Call of Cthulhu: Tatters of the King (IC Thread)

[Xsesiv]

OoC Thread
Tatters of the King

the Prologue:

Opening Night

The seventeenth day of October, 1928. Winter's been unusually harsh and has fallen unusually early. Snow falls and now, well before nine, it is already dark, and the stars are hidden by a thick blanket of cloud.

There is a queue outside the theatre, which stands on Charlotte Street between Goodge Street and Tottenham Street. The queue draws on all social classes, all decked out in their best. Curtain time is quite late, and the hopeful audience are huddled up against the bitter cold. A photographer has set up his equipment to capture the scene and the crowd is looking his way. A large gentleman in an overcoat and a homburg hat, arms folded, grips a copy of the London Express and shows an angry expression. His wife next to him keeps her head down. Sitting on camp stools in front of them are two well-dressed women in elaborate hats, drinking tea which they pour from a flask. Behind the camera an empty omnibus rattles and ploughs along the snowy street.

A group stand in a knot, waiting for the doors to open and chatting. One fellow here is tall and slim, pretty-handsome and haughty-looking, in an expensive, well-cut suit. There's a plainly and sensibly dressed woman with brown hair and eyes, of somewhat above average height. Also here is a tall, slender man, black-haired and -moustachioed and dressed in a suit in which he looks very uncomfortable. There's a third man, short, heavyset, well-dressed and with dark hair, and another man of average size, drawing sidelong glances for his choice in dress: tweeds.

[The Duskblade]

Unused to the cold night air and irritated by the wait Janet retrieves a cigarette from her pockets. A few failed flicks of her lighter later she sighs, returns the empty lighter to her pocket and approaches a small clump of fellow theatre goers.

"Excuse me gentlemen, but could I have the lend of a lighter or match? My own seems to be empty."

[thumbprince]

"Certainly, miss." Pearson cups the guttering flame of his lighter for the woman in the queue.

"A fan of Mr. Estus?"

[aspi]

Gordon had been too busy making sure that he looked presentable - and dashing - for the camera to react in time when the young lady asked for a light. He had reached into his pocked for the lighter that he carried for just such an occasion, since his condition prevented him from smoking himself. When he turned around however, it was just in time to hear someone else answer. Recognizing the lady who had asked, he smiled, inclined his head and silently lifted his hat as if he wanted to say Nice seeing you here. I'm sorry I did not recognize you sooner. He didn't intrude on the conversation just yet, expecting that Miss Pickford might have a thing or two to say about Talbot Estus. Never having never heard about or read anything by this author before, Gordon couldn't deny a certain curiosity.

[The Duskblade]

"A fan of his earlier works certainly. It is a rare author who can successfully blend the genres of romance and horror. The Haunting of Agatha May is a personal favourite. Unfortunately his latest The Revenant King was something of an incoherent mess I am sad to say. Still given his record I would be foolish to pass up an opportunity to see his works. Who knows when I might have another opportunity, I have often thought that Talbot Estus'es works would be well suited to the stage, particularly The Curse of Beydelus, I believe the tale of a occultist magician seeking the ruin a famous family could be made into a truly terrifying experience with the aid of some skilled stagework. Oh but I should introduce myself, Janet Pickford, thank you for the use of your lighter sir."

Taking a steady drag from her cigarette Janet turns briefly to Gordon. "Ah Captain I hadn't noticed you, it is good to see you again, it seems it has been sometime."

[TerrickTerran]

Reverend Michael Boddy knew that the best entrance to be made was just near the start of the show for that meant attention would be on him. It was something he loved. He was not familiar with the theatre, the play, or anything really connected to it, but it seemed trendy and that was what mattered to him. Therefore, he stepped out of his sports car and spied around noting anyone who might catch his eye.

[Xsesiv]

There is a scuffle at the front of the queue: the doors are being opened. Immediately, the less-sophisticated members of the queue rush towards the doors, to be answered by a practised call: "Ladies and gentlemen, if you would kindly form an orderly line and be prepared to show your tickets, the play will begin shortly."

The queue progresses gradually through the front doors, and in exchange for his ticket, each spectator is handed another handbill and a cast list.

Spoiler: The Handbill

Show

Spoiler: The Cast List

Show

Audience members come through into an attractive, red-painted foyer, with a closed box-office desk in the centre. Dramatic doors at one end stand open beneath a sign that reads Theatre and Saloon Bar, while more discreet doors at the other end stand shut beside signs that read Gentlemen and Ladies. The audience remain in the foyer and chat for a while or else begin to trickle through into the saloon bar.

[thumbprince]

"Pearson Lattimore - glad to have been of service."

He begins to consider a more useful reply to the woman's impressive command of theater, but before he opens his mouth, the doors open. With a simple "Miss" and nod of goodbye he strives to get to the saloon bar.

[The Duskblade]

"Ah about time, will you be joining me at the bar Captain?" Janet says, stepping towards the door.

[TerrickTerran]

Michael looked over the handbill a bit. He did not care for the saloon, the place of the lower class. It wouldn't be right for him to be seen there. There was little money to be found for his church's coffers. Still, this play intrigued him. With the right people, perhaps he could convince some of the backers to donate. Then he could start his latest project. Yes, that could work indeed.

[aspi]

Gordon nodded "Of course" and followed Janet into the Saloon. Seeing her always reminded him of her brother, even a decade later, and he felt a familiar lump rise in his throat. A drink would most certainly help with that. "So tell me, how have you been?" he asked on the way.

[The Duskblade]

"Busy" replies Janet approaching the bar. "A Mint Julep for me please." She says to the bartender handing over the money plus a generous tip.

"I'm tidying up the first draft of my latest project and if it's going to see publication it's going to need revision, not to mention still more research before I'm comfortable with it being available for public consumption. That's why I'm here tonight. A decent writer must keep an eye on the latest works. And Talbot Estus happens to be most famous for witting in the same genre as my current project.

"And what about yourself Captain Reid? Any interesting flights since we last met? And what brings you back down to the streets of London?"

[thumbprince]

Ah!

Without waiting for the intended reply, Pearson interrupts. "Excuse my eavesdropping, but are you a playwright as well? Anything I might have seen?"

[The Duskblade]

Taken aback by the comment Janet stammers slightly. "Ah no no Mr. Laitimore, Merely a aspiring author I am afraid. And of novels not plays. In truth I am usually only a casual viewer of theatre however our playwright for the evening Mr. Estus is an established novelist of some repute, despite an unfortunate recent downturn, hence my interest. I believe this is his first staged performance."

[Xsesiv]

The saloon has photographs of scenes from the stage and audiences queueing up on the walls, a few prizes that the place has won, and a noticeboard with memoranda for the members, dates for auditions and lists of planned productions pinned up.

The bar itself looks more like a pub bar than a cocktail bar, and a bowler-hatted, middle-aged man with inkstained cuffs sniggers at Janet's request: "A what? This isn't Cocktail Hour at the Savoy, miss.". His voice suggests he is at least one sheet to the wind. Nonetheless, the barman, a tanned, lean young man in a black suit, beams, bends down underneath the bar and comes up with a sprig of mint. "I've been looking forward to something like this. Normally it's pulling pints all night. I'll have to use Scotch, I'm afraid. Can't get the bourbon. Prohibition and all that."

He mixes the julep with Scotch whisky and plonks it down on the bar, takes the price from the money Janet's put down and shoves the rest back towards her.

"You don't come here often, then? You should make a habit of it, we have some serious actors here. Real talent."

[TerrickTerran]

While the others are drinking in the saloon, Michael studies the handbill. Some of the names did sound a bit familiar although he was not sure why. Perhaps he had met them at one event or another. Till then, he listened in on conversations until one caught his interest.

[The Duskblade]

"Thankyou sir" said Janet, retrieving her change. "Scotch will be quite alright. Since we are fortunately not bound by prohibition I see no reason to settle when it comes to our choice in drinks" she says shooting an unfriendly look towards the former rather classless bartender. "Fortunately I doubt such measures will gain much traction here. The last time someone tried to take alcohol from the British there were riots in the street."

"I've seen the odd production but I must admit it's been some time since I have visited the Scala Theatre. If they are as good as you say I shall look forward to seeing the talent on display. Maybe I will have to consider more frequent visits."

Janet takes a sip of the Scotch Mint Julep. "An excellent drink, thank you sir." She says with a smile.

[aspi]

Gordon was about to answer Janet's question and tell her about the preparations he was overseeing for the aerial charting of the sea around South Georgia, which he would undertake for the President of the Board of Trade in the coming winter, when Mr. Lattimore interrupted. He didn't mind, as there would be plenty of time later, maybe even with an audience of potential new sponsors. After ordering a shot of whiskey from the barman, he listened to their conversation with one ear while he looked around the room for familiar - or unfamiliar - faces.

[thumbprince]

"Forgive me for the interruption, I pray," Lattimore extends his hand to Reid. "Pearson Lattimore."

[aspi]

Gordon let his gaze return, looked at Lattimore and extended his hand "Gordon Reid. Not to worry, Miss Pickford and I are old acquaintances, I am certain I can bore her with details of the preparations for my next expedition at a later time." He smiled "Especially when she can shed some light on what we may expect from tonight's play."

[Xsesiv]

Shortly, the door to the theatre opens and the audience begins to filter into the stalls (there is no dress circle at the Scala). The interior of the theatre is gloomy, with illumination coming from gas lamps evenly set around the red-painted walls and from the foot lamps below the stage’s edge. The theatre is small but still less than half full — there are about a hundred people present. It is much warmer in here than outside and people begin to divest themselves of their coats.

The audience are shown their seats by the sombre-looking usher. Janet, Pearson and Gordon find themselves sitting together to the centre and slightly towards the front. To talk to each other, however, they must lean across the well-dressed, heavyset gentleman that stood near them in the queue, who has been seated in their midst, just between Miss Pickford and Dr. Lattimore and behind Group Captain Reid.

Nine o'clock approaches, and the audience are whispering to each other in anticipation.

[TerrickTerran]

Finally, Michael thought, it looks like its about to begin. Not that he particularly cared about the play, but he was curious about possibly meeting those in charge. However, the attendance to the show was disappointing him at the moment.

[The Duskblade]

Once seated Janet glances over her copy of the cast list that came with the Handbill. Not being particularly interested in the people behind the characters she simply skims the list. But the final name catches her eye. Leaning towards Captain Reid and Dr. Lattimore she says "Ah I see Talbut Estus has cast himself in the play. As the King in Yellow apparently. I wonder if after the performance Mr. Estus might be taking questions? I would certainly like to speak to him."

Catching herself she addressing the man sitting in their midst. "My apologies sir, it was rather rude of me to speak across you like that."

[thumbprince]

"It will be fascinating to hear the perspective of the playwright and lead actor."

[aspi]

Gordon didn't mind at all that the theater was less than sold out, as it made the experience of shuffling through the narrow seating rows a great deal less claustrophobic. Once he had doffed his coat and taken his seat, he felt the comfortable warmth of the hall seep back into his limbs. When Janet adressed them, he turned around, placing one arm at the top of his seat, and agreed "It is certainly an interesting choice. I wonder what kind of performance are in for tonight."

[TerrickTerran]

"I'm not sure, but I'm sure it will be a very interesting performance" Michael replied. He was not familiar with any of these people at least that he remembered but they did seem to be an interesting group. Perhaps he could get to know them better under the right circumstances.

[The Duskblade]

"I suppose we should make some introductions sir, since it seems you are trapped in our midst. I am Miss Janet Pickford. The gentleman with the love of tweed to our right is Dr. Pearson Lattimore and just in front of you is Captain Gordon Reid."

[Xsesiv]

The house lights are turned out and the stage lights come on, illuminating a red curtain, and then it is drawn back: act one, scene one.

The set is a palace balcony, twin suns in the sky on a painted backdrop. A good-looking woman with strong features and long, wavy, pale-blonde hair reclines sensuously, almost indecently, on a coach, once opulent, now faded and threadbare. She wears only a sheer white robe of some shiny material, cinched in with a belt in the region of the waist and a string of flowers around her neck, and there are a few muffled gasps at the raciness of this attire.

Enter a tall, handsome man with broad shoulders, high cheekbones and blond hair swept back from his face, a young-looking, slight man with dark black hair, good-looking again in a sickly sort of way, and a pretty, delicate-looking woman covered in freckles with a huge amount of shiny red hair. All of them are in similarly luxurious but slightly indecent outfits. They discuss matters of succession with the woman on the couch, all calling her "Mother", although nobody is named, or calls anyone else by name. The woman on the couch must be Queen Cassilda, the redhead her daughter Camilla, and the men her sons Uoht and Thale. The talk seems to be one they have had many times before. The actors bring across a feeling of ennui, of 'going through the motions'. The sons argue with each other and complain in turn to their mother, but, face fixed in a mask of bored irritation, she does not give them the attention they seek. In the end, she wearily sends her children away. The curtain comes down.

[Xsesiv]

The next scene is in a receiving room. Queen Cassilda stands at a long table, reading aloud from a scroll a report which names her city as Yhtill and her kingdom as Hastur. The report speaks of how there is no end in sight to the war Hastur wages against the kingdom of Alar.

A blond child aged ten or so enters, dressed in an exquisitely tailored silk outfit, less revealing than the other actors', and dripping in jewels: he wears a diadem, bracelets, anklets, necklaces, and his ears have each been pierced in several places for rings. His fingers and thumbs all glitter and his feet are bare, the better to wear even more rings (on his toes). It's unclear if the Child is another of the Queen's sons, but he talks to her with familiarity and even bullies her. They speak of Carcosa, a wandering dreamlike city with five singular aspects: it appeared overnight; it is either on or near the waters below the palace, Hali; the towers of the city slip behind the moons at night; on seeing the city one knows its name; and a fifth aspect which nobody speaks of. Cassilda sings a sad song about the fate of Carcosa. The priest, Naotalba, enters, eyeing the Child with distrust. It seems neither he nor the Queen has the power to dismiss him. Naotalba describes unrest in the city: a Stranger has arrived: an unheard-of event. The lights fall.

[The Duskblade]

The play so far had certainly not been what Janet had expected. Taking advantage of the lowered curtain she expresses her opinion to the group. "Succession, war, a world of Two suns and a wandering city? Quite a departure from Estus'es usual style. It is certainly a rather unique performance."