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A light patter of rain drips off your coat as you round the last corner, a single street lantern providing a faint and sickly light. You come to rest before a dark alleyway, flanked by a seedy bar on one side, and an abandoned whorehouse on the other.
You fish the tattered, yellowish note out of your pocket and check the address again. Fisherman's Catch Warehouse, 42 Burlington Street. Your eyes fall on the numbers of the buildings adjacent to the alleyway. 40 and 44. Looks like you've arrived. You take a deep breath, flick your cigarette to the curb and step into the alley. Immediately, what little light the lantern provides is lost and you're in near-perfect dark. It's suddenly a lot colder as well. In the distance, you see a single, flickering light, even frailer than the street lantern you just left behind. It seems like the alley is longer than it logically should be.
>I have to do this. Press on.
>No, I can't. Leave and never come back.
>Who are you?
>An ex-jazz musician whose fellow band members have all been murdered in the same fashion over the course of a week, here to investigate the killings.
>A Private Eye whose client sent them here.
>A professor at the local university whose research into the occult has pointed them to this place.
>Other (Specify)
>Pick a name.
>Roll 3d100; Body, Mind, Soul. Arrange as desired.
>Other two stats are Mythos Knowledge and Sanity. Sanity starts at 100, Mythos Knowledge at 0. You can trade one point of SAN for one point of MK up to a maximum of 90 SAN and 10 MK.
>I'll take the average of the first three rolls, or less if we've got few people.
>>
Rolled 65, 52, 46 = 163 (3d100)
>>1319943
>I have to do this. Press on.
>A Private Eye whose client sent them here.
>Pick a name.
Ace Gunn
Highest roll to Soul.
Second highest to Body.
Lowest to Mind.
0 Mythos Knowledge
>>
Rolled 56, 43, 46 = 145 (3d100)
>>1319943
>I have to do this. Press on.
>A Private Eye whose client sent them here.
>Pick a name.
Ace Gunn sounds good.
>>
Rolled 32, 26, 88 = 146 (3d100)
>>1319943
>I have to do this. Press on.
>A Private Eye whose client sent them here.
Ace Gunn is fine by me.
Body>Soul>Mind
>>
>>1319950
>>1319961
>>1319982
>Ace Gunn, Private Eye.
>Body 62
>Mind 38
>Soul 51
>Sanity 100
>Mythos Knowledge 0
>Possessions:
>Colt .45
>3 Colt .45 Clips
>Notebook
>Pen
>Packet of Cigarettes (13)
You steel your nerves and move towards the light. As you advance, it seems that your surroundings become more dilaptated and weathered; where you first stepped into a grimy-but-somewhat-maintained alleyway, you begin to notice graffiti, missing tiles, holes in the walls, even some form of slime growing on the wall at one point. Rats scurry between your feet as you splash up puddles of dirty water mixed with all sorts of disgusting substances. You begin to feel unsettled, though only once you're more than halfway to your destination do you realise why - the graffity has gone from simple gang signs to something more... sinister.
Eventually, you reach the light; a flickering candle next to a rotting wooden door. A man whose face is covered by some sort of hood blocks your entry.
"Where's your invitation? Or are you here to sell something?"
As the man speaks, you remember that your client told you about this; apparently some sort of occult auction was going on, invitation-only, unless the prospective guest bought something of arcane nature to sell. In order to get you in so you could tell him exactly what the big items were and who bought them, your client provided you with:
>Their invitation. Fortunately, it's not on name.
>Something wrapped in a dirty cloth they advised you not to look at or keep on you for too long.
>Inspect the graffiti.
>Give the man the invitation/whatever your client wrapped in that blanket (pick one)
>Other (Specify)
>>
>>1319993
>Their Invitation
>Inspect The Graffiti
>>
>>1319993
>Their invitation. Fortunately, it's not on name.
>Give the man the invitation/whatever your client wrapped in that blanket (pick one)
>>
>>1320008
You take a look at the graffity, and upon closer inspection, it's revealed to you that not only do the drawings seem to shift and contort into impossible shapes, but the colours are also a maddening hue that should not exist. You dismiss it as one too many whiskeys before you left, but you can't help but feel a tingle down your spine.
>Because your SAN is maxed out, you do not have to roll.
You give the hooded man your invitation. He seems to cast a glance at it and opens the door. A wave of hot, smoky air hits you in the face. "In you go, then," he says.
>Enter.
>Ask the man something.
>Other (Specify)
>>
>>1320038
>Enter.
>>
>>1320038
>Enter.
>>
>Ask the man something
Any big ticket items up for auction? I don't wanna waste all my money bidding on one thing and then miss out on the good stuff, you know?
>>
>>1320038
>>Enter.
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