I have been trying to gather information on a group of criminals that seem to employ a lot of high tech gadgets. It sounds like this Vril Society may be the same one.

If you are tracking them, it would be my honor to join your crew if you will have me.  I have served the Queen in many lands and have learned to speak many tongues.  I am also not bad in a fight. 

"I'm quite sure you'll be welcomed, Charles," Mercy replies, "but, as I said, I don't control that. To be honest, I'm not sure you does. I suppose Remi has final say, as he's the captain."

"Well, if everyone's ready to go, we should have back to the ship. Maybe the others will already be there. But I want to stop at the bookstore or stall and see if Marion's books are there."

Just as Mercy stands up and starts to head for the door, the others walk through the door looking for them.

Grimsby said "Glad to find you, Miss Kincaid. Are you ready to return to our airship, or do you still have more to do in this city?"

Bellgrove enters behind Grimsby and as he does so finds himself hopelessly distracted by the sight of the elephant. "The ambassador did say there was an elephant, but..."

Hearing the Englishman address Mercy he stops just before tripping over a chair at an empty table and turns towards her table and notes that there are new faces with her, Mrs Holroy, and Connor. He does not speak but nods in a friendly manner.

"Oh, hi, Grimsby!" Mercy replied. "We were just heading out to look for you! But I wanted to stop and look for Marion's books."

"Oh, and we've got some new acquaintances! Hard to believe we'd find someone in this out of the way place!"

"This is Charles Harris. And that's Paul Smith."

"Charles, Paul, this is Grimsby Baskerville, Bellgrove G. B. Wander, and Denholm Hawkesbury. We call Denholm Dash because of his initials, not his speed."

"I guess I sort of invited them along with us, but I did tell them that it was up to Remi and the rest of you. No expectations, though."

"Charles is investigating a group that might be our Vril Society. And Paul is an engineer. Can't have too many engineers as far as I'm concerned!"

In reply to Mercy Kincaid (msg # 61):

Grimsby looks over the newcomers carefully, particularly (as far as he can in the circumstances, which is not much) their wrists, but seeing no obviously suspicious  signs, he remarks politely,"Good day Mr. Harris, Mr. Smith. I am Grimsby Baskerville of Her Britanic Majesty's Colonial Office, presently on detached duty in pursuit of the Vril, of which I gather Miss Kincaid has told you. I shall be happy to learn anything Mr. Harris can tell me that might relate to them, and since they appear to be preoccupied with a variety of advanced inventions, I daresay Mr. Smith may be very useful."

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 62):

"Gentlemen. Any friend of Miss Mercy is a friend of mine." Dash says with a distinct Yankee twang, and offers his hand to each.

"Denholm Hawkesbury, of Hawkesbury Trading Company, Boston, New York, and San Francisco. A pleasure, sirs. And as Miss Mercy has said, please call me Dash."

Dash is easily 6-foot tall with a trim and athletic look to him, his handsome, sun-darkened face holds bright blue eyes and a ready smile -- and a couple of days worth of stubble. He's wearing an open, rumpled, butternut-colored sackcloth jacket over a dark green turtleneck jersey and tan jodhpur trousers and brown lace-up knee boots. A rumpled and age-worn white sailing cap with black leather band and bill sits rakishly atop his close-cropped, light brown hair.

Marian blushes at Mercy's mention of her books. Part of her hopes they don't find them, the idea of someone as impressive and intellectual as Mercy reading her novels is nerve wracking. She would likely find them nothing but romantic drivel, all of her companions probably would. They had been on real adventures and here she was writing second hand about places she had never seen and foolishly thinking it was worth reading. She would probably come across as a complete fool. She only hoped the newcomers would distract the woman enough that she could forget this nonsense about the bookstore. Part of her wanted to run out right then and buy any copies herself before they could be discovered. She was starting to seriously consider it, frowning in thought as she wondered if she could slip away unnoticed but then if she did she would probably get lost in a place like this. Her face will indicate some level of discomfort but it is unlikely anyone would realize what it was regarding and equally unlikely that with the introductions many are paying attention to her.

In reply to Denholm Hawkesbury (msg # 63):

Charles bows slightly to Grimsby and accepts Denholm's hand.

Charles Xavier Augustine Harris at your service.  I have worked various posts in Her Majesty's Foreign office.

He hands Mr Baskerville his card that shows his affiliation with Diogenes Club.

I have been pursuing leads on a group of criminals that have a penchant for high tech devices to commit crimes.  The crimes seem to be of a political bent.

 I have had a report on your Scottish adventures as the Home office deemed it to be linked to my investigations.  When Miss Kincaid mentioned the Vril, I am guessing that it is a name that I have been missing.

In reply to Charles Harris (msg # 65):

Grimsby politely returns Charles' bow, takes his card and studies it with interest.
"Indeed, the Diogenes Club has some distinguished members. I am very glad the Foreign Office and the Colonial Office are cooperating on this matter. I will value your assistance in this case."

With everyone's business in Lugaash finished, the group heads back to the ship.

Mercy stops at the stall where Connor got his penny dreadfuls, but she doesn't find one of Marian's books. However, on the way back to the ship, you pass a bookstore. Mercy insists on stopping for a minute, and surprisingly, she finds a book by Marian.

Blast! Blast, blast! Blood and maggots! she thinks to herself with irritation. The more she thinks about it the more she is certain she is the worst writer ever published and Mercy would soon see her as a laughable oaf, never mind the fact that this particular book had done quite well. It was also one with a bit more scandal and romance in comparison to her others and this made her even more worried about how it would be received.

Mercy comes out of the bookseller's shop all excited and smiling, yet there seems to be dark look in her eyes.

"I found one!" she exclaims as she holds up a book. "At least, I think it is. It's in French. Can you read French, Marian? Anyone can throw a cover on a bunch of pages! I just want to make sure it's actually something you wrote, even it has been translated."

"It was with a group of similar books, so it may have been left by a traveler. This was in the group." She held up another book.

It was a rather plain golden brown leather-bound book. It only had a title: The Coming Race. No author was listed.

In reply to Mercy Kincaid (msg # 69):

Grimsby volunteers, "I can read French, though I am more accustomed to official documents and scholarly reports than light fiction."

He adds: "I believe The Coming Race may be by the writer who described the Vril."
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:49, Mon 28 Sept 2015.

Connor began to open his mouth to say that he could read French as well, then again he could read and speak virtually any human tongue, but the tiger 'oid thought better of it and clamped up his muzzle once more, leaning on his walking stick/fighting staff and narrowing his eyes some and laying his ears back, signalling his inner unease and perhaps a touch of indignance, still brooding over what he had overheard in the pub.

It was perhaps a failing of being a hybrid being, his face might hide what he was really feeling, but his ears and tail would often telegraph hints of it to those who got to know him well...

"I too read French, so perhaps I might contribute to the effort?"

"Wow. It's nice to know so many of you can read French!" Mercy says, as they continue on back to the ship.

"And I'm sure Remi can read French; he does speak it. Only Marion, though, is going to know if what is written is what she wrote... kind of. I suppose you gentlemen could read it and attempt to translate it back into English."

"I want to hear that! It should be hilarious!"

In reply to Mercy Kincaid (msg # 73):

Grimsby said, "Perhaps we can try translation to while away the voyage. Meanwhile, perhaps we had best board the airship and be on our way --who knows what the Vril may be doing in Bourbony?"

Everyone makes it back to the ship without incident.

Remi and Matthew have once again scavenged more coal, and added a few more supplies.

A small crowd has followed the group back to the ship, so there is a small crowd there to watch the ship take off.

"Last call!" Remi calls out when everyone is aboard. It's his way of saying that it's the last chance for anyone to get something from the city below.

He frowns a bit at the newcomers, but he's used to Mercy picking up stray dogs.

Introductions are made, and Remi enquires of Charles and Paul what skills they might have as it pertains to the ship.

Marian declines authorship of the Vril book but does admit the french book titled "The Sands of Time" is hers. The idea of Grimsby and Bellgrove reading it aloud to Mercy is even more horrifying. These were respectable men! Some of the violence and romance within her novels would be a bit scandalous perhaps. Oh dear, she should have just lied. Perhaps there could be an accident and the bloody thing would find its way off the side of the ship...

As pleasant as it was to explore the city it is nice to be back aboard. For one, she now can put all her things down. It was not ideal to cart around all her purchases. She glances at Connor, thinking on what he told them of his would be captors. At least he had avoided such things but what else had the louts done or what would they do to other innocents? A pity they had never been able to try her trap idea but then using Connor as bait probably wouldn't have been very safe.

Once they are back aboard the ship, Grimsby relaxes slightly, recognizing they are moving towards Bourbony as swiftly as they can. He suggests, "Perhaps Miss Kincaid and Mr. Holmes can tell our new engineer more about the devices we have found the Vril using and see if he can offer any helpful explanations."

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 77):

Dash hadn't spoken much while in Lugaash; in fact, he'd had an odd feeling the whole time he walked through the city. Finally, as the ship began to lift away from the Arab city, Dash suddenly realized the source of his unease.

Although Lugaash was clearly an old Arabic location and the dress of the peoples was clearly a mix of Arab, Indian and even European styles, the age, sights, smells, colors and even the mass and closeness of the people had subconsciously been reminding him of the city of Santiago, Cuba -- and the insane charge up Kettle Hill.

Dash walked to the stern of the airship and watched Lugaash get smaller and smaller, trying to shrug off his memories of mud, blood, and "The Colonel".
This message was last edited by the player at 06:39, Wed 30 Sept 2015.

Charles answers with hesitation.
None in the running or management of the ship. I have only ridden in airships as a passenger or rarely scouting positions.  As an old soldier, I can aid in the defense if we are attacked.

In reply to Charles Harris (msg # 79):

Grimsby responded warmly, "Another stalwart feeder is always welcome. The Vril have shown themselves to be dangerous foes, as my own injuries could attest."