Having offered to accompany Dash as his interpreter, the two take a carriage into town where they first stop at a banq so Dash can exchange his currency for francs. At Stella's inquiry, the carriage driver recommends Banque Palatine and then drives them there.

Situated on Rue de Ampere, it's a typical large stone building constructed at least a hundred years ago. Its architectural style is baroque, but with some recent 'refinements' to 'update' the baroque style.

Dash stepped down from the cab, then turned to assist Stella.

"I hope you told this fellow to wait." Dash whispered through a smile, as he handed Stella from the cab to the sidewalk, then he offered his arm, as they approached the door into the bank.

At the doorway, Dash paused a moment and inhaled deeply.

"As a scion of just such a family," Dash said with a grin, "I can say with authority that this place smells of Old Money.  My Uncle would love it."

Dash held the door for Stella...

OOC: unless there was a doorman

...and entered the bank, looking for a concierge, or a receptionist, or even a sign indicating where he should go to exchange his money.  His Officer training, both back in the Army as well as shipboard, made him aware that around important people -- especially self-important people -- it was more important to look like you knew what you were doing, than to actually know.  So he assumed a bored expression, as he looked around.

*um...lets see now...International Monies Exchange...* Dash thought to himself, *uh...that would be sonnes...no!...les sommes!...les sommes...d'échange...internationale...I think...*

"I'm afraid I haven't the funds to pay cabmen for waiting, Mr Hawkesbury. I imagine we can get another easily enough."

Inside the edifice, Stella guides Dash to the necessary department.

The bank isn't overly busy at this time of night, but the recent surge in industry has kept the port rather busy, so some of the banks have taken to staying open for the second shift. This bank would be closing in another half hour.

Because it isn't busy, a junior banker hurries over to Dash. He even speaks English... more or less.

"Oui, oui, M'sieur," he replies to Dash's request. "Right zis way! We would be honored to exchange your funds for French francs!"

He leads them over to a counter with the typical wrought iron grate.

"How much do you wish to exchange, M'sieur?"

Dash slipped a few fingers into a pocket on his uniform jacket, and pulled out a small stack of gold coins.

"Six British gold Sovreigns should be enough, I should think." Dash said, placing the coins on the counter.


OOC: double check me, but, at this time, the gold Sovreign was worth 1 Pound Sterling, which appears to have been worth just under 27 Francs.  I couldn't find any values for this specific Year, but these numbers represent an average for the Decade in question.

"Oui, M'sieur.  Ah, would zee M'sieur prefer coin, or weel banqnotes suffice?"

Dash thought about it; they wouldn't be in Marseille very long, and a pocket full of French coinage would be a weight he could do without -- as he already had a pocketful of British Sovreigns.

"Banqnotes will do, I suppose. But make them Ten Franc notes, if you would." Dash responded in a bored manner.

"As M'sieur wishes." the teller took the small stack of Sovreigns, then produced a small red-bound book and consulted a table within.  Setting the book down he then placed a pair of small weights on one side of a nearby scale, then placed Dash's coins on the other side.  Happy with the result, the Teller then scooped the gold coins into a drawer, and produced a bundle of French bills. He quickly and efficiently counted out seventeen bills, and slid them towards Dash.

"I 'ope M'sieur 'as had a pleasaunt experience, and weel tink of us again, for his future banking needs."

Dash accepted the bank notes, then casually looked around to see who was watching. Only a pair of uniformed guards were standing by the door.

Peeling one of the notes off his stack, Dash folded it one-handed, placed it down on the counter, and slid it back to the Teller.

"I dunno about the bank, my lad," Dash said with a smile and a wink, "but the service was excellent."

Turning towards the door, Dash again offers his arm to Stella, "Miss Mulberry."

Walking out of the bank, Dash looked up at the cabbie – who looked back with an impatient scowl.

Dash produced another ten franc note and handed it up to the driver, then turned to Stella.

“Could you tell him to take us to the port area, and to Mittlemann Brothers, Ship Outfitters?”

Stella gives the driver his instructions and settles back for the ride.

The carriage takes Dash and Stella to the designated designation, the Mittlemann Brothers Shipping Company.

Not surprisingly, considering how busy the port is, the company is still open. It's a mix of warehouse, shipping and chandlery.

As the carriage drives up and deposits them at the business, the drive offers to wait for them.

"Monsieur, I am Etienne Gasteau, and I will wait for you if you wish... for a small fee, of course. At this hour of night, there is little call for carriages in this area, so I would have to go elsewhere."

As he is speaking, large crates are being wheeled out of the warehouse, heading, apparently, to the ship on the docks. The name on the ship is the Rainbow's End. It takes a moment in the semi-darkness to realize that some of these large crates are cages. Not only is there the sound of movement from within, but the painting on the canvas that obscures the contents is an advertisement for the Professor Sorrow's Traveling Wonderama. The images appear to be those of sideshow freak attractions.

Stella asks that the driver wait for them here.

Dash frowns up at the cabbie -- annoyed by the man's sudden capacity for English, as he requests more money.

"Etienne Gasteau, my good man," Dash responds, producing another 10 Franc note from his uniform jacket pocket and handing it up, "I appreciate your words of wisdom. We should, hopefully, only be here a few minutes. Be so kind as to wait right here.  Right.  Here."

Dash offers his arm to Stella, then heads inside the busy building.  After stepping into the cavernous space, Dash stops one of the harried workers.

Dash clearly remembered a conversation with one of his cousins, about eight months ago...

"Dash, my littlest cousin, if you ever find yourself in Marseilles -- that's in France, cousin, if you didn't know -- yes, if you're ever in Marseilles, you look up Ivonne Mittlemann, of Mittlemann Brothers.  Ivonne is the exclusive factor for all the business that Hawkesbury Trading does in that town.  What little business there is."

"Ivonne Mittlemann?" Dash now asks of the workman, recieving a gesture indicating deeper into the building, as well as a few grumbled words of French.  Words which Dash is certain are likely curses aimed at himself.

Dash leads Stella in the indicated direction, responding to any curious glances that come their way with the same "Ivonne Mittlemann?".

Dash and Stella are directed out to the wharf where Ivonne is directing the loading of the sideshow crates onto the ship.

"Oui, M'sieur, I am Ivonne," the man replies. "What can I do for you?"


There is an interruption at that point by something alive in one of the cages.

Suddenly, a yell comes from the cage.

"HELP ME!"


Stella also notices that there is a man lurking in the shadows by some of the crates.

"FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY, HELP ME! I'M BEING ABDUCTED BY THUGS! VENEZ M'AIDER! SOS! SOS! HELP, HELP! VENEZ M'AIDER!" The voice screamed with all its might, and there was a sound of desperate clanging as the iron manacles on whomever or whatever was inside the cage's wrists banged against the bars to make as much racket as possible to attract attention, however slight the chance that somebody would actually do something about it and assist...

Forgetting, for the moment, the man in the shadows, Stella turns her attention to the shouts from the crate.

She says, in French: "To begin, Monsieur Mittleman, you could fetch down that crate and release whoever is being held within. Of course," she continues, "We can fetch gendarmes to assist, if that is needed."

The day had been one of what was becoming frustratingly usual: seeming endless and probably fruitless conversations with anyone whom appeared to have anything that might lead to insights. The life of a journalist was not an easy one is the lesson that Belly was learning and he was doing his best not to let it influence his state of mind.

He was checking his watch and considering retiring for the day, because enough is enough already, when he hears the cry for help. Now, here's just the thing!, he thinks to himself. Reaching into his pocket he puts his hand upon his pistol, but he does not yet draw it noting the man and woman whom have also responded.

He begins to move towards move towards the cage from whence the yelling is coming, "Hello! What's this? May I offer some assistance?"
This message was last edited by the player at 16:36, Mon 26 May 2014.

Dash was about to introduce himself to M'sieur Mittlemann, when the commotion starts -- first shouts for help, in English, from one of the sideshow cages, followed by some rapid fire French from Stella aimed at Mittlemann, and then the appearance from out of the shadows of a man with an obvious American accent.

Dash frowned and leaned a little closer to Ivonne,

"M'sieur Mittleman, my name is Denholm Hawksebury, of Hawksebury Trading Company. I had come to ask your assistance on a small matter of business, but now...this."

Dash straightened up, raising his voice to a more conversational level.

"My business can wait a few minutes while you clear this up, M'sieur.  As you are only a shipper of goods for other people, I am sure that you are as concerned about this call for assistance as we are. I believe that call came from that cage, over there." Dash says, pointing at the cage he'd heard the shouts come from.

"Perhaps one of your men can bring a lamp closer...?" Dash says, starting towards the cage in question -- ignoring, for the moment, the American who'd suddenly appeared from the shadows.

"Hello?  Hello in there?  Who are you, that calls for help?"

"I hardly think who I am is important at the moment," the male voice within the cage replied, a rustling of chains being heard as the speaker shuffled a little closer to the bars so he might be seen better, "If you must know, my name is Connor Holmes, and until I was shanghaied into this rattletrap, I was working as a traveling engineer and fitter."

As the light was brought closer, the voice would be found to belong to a bipedal felinoid being, some six odd feet tall with white tiger striped fur and sharp violet eyes. Despite having manacles about his neck and ankles, he was nicely dressed yet in well-tailored middle-class clothes that suggested of the work he had said he had been doing.

"I beg of you, please help me out of here, those  blighters knocked me out after drawing me in with a false job offer, took most of my effects, and I fear they're going to make me into some lurid sideshow somewhere....I don't know quite how, but I would repay you helping me tenfold if you were to spring me out of this thing."

Stella starts as the nature of the prisoner becomes apparent, but stifles any cry of fear or alarm. She has never seen an 'Oid this close before, only on exhibition, she guiltily realizes.

While Dash engages the fellow in conversation, Stella turns her back to them. She watches the shadows, especially for the lurker she spotted earlier, but also for any other sign of trouble.

"By the Almighty!" Dash gasps, sighting the...creature...held within the cage, "A talking Tiger! I'd heard of such things, but I've never..."

Dash looks around for something -- anything! -- to bring his world back to normalcy.  The creature had talked! Stella has turned away -- in shock, no doubt. Mittlemann still seems stunned by the Tigerman's shouts, judging from his lack of reaction.

*...or maybe he isn't so surprised...just unsettled that somebody noticed...* Dash thought to himself.  Then he looked again at the man with the American accent who had offered assistance, Dash now noticed he was not dressed as a longshoreman -- and that put him out of place, here near dock.

"You there!" Dash calls out in his best Deck Officer's voice, "You're no longshoreman, certainly.  And your accent marks you a fellow American, so you're no employee of Mittlemann Brothers.  Are you associated with this sideshow?  Are you responsible for this creature?"

Connor looked up at the heavens briefly when Dash got all excited at seeing him, it seemed most humans did something to this effect whenever they first laid eyes on him (and probably why he was in his present predicament, he had a big 'wow' factor), but for him all that had gotten old a long time ago. "I'm a person, not a 'creature', thank you very much," he growled at the man, his long tail scything agitatedly behind him, "A citizen of a sovereign nation too, if you really want to get technical."

One of the few things the sideshow people hadn't taken from him was his identification papers and his proof of Irish citizenship, stowed cleverly away in a hidden pocket in his waistcoat, so he could easily produce both to prove he wasn't lying. All in all, Connor just wanted to be out of the cage and be back on his way again, quite sorry he had ever come to Marseilles in the first place..
This message was last edited by the player at 05:54, Wed 28 May 2014.

In reply to Connor Holmes (msg # 19):

"Which sovereign nation would that be, sir?" Stella threw the remark over her shoulder, her eyes relentlessly searching the shadows and flicking occasionally to the man nearby, and to Mittleman. She was no stranger to docksides and dark alleys, unfortunately.

"Ireland, madam, perhaps one of the most beautiful places there is," Connor replied, "No other nation would accept my applications or requests for citizenship, and I did try quite a few." He was very proud of and grateful to his adopted country, which although poor, was starting to improve since it had gained its independence from England (as a whole and unified Ireland too,  no Northern Ireland or "the troubles" here).

Of course, it was the people he loved best of all, for on the whole, they weren't so jumpy about what he was, indeed the place was one of the few where he was just "one of the lads", particularly in the little village he had put down roots in, Innissfree.

He had begun to say something, slightly offended that he was being ignored by everyone, when he realized that the fellow in the cage was... Not human. Either that or in a damned fine costume., he thinks to himself as he gives the 'man' a thorough looking over.

That he was not being addressed directly meant that he had time to recover himself. Clearing his voice he finally speaks, "Look," he begins in his Yankee accented English, "wherever this fellow is from that he is locked up here ain't right."

He looks at the man standing next to the brown-haired fellow who also sounded American, "My 'cousin' here asked you a question, if I heard correctly. What do you know about this? Why is he locked up out here?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:33, Fri 20 June 2014.

"It's pointless gents, " Connor told the two men sadly, "you won't get anything out of the show-people, and on the off chance you do,it'll be some cock-and-bull story about how I'm something they captured in the wilds of some island or jungle or some other such lie. Get the gendarmerie chappies or somebody from the consulate if you have to, even the English one if you must."

Dash slides his dark-blue officers cap back on his head and frowns at his 'fellow' Yankee.

"I was talking to you, sir!" Dash says through his frown, "And as we two are the only ones..."

Dash is interrupted -- and again distracted -- by the Tigerman proclaiming to possess Irish citizenship, and demanding the Gendarmes.

"Hellfire and tarnation!" Dash shouts out the favorite curse of the Hawkesbury Trading Captain he'd last served with,

"D'ye mean to say you're an actual person?" he demands, looking back at the Tigerman, then tilting his head to shout over his shoulder at Stella.

"Miss Mulberry, I must ask your assistance." Dash called, a pleading tone in his voice, "I fear that the sciences I have studied are restricted to mechanics and economics.  I know nothing of these creatures that the Europeans seem so fond of creating." Dash pointed at the Tigerman, "Is this beast one of those -- what do the Krauts call'em? -- is this a Jägermonster?"

Ivonne Mittleman seemed to be at a loss.

"I do not understand," he finally manages to say. "I ship what I am paid to do, but that does not include breaking the law. I assure you, I do not engage in kidnapping or slavery!"

"But THIS..." he gestures at the caged catman. "I do not know what this is! Is it a... man? Non, it cannot be! But that begs the question... what is it?"

"It speaks, it seems to possess intelligence... I have seen machines display the same. But! Does it have a soul?"

"I cannot in good conscience load this cargo onto the ship. The decision will have to be made by a higher authority than I. However, I do not know if this... creature... this 'jaegermonster' as you have identified it, M'sieur Hawkesbury, is dangerous, so I will not set it free from its cage."

"If our situations were reversed, Monsieur, I imagine you wouldn't be too appreciative of me questioning your possession of a soul, or calling you a beast, and then refusing to set you loose under such feeble grounds.

Mon Dieu and for shame, sir, have you no decency?! Have you not a shred of compassion to a being in distress?! If I was so dangerous, would I have allowed myself to be captured in the first place? " Connor said to Mittleman, in perfect French too, "If you do have a soul, Monsieur, I would not like to be you when you meet your maker when you should grow old and pass away, for I do not think He would be very happy with you for allowing suffering to pass right under your nose and doing nothing about it, and I am surely suffering in being treated as an animal in this cage."


After he said this, satisfied he had at least given it his best effort to try and shame the man into doing what was right, Connor sighed, all the vigor and vim he had worked up leaving him just as quickly, and he spoke to Dash next, in English once more, "Indeed sir, I am a person, both now in the legal sense but also in my origin, for I was born a human being. The tiger part didn't come until later, when I was still very young. I don't remember much of that time, but what I know is that I am the result of an experiment to mix human and animal together to try and make something better than both, a fusion of the animal's strength and man's intellect.

As I said, I don't remember much, just a lot of pain, but from my earliest full memories I have been as you see me now, a felinoid being, from my childhood until now, I have been nothing else. Still, as Mr. Shakespeare might've said, tickle me do I not laugh, prick me do I not bleed? Cogito ergo sum-I think, therefore I am...and I do feel, and I believe I have a soul too."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:21, Thu 29 May 2014.

Stella shifts her full attention from the shadows to the men gathered with her before the cage and the one within.

"I say he talks and wears a suit and walks upright and that makes him human enough for me."

Turning to the stranger she asks, "Are you with us, sir, or will you go about your business and leave this to us?"

Of Dash she asks, "Are you armed, Mr Hawkesbury?"

"Armed? Uh, um, well, yes.  After a fashion." Dash responds, seemingly surprised at the question.

The wide leather belt around the waist of his large uniform jacket carries no weapon upon it.

Stella, who has previously seen Dash wearing his weapon of choice, does note however, a slight, tell-tale bulge under his jacket, beneath the left shoulder.  If it is the pistol she suspects, the double-breasted, buttoned-up nature of the ship officer's jacket Dash is wearing will make any rapid withdrawl of the weapon rather difficult.

"Hope it's more than a Derringer," Connor said from his place inside the cage, waiting for somebody to make a move. To Stella, he asked, "Beg pardon, Madam, but I don't suppose you'd have a hairpin somewhere on you? If so, I might be able to crack these locks myself if you might let me borrow one..."

Dash looks about, hoping that the furor raised, here, hasn't spread too far yet, then leans a little closer to Stella.

"Miss Mulberry...Stella." Dash says quietly, "While I am as morally indiganant about this as...well...okay, maybe I'm not as morally indignant about this situation as I should be, however, this is clearly a case of Slavery.  Of some sort.  And it should be looked into by the Gendarmes - if for no other reason than to clear M'sieur Mittlemann of any wrong-doing.

"But if we continue to get involved, we may soon find ourselves up to our necks in said Gendarmes, and their persistent questions concerning the exact nature of our involvment!  We could be hours sorting it all out.  And our time here in Marseilles needs be as short as possible, if we are to rescue Mister Cavor from Graustark.  I fear we must needs avoid any further entanglements, as much as it may bother me to abandon this creature -- Man! -- whatever! -- to his fate.

"If you can see some other path through this complication, I am all attendant, for I cannot.  I believe we should quickly gather if Mittlemann has recently resupplied a small dirigible, or not, and then leave soonest.  What else can we do?"

"No wonder they say chivalry is dying," Connor quipped dryly, his sensitive ears having heard every word Dash had said even though he had tried very hushed tones, "You might shoot the locks, or at the very least, drop a few francs on a phone call to get the gendarmes here to give a cat a chance before you go.

Must I beg you to help? To do the right thing? If it makes you feel better, I'd gladly go with the police and sit in a jail cell until this is sorted out, even though I have done nothing wrong, at least in jail you have SOME rights instead of a cage where there are none..."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:46, Sat 31 May 2014.

Stella smiles at Dash with sympathy and some sisterly affection, but there is a sort of glee in her face as well. "Denholm, I would be much obliged if you would see to it that I am not disturbed for a few moments. You can ask M'sieu Mittleman your questions, if you like, but keep an eye out for interference. And make sure your barker is handy, just in case. I intend to have this fellow out of durance and away before very many more minutes have passed."

Turning to the supposed American she says, more pre-emptorily, "If you, sir will assist us in freeing this person, I would be grateful. Perhaps you could walk back up that way and ascertain whether there is likely to be a problem between here and the taxi we left on the street."

Her hand is busy in her rucksack as she says, "I think we can do better than a hairpin, Mr. Holmes." With that she extracts a slim leather case and opens it to reveal a set of steel lockpicks, which she offers to the fellow, as though inviting him to select a cigar.
This message was last edited by the player at 11:46, Sat 31 May 2014.

Bellgrove began to respond to his fellow American, but his verbal aggressiveness combined with the of the queerness of the fellow in the cage had him fumbling verbally rather more than usual. When the woman with the charming English accent spoke to him his mind seemed to snap back into its proper place, "Erm, yes! Yes, I have nothing to do with this, but if you folks are going to take action, I'm with you."

Having spoken he nods to her and take a look around the party outside of the cage ending with the Frenchman, to whom he speaks in French, "I take it that you are Monsieur Mittleman? Whatever this fellow in the cage is, he does not seem dangerous and you do not seem to be able to take responsibility for his presence. Our actions here will not inspire troubles with the authorities if we leave with him once the lady has freed him, will they?"

Connor's eyes brightened and a slight smile came to his muzzle when Stella produced the set of lock picks and offered them to him. "Marvellous. I am in your debt, madam,," he said as he took them and got to work on the locks to the chains that held him to the cage, as well as the door. It took a minute or two manipulating the tumblers, but the felinoid soon had all the locks opened. stepping out of the cage and handing the picks back to Stella and adding, "Thank-you, a thousand times thank-you."

The newly-liberated tiger-person then made his way stealthily onto the ship, intending to take back his effects from those that had stolen them from him. For a tense set of moments, all that could be heard was some scuffling below decks,  a few muffled shouts that were abruptly silenced, then nothing.

Sure enough though, Connor emerged back on deck, carrying a wooden walking stick, a well used red toolbox, and a leather tool-belt full of tools, as well as sporting a "greasetop" style hat on his head. All bore his name or his initials, so he hadn't taken anything that wasn't his and had did his best not to hurt anyone as he reclaimed his property. Still, as one of the show-people he hadn't managed to dodge or sneak past came at him with fists raised and a mean-looking whip, Connor didn't hesitate to act in response, swinging the walking stick with lightning speed and yanking the man's legs out from under him and sending him over the side and into the water.


"Right," Connor said when he stepped back onto the shore once more, "Time to go, I think."

"Oh, for crying out loud!" Dash gripes, as the Tigerman runs aboard the anchored ship and begins commiting mayhem.

"Miss Mulberry!  I do not think you've thought these actions out well enough!" Dash grumbles, as he unbuttons his officers jacket, reaches in, and pulls out his short-barreled Mauser automatic, "I mean, quasi-legal assault and imprisonment on the Scottish moors, or even breaking our furry friend out of his cage, aside -- those are acts that can be kept quiet! But now he's assaulting the crew and passengers of an entire trading sloop -- in front of a dock full of Longshoremen.  In Boston we would call those men witnesses!"

"Also, I would remind you that we are not in some out of the way locale, we are in the French capital city!  I think we would best serve our needs by returning to M'sieur Gasteau and his cab. Now."

"Cool your valves, sir, I harmed not a soul on that ship in my quest to take back what was stolen from me, merely scared a few excitable types, and the foolish gent with the whip will live after his dunking," Connor said as he made his own way towards leaving the docks, adding over his shoulder as he passed and began to walk down the road that would lead deeper into Marseilles and make himself inconspicuous , "And for your Boston witnesses, what few won't chalk it up to too much drink or other vices, would they think a sensible gendarme would believe such a tale?

And as for those on the ship, I don't think they'll fuss too much either, no doubt they won't be keen to see the authorities when there is so much contraband on board and they themselves being involved with illegal acts? I think they'd be more keen to catch the first tide and breeze out of here than worry over a cat and a few trinkets..

Thank you all for your kind assistance, by the by, I hope I might be able to return the favor to you in time. I am in your debt, and I always pay my debts in the end."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:30, Sun 01 June 2014.

"Mr Holmes!" calls Stella in an urgent whisper, as he scampers up the gangway, "I don't think..." Too late.


She turns an abashed look to Dash, stowing her lockpicks again, though not withdrawing her hand from her rucksack. "It certainly wasn't my intention that he make off like that, I--" She breaks off at the sounds of minor consternation aboard the vessel, "Oh, dear.

"But we aren't in the capital at all, Mr Hawkesbury, merely a trading port and no one seems to be paying us any particular attention and here he is back again!"


She listens to Connors' explanations, nodding as he speaks: "Yes...Quite..." she tries to break in and stop his volubility.

"Mr Holmes!" she says at last with some asperity, "I do think we should be going. Let us repair to our conveyance.

"Did you get your questions answered, Dash?"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:58, Sun 01 June 2014.

"Would your excitable companion mind my coming along with you, then?" Connor asked Stella over his shoulder, stopping in his tracks and looking at her and Dash, noting the Mauser the man had drawn with a quirk of his feline eyebrows, "Lead on then, I suppose, I will follow if you wish me to go with you."

As he is speaking to Mittleman Bellgrove notes the Tigerman letting himself out of the cage, boarding the ship and then returning. He notes the give and take between the English woman and the American man, but he keeps the Frenchman talking in an effort to distract him from what is going on or at least ensure that they will have his cooperation.

When the trio appear to be departing he quickly bids adieu to Mittleman and moves to join them with his hands where the Mauser-bearing American can see them, "I know we have only just met, but I hope I may join you? It seems we now have mutual interests. I look forward to introducing myself in your carriage!"

"But we aren't in the capital at all, Mr Hawkesbury, merely a trading port and no one seems to be paying us any particular attention and here he is back again!"

Dash feigns rapping himself in the head with his heavy pistol, "Of course!  I tend to confuse Marseilles with Versailles.  I don't work much in France.  However, my cousins who do have always impressed upon me the fact that the gendarmes of the French Republic are quite...zealous...in their pursuit of troublemakers."

Connor Holmes:
"Cool your valves, sir, I harmed not a soul on that ship... And for your Boston witnesses... I think they'd be more keen to catch the first tide... I am in your debt, and I always pay my debts in the end."

Dash slumps his shoulders, letting the pistol hang limply in his right hand, while he closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose with his left, and tries to control his annoyance.

"I didn't say anything about hurting them, I said you assaulted them!" Dash growled out in irritation, "Assault is a legal term, which the Gendarmes will most enthusiastically chase you down for.  And when they catch you -- and they will catch you, sir -- the very first thing they will do is look upon your undisputably fierce countenance and jump to the conclusion that you may, indeed, be dangerous!  The last thing that the Gendarmes who catch will do is actually stop and listen to any story you give them!  And then -- forgive me if I misjudge you -- but when you, as I believe you would, object to their treatment of you, they will beat you bloody and make you disappear in the French Judicial System."

Dash looked straight at Connor, "Or something along those lines will happen.  I'm not saying it's right, I'm not saying it's just, I'm just trying to impress upon you the reality of this situation, as all of us are foreigners, here. And one more thing I would have you consider, before you continue to discount the amount of influence these thugs who imprisoned you may have..."

Dash pointed at the ship that Connor had just left, "That ship is still being loaded, it is not yet ready to leave.  That means it has not had its outbound Customs Inspection, yet.  The French Customs Officers haven't looked around, yet.  Now, I ask you, how did you draw our attention?" Dash indicates himself and Stella, "You called out to us, yes?  You were not bound, you were not gagged, to insure your silence?  To me that seems to indicate that the rascals holding you didn't care if you spoke out, and that means, to me, that they had no concerns about you calling out to a Customs Officer, because they must have already bribed the Customs agents to ignore you!"

"Eventually, if you are lucky, after the Gendarmes catch you and make you tell about us, we may all get to stand in front of a French Magistrate, while the thugs who grabbed you tell him how we stole you from them, as a French Customs Officer backs up their story."

"I do hope, now, that you may see the wisdom against just walking off into the city and disappearing into the night.  My family and M'sieur Mittleman's have the resources to make all this go away, but not if we are all here to be accused. Miss Mulberry, here has made you an offer of assistance.  I may not agree with her, but I am compelled by the reality of this situation to go along with her on this, for our own sakes.  We shall depart the entirety of France within a few hours, and you should consider leaving with us."

"There," says Stella happily, as they arrive at Gasteau's conveyance, "It's settled then. We shall all repair back to the airship and set off again. I believe you will enjoy air travel, Mr Holmes, it is ever so relaxing. And there are loads of engines and mechanical devices. I'm sure you and Mercy, a particular friend of mine, shall find lots to talk about as we voyage.

"And you, sir," she says turning to Wander, "Perhaps you would care to accompany us as well. You seem an enterprising fellow."

She would prefer not to leave a witness behind.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:34, Mon 02 June 2014.

"Just for your information, I was bound and gagged," Connor replied with a frown, "I managed to work them loose before calling out, and the fact that it was you that answered was entirely a chance happening, I assure you most certainly of that.  And if I were to be pursued unjustly by the gendarmerie, they would have quite the time trying to keep up with me, I do know what assault means as well.

I said I would go with you, so I will do so, stop insinuating and fretting and let us get on with it, shall we?"

The felinoid was getting tired of Dash's tone towards him, and hoped the man would hold his peace as he followed them back to their carriage, saying nothing more and only nodding in reply when Stella told him about the airship. He personally favored steamships and rail travel, but he wasn't choosy, any conveyance was better than walking.

Dash turns away, mumbling something about Italian cities and dumping unwanted ballast over them, and shoves his pistol back in its shoulder holster as he stumps over to Mittlemann.

"M'sieur Mittlemann, my extreme appologies for this evenings...disaster. I give you my personal promise that Hawkesbury Trading Company will reimburse you for the costs of cleaning this up." Dash glances aside at the grouped longshoremen who work for Mittlemann, "Whatever, the cost, sir.  Just remember that myself, the woman and ... those other two gentlemen ... were never here, yes?  Good.  Adieu, M'sieur, and again, my appologies.  I shall have the Company factor in Paris telegraph you in the next few days."

Dash approached the carriage just in time to hear the unknown American say, "I know we have only just met, but I hope I may join you? It seems we now have mutual interests. I look forward to introducing myself in your carriage!"

"You, sir, are entirely too cheerful, given that we are now accessories to criminal mischief. You must be in shock." Dash growled at the man, pausing with his foot on the step that leads up to the cab drivers seat, "I must insist you snap out of it, or I shall be forced to shoot you -- or, more likely, simply grit my teeth in frustration and ignore your chattering, in deference to the Lady -- but right now, sir, I am really in the mood to shoot someone, so if you please..."

Dash pulls himself up to where he is standing on the step, close to the seated cabby.

"Ettienne, my good fellow," Dash says quietly in a serious tone, balancing himself on one foot as he carefully pulls out his diminishing wad of 10-Franc notes, quickly peeling one off,

"You were, at no time this evening, anywhere near the docks, yes?" Dash says, handing over the 10 Francs, then peeling off two more bills.

"You picked up the Lady and myself, took us to the bank, and then drove us around to see the sights for a few hours, before returning just the Lady and myself to the park where you picked us up, yes?" he added, handing over the 20 Francs.

Dash peeled of a final three notes, and offers the 30 Francs to the cabby, "And you most definately did not see anything that resembled a Tiger that walked like a man! Yes?"

Dash nods approvingly at the Frenchman, "Good man.  Now, back to the air park, if you please."

Dash hops down and climbs into the now slightly crowded cab.  He heaves a resigned sigh, then turns a grin towards Stella,

"Well, now.  Won't our good friend Remi be pleasantly surprised?"

Connor was muttering to himself as well as he stowed his effects under the seats and sat down, something along the lines of if anybody fancied dumping unwanted ballast they'd get a good thrashing, but that soon trailed off and the felinoid was silent as the others got in, choosing to fiddle with a silver-colored pocket watch instead of engage in any sort of conversation.

Although the casing was of plain (and cheap) nickel, the watch's mechanism was of excellent quality and beauty, with a royal blue background and shiny gold hands and Arabic numerals. As well as this, under the lid was contained a miniature lensatic compass (like the kind found on ships), which a flip-up sight for taking bearings, as well as several other handy gadgets tucked underneath the compass in a little compartment. The whole thing looked to be a custom-made piece, and the maker's mark was a stylized "HMW&SF Ltd." After winding it up and giving it a little cleaning with a cloth from his pocket, the felinoid fished another one of his effects from another pocket to inspect and clean to pass the time, this one a large Swiss Army knife/multitool, one of the deluxe models with all the gadgets and tools in it by the looks of things, well over 1,000 individual tools packed neatly into the bright red casing with the famed cross and shield stamped into it.

Connor had gone to extra lengths to get back these two items, for both had special meaning for him, and he found both the watch and the Swiss to be very useful and quite handy to have.

Dash sits back and fumes for a few moments, then takes a deep breath and "scrubs" his face with both hands.  Slapping his hands down upon his thighs, he looks over at the "American".

"I must beg your forgiveness, sir." Dash says, "I'm afraid involvement in criminal activities after the fact ..." Dash casts a quick glance and frown towards Connor, "... puts me in a foul mood.  And it is unfair of me to hold that against you."

"My name is Denholm Agravain Saebroc Hawkesbury, of the Hawkesbury Trading Company out of Nantucket, Boston, and San Francisco." Dash waves a hand at the indigo blue cap and ships officer jacket he's wearing, "Lately with the Hawkesbury clippership Atlantic Mist." Dash then turns slightly and gestures to Stella with his left hand.

"Allow me to make known to you Miss Stella Mulberry, a World Traveller from England."

Dash turns a look of curiosity to the fourth passenger in the cab, "And you would be, sir?"

Bellgrove attempts to identify the American's accent, Must be a Bostonian. I'd recognize it even if he was not in such a panic. Bostonians just don't handle vicissitude well, do they?, he thinks to himself when the man threatens to shoot him. Rather than respond he just focuses his peculiarly lavender eyes on the man and smiles placidly, "Of course."

Climbing into the cab he looks around at the peculiar fellowship, takes off his hate to push his brown hair out of his eyes and leans back. His 5'6" frame is lithe, so he takes up little space. While he had not said much or apparently been as bothered about things as Hawkesbury his pale cheeks are ruddy. He glances out the window scanning the area and pulls a revolver out of his coat as he does so. Indicating the gun with a non-threatening wave as he is looking out the window he says, "I hope you all will not mind if I join my fellow American an arm myself. It seems that if our queer friend's kidnappers were going to appear they would do so soon."

When Denholm is done speaking to their driver and climbs into the cab and introduces himself and Stella he smiles again, "Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hawksbury and, of course, you in particular, Miss Mulberry."

He begins to say something to Conner, but finds himself uncertain what to say so he gives an appraising pause, nods, and quickly continues, "I am Bellgrove G. B. Wander. I'm a reporter with the New York Herald... I'm investigating a number of stories and from what I have overheard from you and Miss Mulberry it seems as if we might have mutual interests."

Connor again said nothing, figuring it would be  best to hold his peace since Dash seemed to get excited with everything he said and did, although he did offer up a slight smile and a nod when the other gentleman introduced himself before returning his attention to his effects, eventually choosing to put them all away again and look silently out the window, his dark violet feline eyes taking it all in with a sharp and attentive gaze.

Somewhere in the mix, Ivonne did manage to tell Dash that he had not supplied any dirigibles. He's not even sure what sort of supplies one would need.

He's both explaining himself and his work as well as defending himself while the others talk.

The gist of it seems to be that the gendarmes don't usually come down to the docks at night except in numbers, and since none of them really want to work at night, there aren't all that many on duty. Those that are stay in the high end section of the city protecting the wealthy citizens.

Also, Ivonne makes sizable donations to the Widow and Orphans Fund, which is his way of saying that he pays off the customs inspectors, who are mostly concerned with cargoes coming into port.


Just as the cab starts to pull out, there is a gunshot from somewhere up ahead. It momentarily spooks the horse pulling the cab, and Etienne has to spend a moment getting it under control.

"Hells Bells!" Connor exclaimed when the gunshot went off, his ears standing straight up and his tail bristling in surprise, hanging on as the cab was jostled as the horse spooked, resulting in another oath as his head was bonked up against the interior of the cab, "Bugger it!"

Nonetheless, the felinoid regained his composure quickly, his hand firm on his walking stick should they have to jump out and fight or anything to that effect. Since there apparently wasn't any airship waiting for them, he intended to tell the driver to make like the wind for a train station tout de suite.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:45, Wed 04 June 2014.

OOC: All along I've been assuming that I'm facing backward rather than forward across from Dash and Stella. If I've missed something from somebody else's earlier description of getting into the cab I'll edit.

With the gunshot Bellgrove too snapped to attention. He turned to look out the window, careful not to expose himself, knowing that he was not likely to see much, but he still wanted to get some sense of what was going on.

OOC: Yeah, I've been assuming the same, Bellgrove.  For whatever reason, I got the image in my head that this is a carriage, that Stella & Connor had climbed in and sat down facing forward, then you climbed in, logically sitting opposite them, and then Dash climbed in, decided to continue being a bonehead, and wedged himself in next to Stella, opposite Connor.  I may be wrong, but that's what I've been assuming ^_^



After the carriage horse -- as well as his two new companions -- reacted to the sound of a gunshot from down the street, Dashed paused until the cabby had his beast under control, then called up,

"Ettienne, my good man, is there anything we need worry about, out there?"

Before Etienne can reply, another cab comes racing down the street! Still trying to get his horse under control, it's all Etienne can do to minimize the ensuing crash.

He pulls the reins hard to the right, causing the horse to move that way. The other cab does the same so that instead of the horses colliding, the two cabs slam into each other sideways.

It's enough to bring the other horse to a halt, though Etienne's is still trying to bolt.

"M-maybe we should walk..." Connor groaned after getting his head clunked yet again when the two cabs collided, which still smarted even though it didn't cause him any real harm.

With Dash and Connor wedged into the seat beside her and her diminutive stature, plus the good fortune to be seated on the opposite side from the impact, Stella was no more than shaken up following the accident.

"Mother of God," she says tartly, "What caused that?"

Being on the side of the cab that impacts the cab that Etienne had attempted to avoid Bellgrove has a very definite answer for Stella, "Another cab.", he says plainly as he recovers himself having leaned away from the crash into Conner.

To Conner as he looks out the window quickly to confirm that there is no danger from anyone in the other cab, "Indeed. Walking does seem like a preferable option in this moment."

Dash grabs at his uniform cap, as the carriage lurches once again, while the cabby tries to regain control of his horse.

"I'd agree with you, Mate, except we're still moving!" Dash says to Bellgrove, "O'course, staying in here might not be the safest route, moving or not."

Dash turns a chary glare towards Connor, then says "Right.  When in doubt, act." as if he's just convinced himself of something.

Turning to Bellgrove, he says "You.  Belly-something, yes? You keep an eye on this other cab, in case its occupants try something."

Dash then returns his gaze to Connor, "Okay, big man, time to show of your cat-like reflexes.  You jump out that side..." Dash points to the opposite side of their cab from the side the other cab had struck, "...and then I shall toss Miss Mulberry out to you.  Belly, here, and I will then follow, after."

Dashs gaze turned into a glare, "And I swear, sir, if you ever hope to smooth things between us, you will take every measure to prevent any injury to the lady.  Now, out you go, and give us a call when you're ready to catch Miss Mulberry."

Almost as a second thought, Dash turns to Stella, "If that's alright with you, Miss Mulberry? I really do think we should dismount the carriage, at least until Ettienne has it back under control."

Bellgrove was about to correct Denholm that he only permits his friends to call him 'Belly', but this seemed like neither the time or the place. Instead he nods keeping his eye on the other cab, "Right. As you say, Denny..."

Connor just nodded, tossing what effects of his that wouldn't break out the cab's window and stuffing the rest in his pockets before he snapped the door open and leaped out, landing, perhaps aptly, on his feet, bending at the knees a bit to absorb the impact with the ground before snapping straight and keeping pace with the carriage.

"Ready!" He called to Dash, arms out to catch the lady when she would be making her less-than-gentile exit out of the cab. The felinoid kept alert, stealing a glance at the other cab in case its occupants might try something fishy, the same with the one he had just come from, not entirely trusting Dash or the others yet in spite of the fact they'd just boosted him from captivity as an unwilling sideshow exhibit.

After a nod of acceptance from Stella, Dash prepares himself near the door, then takes hold of Stella's middle and, when the bucking of the cab seems slightest, propels her out the open door towards the waiting Connor...

Connor had to hustle a little, but in the end he caught Stella bang-on cue and set her down on her feet gently, as if the weight of her coupled with the force of the throw had been but a feather to him.

That done, the felinoid stepped aside without another word, gathering up the things he had thrown out the window and waiting for Dash and Bellgrove to exit, ready to lend a paw if requested, since he figured they could get out on their own.

Stella starts to protest being tossed about like so much cargo, but then she simply wraps her arms about her rucksack and gives Dash a quick nod. She tries to keep her limbs from flailing about as she is propelled through the air into the sure grasp of Connor.

Then she is safely on her feet, rather more exhilarated by the experience than frightened or offended. A smile flirts along her lips as she hurries into the shadows of the nearby structure.

After confirming that Stella made the leap unharmed, Dash turns to Bellgrove.

"C'mon, Belly!  You're next!" Dash calls.

"Right-o, Denny!", replies Bellgrove as he jumps out carefully not only to avoid jumping onto or into a friend, but in case there is anyone coming after them.

Dash follows Bellgrove out the door -- years of climbing the rigging on clipperships aiding in his balanced landing.

Turning to observe the cab he'd just vacated, Dash looks toward the upset horse, then at his companions.  His eyes rest for a moment on Connor, but then he shakes his head and looks to Bellgrove.

"Have you any experience at quieting horses, sir?" Dash asks.

Meanwhile, a rather battered figure in brown tweed has cautiously and painfully extracted himself from the remains of the other vehicle and is now approaching the
party, exclaiming "Mr. Hawkesbury and Miss Mulberry! How extraordinary that we should meet again here!"  Ruefully surveying the damage, he adds "I suppose I should be sorry that we met in this way, but as my own traveling companion had been trying to blow my head off, and there were more villains in pursuit behind, I cannot say I am sorry my journey was interrupted, though I deeply regret the inconvenience to you and your fellow travelers. I hope you will make me known to them." Turning to Bellgrove, he says "Grimsby Baskerville, of Her Britannic Majesty's Colonial Service, presently on detached duty." He gives a rather stiff bow --it appears his back is sore. He casts a curious glance at Connor, but for the moment does not favor him with a bow.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:11, Wed 18 June 2014.

"Good Lord!  Grimsby!" Dash exclaims, "It is you!"

Once Grimsby introduces himself, Dash frowns and points at Bellgrove...

"This is Bellgrove, a reporter from America."

...Dash shifts his aim to point at Connor...

"This is Connor, a free Citizen of Ireland."

"Gentlemen, this is Grimsby, who, as he said, works for Her Brittanic Majestys government. I appologize for my brevity -- the rest I leave to you -- but Mr Baskerville, Miss Mulberry and myself were already involved in some dangerous business before we met."

Dash turns to Grimsby, raises his left hand, then taps the back of said hand with his right index finger.

"Was it...them...again?  Your attackers?"

When the fellow in brown tweed appeared from the other cap Bellgrove turned his pistol upon him, but when he not only failed to threaten, but actually addressed his party by name he relaxed. When he introduced himself as British Colonial Service he gave the man an appraising once-over, "Well met, Mr. Baskerville. I'm Wander, Belly to my friends. I'm with the New York Herald as Hawkesbury said."

As he spoke he scanned the area looking for more trouble, "Yeah, I take it you're alone?"

At Grimsby's explanation of his multiple perils, Stella thrusts her hand into her rucksack and looks hard into the wrecked cab, shooting glances down the street to search out any pursuers.

In reply to Denholm Hawkesbury (msg # 66):

Seeing Dash's gesture, Grimsby nods significantly and repeats Dash's gesture (incidentally revealing a red welt across his right wrist). He says "Yes, it was those people again.  I saw the mark on one of them, and I believe all three were working together. The consul told me the party we were pursuing picked up supplies near Marseilles, and I think they must have set their local allies on our track at the same time. They may still be about, so we must be on our guard."

In reply to Bellgrove G. B. Wander (msg # 67):

Grimsby frowned and replied "I was on my own until I had the fortune to meet my friends here. If you mean, are the villains who were after me still in the offing, I very much fear they may be. One left the cab just before the crash, and the other two were in pursuit of it when I last saw them, though they were on foot and it may have left them behind for the moment."

On hearing Grimsbys recounting of his encounter, Dash starts looking suspiciously at every shadow.

"Won-derful!  The way my luck has been running, this evening, I'll draw-down on an approaching shadow, and shoot myself a Gendarme." Dash grumbles.

"Ettienne!  Etienne!  Are you alright, my man?" Dash calls up to their driver, "Can you get control of your horse?  It is imperative that we leave now!"

Connor, meanwhile, had taken to trying the help the cabbie calm his horse and get it back under control, being careful not to frighten the animal any more than it already was as he grabbed the reins from the front and looked it square in the eyes, keeping it from bucking and jumping about in its harness by literally holding it as still as possible, his muscles bulging under his clothes as he wrestled with the much larger horse.

"Whoa now, whoa," he soothed in a calm but firm tone in French, "Shhh, it's all right now, calm down. Whoa, they're a good fella, whoa."  Although initially startled and afraid of him, the horse eventually did relax, and the felinoid was soon gently stroking the horse's mane and forehead, whispering sweet nothings to it  before stepping back and letting Etienne take up the slack in the reins again.

"Needed a softer touch," he said to the others as he picked up his things once more and dusted himself off a bit, "Sometimes you have to get your rear off the seat or the saddle and look 'em in the eye."

Just about the time that Connor manages to calm the horse, another shot rings out, setting the horse rearing again. This time when it comes down, it's in total panic and immediately runs off at full gallop before Etienne can reply to Dash's call.

It might have been helped by the bullet smacking into the wood of the cab.

Starbolt, the horse of the other cab, has run its race, so the gunshot doesn't set it off again. Also, since it was calm, the driver is able to keep a tighter rein on it.

As the panicked horse gallops off and pulls the cab with it, the remaining cab still blocks view down the street quite a bit.

Stella, off the street for the moment and in the shadows after slipping behind the cab, can see two men running down the street towards them. One is about 50 feet behind the other, and it's the one in front that is brandishing a firearm.

The others see only one man running down the street. No gun is visible, so possibly the cab is blocking view of the shooter.

Connor swore as the horse bolted again, forcing him to jump back to keep from getting run over and worse. As he fell back into the shadows, he growled low in his throat as he said, "looks like we're going to have to have it out with these assailants, gentlemen and lady."

Grimsby replied "Right you are, Connor, and my derringer is empty, with no time for reloading." He mutters a curse in Pushtu and produces a wicked looking knife unexpectedly from his sleeve. He adds, "I haven't got your claws, so this will have to do." He goes into a defensive crouch, trying to use the remaining cab for cover while working his way towards the approaching attackers.

Bellgrove leans down and takes his backup, a Webley Bull Dog revolver, out of an ankle holster and passes it to Baskerville, "Nice knife, but the badguys clearly got guns."

As he speaks he scans the street looking for the shooter with his Colt ready.

"Leave the one at the back to me," Connor said, putting his walking stick over his shoulder, "When I move, you go after the other one if I don't get to him first after dealing with the first."

That being said, the felinoid snuck quietly around the corner of a building on the side of the street they were on, climbing up to the roof and moving as stealthily as he could rooftop-to-rooftop until he was level with the assailant furthest back. Then, crouching low, he bared his fangs and his claws and pounced, leaping off the roof and landing squarely on top of him and tackling him to the ground, slugging him hard for good measure as he snarled like a wild thing.

Yikes! Way too many actions, Connor! The others are liable to finish the combat before you even climb the building! Also remember that the GM always resolves your actions, especially when it involves enemy combatants or hazardous situations. So we'll take it one step at a time...


Stella went to the left side of the street because she not only had cover from the horse of the other cab, but that was the side of the street where there were shadows... cast by the streetlamp on the opposite side of the street and the intervening cabs and horses.


Having moved out front of the cab to calm the horse, Connor sneaking quietly around a corner of a building is rather pointless since he can easily be seen in the glare of the streetlamp. He was out in the middle of the street, so moving to a nearby building is maybe 50 feet, crossing the sidewalk AND climbing or jumping over the wrought iron fence.

By the time he climbs to the top of the two-story building, the attackers will have run down the street and reached the back of the cab. Jumping off the building without injury might be possible for the tiger-man, but jumping that far out into the street would probably do as much damage to him as his target, if he even made it. He may have tiger traits, but he's still not a tiger.

However, from his lofty perch, he can see, as the attacker that was at the rear and on the right side of the street enters the light of the streetlamp, there was more to him that a dark hat and trenchcoat. Connor sees the glint of metal... on the attackers hand and on his face.


With their cab now out of the way, Bellgrove and Dash can see the other two assailants. The closest one is probably the shooter, as he is waving a gun as he reaches the back of the second cab.

Bellgrove and Dash are viewing the attacks over, under, or around the horse.


Grimsby, having moved to the cab and cautiously made his way to the back, hears running steps just reaching the back of the cab, too.

Connor's eyebrow raised at the sight of the glint of metal on the rearward person's face and hands, momentarily wondering if it might've been a mechanical man of some kind, but he didn't have much time to think about it as he looked for a quicker way to get back down to street  level to rejoin the fray than the fire escape he had used to get up onto the rooftops, although if he couldn't find a convenient clothesline or telegraph wire to zip line down using his walking stick he'd just have to hustle again since the 50ft leap was a bit much for him (even felinoids had their limits, it would seem).

In reply to Bellgrove G. B. Wander (msg # 76):

Grimsby says warmly but quietly, "Thanks. A Webley's a nice introduction from a new friend."  His knife vanishes as quickly as it came. With the loaned Webley in his right hand, he stands ready to shoot any attacker who appears at the back of the cab.

Watching motionlessly from the shadows, Stella withdraws her hand from her rucksack, clutching a leather blackjack.

As the Tigerman dashes into the shadows, and the reporter produces a second pistol from a hidden ankle holster and gives it to Grimsby, Dash pauses a moment to consider just where this encounter could end up.

With a shrug he reaches into his uniform jacket and pulls out his big automatic, pulling back the charging handle and loading the chamber.

"What the hell ... I hear Devils Island is lovely this time of year." a grin spreads across his face -- the same grin that that lunatic Roosevelt taught him in Cuba.

"We have questions, gentlemen, so let us try for a prisoner or two."

Dash winks at Bellgrove, "Now, let's show these European Assassins the folly of getting into a gunfight with Americans, shall we?  Bully!"

Having shouted the old battlecry, Dash runs straight at the horse, then throws himself down upon the cobblestoned street in a half-tumble, half-slide under the horse -- ripping open the back of his jacket, in the process.

On the other side of the horse, Dash recovers from his tumble, coming up on one knee and aiming at the nearest of the visible assailants.  He fires a pair of rapid shots at the thug, aiming for his kneecaps.

In the quiet of that nighttime city streets, the the rapid shots from the heavy pistol produce a "pow-pow" that sounds almost cannon-like.

With a grin Bellgrove replies to Dash, "Yes. Let's take these bastards to school!"

When Dash rolls under the horse at Grimsby's pursuers Bellgrove moves in a crouch  around the horse's forequarters. He moves several feet past the horse, so if the animal gets spooked and either rears or charges forward he would be out of it and the cab's way. His intention is to kneecap that one as well and he aims his Colt Model 1898 New Service Revolver as well as he can as he moves forward.

A direct jump from the top of the building to the ground would be very dangerous for Connor, but as he looks around, there's nothing he can use as a zipline... no wires, no ropes. That would be something found aboard ships.

However, jumping down into one of the trees could be done. Instead of one hop down, he could do it in two, followed by a pounce onto the running man.

By running between two houses, the man not only lost sight of Connor but probably thought he was running away. As near as Connor is aware, he has no idea who these people are, so it's possibly that they don't know who he is.

Connor times his jump just right, jumping into the tree as the man (he hopes it's a man!) reaches it. His landing is a bit off, but he manages to make his next leap albeit a bit off balance. He makes just enough noise to catch the man's attention, so he looks up just as Connor pounces on him.

That was the plan, but Connor lands on the man a bit awkwardly. The man is driven back a step, but he catches Connor in a bear hug... and starts to squeeze.


Dash dive/rolls under the horse and comes up shooting. He's pretty sure he hits his target, but his target is also shooting. He's not trying to be so precise as Dash--he's aiming for center of mass, and manages to wing Dash in the arm.


Grimsby, still using the back of the cab for cover, hear's the gunshot only a few feet away. It doesn't seem to be aimed at him, so he pops around the back, spots the shooter--it's his 'friend' from inside the cab--and shoots him.


Over on the other side of the street, Stella has nearly disappeared into the shadows. So the man running down that side of the street doesn't see her until he's nearly beside her. She manages to stick a leg out and trip him. As he staggers forward, trying to keep from falling down, her blackjack catches him on the back of the head to encourage that fall... and to make sure he doesn't jump back up.


Bellgrove was about to shoot the same man, having lost sight of Stella, too, when the man suddenly falls down. He manages to catch a glimpse of a feminine hand holding an un-feminine blackjack.

Grimsby, not being sure how much damage the man he shot has actually taken, approaches him cautiously, ready to give him another round if needed.

"Gah!" Dash exclaims, as the bullet tears through both his uniform sleeve and the outer, fleshy part of his left upper arm; knocking him from his kneeling position back onto his butt, legs outstretched before him, "Why am I always the one getting frigging shot!"

Pistol still in his right hand, he clumsily grasps the wound in an effort to alleive his pain -- swearing as only someone who'd spend time with sailors can -- when a glint of light on metal manages to pierce his grimace of pain.  Blinking rapidly to clear his vision, Dash looks down the street to see the tigerman -- Connor, that is -- clutched in a crushing embrace of someone that has what looks like a metal, or at least metal-clad, arm.

"Son of a murthering Bilge Rat!" Dash growls, bringing his right knee up off the cobblestones and leveling his right arm atop it, pointing his pistol down the street.

First taking two quick, hyperventilating breaths, Dash takes a deep breath, then slowly lets out half as he takes careful aim at the center of mass of the man clutching Connor -- a spot just under his metal-looking arm -- and slowly squeezing the trigger....


OOC: I am fully expecting Connor to take an action before Dash pulls the trigger.  If Connor takes out his opponent, Dash won't shoot.  If Connor breaks loose but doesn't drop his man, or if he can't break loose, then Dash'll take the shot.

Stella takes a quick step forward and kicks the downed man in the side of his head. Then she scurries back into the shadows.

Bellgrove is about to pull the trigger when out of nowhere Stella appears. What? We've got a cat-man, do we have a bird-woman as well?, he thinks to himself.

He still processing how difficult it must be to move in a woman's outfit and how far she moved in order to appear behind the man she walloped as he turns at fires, without at the other attacker whom just shot Dash. He does so without the careful aim that he had intended to use on his first target.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:04, Fri 27 June 2014.

In the melee, the only enemy Grimsby can see who is active and unhurt is the one who has Connor, so he also aims for that man (or automaton).  However, not wanting to hit Connor, he takes his time to aim carefully for the creature's hip, hoping to at least cripple it while not going to close to the arms that have Connor..

Connor snarled as he was caught in the vise-like bear hug, not expecting the metal-armed man to have absorbed the impact of so well. The felinoid struggled as hard as he could to extricate himself from the painful squeezing, baring his fangs and going straight for the man's neck, half expecting to taste grease and metal instead of flesh and blood if his bite sank home, for he had more than a suspicion the "man" might be some sort of mechanical contrivance, or perhaps a man augmented by mechanical means...

Up close now, Connor can see that the man is probably a flesh and blood person... at least his face is, though he's wearing some sort of mechancial goggles. The torso may be another story. Connor can feel metal along the chest, but he has no way of knowing how extensive it is. It could just be some type of armor, like an old medievel breastplate.

As both arms squeeze, though, Connor can hear the whirr of gears and hiss of steam pistons. The man's arms are at least mechanically augmented. Connor is sure the man has successfully used the bear hug tactic before, and it was threatening to work on Connor, too, except... Connor is more flexible than a normal person. It would be nearly impossible for a normal person to actually bend his head down far enough to bite the man's neck. Also, without fangs, it probably wouldn't have done much good.

Connor is a whole different ballgame, though. Twisting his upper torse with the litheness of a cat, he manages to find a chink in the armor--it doesn't go up far enough to protect the side of the man's neck.

The action, however, produces radically unexpected results. He throws Connor off of him as he almost screams "Vampire!

Connor lands on his feet about ten feet away, and sees the man pulling out a wooden stake!

Just then a shot rings out, and a bullet clangs off of the armor... and whizzes by Connor's ear!

The man barely seems fazed by the rebounding bullet, but realizes the odds are against him. He turns and starts to run away at an amazing speed... almost as fast as a horse!

Unfortunately, he can't outrun electricity. A bluish crackle of electicity flashes out of the dark and strikes him. His arms fly up and his legs lock in place as he crashes to the street face down. Even after the bolt stops, a shimmer of electricity seems to dance over him.

"And here I thought this was going to be another boring night!" Mercy says as she steps out of the 'shadow'.

She and Viktor and Matthew had been in this quaint little nightclub cafe. Although they'd just been finishing up a wonderful Corsican meal and were ready to head back to the airship, the sudden eruption of gunshots out on the street had hastened their departure. Viktor was a soldier, so naturally he wanted to go.

She'd never been the timid sort herself, though.

Only Matthew had wanted to... well, hide.

"I'm going with you the next time!" the fiery redheaded engineer and inventor said to Connor... before she realized who she was talking to.

"Wait a minute! I don't know you!" she says suddenly as she raises her lightning gun. Then she sees the others... Dash and Stella and Grimsby... and another new person.

"Oh. Well, if you're with them, then I guess you're okay," she says, extending her hand in a rather unladylike gesture.

"Mercedez Kincaid, but everyone calls me Mercy. I don't answer to Mercedez much any more, unless it's me mum."

Connor was most surprised when the man  practically threw him off when his fangs sank home, even more so when the cry of "Vampire" and the stake came. All the same, he was glad to be free of the crushing bear-hug, and was about to go at the blighter again when a bullet went whizzing by his ear after ricocheting off of the armor, then out of nowhere a bolt of bluish lighting struck and rendered his fleeing adversary immobile.

"Huh?" Was all Connor could find words to say about this latest occurance as he wiped the foul-tasting blood from his muzzle, only to find himself staring down the barrel of a curiously-made weapon and an even curiouser redheaded woman. The felinoid laid his ears back and scythe his tail angrily in response to this latest threat to his person, only to seat his feral impulses back down and cock his head curiously to one side as she apparently changed her mind, lowering the gun and offering her hand as she introduced herself.

"Erm, much obliged, Miss Kincaid," Connor replied, a bit unsure what to make of her as he gave her hand a shake with his own, careful to keep his claws retracted, "Um, you might want to check your weapon before you use it again, the capacitors in the discharge circuits sound like they need some attention."

That little bit of engineering advice dispensed, Connor quietly padded off to go pick up his things he'd left with the others before climbing up to the rooftops....

Dash squeezes the trigger at exactly the same moment Connor is released.

"Blazes!" Dash curses, as he sees the flash of his bullet ricocheting off the mans armor; then he realizes that Connor had flinched in exactly the same manner he'd seen soldiers do, when a bullet flew past their ear.

"Sorry abou that!" Dash called over to Connor, "That was me.  Sorry."

Suddenly, Mercy made her 'electrifying' entrance.

"Gadds!" Dash exclaims, as -- between the dull ache on his back from the burns the other day, and the fresh sting of tonights flesh wound -- he teeters to his feet, "I didn't get a clear view of those things in operation, back in London. They are most impressive looking, shooting down a nightime street!"

Dash looks around, then calls out, "Grimsby, old man! How many prisoners do we have?  And, as these thugs were chasing you, d'ye have any idea who might be their leader?"

Grimsby held his fire as Mercy's electrical bolt was, naturally, fast as lightning.
He pocketed the Webley for the moment and replied to Dash, "I believe we have accounted for three of the rascals, but how many are in any condition to be captives, I'm not sure. I believe the one who was with me in the cab may have been the leader"  He bent over the man he had shot and, if the man did not resist, gave him a quick search and physical examination, to determine if he was alive, whether he was wounded, and whether he still carried any weapons or other items of interest.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:22, Mon 30 June 2014.

With another grimace of pain, Dash gets to his feet, "Most unfortunate." he responds to Grimsby, grimacing again as he placed his modified Mauser back in its holster-- under his left shoulder, "I may be wrong, but I think we may have shot that fellow to death."

Dash squinted, trying to pierce the light-and-shadow play down the street.

"Connor!" Dash yells down range, seeing the big man moving around, over there, "No doubt you have now met the energetic Miss Mercy and her toy from Mister Nicola Tesla.  Well, the young lady is so enamored of her special toy that she trusts it to work flawlessly -- so she probably believes that the thug you attacked will be unconscious for hours.  I trust that you are not so trusting, and will bind the fellow as soon as you can, please."

"Now, where is everyone?  Miss Mulberry?  Bellgrove?  Is anyone -- other than me -- shot or injured?"

Ste3lla steps from her concealing shadows and approaches Dash.

"Seeing as how we have just engaged in several acts of mayhem in a foreign port, Dash," she scolds, "I think it best not to shout our full names up and down the street for any witnesses to report to the gendarmes. Now, let me see to your wound.

"Oh, and there is an unconscious man on the sidewalk who should be secured, or at least watched."

She rips open Dash's coat sleeve and shirt sleeve to determine the extent of his injury and to assess whether she might be able to do anything for it.

"Bell," she says to the man nearby, "Would you try to find some transport, at least for Dash."

[edited to correct the wound location]
This message was last edited by the player at 02:45, Fri 04 July 2014.

Bellgrove stands from where he was crouched ahead of the cab, but does not yet holster his pistol knowing that the one that Stella fell might yet still get up. In response to Dash and Stella he responds, "I am unhurt."

Learning that Dash is hurt he finally puts his gun away and moves to the man's side, "Easy there, partner. We've still got this cab, eh? We'll make it to a hospital in no time."

Connor said nothing as he pulled a length of chain from his newly-recovered toolbox, which he then proceeded to bind up the immobilized mech-man with, then, just to be sure he couldn't make any more mayhem, the felinoid began to systematically disable all of the enhancements as best he could, removing a few parts here and a few there to put a spanner in the works

When he was finished, he stepped back and stood watch over him, regarding the man sharply with his violet eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Bugger a hospital," he said tersely, "We need to leave these parts, and quickly, unless you fancy spending some time in 'the hoosegow' as you Americans say."

Grimsby responded to Connor, "I believe I could persuade Her Majesty's Consul to vouch for us if need be, but it would be awkward, especially as several of us are not her subjects. So if Dash can bear the journey, we had best return to our airship forwith." He continued his examination of the man he shot.

The man that Grimsby encountered in the other cab is, indeed, the one laying on the ground at the back of the remaining cab. As Grimsby examines the man, he realizes that the man is unconscious, but is not bleeding.

A more probing examination shows bullet holes in the man's jacket, but upon opening the jacket, he sees the three bullets embedded in the man's vest! Apparently they weren't able to penetrate the vest.


As Connor wraps the chain around his opponent, he discovers that, underneath the man's trenchcoat, the man is wearing some type of armor. It appears a bit like a medieval breast plate, but with armor greaves on the arms, augmented by steam-powered cylinders. He's also wearing some sort of goggles cum mask.

"Ah, I don't need a hospital for a scratch like this, I've suffered worse in Cuba." Dash...exaggerates..."Just tie it up with my kerchief, here, and we'll deal with it when we get back to the ship.  Just lemme think a minute..."

After a moments thought, Dash grins a sly little grin, and hands his kerchief to Stella.

"If you would, please, Stella, bind my wound.  Grimsby, secure your man and then toss him in the cab.  Connor, get whatever papers your thug has on him, then get aboard the cab.  Mercy!  Are you alone; where are the others? Gather them up and get in the cab.  If Viktor is with you, send him over here."

"Bellgrove, I have something special job for you to do."  Dash says, as he pulls the remaining Francs from his jacket pocket, "Take this, then climb up and see if the cabby is still up there.  If he is, give him all of this -- in fact, Grimsby, check your man for a wallet and add whatever he has on him to what Bellgrove has, here. Then, once you've given him the money, produce your pistol and start waving it around and shoo him away. I want you to keep repeating -- in English! -- the words 'We're going back to Grand Fenwick! We're going back to Grand Fenwick!'  Got that?"

Dash looks around at the group, "Okay ... after battle clean-up ... gather prisoners ... chase off witnesses ... get transport ... provide cover story.  Have I forgotten anything?"

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 101):

Grimsby opened the waistcoat and felt to see if the man's ribs had been broken by the force of the bullets. Then he continued to search him for any other useful items --particularly a wallet as Dash had suggested. He also examined the man's arm to verify the presence of the gang symbol seen earlier. Once he had found everything he could, he asked Connor, "Might I have another of those handy pieces of chain to bind this fellow, please?"

Stella offers no criticism of Dash's plan as she ties up the wound in his arm, just shakes her head. She has no confidence that the bandage will do much good. Once they get to the airship, someone can probably do a better job than she.

She also wonders how they will fit eight people in one cab.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:45, Fri 04 July 2014.

As a cavalryman, he was used to charging into battle, but it was seldom such a spontaneous action as Mercy had done. You assess the situation and then select your path. He was also used assessing the situation from horseback, not from the gully of the cafe's stepdown entrance.

That Mercy was smarter than he was a given. He'd too often seen at court the women get underestimated just because they were women, so he knew better. He could see where he keen intellect could have assessed the situation more quickly than he had.

On the other hand, she just may have charged in, assessing things as she went.

Still, it was a bit disconcerting to miss out on this little skirmish. Perhaps, as she had implied, he and Matthew weren't quite the 'exciting' types.


"I think we've got that covered, Stella," Viktor offers as he walks up and joins the little soiree his friends had going in the street.

"Since Dash has dismissed the cab driver, I presume I'll be taking over those duties... on our way to... Grand Fenwick. Matthew can ride with me up top... not unheard of as a liveryman... since I don't think he'll be too keen on hanging off the back of the carriage."

"That leaves just six of you to ride inside... a bit tight, I'm sure, but I daresay you'll make the best of it."

"Of course, there is the question of our unexpected guest. Unless he's dead? I suppose we can throw him in the back where the luggage goes."

"Now would one of you be so kind as to introduce me to our new companions?"

He couldn't help wondering what it was about this group that seemed to attract strays...

Before following Dash's orders he asks, "Are you sure you want to get rid of the only cab likely to be within a mile of this location? I have seen you in action and appreciate you are a tough fellow, but that is not a minor wound and we have two prisoners?

When the fellow with the German accent, who is obviously a horseman appears, Bellgrove nods a hello, Funny how this group seems to have allies appearing from out of the blue.

Dash turns to look at Bellgrove, grimacing as Stella tightens the make-shift bandage around his arm.

"What?" Dash asked, confused, "Didn't you hear me suggest to everyone else that they climb aboard the cab?  I want you to chase off the cabby -- we're stealing the cab!"

Glancing at Viktor, "Ah, right, of course. Viktor, Mercy, Matthew -- allow me to introduce you to these gentlemen.  The fellow climbing up the cab is Bellgrove, a reporter for an American newspaper.  The furry fellow with all the sharp teeth is Connor, who, despite appearances, is from Ireland.  Gentlemen, the strapping chap with the military bearing, there, is Viktor, the young lady with the impressive lightning pistol is Mercy, and the young fellow -- dammit, Matthew, stop inspecting that bullet-proof vest and stand up straight! -- that is Matthew, our scientific consultant. The thugs who just tried to kill all of us are members of an International Brotherhood of Assassins, the Vril Society. Welcome to our world, 'cuz now you're stuck in it. We can get to know each other better once we're out of here."

"And, actually Viktor, I was planning on climbing up there with you, but perhaps Matthew might be a better way to go."

"Okay, have we got everything? Cleaned up any and all incriminating evidence? Tied and gagged the prisoner and thrown him on the floor in the cab?  Then let us take our leave, shall we?"

Stella does her best with the bandage and uses her own scarf for a sling to support the injured limb. She scales up into the cab and scrunches herself as tightly as she can into one corner to allow others to crowd in with her.

Obtaining the chain, Grimsby binds the fellow he shot securely hand and foot, arranging the chain so that if he struggles it will merely tighten the bonds, and
than pushes him into the luggage rack in the rear.
Then he folds himself into a corner of the cab facing Stella, trying to favor his sore arm in the process.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:34, Sat 05 July 2014.

Connor, after obliging Grimsby with the chain he had requested, momentarily spared an appraising glance at the newcomers, muttering "Greaaat, the Vril Society...One man writes a book about magic cave-people, then all hell breaks loose..."

Apparently, the felinoid was familiar with the membership of the aforementioned society, and apparently he had little love for them, but he said nothing more about it as he clambered up onto the cab, opting to ride up on the roof of the cab or in the shotgun position of the driving seat instead of squashing into the passenger compartment with everyone else.

Bellgrove looks at Dash non-plussed, "Right. Of course. Waving a gun around and shouting about a given location is certainly the way one steals a fellow's living from him."

He moves to the cabby and in French explains the situation in a low, serious voice, "My friend, we have a bit of a situation. As you have seen we have bad men after us and my friend is badly wounded.

"In good faith I would not put you into further danger, so we are going to give you all of this cash. It is rather more than your fare, eh? We will then leave you here and take your cab -- if you will tell me where to return it I shall swear an oath on my honor that we shall do so when we are done."

As he speaks he is confident that the man having seen the gunfight that just occurred realizes that what he is saying is much more even-handed than it needs to be. If he needs to actually threaten the man physically he shall do so, but to reinforce his statements he makes sure that the cabby is aware of the big six-gun shoulder-holstered under his coat.

Etienne might only be a cab driver, but he is more perspicacious than his lowly occupation would imply.

"Yes, yes! Crazy Americans steal my cab to drive to Grand Fenwick! I have never been there, but I hear it is a nice place," he replies to Bellgrove with a wide grin.

"I will be very convincing, M'sieur! The shootings will make it believable!" he says as he jumps down off the cab. "This will buy me a new cab and horse, if this one does not make it back to me!" he calls back, waving the wad of money in his hand as he quickly runs off down the street.


With everyone packed into the cab, Viktor heads off down the street at a light gallop.

It still seems odd that there are no signs of the gendarmes, but the sound of police whistles can finally be heard once the cab has gone a dozen blocks.

Somehow, Viktor manages to find his way back to where the airship is anchored.

Dash climbs out of the close quarters of the cab, and calls up to the deck of the blimp.

"Cap'n Remi!  It's us -- plus a few guests!  Is everyone else here?  We need to leave as soon as possible."

Dash then turns to Connor and Bellgrove.

"Well, mates, this is our transport.  We'll be leaving France in a few minutes for ... points East, let's say." Dash says, "We'll take you out of the country, if you want, or you can take your chances with the Gendarmes, yourselves.  But through no fault of your own, you've gotten involved with our mess, even if only periferally, and that means there is a chance you may come to the attention of the blokes we're working against.  Again, you can take your chances alone, or stick with us for safety in numbers."

Dash pauses a moment, then continues, "Unless you're gonna come with us, that's all it's safe to tell you. For now."

Grimsby jumps out of the cab as soon as it stops, and stands by, fingering the Webley in his pocket in case anything is seen of their enemies, but still attempting to look as much like a respectable English visitor as his battered condition will permit, in case the gendarmes appear instead. He says warmly to Connor and Bellgrove, "You have both proven yourselves valuable allies so far, and I would be glad to have you along.  I think I can add that Her Majesty's Government might be able to  express its gratitude in a more monetary form, since it has no legal claim on your loyalties."

After climbing down from his spot on the cab's roof with his effects in hand, Connor spared a moment to look up at the sight of the airship, for even though he had seen them before and knew how they worked, he had never been this close to one in his life, and he couldn't help but be a bit in awe of the flying machine. That magical moment was abruptly shattered when Dash spoke up, bringing the felinoid's thoughts back down to Earth, and after regaining his composure a bit, Connor replied, "I appreciate the offer of letting us bow out if we wish, but I owe you all a debt for releasing me, and I intend to repay it, Mr. Hawkesbury. I am coming with you, come what may."

When Grimsby put in his bit about how the British Government might be willing to pay for his services, the felinoid frowned, but chose to hold his tongue and say nothing. His loyalty was not a thing that could be bought or demanded, and it would be so even if he was an English citizen, it was something to be earned, as was his trust and his respect....

When they arrive at the aerodrome and Dash and Grimbsby make their offers Bellgrove pauses, "Well... I've got my things in a hotel room and they include my favorite shotgun as well as cravat and other essentials. Otherwise, I'm a reporter. I'd be a fool not to come along, wouldn't I?"

Looking at Grimbsby, "Of course, I am not about to write anything that might reveal or endanger anything important, sir. Let us just say that once this adventure is over I would submit to you my story and if you are comfortable with it that is what I would submit to my editor. Otherwise, in order to avoid any complications, I could not accept recompense from your government."

"I daresay nothing you report could be more preposterous or fantastical than that Vril book!" Viktor quips.

"In all fairness, though, this Vril Society is not a brotherhood of assassins, for such an organization would work only at the behest of others. No, the Vril Society has its own agenda, but it is not above using assassination to further its goals or achieve its ends."

"Alas, we do not know what those goals are... yet. We have inadvertantly thwarted their plans twice now, and perhaps tonight was a third time."

"We believe they have kidnapped a Professor Cavor, have stolen a quantity of cavorite for what purposes we do not know, and they are now on their way to Graustark to assassinate the Princess. True, this last is mere speculation on our part, but they fly a black airship and that is why we pursue in our own."

"I tell you this, Mr. Bellgrove, because the Vril Society is a secret society that wishes to remain secret, so should you decide to write about them, you will undoubtedly find yourself in their sights."

"I believe it is only fair to inform you of the potential consequences of your actions should you choose to join us."

"We believe that what we do is right and just, and we welcome anyone of good conscience that wishes to join us."

"Besides," he finished with a broad grin, "think of the adventure this could turn out to be!"

No doubt Dash and Grimsby, perhaps even Stella, might be a bit take aback from his little speech, but it had been something he and Mercy and Matthew had been discussing over their late supper. Speculation aside, there was a core of truth in what he'd just said. In any case, as a cavalryman, it was his wont to charge into battle. The adventure part was also true, as this was certainly a reflection of the Zeitgeist--the Spirit of the Times.

In reply to Bellgrove G. B. Wander (msg # 116):

Grimsby replied, "Your discretion would certainly be appreciated --and rewarded. I do understand that a journalist has a natural interest in good stories, but I would be glad of the opportunity to review anything you might decide to publish about this affair." He added,
"Since we are now at the ship, and I am in reach of my own weapons, I shall return your revolver as soon as we are aboard --it proved itself a very timely loan, and I am thankful for it."

"Yes, surely ... of course we can swing by your hotel on the way out of France ..." Dash replied absently, still looking up at the Blimp -- where his gaze had never wavered since their arrival.

As Grimsby is returning Bellgrove's pistol to him, Dash suddenly calls out to the blimp -- it's been too long without response from up there.

"Ahoy, Le Faucon Vapeur! Cap'n Remi, ahoy!" Dash calls out, his right hand sliding into his jacket to grab -- but not yet draw -- his pistol, "Wake up, up there, dammit!  Give us a hail, will you?"

In a quieter voice, Dash says to his companions, "The Vril knew we were in Marseille, they may have come here, too."

Bellgrove listens carefully to Viktor's explanation of things. He can not help but like the cavalryman and what he says about the Vril Society is certainly of interest. "This has already turned out to be something of an adventure, my friend, and if this is only the beginning, then, yes, it promises to be something rather epic!", he says with a grin. The first grin that has appeared on his face for quite a while.

To Grimsby he nods in acceptance and agreement and when Dash shouts up again at the airship he too moves a hand closer to his pistol. As he does so he begins to scan the area to be certain they are not being sneaked up upon.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:44, Wed 09 July 2014.

A kind of rattling noise sounds from behind the group, and they turn to see Remi leading a donkey pulled cart.

"The only one up there that you'll wake up is Hugo... assuming he even sleeps," Remi says. "Though if you keep bellowing like that, you could wake up the whole neighborhood."

"Now everyone... except you, Miss Stella, help me get this coal on board. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find someone willing to sell you coal at this hour of the night?"

He goes over to one of the mooring ropes and begins pulling on it, apparently in an effort to pull the ship lower.

Connor went over and lent some help to Remi, grabbing the same mooring rope and hauling on it, his muscles rippling underneath his shirt as he put his back into it and heaved.

From his almost sailor-like stance as he worked, it looked like the felinoid was familiar with this sort of thing, indeed the tiger-man quietly hummed an old sea shanty tune as he pulled. As for helping with the coal, he could probably take quite a bit in one go, but he figured he'd help bring the ship down before worrying about that.

Grimsby set aside caution for the moment and joined Remi and Connor pulling on the rope. Still a bit battered from his last adventure, he did not contribute as much as the felinoid, but he hauled away stoically despite his pain.

Relieved that their airship seems to still be 'theirs', Bellgrove moves to assist Remi and the others with his cargo, which would is rather vital to their next moves.

Pulling the ship down to the ground is fairly easy. Remi has kept it rather neutrally buoyant just for this reason.

He's managed to acquire 1.5 tons of coal, and it needs loading from the car into the ship's scuttle. With Dash injured, most of the shoveling is done by Remi, Connor, Bellgrove and even Mercy. Alhough not as srong as the men, she's done her share of coal shoveling and knows the proper technique so keeps pace with the others.

tha leaves Stella and Dash to keep watch during the 30 minutes it takes to finish the loading, including supplies.

About the time that Remi says it's okay to board the ship, Stella spots someone lurking in the shadows out at the edge of the little park where they've landed. It's about 1am now. the dark makes it hard to tell just who is lurking. It could be a curious local, or it could be someone with a more nefarious purpose in mind.

Stella sits in the cab while the winching down and loading are accomplished, keeping watch from the windows. When she spots someone in the shadows, she quietly alights from the vehicle and joins the others.

Approaching Remi, she says in a murmur, "Captain, we are being watched. There is someone on the edge of the park looking in our direction. I've only seen the one individual, but perhaps we should board quickly."

Grimsby draws the Webley again and says quietly, "I can stand guard until the others have boarded."

"I can as well," Connor spoke up, having just loaded the last bag of coal and another box of supplies, his ears perked up as he took up a position opposite of Grimsby, still facing the mysterious intruder, but within reach of one of the mooring lines in case he ended up having to cut it and then maybe hang onto it and climb if the ship needed to make a fast getaway.

As only he and Stella were on "guard duty", Dash was obviously keeping watch in the opposite direction from Stella.  So, not having overheard Stellas whispered comment to Remi, Dash continues to watch for unfriendlies in his view.

When Stella reports a lurker to the Captain Bellgrove responds, "The Lady is right. We all ought to be moving quickly."

With coal and supplies loaded, Remi has everyone board quickly, and then the ground anchors are pulled up. Remi feeds more gas into the balloon, and as the ship rises above the surrounding buildings and trees, he fires up the engines and the ship heads out to the south over the harbor, gaining height as it goes.

There was no further actions by the lurker, and the ship soon leaves him and Marseilles behind.

Once clear of France, Remi gives a sigh of relief.

"Well, I can see that your sojourn into the Marseilles night life was not without a bit of excitement," Remi says. "Would any of you care to fill me on your adventures?"

Grimsby says, "We had quite a few adventures, separately and together, and found some new companions. For myself, I saw the British consul and he told me that a vessel that sounded like the one we were pursuing had stopped nearby for supplies.  I fear it also left word of our coming with the Vril Society's local allies; I was pursued by two ruffians, and when I took a cab to escape, I found it already occupied by a third man who attacked me; as I was fighting him off, the cab crashed into another which, very fortunately for me, was carrying my friends, and together we fought off the villains, shooting the man who had attacked me -- whom we have now brought along --and accounting for the others. I expect Miss Marbury and Mr. Hawkesbury can tell of their own experiences and how they found our new allies." He  nodded respectfully toward Bellgrove and Connor.

Connor, after scrambling aboard the airship, had found a place by one of the windows and had sat down to watch, having never been aboard one before. Although it was a little disorienting at first, but soon enough, the felinoid was enjoying himself a little sitting and watching the world go by below them, his long tail flicking idly back and forth behind him as he rested one of his handpaws on his chin.

When Remi asked if anybody would care sharing their adventures, Connor held back for the time being, letting the others go first before he'd share his own experiences thusfar.

"Yes, well, as to that." Dash picks up the story where Grimsby left off, "Miss Stella and myself went to Mittlemann, as planned. There, they were in the process of loading and supplying a ship, to sail out on the morning tide. However, before we could speak with Mssr. Mittlemann, we were called to by Connor ... this gentleman." Dash indicates the Tigerman standing nearby.

"He was caged among several other cages and crates marked as belonging to some carnival, or circus. He claimed ..." Dash raised a hand and gestured at Connor to wait a moment before interjecting, "... that he was being kidnapped by the carnival folk.  And I admit that the fact he was well spoken and dressed in streetclothes -- neither of which one would expect of a creature that would have required caged transport -- went a long way to confirming his story."

"However, taking into account the quasi-legal status of our mission, as well as the possibility that the Vril Societys assassins might be dogging our tracks, I felt that involvement in an illegal slavery operation might be ... counter-productive to our needs.  I had every intention of bringing the situation to Mssr. Mittlemans attention -- as I was sure Mittlemann was not involved in such activities; a fact I later confirmed."

"I failed to take into account the power of female moral outrage, however, and before I could stop her, Miss Stella had freed the ... gentleman.  He then quickly boarded the nearby ship and proceeded to hunt down those he knew to be involved in his incarceration, and thrashed them quite publicly.  I do understand the impulse, and most likely would have done the same, if I were in his place.  However, I wasn't in that position, I was in the position of needing to keep Miss Stella and myself, and our mission, from being either delayed or even halted by French officials."

"I resolved that we needed to get out of there quickly, before any of the dozen-or-so Longshoremen, or even some sailor from the ship, should report the fracas on the docks, and summon the Gendarmes. I quickly consulted with Mssr. Mittleman, as Connor beat his way through the ship -- Mittlemann knew nothing of value, by the way -- and then, gathering Miss Stella, I suggested to Mr. Holmes, here, that avoiding the Gendarmes might be prudent and, simply to avoid the possibility of our mission coming to French attention, I offered him passage on this vessel, and out of France."

Dash took a breath, but when he opened his mouth to continue, something caught his attention, and he turned, frowning, to face Bellgrove.

"I had almost forgotten. Bellgrove, Mister Wander, here, showed up during the fracas on the dock, offering his assistance. But ... just what were you doing there, Sir, to show up so serendipitously?"

"How about I throw you in a cage sometime, steal all your things from you, then say you don't have a soul or deserve to be treated as anything but an animal, then we can see how long you'll like it," Connor sniffed indignantly at Dash, muttering in a quieter tone, "It's not as if I'm a vagrant or something, I have a respectable profession and a firm of my own to run."

The felinoid still couldn't believe how the human man was essentially rubbing his nose in the whole incident, even after he'd done his best to assist them, almost, just almost, wishing he'd kept his muzzle shut and let the show-people take him.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:02, Mon 21 July 2014.

Grimsby noting the tigerman seemed a bit disgruntled, interposed, "However it came about, I am very glad to make the acquaintance of one of your race, sir --I heard you called Connor, but I fear I did not catch your last name.  I have heard legends of such people in Yunnan, but I have never had the honor of meeting one before. I hope you can tell me something of the history of your people when time permits."

Dash slapped his forehead, then pulled his hand down over his face, to his chin, in frustration.

"Dammit, Mr. Holmes!  Are you intentionally being stupid?" Dash demands in a louder-than-normal voice, "No! No, let me correct that!  You are not being stupid, you are just ignorant; but I do not know if it is intentional, or simply your nature.  I just said that I would have had Mittleman set you free, and deal with those who abducted you!  I explained that I did not want to get directly involved for fear that it would force your involvement in the dangerous affairs which we are about!"

"But all you heard was 'I refused to free you'!  And you continue to ignore the fact that by Stella and myself getting directly involved in your release, we have forced you into a position which, now, may threaten your very life!  Let me ask you, Mr. Holmes, prior to tonight, how many times have you been attacked by an assassin wearing mechanical armor, never the less been shot at by one?  I'd be willing to bet good money that the events of this evening have never happened to you before, yes?"

"Now, right now, at this moment, you may be quite willing -- perhaps even pleased -- to join us in this endeavor.  Now you have most, if not all, of the facts with which to make a free choice.  The choice is now yours to stay involved.  But the fact is, that when Stella -- and I appologize, Miss Mulberry, if I sound angry or accusatory, I do not mean to be -- but the fact is, that when Stella opened the cage you were in -- without warning you that getting involved with us might lead you to being attacked by assassins and chased by a global Secret Society -- the fact is that she dragged you into involvement with us without giving you a choice."

"I willingly admit that you have been of tremendous assistance, and are a stout fellow -- one that I now would trust to have at my side -- but tell me, Mr. Holmes, if you would -- when Stella freed you, starting the sequence of events that got you involved in our dangerous business without first warning you ... please tell me how that differs from the actions of those scoundrels who threw you into a cage, without first asking you if you wanted to go into the cage?"

"Do you see my dillemma now, sir?  For us to take action and free you ourselves, has caused you to be forced into these dangerous proceedings, without giving you a choice.  That you may have chosen to join us, if we had told you of these consequences beforehand, is irrelevant.  We unintentionally gave you no such opportunity to choose."

"Is your conscience bothering you or something, Mr. Hawkesbury? Is that why you have so many apparent qualms with my joining this endeavor?" Connor shot back, having rose to his feet and moved so he was face to face with Dash, his violet eyes seeming to flash as he glared at the human, "Look, if it makes you feel any better, I know very well the dangers that I face in going along with you, I just don't fret over it as much as you do, and not that it's any of your business, but yes, I have been shot at before in my life, I've also done many things that would make even a former Rough Rider like yourself turn white, so kindly do us all a favor and calm down before I knock you senseless.

As I recall, I was free to run out on you lot and leave you in the lurch, but I chose to honor my debt to you for releasing me, and that remains my choice even with the full facts, and yes, if I could do it all over again I would."

The tiger-person's face softened a little as he put a hand on Dash's shoulder, adding in a calmer tone, "What's done is done, mate, and I don't think I'm going to come back and haunt you if I do die, so please, stop worrying and let's get on with the task at hand." All that being said, Connor backed down and resumed his seat, heaving a slight sigh..

Bellgrove had waited for the exchange to trail off before he spoke up, "It sounds, Mr. Hawkesbury as if you've been here in Europe for a bit too long. With Miss Stella's actions Mr. Holmes has his liberty. Liberty is never an easy state to have, but it does have its advantages. Indeed, any man who says they prefer a life of reliable captivity to challenging freedom is probably not one you would wish to rely upon.

"That brings me, I suppose, to your question regarding my 'fortuitous' presence. As I told you all early in the taxi, I'm with the New York Herald. I'm investigating a number of stories I was there tonight, because what began as something about the variety of entertainments. That led me to sideshows. I heard rumors that there were 'animal-people' in certain shows. That led me to our meeting tonight."

Stella interposes her small frame between Dash and Connor. "Peace, gentlemen, peace," she says, laying a hand on the arm of each fellow, "Pray, forgive my impetuosity, Mr Hawkesbury. You can chalk it up to female sentiment, if you will. And, Mr Holmes, I'm certain that we can arrange your debarkation at some sufficiently agreeable location along the Mediterranean, at any time that you wish to forego our company."

She turns to Remi. "As you may have gathered, this is Connor Holmes, an Irishman it seems and, as is usual with his countrymen, a 'divil' of a fellow in a fight," she says, her mouth crooking in a small smile, "Mr Holmes, this is the esteemed master of this vessel, Captain Remi."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:26, Mon 21 July 2014.

"Thank you, Miss Mullberry, but I believe I'll be doing more good by remaining in your party's company for awhile, and I am grateful you did insist on releasing me, otherwise I'd still be in quite the predicament," Connor replied, a bit more subdued and quietly now. The tiger-striped felinoid inclined his head when Stella introduced him to Remi, adding, "I am at your disposal, Captain, should you require the skills of a mechanical nature. If it needs building, repairing, or upgrading, I'm the cat for the job, not too shabby an operator either."

"I shall have to introduce you to Hugo," Mercy quips up at Connor's statement. "He's confined to the hold, for his weight shifting about the ship could cause problems, not to mention the ship tilting and toppling him overboard."

"Mechanics we have an abundance of... sky sailors not so much."

"Fortunately, the ship is small enough that Remi, with the able assistance of Viktor, can handle it pretty much on his own."

"So, have either of you ever been to Graustark?"

Dash takes a deep breath and slowly lets it out, as both Stella and Connor try to calm him.  However, there is still a little bit of a glare in his eyes when he says...

"But that's what I've been trying to say -- I'm sorry! I appologize for my earlier actions and attitude.  Of course there should have been no question about assisting you, Mr. Holmes ... Connor. I was just so wrapped up in trying to keep our activities discrete, and avoiding the attentions of these violent Vril people, that I wasn't thinking straight ... or, maybe it would be truer to say I was over-thinking everything"

"Helping someone in need is always the right thing to do, and doing the right thing should always supercede all other considerations.  Again, I appologize for not immediately coming to your aid, Connor, and, I would add that your actions since joining us have been nothing but commendable, sir.  You are a true gentleman, and a stout companion. Thank you."

Dash offers his hand.

"I'm not your garden-variety mechanic, miss, if you'll forgive my saying so," Connor replied to Mercy, "All the same, if there is need of me here, I am familiar with the workings of lighter-than-air ships, so please do not hesitate to ask if there is the need for another hand."


That being said, the felinoid took Dash's hand in a firm but not overbearing shake, when it was offered, the hint of a smile coming to the corners of his muzzle, "It's all right, Mr. Hawkesbury, apology accepted."

Stella puts both of her hands around the two gentlemen's, beaming at both of them.

When Mercy speaks to Conner about needing crewmen Bellgrove offers somewhat bashfully, "I am uncertain how helpful this will be given your needs, Captain, but I graduated West Point and served in the US Aerial Corps, myself. I can pilot and navigate and handle various crew duties, but I am afraid I do not have mechanical skills as such."