Post by TheUdjat on Oct 7, 2008 18:20:57 GMT -5
Everyone-
Discussing the plan for investigating the docks, the group resolves to construct a better exit plan for this attempt. Since going anywhere on foot in this area might be unwise even without enemies, the group resolves to meet up a few blocks away if the car should have to move for some reason. They also decide on about one hour to give those going inside the warehouse to investigate before the others come looking for them; certainly enough time to look around, in depth if need be.
With those tentative plans made, Sam and Grey prepare to settle in for watch duty, while Thurman, Tommy, and William advance on the fence. Thurman sticks with his suggestion of hitting a dark corner of the fence, unseen by the dim light, to have Tommy and William discreetly clip through the wire.
Thurman, Tommy, William-
The delicate operation goes as planned, with each sharp ‘clink’ from clipping the wire sending a rush of worry and anxiety through the heart of each man. For a moment, Tommy thinks he spies something across the lot, but nothing develops from it. A rat, perhaps. In a short span of time, though, the fence is cut enough for a length to be pulled back, allowing all three men access to the property.
Now, to cross to the warehouse door. The men keep to the shadows as much as possible, skulking around a dumpster here, a truck there—but there is finally a length of ground that must be crossed where there is no intervening object to provide cover. Open pavement, visible even in the dim light... but there is no other way. One by one, the men move across the ground, hunched over in their shabby disguises, praying not to be noticed. Soon enough, all three are at the door, and though William and Thurman cast about for signs of any more movement, there is nothing. All is still, except the far-off noises of the city at night.
Tommy works the lock, but it is a surprisingly stubborn contraption. He has to struggle with it for far longer than any of them are comfortable with, sweat beading on his forehead with each frustrating moment left out in the open, until finally he lines up the last pin and the tumble turns, releasing the lock and letting the door swing open. Without delay, the three men slip inside.
Electric torches click on, illuminating patches of the warehouse. The warehouse is perhaps half-full, with many crates and boxes laying about. Unlike the somewhat respectable Emerson Imports in New York, this place seems to have little beyond the warehouse itself—a distant office can be spied, but it seems doubtful that it has seen much use. This is not the sort of place that a popular, upstanding business would take place in, but rather something more... discreet. Criminal.
Some inspection proves that the crates are grouped in rough patches around the area by destination—indeed, few, if any of the crates actually list where they come from. Those that do are likely using false addresses. Eventually, however, Tommy manages to single out one of the crates seen earlier, itself resting with a small cluster of others like it. All of them are addressed to ‘Ho Fong Shipping’ in Shanghai, with no return address.
Cracking open one of them reveals a heavy statue of some sort, a bust seemingly of an Egyptian pharaoh, all black. It is large, however, and there is something alarmingly chilling about it—though it is perhaps just the knowledge of the Brotherhood and encountering the thing in a warehouse long after dark. Studying the statue, Thurman can conclude that though it is stylistically old, the statue is not itself ancient; it isn’t an artifact, and therefore not worth much to an expert. But it is curious all the same.
Other crates have less comprehensible contents. Baubles, wires, dials, gears, switches, and some plates of an unidentifiable metal. None of it makes any sense to the trio. Perhaps a scientist could discern more.
Before there is much more time to examine the area, William suddenly overhears footsteps approaching and low, guttural conversation. The torches are clicked off and the three scramble for a place to hide, watching as another group approaches with a hand-truck and their own set of electric torches. They seem intent on the boxes from the Penhew Foundation. The faces of the men cannot be seen, but they can be heard, speaking some variant of Chinese that Tommy is able to pick up scant pieces of. It sounds like crude jokes and basic jabber, but it is clear that they mean to take the crates—which, thankfully, Tommy had the presence of mind to hastily close before ducking for cover.
Sam, Grey-
Sitting in the parked car down the road a little, Sam and Col. Grey keep watch over the break-in. The group seems to be keeping to the shadows fairly well, and they only spot them because they know what the men are supposed to be doing. More importantly, the two look around to see if anyone else has noticed the trio, but the shadows seem generally still. Then, as the men slip inside the warehouse and shut the door behind them, a figure moves out from behind a corner, looming near the recently opened door. It is clear the figure has spotted them, but it doesn’t move to act, merely sinks back into the shadows near the door until it is invisible.
Some moments later, a group of swaggering men start ambling along at a casual pace on the dock side of the building, rolling a hand-truck with them and talking loudly in some Asian language and laughing, apparently having a good time. At a distance they seem squat and portly, and there is a strange, warbling texture to their voices.
The slim figure hiding by the door could be dealt with, perhaps, except that the group of men would easily spot someone doing so. Worse still, the group of men may lead the trio inside to hurry out, leading them right to the shadowy figure.
Decisions, decisions...
List of clues
Discussing the plan for investigating the docks, the group resolves to construct a better exit plan for this attempt. Since going anywhere on foot in this area might be unwise even without enemies, the group resolves to meet up a few blocks away if the car should have to move for some reason. They also decide on about one hour to give those going inside the warehouse to investigate before the others come looking for them; certainly enough time to look around, in depth if need be.
With those tentative plans made, Sam and Grey prepare to settle in for watch duty, while Thurman, Tommy, and William advance on the fence. Thurman sticks with his suggestion of hitting a dark corner of the fence, unseen by the dim light, to have Tommy and William discreetly clip through the wire.
Thurman, Tommy, William-
The delicate operation goes as planned, with each sharp ‘clink’ from clipping the wire sending a rush of worry and anxiety through the heart of each man. For a moment, Tommy thinks he spies something across the lot, but nothing develops from it. A rat, perhaps. In a short span of time, though, the fence is cut enough for a length to be pulled back, allowing all three men access to the property.
Now, to cross to the warehouse door. The men keep to the shadows as much as possible, skulking around a dumpster here, a truck there—but there is finally a length of ground that must be crossed where there is no intervening object to provide cover. Open pavement, visible even in the dim light... but there is no other way. One by one, the men move across the ground, hunched over in their shabby disguises, praying not to be noticed. Soon enough, all three are at the door, and though William and Thurman cast about for signs of any more movement, there is nothing. All is still, except the far-off noises of the city at night.
Tommy works the lock, but it is a surprisingly stubborn contraption. He has to struggle with it for far longer than any of them are comfortable with, sweat beading on his forehead with each frustrating moment left out in the open, until finally he lines up the last pin and the tumble turns, releasing the lock and letting the door swing open. Without delay, the three men slip inside.
Electric torches click on, illuminating patches of the warehouse. The warehouse is perhaps half-full, with many crates and boxes laying about. Unlike the somewhat respectable Emerson Imports in New York, this place seems to have little beyond the warehouse itself—a distant office can be spied, but it seems doubtful that it has seen much use. This is not the sort of place that a popular, upstanding business would take place in, but rather something more... discreet. Criminal.
Some inspection proves that the crates are grouped in rough patches around the area by destination—indeed, few, if any of the crates actually list where they come from. Those that do are likely using false addresses. Eventually, however, Tommy manages to single out one of the crates seen earlier, itself resting with a small cluster of others like it. All of them are addressed to ‘Ho Fong Shipping’ in Shanghai, with no return address.
Cracking open one of them reveals a heavy statue of some sort, a bust seemingly of an Egyptian pharaoh, all black. It is large, however, and there is something alarmingly chilling about it—though it is perhaps just the knowledge of the Brotherhood and encountering the thing in a warehouse long after dark. Studying the statue, Thurman can conclude that though it is stylistically old, the statue is not itself ancient; it isn’t an artifact, and therefore not worth much to an expert. But it is curious all the same.
Other crates have less comprehensible contents. Baubles, wires, dials, gears, switches, and some plates of an unidentifiable metal. None of it makes any sense to the trio. Perhaps a scientist could discern more.
Before there is much more time to examine the area, William suddenly overhears footsteps approaching and low, guttural conversation. The torches are clicked off and the three scramble for a place to hide, watching as another group approaches with a hand-truck and their own set of electric torches. They seem intent on the boxes from the Penhew Foundation. The faces of the men cannot be seen, but they can be heard, speaking some variant of Chinese that Tommy is able to pick up scant pieces of. It sounds like crude jokes and basic jabber, but it is clear that they mean to take the crates—which, thankfully, Tommy had the presence of mind to hastily close before ducking for cover.
Sam, Grey-
Sitting in the parked car down the road a little, Sam and Col. Grey keep watch over the break-in. The group seems to be keeping to the shadows fairly well, and they only spot them because they know what the men are supposed to be doing. More importantly, the two look around to see if anyone else has noticed the trio, but the shadows seem generally still. Then, as the men slip inside the warehouse and shut the door behind them, a figure moves out from behind a corner, looming near the recently opened door. It is clear the figure has spotted them, but it doesn’t move to act, merely sinks back into the shadows near the door until it is invisible.
Some moments later, a group of swaggering men start ambling along at a casual pace on the dock side of the building, rolling a hand-truck with them and talking loudly in some Asian language and laughing, apparently having a good time. At a distance they seem squat and portly, and there is a strange, warbling texture to their voices.
The slim figure hiding by the door could be dealt with, perhaps, except that the group of men would easily spot someone doing so. Worse still, the group of men may lead the trio inside to hurry out, leading them right to the shadowy figure.
Decisions, decisions...
List of clues
