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Multiple Settings The Bakker Case [IC] [Closed]

Sub Genres
Historical, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural

EdwardDewey98

Professional Argentine
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Preface

The year is 1922. The Great War is long over, slowly becoming a fading memory. Prohibition is in full effect, alcohol being banned across the United States, and the mafia continues to grow in power. In the Miskatonic County, life continues as normal. Or so it seems. Famous actress and singer Martha Bakker reports that her father, known magnate Theodore Bakker, has gone missing without leaving a single clue as to his whereabouts. The police seem unable to pick up a trail. Growing desperate, and losing trust in the police force, Martha decides it might be best to hire a group of professionals to help her find her father. From hardy thugs, to Great War vets, to private detectives and even scholars and occultists as her father was quite fond of the occult himself. Their mission seems to be rather easy at first, but as the detectives continue to delve deeper and deeper into the case, it clearly becomes more than just a case of a missing person.


This RP is currently a closed RP, but might potentially open for new players later. Keep an eye on it! As GM, I control various NPCs in the story, but some may be controlled by players. All events will be under my direction. Feel free to throw ideas at your fellow players. I really want you guys to have fun!

Rules
1. Please, be nice.
2. No power or metagaming. You have a lot of freedom and slack, but ultimately rolls determine if things happen.
3. Out of Character (OOC) chat should be in double parentheses, ((so it will look like this when you post OOC)).
4. If you go inactive or drop, your character(s) will be under my control (and may potentially die.) If you let me know you're going to be inactive for a while and can pick back up later, I'll look after your character till you return.
5. This is primarily a PvE game, but PvP can still potentially happen if its agreed upon by both parties and run by me.
6. As GM, new rules can be implemented on the fly.

Link to Facepunch RP discord: Discord Sever (Highly recommended that you join this if you join the rp or are otherwise interested in this rp. All OOC discussion and news on the rp occurs here!)
Link to the Bakker Case wikia page: The Bakker Case (Under construction, but most lore and character pages and such are there and up!)


Players
(If a player drops out, their character will be controlled by me and listed here as dropped.)

Briggite Dupont - EdwardDewey98
Artem Bondareko - joshuadim
George H. Bennett - Radley
Wolfgang Hess - Emperor Sagan
Li Lei - Infab

 
Prologue

EdwardDewey98

Professional Argentine

October 3th, 1922
Arkham, Massachusetts.

It was a typical autumn evening in Arkham. The once green trees that were a common sight among the estates of the rich and powerful around Millhaven district were now a plethora of magnificent colored leaves, each slowly falling with each gust of cold wind. Among these estates was the Bakker estate, home to the well-known Belgian magnate Theodore Bakker and his daughter, famous actress Martha Bakker. The estate house itself was nothing but impressive and rather extravagant in design, even when compared with the other estate houses in the district. The inside of the house can only be described as convoluted, due to the large amount of rather exotic items found in each room which ranged from ancient and quite impressive foreign decorations such as African masks hanging from the wall, Meso-American jewelry and statues, and even a 13th century medieval armor in rather well kept condition. Other items ranged into the strange, with daggers of queer design stashed in protective cases and bookshelves full of books related to esoteric topics and written by rather unknown authors.

Up the stairs, Martha Bakker found herself in a near daily situation. Right after waking up from a well-deserved rest, she was applying her make-up while still wearing her sleeping gown. And as usual, her husband John Readings entered the room uninvited. He gave his wife a look of disdain as he approached her. "You were supposed to attend the Woodrow's art gallery, but of course, I find you sulking in your room. Looking at your own reflection." As John moved closer, Martha's eyes followed his movement in the mirror. "I already told you, dear husband, that today I will have guests over. I can't attend trivial things such as an art gallery. Specifically one hosted by the Woodrows." John crossed his arms, his eyes meeting hers in the reflection in the mirror. "You keep leaving me alone in these meetings. Everyone is talking about it. Don't you care about your reputation, Martha?" The actress shrugged, as she began to apply her lipstick. "...My reputation matters little when compared to more urgent matters. Today, I'll be receiving people that can help me find my father."

John raised his hand to his forehead in frustration. "Oh, for god's sake, Martha. Leave that to the police. They will find him. He's an old man, he might have gotten lost on the way here after his visit to Boston." Martha glanced over her shoulder. Her stunning blue eyes could make any man or woman stutter in place. "...You know my father was far from senile. Even at his age. Besides, the police found his car in Arkham." Martha returned to her mirror one last time, smiling at the results of her make-up session. She then stood, moving towards her changing room. But her rather stubborn husband had moved into her way, with the same look of disdain he had when he walked in.

"...Martha. I'm your husband, god damn it. You might not care about what others say about you, but I care about what they say about me." Martha chuckled a bit, before sighing. "...And what do they say about me? That I'm an adultress?" She giggled a bit at the thought. "...That I broke my vows before God in pursuit of earthly pleasures? You know better, John...I hate people." She walked past him, watching his expression change from disdain to anger as she entered her changing room. "Go to your little art gallery, and gawk at the Woodrows' antics all you want...I have more important things to attend to."

Meanwhile...

At the front of the estate, a taxi pulls to a stop and from it emerges a young colored woman wearing a rather elegant red dress. As the taxi drove away, the young woman approached the front gate and was quickly welcomed by the gardener of the Bakker estate. The rather old man looked at her a bit surprised at first, but eventually gave her a friendly smile. "Hello there, madam. Can I help you?" The young lady returned his smile, and gave him a nod. "Hello there, good sir. I was invited by madam Martha Bakker. She requires my services...here, let me show you." She then pulled an invitation from her purse, signed by none other than Martha Bakker herself.

As the gardener looked at the letter, another stranger approached the gates. A rather attractive man, of sturdy appearance wearing a fedora and a coat. He looked over the woman, and took off his hat to speak with her. "Can I ask you a question, madam? Is this the Bakker estate? I'm from Boston, so I'm a bit of a stranger to Arkham." The lady nodded while waiting for the gardener to speak again. "Yes, you are in the right location. Did Madame Bakker invite you as well?" The man shook his head. "I'm afraid not. She seems to be looking for private detectives and investigators. A friend of mine in the Pinkerton agency told me of her case, and told me to pay her a visit." As the two strangers talked with one another, another unknown began to approach the front gate of the estate. Seemingly invited by Martha Bakker herself or heard rumors of her need for private muscle.
 

Radley

Aeroflot supreme
In the cobbled streets of Millhaven, a slightly misplaced figure could be observed traversing the roads leading down to the affluent estates located near the south-side harbor. The man in question was rather plain looking with a Caucasian visage, most certainly of European descent. While the mans ethnicity certainly wasn't a unusual sight in Arkhams mixed population, his outfit earned him leering gazes as he strode down the lanes. He wore a naval pea coat, with suspended pants tucked into a pair of work shoes fashioned from heavy leather, a uniform generally associated with the laborers and sailors from the Wolfstack harbor district. A man from Wolfstack was certainly an oddity to be seen walking the streets of Millhaven, the two districts practically mirrors of one another both in social and economic terms. And any of financial districts aristocratic denizens who would make the aforementioned assumptions regarding the man, they would find themselves to be correct.

The man had indeed come from Wolfstack. Leaving his lodgings in the Hook earlier the same morning, he had walked to the ferry station at the Exchange and crossed the Miskatonic, landing in the wedge between Chatham heights and the financial district. There he had stopped a police officer and asked for directions to the Bakker estate. After a quick questioning of the mans motives, he left with clear directions. Wandering the orange autumn streets with a moderate pace, he eventually laid eyes upon the elegant estate. Observing the gate to the abode, he could see two men talking to a colored woman whom was dressed in a rather fashionable attire. As he approached the gathering he studied the two individuals outside first, then directing his attention to the man on the inside of the gate.

"Pardon me. Would this be the Bakker Estate? Mr Theodore Tobey has telephoned the lady of the residence about my appearance" he inquired, his accent being soundly American, with what seemed to be remnants of a largely replaced British variant.

"The name's George Bennett."
 

EdwardDewey98

Professional Argentine
The woman turned about to look at the new arrival approaching them. At first, she had a rather friendly smile on her face, but it slowly faded to an expression of confusion and then disdain. The man looked like the typical unsavory ilk that roamed and worked around Wolfstack Harbor. Loud, lousy, and without any sort of manners. Something the lady seemed to find incredibly repulsive, based on the judging look she was giving George. But the man introduced himself, and she had to be polite. "Madame Brigitte Dupont." Her voice was rather soft, and it bore a slight but strange accent that very few in Arkham would recognize. "...And yes, you are in the correct place, sir." The man next to her looked at George with initial suspicion, but eventually gave the mariner a more respectful nod than a judging stare. "Detective Stuart Johnson. Pleased to meet you, sir." The detective's accent was typical for those from Boston and the surrounding areas, and he spoke with a rather friendly tone. "You mentioned Theodore Tobey. I assume you mean the owner of Tobey & Sons? If you don't mind me asking, Mr. Bennett, why are you here?"

As the detective waited for an answer, the gardener finished reading the letter. He handed it back to Brigitte as he started to speak once more. "Yeah, I knew folks were coming. Didn't expect you to arrive this early, I must admit. I'll go back inside, and tell Ms. Bakker that you've arrived. But she might be busy with something else, so I hope you don't mind waiting here a few minutes, Madame. I'll be back in a few minutes."
 

Infab

The Demon Fanatic
Li Lei. Cute name. Short and sweet, really, but my own name isn't much longer. Nothing to brag about. And she's a private investigator of all things. 'Short notice'. Bollocks. They just decided to throw something at me instead of actually looking for something decent. Oh well...at least we look alike...and sound alike from what I've been told. And she had plenty of money. I wonder whom she's worked for? With her bank account, probably big shots with deep pockets. Now, I have to visit this 'Baker' woman in Arkham for a new job. I have to keep my cover, obviously...Is it Baker?...Backer? Bakker?

A lighter was flicked a moment later, lighting the tip of a cigarette at the end of a black cigarette holder. The pale skinned woman inhaled, before blowing smoke from her ruby red lips. She flipped the lighter closed a moment later, tucking it into her purse before gently brushing her black locks out of her face. She looked the card over once more, twirling it around in her fingers so she could read the back. Of course, her apartment's phone number. She flipped it back over, before tucking it down into her purse as well. She then felt the cold steel of a handgun brush against her hand. She smiled. At least she was very familiar with that. She took it out and examined it. An M1911...how very American. She had used a C96 back home...an actual one, not a cheap imitation. She had lost it when she fled from the enforcers. Really, she missed the weapon...but now, she had this thing. She checked it, before tucking it back into her purse as she exhaled another puff of smoke. Then, she spoke, directing her attention to the man at the front of the taxi. "Driver, how far are we from Lady Bakker's estate?" she asked politely, making sure to disguise her British accent. If this had been back home, she'd be doing things herself. And he'd likely be dead in a ditch somewhere, just for the number of times she had caught him staring at her cleavage due to the nice black dress she was wearing.

"We're pulling up to it now, ma'am." he responded, glancing back to her as the vehicle slowed down. "Excellent." she said, reaching into her purse and drawing out a cluster of bills. They were folded neatly, tied with a ribbon of the greenest jade. She drew a few bills from it, reaching up and handing them to the driver as the vehicle finally stopped. "Thank you very much. Have a pleasant day." she then said, before quickly and quietly departing from the vehicle. She stepped onto the sidewalk, looking up to the estate and taking it all in. Fancy...though my home was larger. She then began her trek up to the gate where a few others were standing. Others? How many people did she contact for this little job? She eyed the obvious detective standing there, before glancing to the seaman and the colored woman next to them. It was likely that the seaman was hired on as muscle. Who needed muscle when a nice machine gun in the right hands would do?

She stepped up, drawing the cigarette holder from her lips and exhaling a puff of smoke. "You three must be here to see Ms. Bakker as well." she said, with a smirk as she disguised her accent once more with an American one. "Allow me to introduce myself. Li Lei. Private Investigator, from New York City."
 
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Radley

Aeroflot supreme
George eyed Brigitte as she gave him that southern look. He found it strangely ironic that a woman of color would look at him so with such disdain simply based on his attire and perceived associations. He had never been a subscriber to the notions of any racial ideals so prevalent in this nation, but rather that peoples status determined whom they could look down upon.

Shaking his earlier thoughts he turned to Johnson as he addressed him. "Yes sir, Indeed the owner of the Shipyard in Dunsmuth." He replied before leaning in closer "Mr. Tobey informed me that Lady Bakker was in apparent need of some enforcers for an investigation of some sorts. He instructed me to show up and said I would be paid for my efforts. By my reckoning it has something to do with her missing father, which I hear LeGrasse and his bumbling mp's have a hard time locating."
 
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joshuadim

meme frog
Earlier at around dusk, in one of the many drinking establishments scattered throughout Arkham sat a man alone at the bar as he found himself lost in his thoughts and with a bottle and a glass of drink nearby. He could only stare endlessly into nothing as the many folks that were visiting this pub in the evening were going about their social routines. Friends meeting friends, drinking, fighting and whatnot. And so in this crowd of evening festivities, Artem was an exception as he wallowed in his emptiness. He had only arrived to this country and city two years ago, but he still felt like a complete stranger. No family, no job, and barely any money or possessions left with him apart from a few coins, his dirty and tattered uniform from the war, and a strange necklace with a sculpted figure hanging from it: his only remaining piece from his hometown so far away. He thought things would have gotten better ever since he had left the war torn remains of what used to be the Russian Empire, which had been picked apart by the godless monsters of the Reds and the murdering bastards of the Whites. Although if news were to be believed, the Reds were to come out victorious rather soon. Nobody would win no matter who 'won', and so Artem was rather uncaring and apathetic on that front. He had more pressing matters to attend to such as reaching the bottom of a bottle quite regularly.

His thoughts were interrupted when the barkeep took the bottle of whisky nearby back into his possession and stared intently at Artem. "You ain't drinking no more t'ill you pay up."

Fumbling at one of his coat pockets, he muttered something incoherent under his breath before pulling out what little coins he had left and placing them on the countertop. The barkeep looked at the few coins for a moment before pulling Artem's glass and filling it only halfway. "That's all that will pay for."

---

After finishing his glass rather unceremoniously, Artem truly had now hit rock bottom during his time here. No money left for him to waste now on booze. As he stumbled his way out of the bar and out onto the darkening street, he wiped his mouth and pulled out a letter from another one of his coat pockets. His English speaking had to be worked on that's for sure but he could read and understand most of what he had gotten delivered to him a few days prior. A lady named Bakker has asked him to visit, much to his own surprise, but as to why he was being invited he had no clue. Nonetheless, a fancy estate meant that there was perhaps drink to be found there.

And so for a few hours he stumbled his way around, and as dusk turned to evening he chanced upon entering Millhaven and saw a few figures standing out front of an estate. This seemed like the place to be, and so he slowly walked towards the group.
 

Emperor Sagan

Lord Commissar
Autumn was perhaps the finest time of the year. It made a walk through the park a serene and calming experience, with a near rainbow assortment of leaves fluttering about your feet in little whirlwinds. The sunlight was agreeable, with no blaring summer sun that was often enough to put sweat on one's brow. Wolfgang preferred to wear a coat and feel the chilling breeze on his face. He could spend hours sitting in the park, watching the occasional stranger pass by, or courting couple hand-in-hand, or a group of children run by, chasing each other with sticks. There was a lot of spirit in New England. Vienna had been like that, too, but it had lost a lot of its shine after the war. The thought of the Empire having been carved up like a choice cut of meat put a heavy frown on his face. Best not to linger with those thoughts. They flew off on the autumn wind just as easily as they approached him.

Still, this part of the States was certainly spirited. Untouched by war and on a significant upswing. A good start to the still young decade. He had made the right choice in coming here, though some of the more spirited aspects of the region were a little out of hand. Prohibition was an excellent first step in ridding that terrible sin from the hands of men, though the law seemed skirted at every possible chance. He had preached loud and clear on what was proper during mass at least a few times a week, though even the most ardent Catholics seemed, at times, inclined to a drink. Pitiful.

He checked his pocketwatch with a quick flick of the wrist, and stuffed it back under his coat. It was time. He strolled out of the park and into the city proper, sticking to the more peaceful sidewalks nearer to less development than past the blazing lights that were now turning on, advertising squalor and vice. He still could hardly wrap his head around some of the newer dance parlors. Music was a fine expression of the soul, but some of that mind-numbingly fast and directionless drivel that 'musicians' poured out while people in hardly enough clothing rubbed up against each other was a fine indication of how too much spirit was a bad thing. With luck, the cops would shake those dens down, but he knew the enforcers weren't all paragons of the law, unfortunately. He had seen plenty of them lingering in the doorways to such places. Sometimes even smiling and laughing.

His own home, a modest brick two-story townhouse, wasn't particularly far from the Millhaven district. He was an devoted walker and knew much of the area well, and coming along towards the Bakker Estate, he realized quite quickly that he had passed through here a few times over the years. He had double checked his directions just to be sure, but it seemed somewhat unnecessary as a small crowd was gathering in front of the home. He hadn't expected such a turnout - he had heard word of the situation and, having discovered Mr. Bakker's odd proclivities towards the occult, it was apparent that a man of faith was needed to investigate. A foolish old man with foolish thoughts. He was probably dead somewhere in the woods, sitting around candles and a cow skull.

Wolfgang Hess lingered across the street, underneath a lamp, watching quietly. He didn't feel the need to approach with so much riff-raff milling about, though he may not have a choice if they didn't move on.
 

EdwardDewey98

Professional Argentine
Johnson let out a hearty chuckle as George mentioned the members of the Arkham constabulary. While he wasn't a local to the city, it was common gossip in Boston that the law enforcement officials in Arkham were not exactly incorruptible. With rumors that ranged from taking money from local Sicilian gangsters, or even participating in clandestine distilleries. It wouldn't be surprising for the detective if the officers here were just as incompetent as the sailor described them. Before the detective could continue the conversation however, they were interrupted by a rather attractive asian woman whom presented herself as a New York private investigator by the name of Li Lei. Johnson gave her a friendly smile, and introduced himself accordingly, while Brigitte seemed a bit more interested in this person.

Soon after Li Lei arrived however, two other strangers approached the group. A rather tall man, wearing some sort of military uniform that Johnson recognized as the uniform of the Russian Royal Empire. Brigitte looked a bit disgusted at first by the man's smell of cheap drink and lack of proper grooming, but after noticing the carved figure hanging from the man's neck, her interest peaked and she was quick to approach the veteran. Meanwhile, the other that arrived seemed uninterested in starting conversation with other investigators, and simply stood by the gate waiting to be attended to by the estate's staff. Johnson turned his attention to the private investigator from New York. "New York, huh? You're a bit far from home. What brought you here, madame?"

Meanwhile, as the detective tried to start a conversation with the alluring asian woman, Brigitte quickly showed her interest in the eastern-european veteran. "That's a pendant of Veles...Slavic mythology, the god of fields and forest." Her interest in the man continued to grow as she recognized the necklace. Being an erudite on ancient religions and rituals, she always loved to speak with those that could be described as 'heathens' by other 'organized' religions. "Its strange to see followers of old faiths these days...I take it that you're a follower, correct? Unless that's just a family heirloom." She then offered her gloved hand to Artem, and gave him a much more friendly smile than the one she to George. "Madame Brigitte Dupont. I'm a...scholar with a lot of interest in ancient religions."
 

Infab

The Demon Fanatic
"New York, huh? You're a bit far from home. What brought you here, madame?"
"Special request from Lady Bakker herself via telephone." responded Lei. "She believed that I could provide better assistance than local law enforcement. I'm sure the others here were brought for similar reasons." She puffed on the cigarette a little more. She knew the rough details of the job, due to the real Li Lei's notes. Theodore Bakker was missing, the police couldn't find him. She figured he was kidnapped by someone wanting money from the actress or from the man himself. Though, disappearances were never that simple. She knew that from experience.

Lei glanced over to Brigitte, as the woman hounded the Russian war vet about his necklace. So she was a scholar? She belonged back at a university. The vet was obviously here to provide more muscle, but he carried himself more like a drunken thug. She had plenty of experience with those. They made for terrible enforcers. She glanced to the other man that was nearby, waiting under a street lamp, and studied him. Clean cut, dressy attire. Certainly fit in with the more well-off citizens. She'd have to see how he spoke and carried himself to properly judge what he was.
 

Emperor Sagan

Lord Commissar
Wolfgang remained motionless where he was underneath the street lamp. There seemed to be no attendant presently at the gate, which earned a small sigh from him. He would have preferred dealing with the family servants for the moment. It wasn't even certain if all these people were to be hired in the first place, and the one particular slovenly gentlemen would almost certainly be turned away. An oriental woman looked towards him, watching him as he watched the others. His brow furrowed imperceptibly. Such a blatant observation would render him obligated to approach, rather than simply linger from afar. It seemed his choice had been made for him.

The priest looked both ways on the street, a habit he took to heart and something which he reminded the children of the parish nearly every time he could. Cars were getting larger and faster. Not the diminutive trolleys they were ten, even five years ago. The gesture was very deliberate, and once the coast was clear, he stepped out across the street and approached the group. The others were already talking, so he eyed the woman who had been watching him.

"Good evening," he said to her. His face was blank and severe - grave, even, matching his soft voice. It sounded as if he were about to announce a funeral, or some other ill news. He removed his white hat, of a slimmer style than a fedora, and nodded.

"Wolfgang Hess. I have the honor of being the leading priest at St. Mary's." His accent was distinctly measured, educated, and Germanic. "I take it that you, and the others, are here on behalf of Mrs. Bakker." It was question yet came out as a statement, almost accusingly even.

A moment's pause. "As am I."
 

joshuadim

meme frog
Artem was surprised that the lady that had approached him knew of what his pendant was. He grabbed it gently into his hand, as if almost protecting it, and stared at Brigitte as she spoke. He was indeed a follower, although how much so remained in question.

"Yes." he bluntly replied to her first question with a thick accent. When she offered her hand he looked at her for a moment before hesitantly bringing his hand out.

"Artem."
 

Infab

The Demon Fanatic
Lei listened to the man as he introduced himself, studying his face. "Indeed. My name is Li Lei. I'm a private investigator from New York." she replied. Christ, this man is like an undertaker. And he's supposed to be the leading priest? If he sounds like this, I wonder what his congregation looks like. She adjusted the white scarf she was wearing, and looked to the gate. "Hopefully the estate staff will be here soon. I'm eager to get to work. Its better than standing out here till dark."
 

EdwardDewey98

Professional Argentine
Brigitte was a bit surprised by the man's hesitance in holding her hand. She studied his body mannerisms and face, trying to detect if it came from a dark place. After all, being a colored woman, she was used to fellow academics and scholars in the field of occultism giving her looks of contempt. But he didn't act like a hateful person. In fact, he mostly seemed uncomfortable being there. A feeling she herself felt as well. Both shook hands, and she quickly went back to the topic of Slavic mythology with newfound passion in her voice. "I don't get to talk with followers of ancient faiths all that often. I hope you don't mind me asking you a few questions later, monsieur Artem." she said, with a friendly smile adorning her face.

The detective was about to speak again with Li Lei, but the pair were suddenly interrupted by the most recent arrival to the group. A priest, whom looked rather young and spoke with a noticeable Germanic accent. And based on these aspects, the detective began to show some signs of discomfort himself. He continued glaring at the priest, as the man spoke to Li Lei, until their attention was caught by a rather young colored maid standing by the gate alongside the estate's gardener. "Sorry for the wait, everyone. I see that everyone is here? The Madame just told me of everyone she was expecting." said the gardener, opening the gate to the estate. The maid gave everyone a respectful bow, before speaking. "Please follow me. Madame Bakker is still getting ready to meet you all."

The group of investigators followed behind the maid, and took the opportunity to look around the lavish estate. Kept in perfect condition by several hard working employees that lived in a small residence at the back of the moor. Once inside the estate house, the group was welcomed by more maids and a butler, whom was holding a silver tray with several fine ceramic cups and a pot full of tea. This butler was an unnaturally tall and lanky old man, whom greying eyes showed signs of blindness. But despite his rather inhuman appearance, the man spoke in a respectful tone. "...Please, have a seat, ladies and gentlemen." said the old butler, while pointing out several sofas and a chaise longue. Brigitte sat down in the chaise longue, and seemed impressed by the collection of heathenous items and iconography scattered about. But most importantly, she was impressed by their vast collection of essoteric books. Among them, authors that she could recognize, and some of them that even a well learned man such as Wolfgang might have heard of. Such as John Dee.

"Impressive collections. Their bookshelves are full of novels from renowned authors on the field of occultism." said Brigitte. Her passion for the occult was noticeable to most. On the other hand, the detective just looked about. Rather uninterested by the amount of foreign decorations and books scattered about the lounge. He simply sat down and enjoyed his cup of tea while waiting for Madame Bakker herself. As the group was getting comfortable, they saw a man down the hallway that lead to the main entrance of the house. But once he noticed the cluster of guests, he stopped in his tracks and stared at each individual member of the group. Upon seeing both George and Artem, his curious expression changed to one of scorn. "What are you people doing in my house?" asked the man. Based on the way he was talking, it was easy to assume this was Martha Bakker's husband. A radio show host by the name of John Readings.

"Not your house, John." said Martha, as she gracefully walked down the stairs to everyone's surprise. "This house belongs to me and my father. Don't you have something better to do? Such as lust after Catherine Woodrow?" The radio show host's face became red with anger and shame, but unable to do anything, he simply walked out of the house and closed the door behind him quite forcefully. Martha simply sighed, then looked to the investigators. Despite the fact that this was a simple meeting to organize the investigation, the actress was wearing an incredible expensive dress, and looked ready to attend a gala or the debut of a new play rather than speak to a group of investigators. "I'm glad that everyone is here. Thank you for accepting my invitation, Madame Dupont. My father admired your work, and I believe your services will be quite useful."

With an even bigger smile adorning Brigitte's face, she simply thanked Martha Bakker. Martha then looked to George, and gave him a smile a well. "Mr. Bennet, correct? I want to thank you personally for accepting this job and thank Mr. Tobey for helping me. I'm glad my father's friends are more than willing to help in any way they can." She then looked to Li Lei and Stuart. The detective choked a bit on his tea as the Madame looked at him, prompting her to giggle a bit. "Li Lei, and Stuart Johnson. Your services are incredibly important. Madame Li, I have only heard good things from your work in New York, and I hope to put your skills to great use in finding my father." She then looked at Wolfgang, and gave the Austrian priest a respectful nod. "Father Hess, I thank you for volunteering. I don't personally know you, but I have heard that you are quite respected by the community around St. Mary's, and I'm sure your help will be most useful to this investigation." And lastly, after having talked with most, she turned her attention to Artem. "I am glad you accepted my investigation, sir. I see...you are rather down on your luck. But fear not...and this is to everyone...but you will be well compensated for your job." After having talked to everyone, Martha sat down on the sofa next to George. And without wasting any more precious time, she began speaking.

"You might be wondering why there are so many of you, correct?" she asked, while looking around at each of them. "My father's disappearance...I know some of you might believe that he's dead, but I believe otherwise. I think he's still alive, and is in serious trouble." The actress stopped for a few moments, looking away while trying to continue speaking without showing sign of emotional weakness. "That's why you're here. I believe that someone or...a group of people are chasing him. But I believe that my father has left us several clues that I just cannot understand. Neither can the police. I believe he used his favorite subject to hide these clues from his...attackers. The occult." She let out a soft sigh of frustration, before continuing. "...but I believe I'm getting ahead of myself. I imagine most of you have questions, and I'd like to answer them."
 

Radley

Aeroflot supreme
As Martha addressed him, George simply nodded. He knew of Tobeys and Bakkers friendship through a number of sources and tidbits, but not enough to know how extensive it was. In any capacity, George had agreed to help finding Marthas father not out of any obligation to return Tobeys favors. He had simply conducted himself in such a manner that Tobey saw fit to elect him for this job and George was simply following the money.

George listened intently as Marthas mention of her fathers interest, how they may be linked to his disappearance and how Dupont may have insights into the subject. Occultism. George was not entirely familiar with what exactly that entailed, but he had heard whispers of queer gatherings with ill intent in the damp basements of Wolfstack and the shadowy corners of Coopertown. If these factions were involved in the case, their investigation and, by extension, his work could prove to be a more cumbersome undertaking than he had anticipated. With his brow weighed by suspicion, he glanced towards Dupont, before turning to observe the strange and ominous artifacts and volumes that adorned the rooms walls and bookshelves.
 
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joshuadim

meme frog
Artem was lost in thought and almost in a trance as he stared into a nearby wall as Martha spoke. He snapped out of it as she finished speaking and looked around for a moment. He grunted and cleared his throat for a moment before speaking up.

"...do you have drink?"
 

Emperor Sagan

Lord Commissar
Wolfgang gingerly sipped at his tea, resting the cup in one black-leather gloved hand. The gathering of artifacts was expected, though he hadn't realized there would be so many openly flaunted. Likely more hidden away, too. The books were almost amusing, as he considered them to be little more than fictional drivel; naturally, it was dangerous fiction, as it pretended to be otherwise. He took no issue with the silly fantastical tales of cheap dramas and science adventures, for they were fiction and knew it. A tome of 'occult' knowledge, on the other hand, was purposefully written to mislead. It was a surprise the old man hadn't gone missing earlier.

He took in the names of everyone around him carefully, having already been briefly acquainted with Li Lei. Everyone seemed... fairly competent, aside from the drunkard slav, who was already asking for more alcohol. A Russian, perhaps? The Tsar got what he deserved for starting the war, though the prospects of a godless Bolshevik victory was incredibly souring. He looked away, sipping his tea once again.

"Your father," Wolfgang said pointedly. "You say he is being chased and has likely left clues steeped in occult detail. This sounds rather like a game, to me, madam, orchestrated by your father. What is the American term... a scavenger hunt, no? Unless, you can elaborate on his supposed pursuers?" His expression and tone was not unlike a schoolmaster dealing with children.
 

joshuadim

meme frog
It didn't take long for Artem to immediately hate the German as soon as he started speaking. He only gave a quick glance filled with vitriol before turning his attention away. The only thing he could think about now was why the hell a godsdamned german was in his midst. He muttered a few obscenities in his native language as he listened for a response.
 

EdwardDewey98

Professional Argentine
Martha's eyes opened wide for a split second, followed by a few seconds of awkward silence from the actress. She was surprised by Artem's quite straight forward question, and seemed rather unsure of how to respond. Johnson, on the other hand, could be heard trying his best not to chuckle. Brigitte simply rubbed her hand on her face. "Oh bother..." she said, gently rubbing her fingers against her temple. After the momentary surprise, Martha looked at her butler, and gave the tall man a nod. "Please, get Mr. Bonareko a glass of our finest drink, Mr. Largo." The butler gave his mistress a respectful bow, before leaving the room. "Your drink will be here soon, Mr. Bondareko." she said, with a rather detached tone while waiting for the other investigators to get to the actual questions related to her father's disappearance. Her attention then turned to Wolfgang, as he asked about the supposed pursuers of her father in a rather condescending tone.

"Before I answer your question, I would like for you to talk to me like I am a grown woman. Not a child." she said, rather coldly, as she took offense to the way the priest spoke to her. "...My father was a smart man. Using the occult is simply a deterrent for those pursuing him and, knowing him, he doesn't want to involve these individuals with me. You see...my father, being an avid collector of the queer and macabre, has met strange individuals throughout his life. From sychophant of the occult to...rather dangerous individuals who claimed to be scions of strange gods. All of that is, of course, nonsense. But despite that, these people gather rather large congregations of followers." She paused for a moment to look at one of her maids. "Marie, darling, could you be a sweetie and get me the symbol?" The maid bowed before her, and left the lounge for a moment before returning with a folder full of papers which she promptly handed to Martha.


"Although I am afraid that my father's efforts of distancing me from his...extravagant tastes is not working. You see...the third day after his disappearance, there was a strange symbol engraved into the side of my estate. A symbol I have seen before in father's tomes, but I cannot name it at the moment." She said, while laying out a drawing of said symbol on the table before them. Something about its design sparked some fear in Johnson's voice, as he struggled to speak. "...W-What does that mean?" he said, looking to Brigitte. The occultist was surprised, and got out of her seat to look at the symbol a bit closer. "...This symbol belongs to a rather obscure Semitic deity known as a H'aaztre. I've rarely seen it outside of ancient Punic texts." Both Johnson and Brigitte seemed rather uncomfortable at the moment, but the detective regained his confidence after a few seconds of looking at the symbol. "Okay, so...we might be dealing with a kidnapping then?" he asked, while pulling out a small notebook and a pencil from his coat. Brigitte was unsure how to respond while folding the piece of paper and putting it into her purse. "...I don't know. Most likely? I haven't heard of cults dedicated to H'azztre, and I doubt that Mr. Bakker would have known any."
 

joshuadim

meme frog
"What is god of... Haztre?" Artem did his best to speak as he awaited his drink to arrive. He wasn't knowledgeable in these kind of things, and wanted to learn at least a little on what he was exactly getting himself into.
 

Emperor Sagan

Lord Commissar
Wolfgang did not acknowledge any look sent his way by Artem, and he nodded his head slightly towards Martha. "My apologies, English is not my native tongue," he said blandly. He was fluent, clearly, and likely he sounded the same regardless of whatever language he spoke.

He listened closely to the rest of her explanation, and he examined the drawn symbol with a curious eye. It wasn't entirely ruled out that the old man didn't stage his own kidnapping, though it was just as likely that he got caught up with the wrong people. Perhaps not dead in the woods somewhere surrounded by candles; rather, dead in some basement because some freaks in robes thought a sacrifice to a fish head or teacup would bring about chaos in the world, or something equally absurd.

The colored woman was surprisingly knowledgeable on this symbol, making her somewhat suspicious to him, though he had known scholarly types most of his life and knew what manner of odd knowledge lurked in the minds of such people. He knew a thing or two himself concerning ancient religions, as he had studied theology extensively in Vienna.

"Punic, you say? Phoenician influence here is odd, to say the least, though not... impossible. A kidnapping is certainly a possibility. Followers of little cults are hardly sane individuals."
 

EdwardDewey98

Professional Argentine
Brigitte turned to look at Artem, as he inquired on the nature of H'aaztre. The truth was that only a handful of texts about the ancient deity remained, and those few were mostly held by a group of scholars and followers dedicated to the abstruse nature of the God somewhere in Stockholm. "What little I know about the enigmatic King in Yellow is that he was known as a guide of lost shepherds. His symbol protected his followers, and caused harm to unbelievers. Typical ancient history vagueness. Too little of H'aaztre's legacy remains for me to give a straight answer." Johnson wrote down everything that Brigitte said, and seemed to agree with Wolfgang on the notion that it was a kidnapping. But the detective knew that there must be more this case. "Madame Bakker, what do you recall from the day of your father's disappearance?" Martha was quick to respond. "Luckily that day I was home. I remember him talking about getting a friend of his from Boston."

She glanced to every investigator in the room. "As some of you might know, my father is one of the main investors of the Miskatonic University. This gives him the opportunity to talk with experts and scholars from around the world." She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to recall something. "...If I remember correctly, he talked about an Argentinian man from the University of Buenos Aires coming to visit him. I do remember, however, that after getting his friend from the Boston docks, he was heading to... his special place."

"Your father and Professor Armitage are the reason I was allowed in Miskatonic, Miss Bakker. I know how important he is for the University. Although I don't really recall the dean ever getting a visit from experts from such a distant nation as Argentina." She tapped her chin for a moment. "...I am assuming that it was also a business visit, if I recall correctly, the University of Buenos Aires do hold some rare tomes of occult knowledge that Professor Armitage was interested in purchasing." Johnson wrote this information down, now wondering if this Argentinian scholar might have something to do with Theodore Bakkers disappearance. But something did catch the detectives attention. The mention of a special place. "...Might I ask, madame, what is your fathers special place? Sounds important."

"While my father would argue that it is important... I believe it not as important as he made it sound like. It's a place with music and... illegal drinking, I believe. He never told me much of it other that it is frequented by the minorities of Coopertown, although I don't know where it is." Martha sighed while gently running her fingers on her eyes. Johnson was curious about this so-called special place, and then looked at the only person who might have some knowledge around Coopertown. "Hey, Bennett... got any ideas what this special place might be?" So far the group had gather some important, but rather vague clues. Theodore Bakker had left his property to meet a friend in Boston. Could he later have taken the Argentinian to Arkham or the Miskatonic University? Why is this special place so dear for Mr. Bakker?

As some of the investigators pondered on this information, the butler had arrived almost unnoticed with a shot glass on a silver tray with a bottle of brandy. He then politely offered it to Artem without a word.
 

Radley

Aeroflot supreme
George raised his brows with a surprised manner, not expecting the hostel to be mentioned or of any importance. He ruffled his coat slightly before looking to Martha and then to Johnson. "Well, you'd be surprised when I say there are many a place with 'drink and music' in the north eastern parts of this city. And although there are many, I'm assuming mister Bakker refers to the Ma belle fleur Hostel. It's a club masquerading as a Hostel, right by the docks in south Coopertown."

Geroge paused briefly and turned to Martha, "I'd bet on this club since it serves rich southerners. Even from Wolfstack you can see them going by in their boats and their fancy cars parked outside. It's not really a secret, but the coppers who are unlucky enough to have the cooper route are easy to put on the take. Or so I've heard." He concluded, folding his arms and leaning back in the sofa.
 

joshuadim

meme frog
Artem took the drink and sniffed it before chugging it down as quickly as it came. Brandy wasn't his favorite, but any liquor would have to do as it was quite refreshing to him and felt himself loosen up a bit more. He set the glass on the table and nodded wordlessly at the butler in appreciation before returning his attention to the conversation at hand. All this talk of mysterious and ancient gods made little sense to Artem as he had little experience in any of these matters apart from what he had learned to follow from his homeland. Nonetheless, he tried to follow as best as he could with they others as to not be left out.
 

Emperor Sagan

Lord Commissar
Wolfgang sighed slightly at the reveal that there was likely an illegal speakeasy involved in this case. It wasn't that surprising, in retrospect. An eccentric old man with his nose in fantastical falsifications. Of course the sinful drink would be involved as well.

"Assuming his disappearance didn't occur on his route to Boston, or in Boston itself, then I suppose we have little option other than trying to figure out which... tavern he made it back to." George seemed to have an idea, it seemed, as he himself was not acquainted with the underbelly of the less desirable portions of the city, he had nothing to suggest.
 

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