e s o t e r i c a

[Doctor Jax]

YOUR JOURNEY BEGINS HERE
Arc 1: Into the Breach

After nearly a week at sea, the Mary Waits - a steamer out of London - arrived in port at Ayutthaya. Aboard this fateful ship, a crew put together by Charles Green took passage to meet their employer at a location designated by Mr. Green in a decisive letter handed out to this crew two days before making port. The instructions are quite simple - report to the Jade Elephant Hotel in Ayutthaya to receive further instructions. There are a set of directions leading to the hotel.

At this address, they would find what could only be called a resort. It is off to itself, sitting on a rather spacious ground with a garden, a terrace, a pool, and of course the hotel lounge and bar itself. Across the canal which borders the back of the resort, there sprawls a wide open temple ruin. While the hotel has its own grounds, there are vendors outside the gates as well who sell various knickknacks, trinkets, and bric-a-brac to wealthy tourists. The instructions in Green's letters are clear: you must all meet at the lounge by 5 o' clock sharp to discuss preparations. However, the Mary Waits made more than good time, and it arrived at noon exactly in Ayutthaya. There is time to kill, it seems, before the mysterious benefactor makes his appearance.

Spoiler

You have arrived! Obviously, you are here to make introductions! I have offered a few different places where you can meet others - those being the bits in bold. I will also be posting NPCs soon, and you have free reign to talk to them as well! Do not hesitate to ask if you have questions.

@Red Thunder @Jack Robinson @A.O. Taku @Pahn @Necrowmancer

Character Thread​

https://www.iwakuroleplay.com/threads/e-s-o-t-e-r-i-c-a-character-sign-ups.167471/

 

[Red Thunder]

Tatyana Volkov | Chronicler
:the Jade Elephant Hotel lounge:​

After weeks at sea, the steady unshifting dock upon which Tatyana Volkov found herself upon disembarking from the Mary Waits was extraordinarily unnerving. With each step, she kept expecting first the wooden platform and then the cobblestone of the paved roads to rise or fall beneath her, and the cold chicken she'd had the hour before threatened to spring to life and fly its way back up her throat. She held her satchel strap tightly in her hands as if it were a lifeline by which to feel safe in a strange land after a strange travel.

Ana had not one time actually set foot on anything that traveled on the water, despite living in the Baltic port of St. Petersburg, and the initial, comparably shorter, trip to London via the necessarily faster mode of steamship had been traumatizing enough. The three days or so aboard the Tantsor that it'd taken had seemed an eternity, particularly when all Ana had to do was to think about the immediate debt the trip put her father farther into; upon return with the payment for her work in ... wherever she was bound, she'd likely have to pay to free Mikael from debtor's prison. Nor had it been a long layover in the English capitol city; three days and they were gone again. Suffice to say, after such an inordinate amount of time not on dry land, she was ready to stay for a long visit.

"Dry" was perhaps too generous a descriptor. Ana paused at a street corner, glancing about in utter confusion as to where anything was. The layout of the city made no sense; everything seemed to her Western mind to be laid out in haphazard fashion. Finally she extracted the letter of direction from her bag. Far from the crisp note she'd have expected back home, the paper was much as it had been when she'd received it on the sea days previous: flimsy, also limp from the humidity in the air. Trying to hold it straight so as to read it, all the while muttering to herself grumpily, the young woman finally found her bearings and stepped off down the road.

When she did finally arrive at the Jade Elephant Hotel, she was absolutely drenched in sweat. Her outer coat had long been abandoned during the oceanic voyage and now resided under the arm that carried her small suitcase. Even her hat, usually tight upon her crown to keep her unruly hair under control in the gusts of both Russia and indeed the open ocean, had been pushed up to sit lightly on her head. "Stifling" didn't quite do the environment justice; impossible was nearer the mark. Russian winters don't prepare you for Siamese heat. Without much casting about to see what sights could be found, she sought the first comfort she recognized: the lounge and bar. She did however cast a sad look at a particular ruin she passed and made a mental note to revisit it later when she had composed herself.

A few minutes and a bit of creative negotiation about the oddly inflated price of vodka, Tatyana pulled out her notebook and began writing. This would be one hell of a story for the Pravda back home, and she intended to capitalize on the fact.

Место суеты и спокойствия, Сиам, по-видимому, вначале является всего лишь постоянным возвратом в древний век. Деревянные хижины выстраиваются по улицам с камнями, местные жители бегут туда и сюда по странным-
​

Wait; if she was to be the Chronicler for this expedition, she had better get used to writing in English. She carefully erased what she had and started again.

A place of bustle and of quiet, Siam seems at first to be merely a persistent throwback to an ancient age. Wooden huts line the streets with those made of stone, locals run hither and thither in strange two wheeled carts pulled by a single driver, and everywhere one looks, 'fashion' is as much a byword as is 'ruble'.

Yet even here, among the backwards Orientals, modern progress is evident. Ports have been designed clearly for the much larger foreign steam vessels of the West, and what I can only guess and indeed hope to be policemen stride about with rifles on their shoulders. Yes, even Siam, last bastion of Eastern culture in Asia, makes strides to remain relevant within the world at large.​

For all the discomfort the trip aboard the steamliner had brought her, Ana had poured over any and all literature she could find on their destination. It wasn't much, but it had been enough to give her a bit of perspective. Wait until people read this in the Pravda! If a backwater Oriental country could be progressive, then certainly Russian could! Finding rejuvenation in the thought as well as the alcohol, she put pencil to paper and continued writing.

 

[A.O. Taku]

Joseph Aldrich | Cook
:the Jade Elephant Hotel lounge:​

Klec-klec... Klec-klec... Klec-klec...

A dinge-gray pen twirled amid black gloved fingers before coming to rest its ballpoint over the journal parchement. Its ink poised to chronicle or, rather, collect a cacophony of thoughts into uniform, coherent English. Instead, the hand spun the pen back and settled a thumb onto the retactable ballpoint's hind button, and resumed figdeting.

Klec-klec... Klec-klec...

Joseph Aldrich shuddered a sigh, pausing from his lack of journaling, and leaned back in the fine-weave armchair. Setting the pen vertically parallel to the paper, he pulled black-lense spectacles from his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose -- careful to keep his amber eyes from wandering and, accidentally, settling into a pointed glare at another, giving rise to just another discomfortable situation. However, the Siamese seemed to have a likewise predilection against eye contact.

It had to be said that Joseph liked the city of Ayutthaya, disproptiante though his English appearance might be to that idea. There was a certain nostalgia to the streaming rivers, dirt streets, and plentiful vegetation. His initial settling into London had been a strange yet welcome relief from the uncivilized fynbos forests or karoo desert of South Africa; but after dodging about it and the New York retreats for just shy of two decades, Joseph could not deny the wistful longing for natural, unsoffocating grounds.

That being said, he had long since acclimated to British air and found himself not quite able to withstand Siam's swelter. And so, Joseph contented himself within the isolation of his mind at the Jade Elephant's shaded lounge. Then she walked in.

Joseph had seen the small woman during their voyage aboard the Mary Waits but had largely stayed to himself, with polite hat tips being the extent of their socialization. Her cheeks and eye ridge might have suggested Slavic birth, but Joseph was not keen on utilizing anything beyond periphery vision to account for a mere curiosity. There was something about her smile, though, that stood out to him. Perhaps it was the way in which she bustled into the lounge, clothing soaked and hair a mess, and was yet grinning. It was unnerving.

Joseph smiled to himself, crossing a leg. Unnerving folk were his favorite kind. Then again, he thought with a sudden frown, her arrival more than likely preceded the rest of the group. To his knowledge, ten or so people had likewise been contracted by Mister Green, and they ought to be arriving any minute.

In the mood for exactly zero socializing, Joseph slid journal and pen within his briefcase, nestled his hat just above his circular sunglasses, and made for the exit. Careful not to appear in a rush, Joseph kept his long-legged pace casual and offered yet another polite hat tip as he stalked past the small woman now seemingly lost within the focus of scratching pencil against paper in her own journal.

Joseph brought the back of his glove to his trimmed beard, suffocating a slight chuckle, as he headed for the Jade Elephant's garden.

 

[Doctor Jax]

Angelica Warren

From the front of the lounge, there was the sound of an argument. Two voices, indistinct, could be more or less heard from within, the patrons stolidly ignoring the verbal fracas that had overtaken the air. One voice - sweet and fluting, bubbly as a brook but with all the character of an angry songbird - was easily drowned out by the mellifluous baritone that battled against it. The spat was as quick as it was furious, and it ended with a decisive "that's final!" This was quickly followed by a rather rapid patter of feet, and a young woman hustled into the lounge angrily, wearing a flowing, white dress befitting the climate that seemed to flow around her. In her arms was a portfolio of some kind, clutched tightly.

In her tearful anger, the girl did not notice a man wearing spectacles head towards the exit, and with a start, she smacked into him. Her weight was slight, her body not particularly dense, and so she perhaps did little to him, but Aldrich was a bit bigger than the 5'5" girl. In the collision, she had dropped the portfolio, a whole ream of papers flying across the floor of the lounge. A strung-together book that looked to be made of leaves skid across the floor to the young Russian woman sitting at the bar writing, fanned out to reveal an indecipherable language inscribed in ink.

"Oh!" the girl said with a start, bending down to pick up the papers that had fallen out. She looked up at Aldrich with green eyes that spoke volumes of frustration, but she quickly reined in her expression, instead saying, "I'm sorry for the intrusion. I hadn't been paying attention. You... wouldn't have seen where a book of leaves, yea big, fall here, have you?"

---

Abraham Danford & Lung El Soringvit

A young man with sandy blonde hair drank in the sights around him. He'd been told to flag down the others who would also be arriving off the Mary Waits, as Mr. Green had figured that others would take their time. However, he was doing a bit of a poor job as he was so distracted by the busy bazaar that surrounded him, the first of its kind he'd ever seen in his life. The market around him was a mass of people moving with all sorts of goods, from baskets balanced on poles full of produce and unidentifiable fruits and vegetables, to cages with livestock inside. Trinkets hung off carts as people hawked their wares.

"Mr. Danford, why you don't look for the others?" Lung El - a guide they had hired from an agency - asked him pointedly, though there was a smile on his face.

"Er, I'm sorry. I'm a little overwhelmed," Abraham said honestly. "It's amazing."

"Oh, you like the market? We see more of it, if you want to," Lung El offered. "You Westerner, I know what you like most. We can get you ngaw, lychee, maybe we find you something for your lady friend in England."

"No, no that won't be necessary! I really should be watching for the others," Abraham insisted, though his eyes were frequently pulled to the many vendors selling food, textiles, produce, and lottery tickets. Several beggars sat by the side of the road, hands up in supplication,
though the more enterprising among them had a can they would hold out with both hands. Abe eyed them with sympathy, chewing his chapped lip as he wiped the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief.

Unable to stand it, he walked towards one, despite Lung El protesting after him. Abraham knelt before the wretch, who looked up through long, lanky hair with teary eyes as he dropped several baht coins into his hands.

"There you go-"

Suddenly, many other beggars - catching wind of a charitable soul - immediately began to gravitate towards Abe, and he backed up in trepidation as the flood began to overtake him.

 

[Pahn]

Erwin Carlton Turner
Jade Elephant Hotel Lounge | | Alive ​

"You are certainly not in Liverpool anymore, Erwin."

Erwin Turner mumbled to himself as he overlooked the busy marketplace, sweat dripping from his brow under his unruly wavy hair. He felt the uttermost need for a shower, a proper scrub to remove the leftover salt from the ocean air and the sweat that had accumulated through the humid nights. The solid ground was a welcomed familiarity, and despite this not being his first time aboard a steamship, it was his first voyage. His mother had kissed his bearded cheek with water in her eyes while his father, stoic as ever, had shook his hand and advised him to keep his eye open for anything interesting for their family business. Other than that, there was little to nothing Erwin had waiting for him back home, so it was with a heart full of hope and adventure that he swaggered down the streets of this new city.

The local language was exotic to his British ears. He had heard some different accents before, mainly from British colonies in Africa and from other European countries, but this was something else entirely. It made him wonder what an Englishman might sound to for the natives, he was positive it was nothing as poetic as this. Laughter was the same in English as it was in Siamese: bright and contagious. Erwin's face was split in an excited grin, his moustache covering his upper lip and his shockingly white teeth almost reflecting the dim light.

His eyes fell on two men being surrounded by beggars, and his smile faltered ever so slightly. Even back home, if there was something that made him a mixture of angry and annoyed, it was God forsaken beggars. Avoiding them by taking an entirely different street, and for a moment the Navigator thought he was lost - but the hotel sprang up from the horizon and he nearly jogged towards it.

The clash between modern western and native architecture was jarring and the Jade Elephant Hotel stood out like a polished gem in the midst of rubble. While people rode on carts in the streets, the hotel had a marble entrance with extravagantly carved doors, as though the owner and architect had wished to give the illusion of entering a completely different world. The lobby had a few properly dressed gentlemen smoking from their ivory pipes, discussing some hunting tour planned for later, but Erwin didn't stop to listen. His curiosity was reaching its breaking point, but it would have to wait. Their meeting was not for a few more hours, but he had to review the maps of Siam that he had found in some obscure shop in London.

A man and a woman were fussing about fallen papers and lost books, but he ignored them and went straight to the bar. A pretty blonde woman was sitting there with a glass of clear liquid - which he assumed to be vodka - scribbling furiously in her notebook. There was an air about her, a determination, that Erwin couldn't help but admire. He shrugged his heavy leather bag on the seat next to hers and sat on the one next to it.

"Ah, a scotch, sir. Thank you." Erwin waved to the waiter and pulled out a heavy textbook from his bag, not quite looking towards the lady to his right. A large handkerchief was taken out along with the textbook, and he proceeded to wipe his face as gracefully as one could when they found themselves sitting in a hotel in the middle of a rain forest.
​

 

[Necrowmancer]

Flannery Thorburn | Botanist
Jade Elephant Hotel Lounge + Bar
​

Boats had never been Flannery's friends, whether it had been the small rowboats she recalled as a child or the hulking steamers she'd just dragged herself off of. The subtle ebb and flow of the waves that rocked the ship was just enough to always put the contents of Flannery's stomach at the very edge of her esophagus, and she couldn't have been happier to see stable, solid land. The trip from London to Ayutthaya had been a nauseating nightmare for the botanist, though she wasn't sure if it was better or worse then the trip she'd taken to get from New York to London in the first place.

When she could at last drag herself off of the Mary Waits, Flannery nearly bit the dock with ill-placed footing. Ah, a wonderful welcome to this hot, humid, and foreign land. And a wonderful first impression for anyone on her expedition who might be still lurking around. Flannery shoved her rather plain hat up from where it'd slid forward, narrowing her eyes as she surveyed her surrounding. She'd been expecting something like India really, but Ayutthay wasn't quite that. She immediately recognized some similar plants, like gorgeous flowering orchids and lilies, or the chrysanthemums she'd seen in Brazil. While the plant life wasn't all the exact same, Flannery was relieved to see that the general look and form of what grew immediately around the city wasn't too far from what she'd seen before.

At the end of the day, the weather wasn't entirely terrible for her. She'd traveled the jungles of south-eastern India and north-western Brazil; Siam so far wasn't a whole lot different. The people were different, and so was the architecture- but that was what Flannery cared about the least. She could care less if they spoke a different language, if their government was different, if they were less civilized, or whatever else so many people had talked about back in London before she left. All Flannery cared about was that there were plants to identify, take, and eventually sell for money. Language barriers, navigation and what-have-you could be taken care of by the rest of the crew. That was why you had a crew after all, as far as Flannery was concerned. They could deal with whatever uncivilized strange language-speaking people they encountered, and Flannery could focus on which flavor of ginger and ginseng would fetch her the best price back in Britain or America.

As she finally approached the hotel after finding her footing again, even Flannery had to admit the hotel was impressive. Not exactly her taste, but she could appreciate the... oddity of its construction and style choice. It was certainly more impressive then any of the shacks she'd grown up around in the Appalachian Mountains. She noted the man being swarmed by beggars outside, picking up her pace in hopes they wouldn't notice her, before gingerly dancing around the explosion of papers that had occurred just inside of the doorway. Flannery had exactly one place on her mind: and that was the bar.

A few others had already beaten her there, who she vaguely recalled seeing on the Mary Waits during the few moments she'd adventured in between bouts of vomiting. A man and a woman, one of which was absorbed in her writing while the other seemed to be baking alive in the swelter. The man certainly seemed to be someone she'd expect to see on the trip, although she was getting the feeling he'd be one of the first to drop from heatstroke, but the woman...? While Flannery would never complain about seeing more ladies on expeditions, the blonde woman wasn't one she'd have placed as a explorer sort.

Flannery took up the seat to the woman's left, as tempting as it was to shove the man's bag off the seat. "What kind of local spirits do you have here?" She questioned, tucking one hand under her chin as she leaned up against the bar. Her gaze shifted to what the other two were having. Vodka and scotch it looked like. Nothing interesting or local, probably imported.

 

[Red Thunder]

Tatyana Volkov | Chronicler
:the Jade Elephant Hotel lounge:​

Ana was absolutely gone to the world. Her heart gripped her pencil, not her mind, and she poured into the article draft the sensations of the voyage, the euphoria of arrival in a foreign port, and the astonishment mixed with rout discomfort at the strange duel nature of Ayutthaya's apparent culture as it found place for both old and new, ancient and modern, tradition and advancement. Even a broken tip did little to curb her enthusiasm for putting words into her notebook, a quick few runs of a whittling knife against the pencil's wood solving the issue and allowing her to continue at her rapid pace. But most of all, her revolutionary spirit shown through. At every chance, it seemed, she pontificated about Siam's readiness to embrace modernity and freedom. Subconsciously she cursed her lack of foresight and wished with no small regret that she'd begun learning of Siam far earlier than some small reading aboard the steamliner.

So taken was the young journalist with her work that she failed utterly to notice some gentleman's courteous gesture, nor did she happen to witness the accident involving him and an incoming lady of academia, and the papers that fell close by to Ana failed to draw her attention. Even the man with the bag, who sat unreasonably close to her for being a complete stranger, didn't earn so much as a glance. It wasn't until a voice beside her inquired of the bartender concerning Siamese liquor that she raised her head. At her fingertips was a full page's worth of writing, hopefully to be mailed back home for her father to publish.

"Ah! I had not thought to try local. Come!" Ana slid her own glass toward the woman, indicating the half a finger or so of vodka left within. "Tis good vodka, if a bit weak. It will steel you for what may come after."

She chuckled, taking a jab at the riskiness of foreign fare with a grin. With a glance back at her notepad, she folded it up and replaced it and the pencil back within her satchel. This was prime opportunity for inspiration. Raising elbow to the bar top, Ana leaned into her hand, vaguely mirroring her companion's stance.

"You don't belong here, da? What brings you?"

@Necrowmancer

 

[Kuno]

PETER O'KEEFE || RIFLEMAN
Location: Streets of Ayutthaya​

For all the mysticism and frenzied tales surrounding it, Siam was precisely as Peter thought it would be. Hot, overgrown with undergrowth, and filled to the brim with Englishmen. Oh, sure, there were natives all right. It was still their city--for now--and he saw them everywhere, on the docks and milling about in the dirt-filled streets. They were curiously dressed in richly-colored tunics, many of them walking barefoot across the ground. Unlike other territories he'd been to, they seemed not to care a whit about the various Europeans lurking about. His arrival on the dock was treated with barely a glance. Already, he thought grimly, they were getting used to white men being around. Only time would tell whether or not that complacency would prove to be fatal. Sighing, Peter dragged his eyes over to the ship. He could spend hours railing against the British Empire if you'd let him. But he knew that this simply wasn't the time or the place. He had a job to do, whether he liked it or not. Loitering around was out of the question.

"Read it to me again, boy," Peter said, green eyes squinting at his companion.

The "boy" in question, a soot-covered teenager by the name of Thomas, peered at him curiously. They stood side-by-side just outside the steamer, and in Thomas' hands was the letter from Mr. Green himself. His employers usually didn't remember that Peter couldn't read a wit. Every day, he'd remind them, and still the nitwits would forget. Or maybe they just didn't give a damn. He wouldn't be surprised if it was the latter.

"It says, uh, it says.." Thomas cleared his throat. Peter eyed him warily. The boy was not the best reader, but he was better than nothing. He had to practically twist his arm to get Thomas away from his job fueling the engine. "It says to report to the Jade Elephant Hotel in, uh...Ayu...Ayutthaya to receive further instructions."

"Huh." Peter waved his hand impatiently. "There's more, innit? Go on now."

"Oh, right," the boy said awkwardly. After a pause, he began to read the rest of the details outlined on the sheet.

Directions were what they sounded like. Peter listened to him listlessly. Jade Elephant Hotel, Jade Elephant Hotel. If he repeated it enough, maybe he'd be lucky enough to remember it. It sounded like a rather ostentatious place, present surroundings excluded. He just hoped he'd be able to make it there in one piece.

"Alright, that's enough. Thanks," Peter finally exclaimed, clapping Thomas on the back. He winked at the boy. "God bless you."

Thomas smiled thinly at him. "And good luck to you, sir," He called as Peter walked away. Peter couldn't help but smile in return. Good luck, indeed. He would need all the luck he could get. Stepping off the docks, he took a moment to take in the sights around him. The streets surrounding the docks were a mess of vendors and people. Small, foreign structures sprang up from the soil across the territory, with dirt roads winding their way between each building. It was an ungodly maze, for sure. But nothing he couldn't handle.

Or so he thought. More than fifteen minutes later, he stood in the crossroads of a empty street, surrounded by nothing but small, dirtsided homes. Nowhere did he see anything that even closely resembled a hotel, or any signs of activity for that matter.

"Well, I'll be damned," Peter muttered to himself. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he turned in a circle in his spot. Judging by his location, he seemed to be on the outskirts of the city, which seemed impossible, given how closely he followed the instructions. Cursing his luck, he began to pace around the street. Finally, after a split-second of thinking, he decided to head back the way he came. If he could just make it back to docks, he might run into someone from the crew. At least one of them had to know where the hell he was supposed to go. As he walked, he cast an eye about the buildings. They were so different from so many others he had seen. And yet, they were the same. All the places he had been had the signs and symptoms of poverty; dirt-filled streets, downtrodden buildings, and the wild creeping in from every corner. Angola had been different in that respect. While they were miles behind the modern society of Great Britain, they were far from uncivilized. And even while the British flag loomed over the horizon, they still remained uniquely their own country. He wondered if Siam would be the same.

The faint clamoring of voices interrupted his thoughts. As he walked, the voices got louder and louder, until finally he walked out into an open courtyard. His eyes immediately alighted upon a small crowd gathered to his left. About a half dozen or so wretches--beggars, judging from their bedraggled appearance--surrounded two men who, by the looks of it, looked to be in poor straits. Peter shook his head, amusement plain on his face. Englishmen. They never ceased to get themselves into trouble. Still, his feet carried him towards them, until he stood at the very edge of the group. Now that he was closer, he realized that it was not two Englishmen but simply one; the other was another descent, although Peter's uncultured eye could not pinpoint what. But it didn't matter a wit. Either of them could help point him in the right direction of hotel. And, judging from the looks on their faces, they could use the distraction.

"Excuse me!" Peter's voice boomed throughout the small area. Startled, the beggars quickly moved aside as he strode through to the duo. Scanning their faces, he suddenly realized that he'd seen them before on the steamer. Whether or not they were part of the expedition was a mystery to him. The Irishman hadn't spent much time getting to know his other teammates, given his predisposition to seasickness. While the others were frolicking about aboveboard, Peter spent his days puking his guts out. And as always, he swore to anyone that would listen that this was his last job ever. Coming to a stop in front of the men, he smiled at them.

"Thank the Lord I've found ya," he exclaimed, clasping a hand on both men's shoulders. "I'm 'sposed to be going to the Jade Elephant Hotel, and may or may not be a wee lost." Peter grinned handsomely at the two men. "I'm in sore need of some guidance, if ya don't mind."

 

[Doctor Jax]

Abraham Danford & Lung El Soringvit

One of the wretches grasped the front of Abraham's dress shirt, and the man felt panic as he realized that the beggar was ceasing to let go, pleading with him in his foreign tongue to give clemence. Briefly Abe felt a rush of indignation, almost rage,
that someone would affront his person in such a way, he who was trying to help - but the intrusion lasted but a moment. The wretch, and the original beggar he had tried to help, fled as El quickly shooed the rest of them using a single disrobed shoe and an unknown young man approached him.

"Oh! Thank goodness! I take it you're a part of Green's expedition? I thought I had seen you onboard the Mary. Yes, you look quite familiar," Abe said enthusiastically, brushing off his suit. He was absolutely sweltering in all these clothes, and he was hoping it wouldn't be considered untoward of him to shed his vest and coat soon. "You're in luck - this right here is the Jade Elephant. You need come no further!
The name is Doctor Abraham Danford, by the by, and my associate here is Mr. El Soringvit."

"You can call me Lung El, if you like," said the Asian man, his nut brown skin taking the heat far better than his English companion.

"Um, welcome to Siam, I suppose!" Abe said, gesturing with wide open arms somewhat awkwardly, the bridge of his nose already turning an angry red in the sun. "You wouldn't perhaps have seen any others who were coming this way, would you have? No? I'm supposed to be flagging down the others..."

In the distance, unseen by either man, another Westerner wearing a suit looked at Peter with a knowing appraisal. He beckoned him momentarily from behind Abe's back further down the street in invitation, but it was obvious he did not want to be seen by either Abe or Lung El.

@Kuno

 

[A.O. Taku]

Joseph Aldrich | Cook​

:the Jade Elephant Hotel lounge:​

Joseph flinched a finger over the ridge of his spectacles, steadying them in mock activity as the two voices escalated near the lounge's arched entrance way. Shaded glasses were well and good for avoiding eye contact, but it was a separate matter to appear focused elsewhere.

Head down and stifling a false yawn did well enough in general circumstances. At least, roughly speaking, when the circumstances were exclusively 'social.'

Before having yet raised his eyes, he was smacked with the mattered force of a rampaging schnauzer. Joseph jolted a step back, more from shock than impact, as papers fluttered about the bar. Bringing a glove over his lower scowling face, he appraised the small woman flailing about the floor.

She jerked her focus from snatching up the still falling sheets to stare daggers into him before she just as quickly unfurled her brow and apologized.

Joseph hissed a sigh, fidgeting with the hinges of his black spectacles before exchanging the glove over his face for a slight smile. "My own... apologies. Afraid I hadn't seen you there. Ahem. Miss." Joseph likewise squatted down to collect a mattering of paper around his shoes. Worse yet than being caught in a social was being appraised as a malignant. Joseph would much rather a reputation summing at zero than be the odious figure others held at meter'd length -- regardless of his preferencing just that.

"Mmh. A, ah, a book of leaves...you say?" Joseph mused, pausing from the stacked arrangement of sheets, tilting his head. Perhaps you dropped it in a well, you clumsy bat. "Well, I don't... I don't believe so. Oh, but. Aha, here you are, miss." He outstretched the papers to the prone woman and, with marginal curiosity, flicked his hidden gaze to the parchment itself...

 

[Necrowmancer]

Flannery Thorburn | Botanist
Jade Elephant Hotel Lounge + Bar
​

As the bar tender shifted to get Flannery their drink, the woman allowed her gaze to wander around the room. Very European, with a flair of exotic. While Flannery had expected for it to cater to Westerners, she had to admit that the style clash was fascinating to say the least. He gaze, however, did not linger long on the lounge decorations. Tilting her head up into the brim of her hat, she threw a glance at the scribbling the woman next to her was apparently very animated about writing. Her eyes squinted, not that she could fully make out what was being written.

Flannery hadn't been expecting for the woman to suddenly look up from her work. She quickly averted her eyes back to the wall of liquor bottles behind the bar, but the aversion didn't last long. Her gaze quickly shifted back to the younger woman with a arched brow, followed by a sly grin. Now, there was a interesting accent. Russian, if she remembered right. It certainly explained the writing then.

Flannery swiveled in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. "I'd be missin' out if I passed up a chance to try it," she chuckled, before plucking the glass up. "Don't mind if I do. I appreciate it." She knocked back the remainder of the vodka in time for the glass of local spirits to be pushed in front of her. Flannery scooted it towards her, taking a cautious sniff.

Her grin grew subtly wider as the woman mirrored her posture. Flannery idly swirled the drink in her hand. "And you don't look like you belong either, darlin'. I'm here at the request of one Mr. Green for an expedition. What about yourself? What's a pretty face like yours doin' out in these parts of the world?" She idly lifted the drink to her lips, taking a sip. Immediately her face contorted, and she couldn't help but turn and cover her mouth with a look of surprise. The drink was a lot more... bitter then she'd been anticipating. Embarrassing. "I might need more of that vodka after this," she admitted after a moment.

@Red Thunder

 

[Doctor Jax]

Angelica Warren



"My own... apologies. Afraid I hadn't seen you there. Ahem. Miss."

Angelica glanced up at the man once more, noting his stilted style of speech and somewhat awkward genuflections towards the lenses on his face. Such a curious fellow, Angelica mused to herself, a low hum of panic sitting in her chest as she gathered up the papers with the gentleman's help. It was a bother that he didn't see where that book went, and another spike of terror lanced through her at the thought of losing it.

As she bent down, her form was lithe, her curve gentle, more girl than woman. Should someone peg her age, they would have considered her just out of finishing school, a flower still budding but not yet in bloom. Under the dress, her form was somewhat athletic, perhaps that of an equestrian or an archer. All in all, a fine English specimen. She seemed to flourish under the sun rather than wilt, taking the heat remarkably well. Her light cotton day dress perhaps helped in that regard.

The man offered her a sheaf of papers, written there all sorts of questions over lines of text written in some strange curlicue script.

...definitely means the Chao Phraya, there isn't another river that big in Siam.

...says 'door to the dead' but could also mean 'door to the hospital'. Father said this word could...

...doesn't make sense. The tree speaks? Or the child? Blasted incomplete clauses always...

...at the Noon Star. Possibly Polaris? Uncle says ask navigator.

"Well, if you didn't find it, perhaps it skid somewhere in the room. Thank you very much sir," Angelica said, putting the papers in the portfolio she carried. Her eyes darted around the room momentarily, but rather than forget her manners, she introduced herself just in case.

"Angelica Warren, if we meet again," the girl said with a nervous smile, fidgeting as her mind threatened to pull her elsewhere.

Beneath Tatyana's seat, the book of leaves fanned out, its writing almost hypnotic. To the uncultured and unaware, the words seemed to shift and breathe, but this, of course, was a trick of the text. Yet, the book had an undeniable attractiveness to, in the way magnets attract iron or a whirlpool attracts debris. It lay, inert, beneath Tatyana's chair while Angelica nervously worried away at the frayed end of her leather portfolio wondering where exactly it could have gone.

@A.O. Taku

 

[Kuno]

PETER O'KEEFE || RIFLEMAN
Location: Streets of Ayutthaya
​

The Englishman looked overjoyed to see him, a fact not lost on Peter. He squinted his eyes at the blonde as he excitedly began to speak to him. How old was this kid?

"You're in luck - this right here is the Jade Elephant. You need come no further!" Huh? Peter jerked his head over to look past the two men into the distance. There, perched right behind them out of the blue, was a monstrosity of a building. Jarringly European, it loomed over the surrounding structures with ease. And right in front of the bloody thing was a sign that no doubt clearly stated "Jade Elephant Hotel". It might as well have been saying to Peter "Right this way, idiot!" Peter muttered a curse under his breath. Of all the rotten luck he could have; leave it to him to be asking for directions when the thing was right in front of his face.His savior seemed unaware of Peter's dismay and continued on.

"The name is Doctor Abraham Danford-" Doctor? Peter looked at him with naked shock. How old was he? "-by the by, and my associate here is Mr. El Soringvit," The young doctor finished.

Mr. El Soringvit and Doctor Danford. Right. He was bound to forget both their names momentarily. As if to help him out, Mr. El Soringvit offered up his first name, perhaps understanding that the Irishman would have some difficulty learning. Peter could only smile gratefully in return. After a brief welcome, Doctor Danford suddenly asked if he'd seen the others anywhere. Peter sighed.

"Beats me if I know," He drawled, "I can't be for certain what other persons are traipsing along with us." To his knowledge, he presumed he was the last one, seeing how he had purposefully dragged his feet when getting off the steamer. But as he spoke, a slight movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. There, standing some distance from them, another white (?) man beckoned him with his hand to come over there, but he did so silently. Peter's eyes darted between him and the young blonde in front of him. Did he not want these two men to see? Suspicion lined his face. He didn't know who the hell that man was, but if he wanted him, he would get him. The stranger had just better pray that Peter liked what he heard.

"I tell you what," Peter remarked suddenly, snapping his green eyes back onto Doctor Danford and Lung El, "I saw a handful of finely dressed folk moving about the docks when I came 'round. Mayhaps they're the ones you're looking for? Two of them were heading this way. I'd keep an eye out, if I were you." Thanking the men again, he moved around them and walked briskly to where the stranger waited expectantly for him. The man was dressed neatly, in a rather fine suit more suited London rains than the humid heat of Siam. Peter came to a stop before him, caution plain on his face.

"Can I help you, sir?" He asked, his eyes roving up and down his build. "I don't seem to recollect knowing you, and I'd be much obliged to ask how you know me."

 

[Red Thunder]

Strangers in a Strange Land I
a collab by
@Necrowmancer and @Red Thunder​

"Pervaya chashka vodki idet kak kola, vtoraya - kak sokol, a tret'ya - kak malen'kaya ptitsa," Ana muttered in reply, the corner of her mouth upturned wryly. She retracted her glass and knocked it against the bar top to get the tender's attention. "Just don't let it get away from you.

"But Mr. Green, you say! Good; I am as well. And to be frank, only because he promises such a monetary return. Three thousand British pounds is a hard thing to ignore, da?"

The barman gave the small Russian woman a considering gaze before pulling down the bottle of vodka and refilling her glass. The stuff was rare, and he grunted as he eyed the minorly dwindled store before turning away from the women and back to his work.

Flannery pursed her lips as the woman started to mutter in what she could only assume was Russian, though it was difficult to tell given how scrunched up her face was to begin with. She set her glass down, deciding to give it a few more seconds before she took another sip of the stuff.

"Really now?" She mused, leaning back a bit in her seat. A peevish grin came to her lips in replacement of the look of almost disgust she'd had a moment earlier. "A woman after my own heart then. Hard to pass up an opportunity like this one. This your first expedition?" She questioned, idly nodding her head to the barman in thanks before she focused her attention on the journalist.

The blonde inclined her head in an affirmative.

"Money to travel is a dream. I am a journalist for a newspaper in St. Petersburg, you see. It is small, the Pravda, and vocal; we are fined often." The humor left her face, and she turned to face the wall behind the bar, wrapping the small glass in her small hands. Her fingers tightened about it minutely. "Even this trip cost us dear. But nothing ventured, nothing gained, yes? Mr. Green's payment will do well for us."

Suddenly she whipped her head around, the amiable smile having once more taken up residency. She extended an open hand.

"Ah; manners. I am Tatyana Volkov! Pleasure, Miss-"

"A journalist? Ain't you a little far out here?" She chuckled, lifting the glass to her lips again. She managed to hold back a face at this sip, though the other's words brought a slight frown to her lips anyways. "Well, you made a fine choice tagging along I reckon. Ain't finer places to make money then the unexplored wilderness. Besides, if your city is anythin' like my old haunts then people just eat up stories of adventure like these. Who knows- maybe you'll catch a big fish in these waters."

Flannery set her glass down, extending her own hand to give Ana's a firm shake. "Flannery. Flannery Thorburn, at your service," she replied with a grin, tipping her hat when she pulled her hand away. "I can only hope the rest of the crew is as pleasant as you are."

"I hope the same! There ought to be a very wide range of, urm, opyt. Eh …" Hand retracted and once more cradling the glass, Tatyana's jaw worked as she silently mouthed different words and sounds with her lips. Suddenly her eyes lit up. "Experience! Yes, a wide range of experience already, between a journalist and a- sorry, what is it you do?"

Flannery's lips turned up, swirling her glass while she waited for them to figure out the word. She took the moment to push the glass to the side and pull a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of a pocket sewn into the crinkled strip of fabric at her waist, nimbly picking out one of packages contents before offering the box out to Ana. "I'm sure it will be," she chuckled, sticking her cigarette into her mouth. "Pardon my own rudeness. I'm a botanist, well, officially anyways. People pay a pretty penny for exotic plants like the ones that grow here."

There was a pregnant pause, and Ana twisted her face in obvious confusion.

"They- they do?" Scrambling, she dug her notepad and pencil from the cloth bag she still had slung across her shoulders. Flipping through several leaves of paper, she slapped the pad down on the countertop. "Why would they buy exotic plants? What good are they: for medicine, for food, for viewing? Where does one sell them? What kinds of people would you find market for these exotic plants? And how long have you been doing this?"

She looked up expectantly, her face eager for the information.

 

[Necrowmancer]

Strangers in a Strange Land II
a collab by
@Necrowmancer and @Red Thunder

​

Needless to say, Flannery was not expecting such interest, though she figured she probably should have. With a sharp snap of the cigarette box lid, she put it back into her pocket and flipped open the lighter. Once the cigarette was lit, she returned the lighter to the pouch as well and took a drag. "'Course they do, hon. You get people buyin' for all of them reasons. Medicine mostly though. You know how much people will pay for a pound of ginseng? People believe all sorts of plants do crazy things," she said with a wave of her hand, pulling the cigarette out of her mouth. "Now, I don't know if some of these plants actually do what people claim they do, but," she gave a light hearted shrug, "ain't my problem. Medicinal plants are the easiest to transport i've found, but rich folk do love them fancy flowering plants like the ones outside."

Goodness, this woman was front loaded on the questions, but Flannery wouldn't lie about liking to hear herself talk. "People though? Depends. It's a niche market, but certain folks in certain places will pay a good price for different herbs. Rich folk seem to be interested in the so called 'exotic' stuff, but you get people from time to time askin' for old-timey family remedies. As for me, i've been doin' this since I was just small. Papa showed me what plants helped a upset stomach, and it just went from there. Went to college for it even, for awhile."

Flannery's descriptions had been accompanied by the light scratching of pencil on paper, rarely pausing for longer than it took to listen to a bit more of the botanist's description before continuing on at the pace it had before. Even after Flannery ended, Ana continued, her wrist shifting and articulating as she transferred thought to page. She turned back to her companion.

"This is wonderful, that a woman can find employment picking and selling plants! And … college? I did not realize a woman could go to college. The western world is so progressive." She glanced over her shoulder, noting the small todo at the door and that scattering of papers it looked to concern, before turning back and taking a sip of the alcohol in front of her. "What need could Mr. Green have for a botanist?"

Flannery took another drag of her cigarette as the woman scratched away at the paper, amused. "They have all-women colleges back home in the States now. They're still a little new, but folks like you and I can finally go get ourselves an education." Flannery followed her glance, leaning back in her seat as she shifted her cigarette between her fingers so she could scoop up her own glass of alcohol.

"Money, mostly," she said after taking a sip. "And i'm sure to make sure none of you folks go rubbin' up against anythin' poisonous, or worse, eatin' it. There's all sorts of plants that look like they'd be mighty fine to snack on in jungles like these that will drop you dead by sunset."

"Really?"

Her brow furrowed and her lips pursed, Ana squirmed in her seat uncomfortably, suddenly unsure her presence on this voyage was to her own best interest. First the humidity; now this American brought rumors of deadly plants? What was she supposed to do as they wandered about the jungle: avoid touching every single bit of foliage for fear that it might cause her to fall into a coma? Bringing the glass to her lips, she drained the remaining ounce and a half of liquid, ignoring the burning it left in her throat as she'd trained herself to do back home.

"Well," she coughed, setting the glass down with more vigor than she'd intended and smiling. "It's a good thing Green has hired a botanik, then. I can't write a story if I'm dead."

Flannery idly tapped the ashes of her cigarette into the nearest ashtray, a smirk lingering on her lips. Was that really making her so uncomfortable? It wasn't like the plants were going to lash out and eat her or anything… at least, Flannery hoped they weren't going to. And if they did, well, that would just be a fabulous amount of money for her.

"Look," she began, jumping ever so slightly as the glass slammed into the table, "all you need to worry about is not shovin' weird plants into your mouth. Just listen to me, and you'll be right as rain. Ain't lost a man yet on either of the expeditions i've been on before, and I don't plan on breaking that streak." Flannery waved her hand dismissively, leaving a few smoke rings in the process.

 

[Doctor Jax]

Wallace

The man was as nondescript as a Westerner could be. He had an aquiline nose, a mustachio finished with wax, and sported brown eyes and hair. His age seemed indeterminate, possibly ranging from his early twenties to forties. His build was mildly athletic, his temperament tepid. All in all, the man was almost unsettlingly forgettable. By grace of his environment, he was separated from the masses due to his obvious foreignness, but even then, a description of him would prove sorely lacking should someone ask for a recollection of the gentleman.

He looked at the young man before him with a kindly nod of the head as he approached, asking how exactly he knew him, and the gentleman spoke at last.

Like the rest of him, his voice was not remarkable in any other way, besides the fact he sported an American accent.

"Indeed, you can help me. Unfortunately, we've not had the pleasure before, Mr. O'Keefe. My apologies for the abrupt meeting. The name is Wallace, and I represent the Atticus Consortium," he stated, offering a hand. "I apologize for the obvious intrusion in to your privacy, but sometimes business works out that way, doesn't it? I hope you can forgive that in light of the proposition I'm to offer you."

The man removed a cigarette from a golden case that was in his pocket, and he offered one to his present companion, to take or leave, before putting it away. He lit it with a match he scraped against the bottom of his shoe, and he huffed the tobacco lightly.

"Your associate, Mr. Green, is something of a competitor, and I'd like to give you a counteroffer to his three grand."

Wallace removed a small wallet from the inside of his jacket, showcasing several hundred pound notes, as proof of his ability to pay. The man returned the wallet to his jacket and blew smoke rings into the air, almost with amusement.

"Now, of course, you would still be traveling with Mr. Green, working for Mr. Green, but we are highly invested in the object of his search, and should you return with a sample of that object - a plant, as we understand it, a cutting or extract of a particular tree - we'd compensate you four times the amount Green offered. That number is highly negotiable, as we understand that this is a risky venture. You, of course, could still work for Green and collect your three thousand pounds, and still deliver to us to collect the additional amount. I understand that this is something of a business venture of ill repute, but we could both seek to gain in the transaction," Wallace put forth quickly and with forthrightness. He even chuckled as he noted the rather insanctimonious nature of the offer, as if it were a bit of a jest to him, almost an irony.

His manner seemed frank and open, perhaps even brazen. He was, after all, offering right in front of the young man's employer a counteroffer, what could explicitly be considered sabotage.

"If you deign to decline now and later return to us with the object in question, having changed your mind, we would be happy to compensate you. And if you decline outright, tell Mr. Green of our tete-a-tete, then that would be acceptable as well. We're no Pinkerton Agency. Business is business, and Green would understand as much," Wallace conceded as he calmly sucked down his cigarette to a nub. "From what I know, your stay at the Elephant will last three days in order to completely prepare, and if you have misgivings or need to think over the offer, please feel free. What say you, Mr. O'Keefe?"



@Kuno

 

[Pahn]

Erwin Carlton Turner
Jade Elephant Hotel Lounge | | Alive ​

As the man sipped his scotch, he listened to the conversation happening to his right. Erwin couldn't make out everything the two women were saying, but he definitely recognized their accents. American and Russian. Interesting, he thought - it appeared this Mister Green had broadened his horizon in terms of fishing pools. The Americans were young people, and for them to have opened an all-women university felt like just the kind of bold move they'd make. Another sip of scotch, just to wet his lips, and he repeated their names in his mind. Tatyana the Russian journalist, Flannery the American botanist. Tatyana Russian journalist, Flannery American botanist.

Erwin held back the impulse of interrupting them to introduce himself. In Liverpool, this type of silent behaviour would have been abhorrent coming from a gentleman, but this backwards country did not seem to uphold such tight society etiquette. So instead, he remained silent and warmed his insides with the alcohol. It wasn't as good as the scotch from back home of course, but it wasn't half bad. He dared not order anything exotic just yet, one had to be prudent about trying out new things all at once. He reckoned he'd be sick the first day or two on water alone. His body needed to acclimate to the differences in --

Touch me.

"Pardon?" The ethereal voice did not seem to come from anyone in particular, and the two women were too engrossed in their conversation about Mister Green's expedition to hear his whisper, he hoped. The voice was coming from Tatyana's general direction but she was not paying him an ounce of attention. Erwin's handkerchief was back out of his pocket and wiped the cold sweat from his temples.

I want you to touch me.

Heart racing to his throat and a otherworldly fogginess spreading through his mind, Erwin's eyes fell to the ground and he saw it. A book, under Tatyana the Russian journalist's chair. A quick look at his bag confirmed him that it wasn't his, the clasps were still firmly in place. The invasive voice appeared to be originating from within his own mind, and a wild thought about the scotch being the cause of such hallucinations popped in but disappeared almost immediately. Desire fill the man to the brim, heavily breathing and allowing himself to feel the violence that coursed through his veins.

"Definitely the scotch." His whispered voice was fierce and not at all his usual tone, but it couldn't be helped. Slipping off his chair, he leaned down and picked up the book, eyes wide with fascination. The book was like a gorgeous exotic madam, and it sent exciting pulses through his arms. Erwin had never felt such exhilaration from simply holding a book.
​

 

[Doctor Jax]

Angelica Warren

Anxious and filled with an almost manic worry, Angelica turned away from the gentleman she'd just met, looking about the room for the tome that she had lost. She could clearly make out its form in her mind's eye - brittle palm spines, bound together with age old twine, bedecked in long, neat lines of inked letters. Uncle will kill me if I lose it. That tala-patra is one of a kind. And Father--

She quashed the thought before it could go any further. No, she had probably dropped it somewhere in this room when she had bumped in that gentleman - Joseph, he'd said his name was - so she'd best get on trying to find it. Never mind that others seemed less inclined to help, but that was besides the point, she noted to herself bitterly. After all, no one here knew who she was, what she was here for, or that if it were her will, she'd be out exploring, not sitting in a dusty bar inside some European monstrosity of a 'resort'.

As she cast her eyes about the room, walking as she did so, her gaze finally alighted on a young man with a mustache and curly hair, sweating profusely by the bar where two young women sat talking to each other. He seemed a lithe fellow, of good form and upbringing, and most importantly, in his hands, there lay the very thing she had been seeking. Her heart skipped a beat in relief that someone had found it, though the way the man held the object seemed to speak to some sort of trance or adoration.

Angelica trotted forward excitedly, papers stuffed in her portfolio, as she said, "There it is! Ah, thank you so much for picking it up! It's quite fragile, unfortunatelya, and I really must have it back. It's of great importance and cultural value -"

And, as her fingers made contact with its palm frond pages, a strange sense of electricity raced up her arm, along with a thought she did not recognize, of a star cluster. It was an odd thought, almost as if she had suddenly been gifted a recollection she had forgotten somewhere, which had been dusted off and repackaged for her - shiny, new, but familiar. She blinked rapid-fire before taking the book out of his hands, and she smiled uncertainly.

That had never happened before. Queer, indeed. It was unsettling, like receiving a gift from an admirer who has somehow acquired your address without your knowledge.

"My apologies, I haven't introduced myself - I am Angelica, Angelica Warren. It is a pleasure, Mister...?"


@A.O. Taku @Pahn

 

[Pahn]

Erwin Carlton Turner
Jade Elephant Hotel Lounge | | Alive ​

The navigator was so absorbed and fascinated by the book in his hands, yet he couldn't quite make out the title on the front cover. Just as he was about to turn it over and open it, a woman's voice managed to filter through the fog in his mind.

"Uh?" Erwin blinked a few times and frowned. The woman's words registered finally and he was about to hand her the book when he felt a jolt of electricity travel his arm. Something cleared the remaining fog, a constellation - one he recognized, at that. The Boötis? The man's eyes widened in surprise and he let go of the book, the trance finally over and the light burning sensation returning to his throat. He nodded to the madam and brought his scotch to his lips, dipping them nervously. The jungle heat was either getting to him un spectacular ways, or something else was at play.

He took a moment to recollect himself, focusing on his breathing and attempting to shake away the queer feeling of familiarity. He knew no one here, he'd never been here, the only familiar thing was the scotch in his hand. And it tasted nothing like home.

"No apologies necessary, Miss Warren. This book wasn't mine to take." He forced a smile on his face and extended his right hand, thankful that at least his palm wasn't sweaty. "Erwin, Erwin Carlton. A pleasure to meet you." His eyes fell to the other papers in her hands and his forced smile melted into a gentle one. "Ah, I suppose we will be companions on this voyage of discovery, yes?"
​

@Doctor Jax

 

[Kuno]

PETER O'KEEFE || RIFLEMAN
Location: Streets of Ayutthaya
​

Nothing could have prepared Peter for the encounter that awaited him. As the stranger introduced himself, he shook the man's hand, slightly surprised by the American accent. Americans were not as common a sight in the East as the English were. Adventurous as they were, they seemed to be more confined to the West, not as willing to branch out their borders as much as other nations were. A shame, really. For a moment there, Peter had presumed the man to be the mysterious Mr. Green. He listened quietly as Mr. Wallace continued speaking.

"I apologize for the obvious intrusion in to your privacy, but sometimes business works out that way, doesn't it? I hope you can forgive that in light of the proposition I'm to offer you."

Smoothly, the American drew a cigarette from his pocket and offered Peter one. He declined---he'd been a smoker some time ago, but the desire had long since faded. Mr. Wallace had no such predilections, and he watched idly as the man inhaled the tobacco smoke. There was an unassuming reticence about the man that put Peter on edge. His words were harmless enough, but his demeanor left little to be trusted. It was like a tantalizing game of poker, with one man knowing the hand they held and exactly how the game would turn out. And when the American finally showed his play--a wallet filled to the brim with British pounds--the Irishman nearly leaped out of his skin.

"Saints be!-" He whipped around to see if anyone was watching. But there was no one. It was only him and his rattled nerves, and by the time he came around to face his companion again, the money was gone. Mr. Wallace seemed amused.

Rather frankly, his associate presented to him the grand scheme of his intentions: he--and presumably, his affiliated company Atticus Consortium--wanted Peter to obtain a sample of a plant that was to be already retrieved while on the expedition. The young man stared at Mr. Wallace dumbfoundedly as he outlined to him what was quite literally sabotage. And yet, the American could not have been more at ease. At one point, the man even chuckled, as if this was not a crime after all, but a game; a little game where one simple-minded Irishman was the pawn. Peter's mind began to race.

"If you deign to decline now and later return to us with the object in question, having changed your mind, we would be happy to compensate you. And if you decline outright, tell Mr. Green of our tete-a-tete, then that would be acceptable as well. We're no Pinkerton Agency. Business is business, and Green would understand as much." Peter was at a loss for words. He had heard the Americans were a cocky bunch, but the confidence radiating from Mr. Wallace caught him off guard. He didn't know what to do; he didn't what to say. All he knew was that he was very, very uncomfortable.

"What say you, Mr. O'Keefe?"

Peter's eyes snapped up to look at Mr. Wallace.

"'What say you?'" His tone was incredulous. Drawing closer, he dropped his voice down to a fierce whisper. "Just...what kind of fellow do you take me for? Oh sure, you'll reward me four times over what Green's giving me. That's mighty fine of you. Will I get the same reward after they've caught me and strung me up in the trees there? Of all the insane, hare-brained schemes I've heard today!"

He dragged a hand over his mouth agitatedly. We'd compensate you four times the amount Green offered. That was what, nearly twelve thousand pounds? And for what? A silly plant? Swearing under his breath, he began wringing his hands. He suspected there was quite a lot more to this than the American was letting on, and the uncertainty of it ate nervously at his insides. But on the other hand, the payment was quite substantial. It was enough for him to quit the whole business in the first place, if he wanted to. Peter sighed deeply. Try as he might, he could not ignore the attractiveness of Mr. Wallace's offer.

He eyed Mr. Wallace warily. "I need time to think. I've no idea how I would pull such a thing off and I'm loathe to entertain the thought now. I...need time."

Already, he felt that he was making a huge mistake.