Session 1: Durward Street; RIP Maria Pook

The small hours of January 1, 1893
Bond Street to Whitechapel by hackney carriage, about six miles through London at 11pm
To: 5 Durward Street, Whitechapel. The same address where Mary Ann Nichols was found in 1888

Kasim received the calling card at the party
Amelia paid the cabbie double to wait for the return trip. He grumbled but agreed
Georgie was the only Brit in the party and the only one who knew Whitechapel by reputation. He noted that the rest of them were dressed like targets

Julia-Smith was pacing in the street. Visibly relieved when the party arrived
The landlady, Mrs. Grim, took money from Smith at the door. Not friendly but not obstructive. Grim has a son and noticed Georgie reminded her of him
The hall stank of damp. Worse than Amelia’s ever smelt

A young woman on the bed, emaciated, bound at the wrists and ankles with loose straps. Looked ancient at first glance
A man in a dark evening cape standing by the bed: Dr. Hobbs, a medical man who works with the Metropolitan Police
The smell was bad enough that Amelia barely passed her constitution roll just to stay in the room

Not old. A young woman, perhaps in her twenties
Ink stains on the fingers, the hands of a student
Something had drained her strength. Saroch could not name the cause
The veil was growing into her face below the eyes. Removal would need surgery and hospital

Four days ago a well-dressed woman calling herself Mrs. Leeds rented the room
Leeds came with veiled companions and a “young sister with an opium habit” who needed a quiet place to dry out
Leeds paid generously and the door was kept locked
Tonight, screams of a particular quality. Grim called the police. The patient called out for “Smith.” A runner was sent to the University Women’s Club
Leeds and her companions vanished when the constable arrived

Black, thick, heavy, soaked-feeling. Smelled wrong even through the rest of the stench
Symbols woven into the fabric, similar to early hieroglyphics but in no language anyone present recognised
It whispers when you are close. Alien syllables. Amelia heard them. Lost six magic points and one point of sanity for the privilege
A scrap of paper in the bedside drawer carries the only translation anyone has managed. Two phrases above the glyphs: RISING FROM THE PAST and DOMINION OVER ALL

The bells of midnight sounded outside
The patient convulsed and died
The veil fell from her face onto the floor and continued whispering. A bloody ring on the skin where it had clung
A glimpse of the face beneath: a sweet young woman, perhaps in her twenties. Julia-Smith confirmed: THIS IS MARIA POOK, PROFESSOR DEMIR’S STUDENT
The candles snuffed. A dark shape rose from her chest. It was corporeal
Dr. Hobbs leaned in to check the body. The shape bit him!

Amelia put a revolver shot into what used to be Pook’s head. Took the side off. The body kept fighting with half a head
Polat tried a candlestick. Missed. The thing lunged at him and missed
Saroch tried to club it with her anatomy textbook. Missed
Worth held a lit candle aloft. Tried a lit match on the veil. The veil ate the flame
Amelia put the muzzle in the thing’s mouth and pulled the trigger. The rest of the skull came off. The body collapsed

Everyone in the room lost sanity. Everyone in the room is now a believer
Georgie, who was downstairs, is not a believer…yet
Saroch failed her INT roll, which is a mercy. She doesn’t understand what she saw

Talked Mrs. Grim out of fetching the police a second time
Pitched her on turning the room into a paying “creepy murder house” attraction once the body is gone. Mrs. Grim was open to it
Stepped outside for air. Spotted a tall woman in a hat with a heavy veil at the end of Durward Street (extreme success)
She saw him too. She knows his face. She ducked into a side lane and was gone
Picked up some papers she dropped. Foreign script, possibly tickets

The translation note (above)
A blank notepad with the impression of an address in Shoreditch pressed into the top sheet
Worth picked up the veil with a pencil and put it in the drawer. He confirmed (occult success) that the veil is an authentic occult artefact, older than Christ, and that no flame he can produce will damage it

Dr. Hobbs alive but maimed. Three first aid skills patched him enough to travel. The cabbie took him to St Bartholomew’s
Pook’s body is in the room. Headless. Skin in tatters as if flayed
Smith took the veil in a wooden box bought from Mrs. Grim
Amelia and Saroch are staying the night at Smith’s house in St John’s Wood, North London
Worth, Polat, and Georgie went home (?)
Party reconvenes at the University Women’s Club for brunch around eleven

Horror on the Orient Express