The Ministry

Introductions are in Order

January 14th, 1771 (July 20th, 2009)

Four men rode through London, coming from four seperate directions in ominous, black coaches.  Each man had very different reasons for their current predicament but the outcome was uniformly similar.

They arrived at a quarter to Twelve unassure of what was in store. Before them, the cyclopean Barrington Mansion and its grim, well maintained grounds. They were given no time prepare for what awaited them as they were greeted by the grim Mr. Winthrop, the undisputed majordomo for the estate. In no time, they were whisked away into the labrynthian halls of the facility and brought to the desk of Sir Lucas Manchester.

"Welcome to the Ministry," he chuckled, "I have a proposition for you!"

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From the pages of Father Calhoun's journal

January 15th 1771

Meeting three strange gentlemen inside this large establishment, I think we are going to set forth on an enlightened journey. Led into the depths of the building, our eyes set upon a tortured soul, a sailor was transformed in front of our very eyes into a demonic creature. This set the groundwork for our nobel cause, cleansing London's depths of the most wretched and foul spawns that lurk in the shadows.

Our destination was the River Lee, where several attacks were recored in the East end. There we were to find Niles Haman, an inside man who had information regarding these attacks in River Lee. 

The streets of London proved to be a rather unthreatening place, harboring evils and villains of unspoken power. Arriving at the East End, we met with Niles and learned of an eye witness to the attacks, Jarald Miller, a beggar, has gone missing. Our paths split as we were confronted with two areas of interest

St. Cathren's Cathedral – Home to Father Abner, a man of similar cloth as myself.

and Bernard Bernard – A local trader, rabble, and scavenger of the streets.

Reinheardt Russ and myself decided to see St. Cathren's while Quincy and Jack questioned Bernard Bernard

 

The homeless and the priest seemed to emit a most uneasy atmosphere, one that I felt was unlike a church with vested and worthy causes. Quincy and Jack met with troublesome times from their interrogation, and we were jumped in the streets by strange, lizard-like creatures. One of these creatures was brought back to the Ministry for an autopsy and it's report was delivered in the morning. 

The night was met with strange dreams by all of us, ones that depicted pain and turmoil in the River Lee. We all were warned to stay away from this strange apparitions "flock" a term used by Father Abner. I, in particular, had my reservations about attacking a man of the cloth, but I felt the greater good was at stake here. I should have mentioned to the team that my dream also continued on, ending with me laying at the feet of a giant creature, I did not want the others to detract from the mission at hand, and it was unmentioned by the others that they shared the vision.  Perhaps opening my holy text shall relieve me of my distraught.

Mark 16:16 "He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned"  

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Midnight Showing
Written on blue-print, the only rolled sheet.

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January 23rd 1771 

South of London Bridge I awaited a carriage that contained my newest teammates from the Ministry. Upon their arrival, I was met with John "Jack" Ardlock, and Reinheardt Russ, two peculiar individuals who seemed enamored at my brass, both physical and characteristic. We had very little time to chat when our foggy meeting was cut short by the “Man from Bexley”. This occurrence, though seemingly at random, caused a disturbance in the crowd, as some were running away, while others ran towards the man who was hovering over the river. I could not see any magical or mechanical means, which peeked my interest in the matter.

Reinheardt tried his best to grapple the creature, at which I let my machines do their work, and an aggravating force shot at the creature began the assault. Insect like wings formed out of the creature after I threw a spiked wired around the beast, its gray, mottled skin an abomination of man and creature. Once we thought we contained the beast, it’s head detached from the body and flew away. A bolt landed a hit, but the head tumbled into the fog below, and no sign of it was found.

Returning to the Ministry with body and tale, we were ordered to the Southward Theater, located on Maiden lane where the globe once was. This was where we were greeted by twin jesters, and shown a remarkable show of technical and social skill. The Butcher of Blackshire was the performance and it was quite odd to see the depiction of murder, and gore. We began to recognize that foul was afoot, the show was using real people against their will, murdering them for the performance, it was at this point that the show turned to us, we became a part of the show. “And from the crowd came a thunderous cry, stop villain, tonight you die” was said by the guest stars leading actor, me, and we fought hard, revealing a puppet master, the one creature seeming to be in control..

Then the smoke cleared as did our heads, and we were standing in the abandoned and demolished Globe Theater, not a improvement made, or a show to be had for sometime. This was quite odd to me; the magic power capable of such an illusion was frightening to comprehend. From our driver “Ben” to the locals of the area, the whole guise of the renovated theater and “Butcher” performance was reaching it’s illusionary grasp over the land, the place was never fixed, and “Ben” was not our driver, what sort of trickery is here and why can’t I identify it beforehand? Manchester’s fears were inline with ours, for our tickets were for some of the higher-ups in the ministry, and this trap was for them. Our nightmares were not over, for a most horrific sight disturbed the safety of sleep. A mechanical device, containing jester’s similar to those that greeted us were in our rooms, fighting gears with gears, I unleashed my back-pack companion, and the horror was quickly dispatched. Jack and Reinny were met with similar fate, and this odd device was the carrier of a message, a message that said we had a private performance and we would be picked up at the theater. This does not bode well, for even the most lusty of woman is made rotten at the sight of blood.

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Deeper into Darkness
Written on blue-print, the outer-most rolled sheet out of 2.

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January 24th 1771 

Jack, Reinny, myself, and the newest of members, a healthier "Quincy" set off to our midnight meeting at the Globe. We were picked up by some sort of spectral coach, guided by the most peculiar of drivers. I say spectral, not because of the some ghostly image or power of flight, but because of the resulting madness it had on us. The coach was destined for death as during the trip it was headed for a cliff’s edge. While we tried to exit the coach as soon as we could, cupboards above us sprang to life and exited from inside were strange, animated hand creatures. Not made by mechanical, but rather necromantic means, these hands used all of their power to distract us from destroying the coach’s barricaded door. Once we made it out of the coach, we realized that the whole death-aimed trap was all an illusion, put on by some toying force. The cliff melted away and we realized that we were in the middle of a woods, with no path to guide us away- we were here to stay. 

In the middle of this clearing, a mansion rested. This mansion boasted strange, moving lights and a giant double door. Upon entering the building, we walked into the middle of a party scene, with thoe most disturbing of guests. These people where lorded over by the twin jesters and they immediately began to attack us, right in the hall. Realizing that these guests were under similar spectral string control to that of the “puppet master”, the jesters each took off in opposite direction, leaving us to play cat in this cat and mouse game.

Choosing a door and beginning our pursuit, we had the lovely time of wandering somewhat aimless amidst the collection of clothes, props and garment racks. Like a diabolical Macy’s, we tried to use our skills, intelligence, and tools to help us find the other end. There was something most terrifying about the maze, Quincy pointed out that a wrong turn might yield an unwelcoming kidnapping at the hands of these transparent tentacles. I tried to used my sense of construction and general design as we approached each turn and tunnel, but the overall concept of the maze was truly a sight to behold. The roof went upwards and onwards to yards at a time, and the stacking of clothes and racks was an OCD nightmare. We managed to reach the end of our maze, and matched sword and spell with a ghastly screamer. 

This screamer, whose face was covered with a theater mask, was a strain on our resources and skills. I tried my best to formulate a plan that would yield success, and if not for the brawn of Reinny and Jack, the screamer might have had itself a good yell. Quincy was throwing sorcery and spell at the creature, as well as monitoring one of the jesters that made our efforts more difficult from a balcony above. Felling the creature, we found one of the silver keys required of us in the main Hall, and a passage that lead back. I think quantifying our efforts and recording our passage in this mansion is best of our time, as we do not know what lies deeper in the house, or who may meddling with our minds. A solid record of our experiences may be worth the time, should our brains turn into vanilla pudding.

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Pulling Our Strings
Written on blue-print, the outer-most rolled sheet out of 3.

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January 24<font class=”Apple-style-span”>th</font> 1771 Part II 

After our recalibration back in the hall, we proceeded into the right wing of the mansion. The next room was an interesting art gallery, displaying interesting portraits that yielded more hurt than art normally does. Tripping a pressure plate, the room was filled with spikes, hidden behind the pictures, a mistake I should have saw coming.

The next room was a circular room of most interesting design. Stocked with volumes of volumes of untold subjects, a single ladder was the only apparent means of elevating oneself to the upper levels of book-stocked shelves. Our group had the most unsuspecting feeling that we were being watched through a portrait in this library of knowledge, but out timidness yielded the cultrate and our feelings to escape us. Quincy found interest in a one particular tome, and upon its removal, the adjacent books began to tumble inwards… an event that did not sit well with any of us, for we had no idea what sort of domino effect it would have on this time-ridden place. Using a piton to secure our new acquisition’s former place, our twin Jesters decided to show their faces, swinging madly down and around the library, on some sort of twisted ladder, blocking our exit. They were not alone, as 2 rag dolls followed after them, their control like the others before us, stringing into thin air. This attack took an unforeseen turn, as Reinny himself was put under the effects of these strings, turning his hammer unto me! This was an uneasy feeling, as co-workers that we are, it was unsettling knowing how quickly things could change, under our own volition or not.

Dispatching of the dolls and encountering an old, dusty actor, his assault on our party took more drastic, mental means, as he droned on with bad lines, bad delivery and a sex appeal as wet as the Egypt desert. His attacks were so mentally devastating; they seem to have an adverse effect on Quincy as his body was transformed into that of a werewolf! The old man was ruined and Quincy’s ferocity was contained… he claimed it to be the effects of the mansion, but I have my reservations… everyone at The Ministry has their place, I doubt his knowledge of machines and magic surpass mine, perhaps his inception is more sinister in this organization. Regardless, the darkness of the night was lifted by the Jesters… our enemies in one room, our friends in another, most questioning indeed. They dropped down to the ground, a table stocked with food and drink… of course we took a more intelligent approach and analyzed the contents… but after a careful analysis, how could I refuse a generous host such as this. In France, ignored food is an insult on the host, and we wouldn’t want that here. The effects of the food resulting in a much needed rejuvenating boost, though I did notice that Quincy did not partake in our dining… perhaps he should have.

For our next path pointed upwards, up a ladder went, upwards and onwards for sometime… 20 minutes to be exact! The construction alone behind this ladder was dizzying, nevermind actually climbing it! At the top was a catwalk complex and the control systems (theoretically used by the puppet master to control curtains, “actors” and the like.) We were met with some lackeys that were trying to stop our control over the mansion, and they turned the tables on us as they shrouded the room in a terrifying fog, leaving us to poke and prod our way around, blinded. At the suggestion of Reinny, Jack tried to make his way to the villain controlling the sight blinding fog and with one misstep his way, unknown to me, plummetted downward into the darkness…. If it wasn’t for Quincy and his quick use of Feather fall, we might have lost the uneven-minded man.

Dispatching the man with a shocking blast from Reinny’s armor, I channeled the energy that is so raw an untapped, pushing the creature to a similar, unguided fate that would have befallen Jack. I knew utilizing the power of electricity would be a good use of resources.

Unlocking the door in the Hall with our new found keys, we were met with the final performance of the puppet master, his newest “actor” Jack, a dominated, crucified subject, bent to the master’s will. The same fate befell Reinny, and his hammer became an instant threat once wielded towards us… this battle was hard fought and tumultuous to see what could befall our allies around us. Jack managed to put to Rest one of our Jester “friends” and Quincy’s sleep spell was a valuable aid in this endeavor. The Puppet master was no match for my power, as I channeled the surging power of electrcity again, coursing it through his vile body, he melted away into a black abyss, muttering something about this “not being over”. Reinheardt made a comment that perhaps the Puppet Master was a pawn in someone else’s game… We heard the uproarious appreciation off an unseen crowd, we took our.  We continued our exploration and this would support Reinheardt’s off hand comment.

Leading into a smaller pantry behind the main stage, a small crude alter held a giant red gem and a simple leather ledger… damn my curiosity, for upon inspection, a loud shriek ran through the very core of my being, and all went black…

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