In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 301):

Mike
Despite years of experience working on the engine of the beater of a truck he used to haul moonshine all over Lovecraft Country, Mike had little idea what he was looking at as he examined the ship's massive engine. Pistons the size of barrel shot out of combustors at a frantic pace. The cranking and grinding of gears drowned out the sounds of the rest of the ship and the ocean. As he searched the compartment Mike let one hand trail along the waist-high railing that separated the walkways from the various parts of the engine. While there was no one present, there are signs of people having been there recently. An unsecured toolbox here, an open drawer there. But as much as Mike could tell there was no sign of a struggle.

Mike felt the itch for a drag from one of his few remaining Lucky Strikes but the sight of an extinguisher deterred him. Sweeping up and down the aisles of the engine rooms he can't help but think about the man they had nearly shot. Staring down the barrel of a gun people are known to say anything. Maybe he had lied about Daniel's plan. But the man's last words seemed as sincere as anything Mike had ever heard.

Don't let him change you...

Mike didn't know what the man had meant but it sounded like a good piece of advice.

Clarke
His time working with rebels had taught Clarke a thing or two about the art of sabotage. He knew how to find the weak spot in a wall or collapse a tunnel. But he had little experience with passenger liners engines. Was it as simple as throwing a wrench in the system? Some sugar in the gas tank?

For some reason the vibrations from the engine rising up through the soles of his shoes made Clarke anxious. As he walks along behind Mike he can see a figure flirt about behind the various machine parts. Just as he is about to raise the alarm the figure materializes as Zoe clad in a stained jumpsuit with her hair pulled back and hidden beneath a cap much like the women who had working in the factories during the Great War.

Snapping to attention she says "I've checked the engine sir and everything is boat-shape sir! Or is it ship-shape? All that's left is to swab the decks matey."

"Ugh.." comes the exasperated voice of Lara from behind Clarke. "I can barely think with all this noise and the whole place smells of grease and oil. If you're going to waste time at least pretend to be helpful." Clarke looks back to see Lara rubbing her temples. "That man said Daniel was going to sabotage the engine and leave us stranded at sea. The door was obviously tampered with but everything seems to be working. We must have missed something..."

Seeing no one hiding among the shadows of the large imposing cogs of the engines, Mike began to inspect the engine itself hoping to find any signs of tampering. Though he was still an amateur when it came to engines, he knew enough from working on his Chevy to tell natural wear and tear and deliberate tampering.

Today: Jrodimus rolled 20 using 1d100.  Mechanical Repair. Pass

Mud and oil.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 303):

After inspecting the engine for several tense minutes Mike determines that the engine is...fine. It seems that Captain Smith employed a competent crew that kept the engine in tip top shape. Mike doesn’t even see the tell tale signs of rodents and insects that are drawn to the heat of the engine. Wiping the sweat from his brow Mike gives a frustrated sigh. Was this all a goose chase? If so they had just wasted precious time...

Mike ran his fingers along the engine block, feeling the grease glide across his finger tips, then turned to Clarke. "The engine looks to be in ship shape. We might have been deceived." He sighed with resignation.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 305):

Clarke heard Mike but also strained his ears to see he could hear anyone moving about in the giant room.

Roll for listen: fail

He could not hear anyone out there, but that did not mean there was no one planting bombs. It was all very iffy.

"Let us pause for a moment," he said to Mike. "This engine is much larger than we had anticipated, and it is unlikely Daniel could bring enough supplies to destroy it without being noticed. So, he must be targeting a weak point. A specific section with gunpowder. You are familiar with the basic structure of an engine. Where would I place gunpowder to cause an eruption of some kind?"

Mike thought for a moment, "Well a ship engine is more complex than my Chevy's, but the most damage would be to the fuel tank. But that would likely sink us. Drive shaft or something similar would make sure we couldn't steer." Mike looked around to see if he could identify any of the components he mentioned.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 307):

Looking around, Mike sees a whirling cylinder overhead: the drive shaft. Turned by engine, it leads out of the hull and presumably to the propeller. He is also able to find a number of fuel lines but tracing them among the mess of wires and cables is tricky.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:24, Fri 20 Dec 2019.

Mike looked at the engine, "Well seems alright." Then suddenly struck by a thought he turned to Clarke, "Wait a second, maybe we got here early. Maybe this is an opportunity to lay an ambush for that bastard."

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 309):

Mike
The realization came upon Mike that the engine room was actually the perfect place for an ambush. With only one entrance Daniel wouldn't be able to surprise them. And the engine blocks provided excellent cover. Reaching into his pocket Mike felt out his remaining rounds. Counting those already in his revolver's cylinder they totaled six. More then enough to put a fucking hole in Daniel's head.

Around him the room seemed to shimmer in the heat coming off the exposed engine. Mike could feel sweat beading on his forehead. The pounding of the engine filled his ears and slowly changed...

Thump.... Thump... Thump... The sticky wet pounding of mud...

Mike REALLY wanted a cigarette...

Clarke
"Mike's right," said Zoe. She now appeared as she had back when they ran missions together. "If you take position here you'll have a direct line of sight." She holds up her hand, finger extended and pulls the imaginary trigger. "Bam!"

"It makes no sense though," says Lara as she marches up to Zoe from behind Clarke. Her loose flowing clothing are a stark contract to Zoe's form-fitting utilitarian gear. "Someone tampered with that door. They tried to make it so no one could get in. There has to be something in here. Something that we are overlooking. Maybe if we..."

Lara is suddenly cut off by a small childish voice.

"I think I found something Mister?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:20, Fri 20 Dec 2019.

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 310):

Clarke pivoted to see what his ... daughter ... had discovered. Zoe and Lara did not disappear this time. All of them, him included, seemed to be slowly adjusting to the girl's existence. He was not happy about it, but he had not been happy with his life since he had to shoot Zoe.

"What did you find?" he asked the girl.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 311):

"Mister! You're finally talking to me again!" says the little girl her face splitting into a beaming smile. Her hair was pulled back in an intricate braid keeping it clear of her crystal blue eyes. The simple dress she wore hung lank from her frail shoulders. In one hand she held a tattered stuffed rabbit that dragged on the ground as she walked.

The sudden pounding in his head made Clarke stumble (4 sanity damage). Grasping the handrail for balance he could feel his chest heaving for breath. His pulse was racing. It felt as if a boulder was sitting on his chest. He tried to take a deep breath to calm himself but he felt his throat seize. His vision began to swim before the world turned black...

BBBBBOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!!!

Normally the resounding crack of lightening so close would have made Clarke jump but he barely heard it over her screams. The impromptu shelter he had made did little to keep the torrent of rain out and they were both soaked to the bone. She screamed again. Clarke felt as if he was trying to put a broken egg back together. He had trained for many things in his life. He could pick off a man with a rifle at 100 yards. He could mix and administer a poison that could never be traced. But he knew jack shit about delivering a baby. Thankfully she was a strong capable women. He had always loved that about her. While he could see on her face the pain that racked her, he could also see the determination there too. A helpless bystander, Clarke watched as the baby began to crown.

"Get.... Ready.... Clarke!" she hissed between clenched teeth.

He watched in amazement as a new life came into the world, into his hands. He clutched his daughter to his chest, forever ruining his shirt, although that was the last of his concerns. A soft whisper drew his attention back to her.

"You need to protect our daughter Clarke," she said breathlessly. Childbirth had left her looking exhausted yet radiant. He remembered the first time they had met back in.... The memory was fuzzy, almost as if looking at two pictures transposed over each other. Before he could wonder more his attention was brought back to her.

"You know what you need to do love," she said softly. She slowly lifted her hand. She was holding out a pistol.

"You have to kill Zoe...."

WHUMP.... WHUMP.... WHUMP.... WHUP....

As suddenly as it started it was gone and Clarke found himself back in the engine room. Zoe and Lara were both looking at him with concern, their hands unconsciously reaching out.

"Hey Mister!"

The voice made Clarke jump.

"You're acting awfully funny Mister. Don't you want to see what Lepus and I found?"

Raising the stuffed rabbit she lifts its arm to point at a nearby electrical enclosure.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:46, Fri 20 Dec 2019.

"What did you find?" Mike heard Clarke say just audible under the din of the engine.

"Nothin' yet." Mike replied still Looking for a good place to hide for an ambush.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 313):

Clarke ignored his friend and shuffled in a daze toward the electrical enclosure. As he got closer, he paused and sniffed in the air. Despite the fumes, noise and dancing apparitions, he was certain the smell of gunpowder would not escape him. He had been around it too long.

"Mike," he said, "if I burned the electrical wiring, how would it affect our ability to steer?"

Mike fumbled for his cigarettes before remembering where they were. "Well, I'm not a ships mechanic. But depending on the damage it could affect steering and emergency systems. Anything that relies on electricity on the boat could be lost." He sighed, "Why do you ask?"

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 315):

"No reason," Clarke stated. He moved cautiously toward the cabinet and checked the area for any types of booby-traps.
Roll for spot hidden: fail

Understanding that there was no way to really determine if it had been set to explode or not without risking something, Clarke tapped the cabinet and ran his hand over the surfaces surrounding the box.

He sniffed his fingers to see if there was even the remotest trace of gunpowder.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 316):

Rapping a knuckle on the cabinet, it give a hollow thud. Running his fingers along the edges of the metal box everything seems to as expected. Clarke holds his fingers to his nose catching the faintest whiff of gunpowder.

Holding the stuffed rabbit to her ear, the girl listens intently. "Don't be silly Lepus, once we find the man we will kill him!"

In reply to The Keeper of Secrets (msg # 317):

Clarke ignored his daughter. It appeared from his previous encounter that requiring her aid took a toll on his already slipping grip with reality.

"Mike," he whispered. "There is gunpowder here. Daniel must have been interested in the electrics. Come here and see if my eyes have missed anything before I open the cabinet."

Mike walked over to Clarke and examined the breaker box. Though he could see the black gun powder that Clarke had pointed out, he couldn't tell if there was a booby trap or not.

16:04, Today: Jrodimus rolled 39 using 1d100.  spot hidden.Fail.

"I don't see anything, Clarke."

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 319):

"Be prepared for anything," he said.

He opened the cabinet slowly, hoping he was not going to start a spark or cause the destruction.

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 320):

The cabinet opens with a creak as the doors swing on metal hinges. Inside is a mess of wires and blinking lights, little of which Clarke can make heads or tails of. But what was glaringly obvious were the sticks of dynamite. Made from the same wax paper you had found in Daniel's cabin the sticks are wired together in a bundle. A small timer that is steadily counting down seems to be attached.

Mike sucked his breath in as the dynamite was revealed with the wiring. His hands started to shake when he saw the timer, but he quickly balled them into fists to stop them.

I really need a cigarette.

He could smell the mud and diesel, the cranks thudding as the engine turned. Like thunderous shells raining down upon trenches. He heard a whistle that sounded like a horse braying. He squeezed his eyes tight for a moment then opened them again, and the ruckus began to recede into the background as his eyes started to trace the dynamite's fuse to the time. Delicately he ran his finger down the fuse to trace it physically. Hoping not to set it off.

21:28, Today: Jrodimus rolled 53 using 1d100. Intelligence. Passed.

He looked Clarke in the eyes and nodded slowly, "I think we can get this out of here and dismantled." Slowly he began to lift the fuse away from the timer's lever to prevent it from igniting.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:47, Tue 24 Dec 2019.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 322):

Tracing the long fuse from the blasting cap to the timer Mike manages to isolate the metallic wire. It is held in place in the timer by a pair of small pincers that are designed to create a spark when the clock finishes its countdown. Carefully holding his breath to steady his hands Mike works to remove the fuse. Seconds tick by, the tension exacerbated by the audible ticking of the small clock...

Tick... Tick... Tick...

With a sigh of relief Mike pulls the fuse free.

Holding the stick of dynamite in one hand he feels some of the tension leave his shoulder. Now he just needed to figure out what to do with this deadly explosive.

Mike felt the weight of the powder packed tightly in the cylinder in his hand. "We were too late, which means Daniel is probably already heading to steal a life boat." He gritted his teeth, "and we need to dispose of this safely."

Shit.

In reply to Jrodimus (msg # 324):

Clarke took the dynamite from Mike. "Perhaps it is best we keep the fuses seperate from the bombs. These are perilous times, alas."

He nodded to the singing apparition who was his daughter out of respect for her help. She would doom them all in the end, but not yet, it seemed.


"Let us throw these vile things into the ocean and be done with the drama to our journey. Daniel can wait another day. If he makes it to the home of the rebels, we may have a chance to settle our scores with him. And if he settles his scores with us, then we may die satisfied and at peace we tried to save our dying world."

In reply to trahernwithglasses (msg # 325):

The daylight above deck is almost blinding compared to the dim environment of the engine room. The ship has seemed to have returned to normalcy as you see crew bustling about their regular duties. Finding a secluded area near the rear of the ship, Clarke takes the dynamite in one hand and with a heave sends it over the side and into the dark blue depths of the ocean.

Exhausted and worn out Clarke and Mike return to their cabin. After a brief knock, the door is quickly opened by Father Hennessy who ushers them inside. "What happened? Did you find Daniel?" he asks in a rush. But his questions are brushed aside as the two tired and beleaguered men literally fall into their bunks. Sensing the mood the father falls quiet.

Surprisingly the rest of the trip passes uneventfully. Aside from the mild ruckus over a missing lifeboat it was actually rather relaxing. Within a few days land is sighted and the ship comes alive with activity as the crew steer the massive ship into port. A sense of tension has been palpable from Father Hennessy. While he hasn't pushed the issue you can tell he still has questions about what transpired on the ship. The party gathers their few belongings and join the crowd heading towards the gangway.

As they exit the passenger cabins the party is approached by a number of obviously armed crew. "The first officer asked us to escort you off the ship," says one as they fall into step behind you. They follow you across the deck only stopping once you reach the railing and depart the ship.

Setting foot on dry land in what seems like ages the party is greeted with their first glimpse of Scotland.