In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 209):

Pocketing his revolver, Darlington looked fearfully up at the roof, then back to the Count.

"Blimey! Mr. Singh? He's dead, I'm afraid. There was a whole lot ov dead buggers around 'im. Must 'ave been a grenade awer two. Not a pret'y sight, i' was.

"The uvver blokes I was wiv, wen' ter get da Major an' brin' 'im back. I 'ope 'e'll be all right! Nuff said.

"Lor' luv a duck! The blokes I left 'ere... They're dead, yeah?"

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 216):

Mungo didn't look at the count but did reply.  "I know it is shocking to hear my request for the story.  But this is shocking also and there are times when shocking news is needed.  All our brave men who fought all the atrocities need their stories told, one way or another, for only by telling the stories do they get remembered.  The world isn't always peaches and cream.  I know that and accept that and appreciate people trying to protect us from the horror and keep it cotton candy sweet.  I still want to know the truth."

With those words Mungo finished reloading and stood up a little prouder, repositioned her hat and waited for another opportunity to try and hit the beastie.

"Singh?? No. After everything he's survived, I can't believe he'd be felled by something so low. Once we're free, we'll see."

(Cynthia is upstairs, with nothing to shoot at, and no grenades, so I guess she's just waiting to be useful, and helping out where she thinks she isn't getting in the way. Unless she recalls seeing something about these dragons in one of the books or scrolls.)

JM shakes his head grimly at the questions about the other men.  He hands his grenades over and grimaces as he hears the cries from Williams.  "Poor fellow, those creatures are just too hard to kill. This grenades should see them off though."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 221):

"Lets hope they are effective Mr Falcon. Could someone please scout ahead for an access way to the creatures."

The Count will make three grenades if he has enough components.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 222):

Mungo smiled the smile that usually got her into trouble.  "Did I hear somebody call for a scout?  I'm pretty good at sneaking into places as well as being smaller and less of a target.  Shall I?"

Mungo really didn't wait for the answer for she was Mungo the Fearless. She was the one who dared go where others had dreamed of but couldn't.  She was the representative of the modern woman who didn't know enough to be too scared to know when it was healthier for her.  She was on her way to scout out the Count's access way and, if the Gods were on her side this time, to live long enough to tell her story.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 15:32, Tue 09 Apr 2013.

JM nodded to the Count.  "We need a bit of luck on our side Count."  As Molly headed up ahead he shook his head and hustled after her.  "Wait miss Mungo, let me scout ahead."

Downstairs, The Count was able to prepare 2 bundles of stick grenades. There were no grenades left over.

Upstairs, Molly joined Cynthia, CSM Jones and George Perkins. The noises from above resumed, including more screaming from William and destruction of the roof shingles. It sounds like the things were breaking through the roof, now.

To find out more, Molly would need to find a trapdoor or stairwell into the attic.

Narrator's Note: I had Cynthia downstairs, my mistake! No harm, no foul.

JM moved to the trap door. "Let me check and see what the situation is with those monsters."  He levered himself up and peeked through a tiny slit under the trap door.

The Count grabbed both bundles of grenades and mounted the stairs at a run. He moved to where the others had congregated and asks:

"Anyone here with skills in throwing this sort of thing ?"

He looks at the gathered faces.

In reply to Count Sigismund Bathony (msg # 227):

Mungo looked at the count and held up her hands.  "Not me.  I'd end up throwing it in back of us and we'd get blown up."

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 226):

After some looking, they found a trapdoor to the attic crawlspace. It was at one end of the hallway. Pulling on the string, a set of stairs folded down. The sound of cracking and crunching grew louder!

Keeper's Note: Spot Hidden roll from JM.

"I'm not terribly good at throwing Count.  I have a bit of skill from playing ball as a boy."

JM proceeded cautiously up the stairs, well aware of the creatures above them and the fate of Williams earlier.

The Count handed one of the grenades to Mr Falcon;

"Well it is better than nothing. If you could land it right in the middle it would be greatly appreciated. Now lets get to those foul things and end this we have lost enough friends and colleagues."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:45, Sun 14 Apr 2013.

In reply to John-Marc Falcon (msg # 230):

From his perch at the top of the fold-down stairs, JM couldn't see very far into the dark and crowded attic space. There were boxes and crates shoved up there. A real rat's nest!

A rat ran by him down the stairs, spooked by the sounds of crashing, destruction and mayhem coming from just out of sight. It was clear that at least one of the beasts was inside. A wooden crate was flung at him, barely missing his head.

JM took the cluster of grenades from the Count and called down to the others.  "One of the bloody things is in the attic I think but I can't see it."  At that moment his attention was distracted as first a rat and then an entire crate came whistling at him.  Ducking he pulled out his torch and tossed it toward the direction from whence the crate had come hoping to both draw a reaction and perhaps spot the creature.

"Don't suppose we can wrap it in a steak so the beastie eats it down? Or at least a tripwire or somesuch?" Cynthia tries to get a sense for where the dragon is, and where the grenade is likely to fall, so she can avoid being underneath (and ensure nothing else worth saving is underneath either).

JM calls down.  "Damn good idea.  Do we have anything we can use miss Holloway?"

The Count reached the bottom of the attic stairs and said;

"Stamp on a rat, I don't think I am up to taking steaks off the cultists."

He then ascends the stairs providing cover for Mr Falcon from the top.

Cynthia hurries on downstairs to the kitchen, to look for anything tasty for monsters. The cultists are an option, but ... ecch.

Downstairs, Cynthia found there was a good supply of food in the kitchen. Tins of beef, with quantities of raw meet in tow iceboxes.

Upstairs, JM threw his torch. It flew out of sight but didn't reveal anything more than what he already knew. The Count was only able to get to the bottom of the access stairs to the attic and no further. JM currently occupied the opening as he called down to Bathony.

Perhaps it was because he was distracted, maybe the beast heard him and pinpointed his locate. Whichever, JM was startled by a sudden rush from inside the attic as the foul horse-like head of beast loomed out of the darkness! It snapped at him, but missed!
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:21, Sat 20 Apr 2013.

Cynthia drops her shotgun, grabs the three biggest slabs of raw meat and runs back upstairs to hand them over. The momentary thought flickers in her mind that she needs to wash her hands after handling it, but somehow that seems like a less urgent threat, all told.

After seeing Mr Falcons reaction at the attic entrance, the Count yells as he raises his rifle to his shoulder:

"Drop Mr Falcon."

JM ducked out of the way of the Count's fire even as the creature loomed above him. As he did so he fumbled with the stick grenades to arm one of them in preparation for tossing it at the monster.

JM called out as he readied the grenades.  "This lot will destroy the entire upper floor.  Everyone clear out now!  Down to the ground floor!"