Chapter 1: Uncertain Times

Pisatel is taking notes in a notebook, gleaming the meaning out of the bloody ritual.
ehmmm.... What? Give me just a moment, please.
He finishes quickly, and pack up.
Lead the way

As Kolya and Dragomir, followed by Stepan, enter the pantry, you see a fairly well stocked larder, but more importantly signs of the goo drops up to the cellar, plus a brownish scraping along one edge. The cellar hatch is closed.

There is a strange odor in the air.

Dragomir looks down at the hatch, raises an eyebrow, and motions for everyone to be quiet. He kneels and takes a moment to listen for any obvious sounds, then flashes a mischievous grin at the others.

"Smell that? That’s the smell of danger." The Cossack begins flipping his coin in the air and catching it (Two-Face style), as though calculating his odds.

"So who wants to go first?"

Kolya looks at Drogomir, shrugs and heads up to the hatch. He pauses to examine the brown scrape on the wall

Dragomir doesn't glean any useful information. (No successes).

Kolya determines that the brown substance is blood and that it has dried for more than an hour, giving it its distinctive coloring. (3 successes)

Stepan is frustrated that the two spells he had tried before his cabal friends failed. It was embarrassing! Someone had to go down, but it could be nasty, so if he could go down invisible then he was not presenting himself as a target.
I will go down he said and made some hand gestures he had practiced a hundred times. As rain washes the dirt of a window, so vanished color and texture from Stepan over a few seconds, and then he was gone.
I will check it out. Wait for my call

Dealing with murders is not her thing, but, sneaking around a bit, now that is something she does. Diya waits for the signal, hoping something useful waits beyond the hatch.

"Hm... Yes." She nods at both men, simply for courtesy, as she makes her way back to the rest of the investigators. The information seemed sound enough. Simple soldiers wouldn't know much, would they? They're not much more than serrated toys, after all...

As the woman walks away, she can't help but let a breath out, much more at ease away from the soldiers. And while she would like to take a minute, her companions are most likely waiting for her. Or not, as she finds out when she returns to the scene of the crime, only to find the place devoid of any life. She sighs, slightly annoyed, as she notices a door at the back of the door half-opened. Walking toward it, she eventually finds herself in... A pantry? And all of her companions entertained with a trap door. Pisatel himself seems about to go down.

She approaches the group and crosses her arm, staring at how Pisatel eventually disappears. She can't help but murmur, however. "We should probably talk to the commissar from the Blue Company, at some point. His name is Nesterov Lev Ilyich, according to the guards. He should know about the events leading to this scene being reported to the authorities. With any luck, that is." The last phrase comes off as complaining.

Stepan casts his rote and then vanishes from sight.

Dragomir watches as Stepan vanishes from sight. He then perks up as he hears the magic word.

"Did someone say ‘luck’? Dragomir and Lady Luck are good friends. I have a feeling things will turn out our way..."

The Cossack kneels down and proceeds to open the cellar hatch for Stepan.

The cellar door opens without a creak. A globule of viscera plops off of the edge and lands on the top tier of the ladder down, then slides off and lands down in the darkness below.

The cellar is larger than would be for a simple home, and stretches out to the left and right, but the light from above illuminates little, other than the impression of a shelf straight ahead and the glint of several dusty clay jars.

Stepan climbs down, avoiding to touch the sticky part of the ladder. When he reach the bottom, he takes a few steps to the side and call up. Throw down some lights please

From the bottom, Stepan senses a foreboding reminiscent of a terrible dream. The cellar door mysteriously and mightily slams shut, leaving him in darkness.

Initiative from everyone please. That's a d10+ your Initiative trait.

Initiative roll

Stepan draws the sword from his sword-cane, pointing it towards the darkness. As it too is invisible, no one can see how the sword tip is trembling. He is standing alone in the dark, with his back against the wall.... not having fun!