh did. I felt a sudden urge to go see Mr. Green and bet a few horses with him, but I never felt this way, I was always the guy, who would collect on Green's behalf. Yet that's what I wanted to do.