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."