Karl, the hefty young man that he is, helps all the women with their luggage aboard the Silver Ghost, whistling to himself.  He is quite happy with the thought of flying once again, especially with old JM.  The two of them had become quite good friends in such a short time.

"Here vee go, ladis' and gents, zis vay to der car.  Vee veal bee in zie kar und on ouw vay soon enuf."

Cynthia savors approaching and boarding the plane. Food and wine is excellent, but she doesn't think she'll have any attention for it until they land. "Must we go straight back? Perhaps we should visit somewhere else on the way. Aerial reconaissance, you understand."

Lympne Aerodrome

The Vickers Vimy Commercial was parked on the grass airstrip, warmed up and ready to go. It was an immense plane, with an open dual-seat cockpit above a cylindrical passenger or cargo bay that could hold ten (10!) passengers in relative comfort.

A wind sock sagged limply on top of the hangar, a perfect day for flying.



It was a fine day, and several planes were up and buzzing about. The newly-created air racing circuit, first established at the airfield a couple years back, was very active and many pilots were former RAF personnel, and friends with JM and Karl.

(There was little animosity for the German airman. Some shred of chivalry had been preserved between enemy flyers during the war. Germany had, after all, lost the war to Jolly old England! Hip hip hooray! The Yanks seemed to want to take personal credit for winning the Great War but it was hoped, perhaps in vain, they would grow out of this urge to take credit for the work of others.)

Inside the hangar hid the Bristol F.2, the "Brisfit" 2-seater. A drop-cloth covered it and perhaps any modifications it might have.

The fuel tanks of the Vickers was full, there was enough petrol to fly up to al Misr house near Walton-on-Naze, then back to London's main airfield, located outside the city at Croydon. Purely hypothetically, of course! JM could fly out with the others and then hangar the Vimy at Croydon, or drop them off and return to Lympne and drive back with Karl.

Inside the fuselage were 5 side-by-side rows of 2 padded leather seats, each with a window. There was a wood interior. No galley, not yet.



OOC: Any colour or paint scheme for the old girl? Name?
This message was last edited by the GM at 12:53, Tue 17 July 2012.

Putting down his luggage, Ralph fumbled with his camera case. He wanted to get shot of them all together, before embarking.

"I brought my camera! We can do some aerial photography, like they did in the war!"

"All right, everyone, group photo!"

"But then you won't be in the picture! Can we find someone else to manage the camera so you can join us?"

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 69):

Oh I can get somebody.  Hang on.

Molly ran to the hanger where some mechanics were talking.  Her body was a study in motion as she first stuck out one him to catch the men's eyes and then her arms waved back at them before clasping them together in a plea for help.  Before she returned she was jumping up and down and clapping her hands in excitement.  The men chuckled good naturedly and one of them returned with her.

"Hey everybody.  This is George.  Isn't he just the greatest?  He said he can take a picture of all of us."

George blushed but nodded.  "Just get all of you together so I can do this before the boss gets back."

Molly nodded and piped up"and remember George.  If you have any good human interest pictures or action shots that you take, send them to me.  I'll see what I can do about getting them published and/or buy them from you."

Molly stood in front of the propeller and motioned for the others to join her.

Not quite sure about Molly's methods, but you can't argue with results. Cynthia hurries on over in front of the fuselage, towards the front of the group (she being shorter) and tries on an adventurous (but still conservative) pose.

JM laughs happily at the reaction of the others to the aircraft.  He's extremely proud of her of course having lavished much treasure and sweat (his own and KH's) on her over the last few years.  Besides, any opportunity to fly is a good one.

The craft is painted in a sharp blue and silver pattern with white and gold lettering.  On the nose is a scantily clad (for the 1920's) red headed woman holding a globe with the name 'Andromeda' lettered in cursive script beneath her.

"I'm glad you like her.  The 'Andromeda' has been quite good to Karlheinz and I.  She's a perfect size for a couple of fellows to operate but big enough and with enough range to handle serious charter and passenger service."  He moves over next to Molly as she poses under the propeller.  "We can manage an overflight of the mansion and maybe get a couple of photos from above for intelligence.  If we wanted we could fly to France for the day."

In reply to Molly 'Mungo' Fuller (msg # 70):

George replied in his thick incomprehensible Newcastle accent, "me pleasure, miss. Wor an' the lads reed the Scoop aaal the time! Be sure tuh send yee owt interestin.

"Oh wye aye, John, Karl. Class da fo' a fleet."

He raised the Leitz camera to his eye as everyone got together.

"Everyone git togethor neeo. On the count iv three. Yen, twa, three!"

After seeing to the stowage of the luggage with KarlHeinz, Sungh takes a quick tour around the aircraft's exterior. He doesn't entirely trust the idea of hurtling through the air hundreds of feet off the ground, but he will meet his fate stoically, as befits a Sikh.

He reluctantly joins the others for a photograph, standing back in the shadow of the wing. He does not smile.

Once everything was loaded, and the photographs were taken, Karl readies himself for take-off, wondering who among the lovely crew would play stewardess for the flight.

"So vere to, Captain,"  Karl looked over at his companion-at-arms, "Schood vee just hed north, or verr vee szerious 'bout headink to France for the vinter..."

In reply to Karlheinz Bergmann (msg # 75):

Molly thanked George for taking the picture and then insisted that she take one of him and the boys.  This way she will have a record of who they had talked to last just in case they have problems with the flight etc.  If not, when she went to pay them for any scoops she might have she would also make sure that she had the right people.

Well Cynthia shan't waste any time waiting around on the hot tarmac if she doesn't have to. Inside and into a seat! She's ready for take off as soon as all of her trunks are loaded (of course, the picnic baskets are in the passenger compartment).

JM helped KH with the baggage and the last minute preparations to take off.  He walked down to the tower and got a copy of the latest weather reports as well as filing a flight plan.  Once back he did a quick walk around the aircraft to ensure it was ready to fly and then climbed aboard.

He smiled at KH, glad to be ready to fly again.  "As much as a jaunt to France would be appreciated, we're just heading up to London today. Let's get the passengers settled and then we can be on our way."

"Alright zen, vee vill be ouff in a giffy zen.  Happy to vee in sie air vis you my bruder."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 78):

Molly went to get into the airplane but commented to John-Marc as she was passing Anytime you want a passenger for a jaunt some place, just let me know.  It sounds like it would be a wonderful adventure."

She smiled as she settled into the plane.  It was obvious that it had been taken care of.
This message was lightly edited by the GM at 09:33, Thu 19 July 2012.

Glancing at KH, JM laughed.  "It's always good to be in the air my friend!  Go ahead and get the engines ready and we'll be off momentarily."

JM smiled at Molly's comment and bowed slightly.  "For a beautiful woman such as yourself Miss Fuller, you are welcome aboard my craft anytime you like."

He headed back into the passenger compartment and addressed the group. "Ok, we'll be flying for about an hour or so to London.  It's not that far but I'm going to take a bit of a scenic route over the mansion as well as around London to give everyone a nice view of things.  Use the seat belts until we are leveled off and in the air and when we land.  I've got a picnic basket of sandwiches, fruit, wine and water for anyone who is hungry. Karlheinz and I will be taking off momentarily, any questions?"

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 81):

Outside the next-door hangar, George yelled, "Contact!" and pulled the propeller of an old surplus Nieuport fighter. The motor roared to life and the pilot, Dennis, taxied out onto the airstrip and then clawed into the sky. This was one of the first nice days of spring, so far, the weather had been rotten for flying. As many flyers as possible were taking advantage of the situation, someone was taking off or landing every few minutes.

Lympne Aerodrome was now the centre for a fledgeling air-racing circuit. There were several warehouses remaining from when this was an RAF airfield, including a couple long wood shed-like structures where surplus aircraft after the war were disarmed and dismantled. Still, there were still many viable aircraft like nimble fighters to be had for a pittance and ex-War flyers congregated where they could indulge their need to fly on the cheap.

The Count only stopped reading the new book once his stomach started to rumble. He put aside the book and his notes taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. Then looking to the door he made his way to the kitchen having a glass of cordial while he prepared a simple meal of cold game pie, pickles and a good wedge of farm house cheese.

He made up another three plates for Perkins, his brother and his friend. Calling them up from the lower level the Count sat for a pleasant hour finishing his meal and chatting with his guests. Once he had cleared away the dishes he ascended to the roof of the building.

An ancient olive tree sat in a large tub, a cast iron seat ran around the outside. He removed a small monocular from his pocket and gave the surrounding streets a thorough scan before removing a cigar and taking a seat.

The Count stood just as he felt the first spits of rain. He returned to the book and his notes, donning his glasses he returned to the fascinating book.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 83):

They parked the Doctor's town car in the hangar to be picked up later. Perhaps someone could fetch it at a later date or a friend could come up to ferry it back.

Karlheinz easily took off into the sky. There were some clouds at low altitude stretching to the NW, including a small gray rain cloud over the city. Everything else seemed clear enough, there was no turbulence. The plane was relatively comfortable. At least for those without a terror of flight!

Now, it was either direct to Croydon or take a tour past el Misr House to the NE of the city (as you are SE, this is almost directly north).

OOC: Everyone make a LUC check. If you fail, you are nauseous and must roll equal or less to CON to avoid airsickness. Fortunately, bags are easily available.

Cynthia hardly notices all the jumps and lurches and funny rumbles of the airplane as she unpacks the picnic baskets and distributes sandwiches, cookies, and snacks to those who are interested. She hands the wine bottle off to one of the men to open for her as she stares out the windows and nibbles on her sandwich.

In reply to Cynthia Jane Holloway (msg # 85):

Molly was doing good and enjoying the sights from above until Cynthia unpacked the food.  She wasn't sure which food set it off, but something all of a sudden wasn't sitting right with her.  She looked at Cynthia with pleading eyes as she looked around for a large bag so not so much clean up would be needed later.

~Oh great golly Molly!  You've been shot at, drunk out of your wits, and now you can't hold your liquor or food?~

Singh had no interest in food (especially once Molly began making delicate sick-noises), so he watched out the window, the peacefully slipping past of the landscape far below contrasting odlly with the immense racket of the engines.

JM sat in the right hand seat as KH taxied the aircraft out and took her into the sky.  He kept busy with the engine controls, monitoring their condition and adjusting RPM and fuel flow as needed to keep them finely balanced even as KH adjusted throttles when he leveled off.

He pulled out the aerial chart and showed it to KH, pointing out the familiar landmarks of the area around their home field.  Shouting over the noise of the engines and airstream in the open cockpit he discussed their plans.  "Bring her over the Al-Misr mansion here before you take us down to the airfield Karlheinz!"
  The familiar bouncing and motion of the airplane had little affect on his trained body.


20:09, Today: John-Marc Falcon rolled 41 using 1d100. For Luck 65.

Navigation was rather simple. JM had flown Major Storm the same route the previous week, affording their first glimpse of the decaying mansion.

They flew north, out over the wide bay at the mouth of the Thames. More clouds were coming in from the west, over the city, but the skies were mostly clear where they were flying. Below, the North Sea was dark, numerous fishing boats rode the waves. A steamer chugged out to sea under a plume of coal smoke, heading for the continent.

After roughly an hour they crossed back over land. Their nav point was a crumbling octagonal brick lighthouse on the cliffs overlooking the beach, a relic of Victorian engineering.



al-Misr House was a rambling 3-story mansion on a small island in the Naze river. Behind it was the stone Egyptian-style stele that the Major had sketched. The island had a small wharf, and was connected to the shore by a wood bridge. On shore was extensive fields (under cultivation). The fields were enclosed by a high brick wall, the road leading to the island bridge entered the surrounding wall through a gate, guarded by a small gatehouse.