Remi watched Grimsby's silhouette reflect itself in his glass, and instinctively he grasped his Scimitar with left hand. He was not taking any chances with any more strangers. But then he spoke Arabic, granted not the Dialect of Berber, it was queer to hear the tongue spoken so far west. Remi turned himself to look at the man, noting that the man had his hand in his pocket.

"Remove your hand from the pocket then I will converse with you. I have had enough surprises this evening," he stated sternly back in his native tongue. Remi's eyes locked with the newcomer's.
This message was last edited by the player at 06:43, Thu 04 Aug 2016.

Viktor was about to reply to Remi's inquiry about slipping away, but was delayed by yet another tasty gulp of the ale he had been enjoying at the bar as he attempted to be ever so nonchalant in the presence of the local authorities.

Having already taken a liking to the African, simply on the idea that he had risked his life to save a man he did not know, the former cavalry officer visualized and mentally prepared for what it would take to smash his mug into the new arrivals face, just in case.

Although it seemed the two were conversing in Remi's native tongue and that was calming somewhat to the situation. Viktor half faced the new comer (Grimsby) and curled his mouth into a smile, hoping for the best. He really wanted to introduce himself to the beauty who had caused the commotion in the first place, alerting everyone to the danger. It was too bad she was seated right at the center of the legal storm as it were, effectively cutting Viktor and his dubious immigration status, off from meeting her, for the moment...

"Denholm Agravain Saebroc Hawkesbury," Dash managed to only wince a little, as he raised his arm to take Lord Kentigern's hand, "Of the Hawkesbury Trading Company, Boston, Nantucket, and San Francisco.  At your service, Sir.

"Under more normal circumstances I would be pleased to be of any further assistance -- even if it were only to help you commisserate over your misfortunes. However, I'm afraid that the blast from that infernal pistol has not only burned away the back of my jacket, but it has rather heavilly blistered my back.  I ask your forebearance, should I fall down.  I am feeling rather light headed, just now..."

Dash glances around, and barely manages a controlled fall into a nearby chair, rather than collapsing onto the floor.

"I say, would someone summon a doctor." Dash manages to get out through gritted teeth.

At Lord Kentigern's comments, heard by nearly everyone in the club, Mr. Twain walked over to him.

"My dear sir, how can you claim to be ruined when you have friends like these?" Twain gestured around at those who'd just saved his life.

"Save my life they may have, but I am not so sure they did me a favor!" responded Kentigern. "I do not know these people, so why should I consider them friends?"

"Sir!" Mr. Twain replied in exasperation. "I do not hold much stock in nobility... the majority of them are parasites on society... but faster friends you could not find! So let me introduce them to you."

Nearly ignoring the police presence, Twain promptly goes around and introduces Kentigern to everyone. Even if he doesn't know that person, he introduces him or her. He starts with Anastasia, elicits Matthew's name from him, moves on to Viktor, Remi, Grimsby, Leon, Mercy, even Hugo, Tesla and finishes with Miko, who he hasn't even met yet.

"Of course, Matthew here wasn't involved, but he heard the shots and rushed into the face of danger to help!"

"I am an observant fellow... a nosy one by others' lights... so I couldn't help notice that your choking episode was prompted by the telegram you were reading. That leads me to believe that this ruination of which you speak is quite recent, recent enough that it may not yet be set in stone. These assassins would seem to verify that, else why go to so much effort to eliminate you?"

After Denholm alerted everyone to his need of a doctor, Felix stepped away from his examination of the two bodies and began treating Denholm.

After performing his introduction service, Mr. Twain chose to join Edmund and Miko.

"My apologies, Madame, if I embarrassed you by dragging you into this sordid affair," he says to Miko. "However, I perceive you to be a bit more than you appear. If it is not prying, might I enquire what brings you so far from your homeland?"

Tesla and Mercy go over to the constables and ask to examine the weapons, which the sergeatn reluctantly hands one over to Nikola.

"It is my design," Tesla comments to Mercy, "but it is not of your construction."

"How do you know that?" asks the sergeant.

"It is close," Tesla explains, "but the lensing brass is too large, resulting in poor focus and shortened range. Clearly, Mercedez did not construct this weapon. I have seen the one she made. It is of superior quality to this one, though no less effective."

In reply to Remi (msg # 51):

Grimsby cautiously removed his hand from his pocket and turned it over to make plain it held no weapon. Still in Arabic, he continued "I trust to the honor of a warrior that we may speak in peace."

Remi let his hand leave the sword, gesturing to the stool next to him, turning back to his drink.

"I'm no warrior, just a man who has no more patience for such silly things," he said, keeping his back to the Constables still.

"You ask why I am here? I think the better question is why does the Whiteman know our Language?" Remi questioned, still speaking in a flowing and elegant Arabic. He was very curious as to why this man came to him speaking Arabic straight off, making him wonder if he was an agent of sorts.

Though, Grimsby looked like no Frenchman he's seen before...
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:40, Wed 16 Oct 2013.

Grimsby said, "I learned the tongue of the Prophet while traveling in the east; I am a wandering scholar particularly given to the study of speech, a skill which has at times been of service to the Crown. Forgive me if I presumed too much in addressing you. It is rare to have an opportunity to use this language in London." "
This message was last edited by the player at 01:51, Mon 14 Oct 2013.

After Felix proclaimed the two would-be assassins to be dead, the sergeant began searching the body. That included removing the gloves that the assassins were wearing.

"Now that's strange," he commented, holding up the hand of one of them. "They have no fingerprints."

There was also a tattoo on the back of each hand.

"Mr. Grimsby, sir," the sergeant called out, "what do you make of this?"

While waiting for Grimsby to respond, the sergeant went through the pockets of both men. All he found was ten pounds each and a note that had few words on it: Kentigern Gas Lamp Club.

That personage in question was still flabbergasted from Mr. Twain's... tirade. He was not used to being spoken to in such a manner, particularly from a commoner. It took him time to work through the 'insult', which, perhaps, was Mr. Twain's intent, as it gave Kentigern time to actually process his words.

"Dash it!" he finally replied to Mr. Twain's retreating back. "What can I do? They'll have armed guards on the mine by now! By the time the courts wade through the legal issues, it'll be too late!"

"Perhaps you are right," Tesla interrupted, seeing as how Twain had other things on his mind. "I am not legally-minded or trained, but since it has been used against me by certain unscrupulous individuals who shall remain nameless, I might suggest the barely legal phrase 'possession is nine-tenths of the law'."

"Exactly!" Kentigern replied, missing Tesla's point.

"Then all you need to do is take repossession of the mine!" suggested Tesla.

"Of course, of course... all I need to do... as if it was that simple!" protested Kentigern.

"If it was 'that simple'," answered Tesla, "it wouldn't be worth doing."

He gestured around at the patrons in the club before continuing.

"I see at least a dozen people that I would venture are willing to assist you... not for any monetary gain, though I suspect that wouldn't be turned down, but... for the sheer adventure of it!"

"And, if I'm not mistaken, you have your own airship currently moored at St. James Park. We could be in Scotland by morning."

His handcuffs removed after a few long seconds after Mark Twain of all people came to his defense, Matthew massaged his wrists gently. Overcome once again with a sudden contradiction of desires, the young man wanted as before both to retreat and press forward. The former was, as ever, the most logical choice; here he was caught up in what was likely to become a criminal investigation, and the police had already tried to arrest him once. Matthew didn't fancy his chances of staying out of prison if he stayed in the club, not one bit.

However... behind the bar he could see a most curious contraption. Some manner of mechanical man; Mr. Carswell's automaton, no doubt. It seemed well made at any rate, but that was just the exterior. For all Matthew knew there was a dwarf inside operating it. Glancing around at the people decidedly not paying him attention, he slipped away from the constables and towards the bar.

"Ahem." He coughed into his hand quietly, attempting to get the attention of the object of his interest without attracting anyone else's. Rummaging through his pockets, he placed a bit of money on the counter; not much, but likely enough to buy him the cheapest drink this place had to offer. Matthew glanced over his shoulder as he waited for the automaton to respond. The nobleman and the others were arguing about something. Airships, Scotland, armed guards... it didn't sound like something the young man would like to get involved in.

"Name. Your. Poison." the mechanical bartender responded to Matthew's prompt. He moved with somewhat jerky movements, and made a considerable amount of noise from clanking and escaping steam. It was made with quite a bit of copper and brass overlaying an iron structure. It had amber diodes for eyes.

The robot glanced down at the coins on the counter and added, "Sarsaparilla. It. Is."

As the robot went about fetching Matthew's drink, Matthew noticed that most of the club's customers seemed inured to the mechanoid's noise. A few no doubt looked over just for the novelty of the bartender, or else in hopes it would explode or at least break down.

It had set the drink down on the counter and taken half of Matthew's coins when its eyes suddenly glowed an electric blue and it spoke again in a different voice.

"Cavor. In. Graustark."

As suddenly as it came, the eyes returned to their amber shade.

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 58):

Grimsby Baskerville on being addressed by the sergeant, winced slightly --he had not expected to be so openly recognized as having official status - but said to Remi, "Pardon my haste. I must take my leave as duty calls."
He bowed slightly, went over to the policeman and examined the hands of the dead men. He remarked, "It appears these fingerprints have been deliberately obliterated, perhaps by cutting or burning. In India the Anthropometric Bureau has lately been devising a system of criminal identification by fingerprints, based on the work of Sir Francis Galton here and others abroad. It appears that someone was very determined these fellows should not be identified by such methods."
He then examined the tattoos and added --"the fact that both men have these tattoos suggests they are insignia of some secret society or criminal brotherhood, like the Assassins of old. Clearly this was no random crime."

((OOC: OMG!!  Guys -- GUYS!!  I was just re-reading this thread, to see if I had missed anything, and I just realized that TWICE now we have ignored Anastasia TALKING TO US!!! As proper GENTLEMEN I believe we owe the Lady our attentions, wouldn't you agree? My sincere appologies, Miss Anastasia. ^_^ Dash/Vince))
This message was last edited by the player at 05:15, Tue 15 Oct 2013.

((OOC: Okay, I've waited a few days, and since Felix hasn't posted since Oct. 4th, I'm just gonna move on. StarMaster has informed me of the extent of Dash's injuries, so...))

The good-looking chap who presented himself as a Doctor assisted Dash to re-seat himself sitting backwards on the chair, so that the Doctor might have better access to Dash's injured back.

The entire back of Dash's tan sackcloth jacket was completely burned away, leaving only the collar keeping it all attached to itself. The back of his white cotton shirt was heavilly soot-marked, and had several spots where the material was burned away, but the shirt was still, mostly, intact -- until the Doctor produced a penknife and cut it all away from Dash's injuries.

"Ahhh..." Dash cried out as the Doctor cut away his shirt back, "I don't know which hurts more," he continued through pain-gritted teeth, "my injuries, or the loss of a fine Egyptian cotton tunic!  My tailor shall weep, Doctor, when I tell him."

"Better the shirt than your epidermis, my good man." Felix responded, as he poked, prodded, and diagnosed the severity of Dash's injuries, "Just some moderate blistering, for the most part, with a few serious small but serious spots."

Felix looked up without actually seeing the people around him, "I shall need a pot of hot, clean water, a bottle of tincture of Iodine, and some clean bandages -- quickly, if you please." he called out, then turned back to Dash's back, produced a pair of silver tweezers from a jacket pocket, and began carefully removing bits of burnt thread from the more serious burn blisters.

"Ssss..." Dash hissed, as the Doctor began his ministrations, then he looked up at Anastasia with a grimace.

"Sorry, Miss, I heard you speaking, but I'm afraid I didn't quite hear what you were saying." Dash hooked a thumb back over his shoulder, indicating his injuries, "Though I would like to say it was quite bully of you to confront those two bruisers, as you did.  I daresay, if it wasn't for you bringing the entire rooms attention upon them when you did, things might have turned out much more grisly, once they'd shot His Lordship, there, and then had to blast their way out, after the deed."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:14, Tue 15 Oct 2013.

Grimsby can see that the black tattoos on the back of the assassins' hands are in the shape of a hand. However, the edges of the tattoo are slightly blurred, indicating that the tattoos were probably done with India ink... and that they are only temporary tattoos. In fact, they aren't true tatoos at all, just drawings on top of the skin, possibly to cover up something underneath.

Head practically whipping round at the mention of an airship, Anastasia could scarcely believe what she was bearing witness to. Mere moments had passed since one vision had come to be, and she was now watching the seeds of another take root. She cared little for the Lord's plight, and had half a mind not to go in order to see what would happen if she directly contradicted the premonition. She could overhear two men conversing in Arabic, though she was only passingly familiar with the tongue and didn't catch much more than the general jist of their words.

Anastasia was neither foolish nor ignorant; she knew that few of the men present would believe her were she to recount her vision to them. Which meant, of course, that she would have to find some other reason for why she would be interested in joining Kentigern on his expedition. After all, women of her standing didn't typically dash off to join complete strangers on spontaneous missions to reclaim mines. But then, women of her standing weren't commonly found declaring themselves the lover of technologically advanced assassins and then shooting the aforementioned  paramour.

"I should be glad to accompany you, Lord Kentigern. I do not wish to be in London when my mother hears what has transpired here tonight. I don't quite know if Scotland is far enough, but I suspect we shall soon find out. Not to mention that those assassins might not look kindly on us interfering with their work. I should rate my odds of survival rather low if I were attacked by myself, rather than in the company of these able individuals."

A pained hiss drew Anastasia's attention to the man who had thrown himself at the Lord to get him out of harm's way, and in doing so caught the blast of the strange weapon. Though it was more than a tad inappropriate for him to be addressing her while in such a state of undress, she supposed that she could overlook it given the circumstances. The doctor's call for supplies was routinely ignored by Anastasia, for never once in her life had such a request been directed at her rather than a servant.

"I was merely speculating about the origins and motives of the assassins, though I believe that the police may have the matter under control now."

Her tone turned dubious at the tail end of this sentence, clearly still unconvinced of the competency of the men. A touch of color rose in her cheeks at the mention of her outburst earlier, more due to the fact that it had failed than anything else.

"I had rather hoped that they would have halted once I drew the attention of the club to them, but clearly they were far more determined than I realized. I just wish to reassure you that the dead assassin is not named Harold, and he is not my estranged lover that fled to the colonies with a harlot. It was the most attention grabbing thing I could devise at such short notice."

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 64):

Grimsby looked at the assassins' hands more closely and said, "It seems these tattoos are only temporary. If we could clean them off, we might learn something from whatever lies beneath. While subtler chemicals might be more suitable, we might try just wiping them with a cloth dipped in alcohol--there is plenty of that available."

Glancing up sharply at Anastasia, he comments, "I had not learned of your earlier statements yet, but I am glad you cleared that up.  This case looks to be quite intricate enough without any additional fictions. Not that I blame you for saying what you did at the time. You may have saved a valuable life."

Looking over at Kentigern, he added, "Speaking of which, Your Lordship, I trust you will permit me to escort you on your journey. We do not want your life to be lost in Scotland after it has been saved here."
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:34, Wed 16 Oct 2013.

Kentigern was one of those nobles who'd had things done for him his whole life rather than actually do anything himself. He would tell others to do something and it would get done. Or else it was something he played at, like fox and hounds. It wasn't always that these nobles were incompetent, though it was mostly the older silver spoon-fed son (and daughter) that grew up spoiled, having everything done for them and only required to hobnob with other nobles. The younger sons were the ones that became men-of-action.

While it seemed that Kentigern fell into the former category, it also appeared that he might be made of sterner stuff.

Having been given a plan, and in such a way as to knock the starch out of his stiff-upper-lip, he was now resolved to fight.

"Your presence, Mr. Grimsby, would be most appreciated," he began making the rounds.

"I may not have been an ardent supporter of the modern woman before now," he said to Anastasia, "but you, madame, have opened my eyes. I would be honored if you would join us as well, Miss Waldorf-Smythe."

"If would also appear, Mr. Tesla, that you have already invited yourself along," Kentigern says to the electrical engineer. "Again, I would be honored, but can't help wondering why."

"I am not the detective that Mr. Holmes is," Nikola replied, "but I feel an obligation and an overwhelming desire to find out from whence these electric guns have come."

"What he said!" Mercy interjected. "If he's going, then I'm going!" She glanced over at the bar before adding, "And I'm bringing Hugo! He's got something to do with this... even if I don't know just what yet."

Kentigern glanced at Tesla first, who nodded, before replying, "I'm not sure I could keep you off the ship if I wanted to, My Good Lady, but your company would be most welcome!"

"I ain't no lady!" Mercy snapped back.

"I suspect you are," was Kentigern's response, "and perhaps much, much more."

Kentigern next went to Dash. "Mr. Hawkesbury, having saved my life once already, it would be quite presumptious of me to request your presence aboard my airship for this foray north, but I do ask if you would care to join us?"

His next stop was Matthew.

"You, sir, are of singular courage or else sublime foolishness to have run into this club not knowing if the gunplay was done," Kentigern said. "I believe I can use a bit of both on this excursion. Mr. Dixon, would you care to join us?"


((OOC: More to follow...))

"My good doctor," Kentigern began, addressing Felix, "I daresay such adventure is probably not to your liking, but I am quite sure your presence will be greatly appreciated, though hopefully not needed."

Kentigern moved over to the bar next, where Viktor and Remi were standing.

"Mr. Stahler, Mr.... ah, Remi," he addressed them. "You are quite handy with firearms and sabre. I fear such men of action as yourselves will be sorely needed on this venture. Will you join us?"

"Mr. Kauffman, as an acquaintance of Miss Kincaid," Kentigern then said to the German pilot, "you are also welcome to join us. I cannot say if your particular talents will be needed, but certainly our journey will begin in the air. Technically, I suppose it started here in the Gas Lamp Club, but think of this as the single step from which our real journey will begin."

Finally, Kentigern walked over to the table where Mr. Twain was attempting to charm Miko, but not ignoring the professor either. Before Kentigern could say anything, Mr. Twain spoke first.

"It would be a strange day, indeed, should Nikola Tesla, who disdains such random adventuring, go on one without Samuel Clemens! Angry demons could not keep me away, sir!"

"I certainly hope Miss Miko-san will accept my invitation to accompany me," Mr. Twain continued. "She is here to expand her experiences of other cultures, and this is the perfect opportunity to visit Scotland."

"As for Professor Trowbridge here," Twain further explained, "I'm sure he's eager to join us but I fear his duties at the college may keep him from doing so. And someone will need to explain Miss Miko's unexpected trip."

"Yes, yes," Edmund quickly agreed with Twain's 'excuse', "my schedule completely prohibits me from joining you, as much as I would like to. Plus, in order to... uh, cover Miko's unexpected field trip, I'll have to fill out at least a dozen forms... get permission from other professors... going to Scotland at this time is completely out of the question."

Seeing that Lord Kentigern was already moving on after accepting his offer of protection, Grimsby Baskerville merely nodded briefly in acknowledgement and turned back to the corpses. Dipping a handkerchief in alcohol from an abandoned glass, he began rubbing briskly on the tattoo to see if he could discover any sign beneath.

"Well, Miss, rest assured that attention is indeed what you grabbed!  I don't doubt but that every single male head in this room turned to look, once you started lashing into that rogue.  Surely you must have know that?  And also that, if either one of them had made any move against you, physically -- which, actually, they did -- that said action of yours would have brought half the men in this room to their feet to defend you.  Which, as it happens, is pretty much what happened.  Again, Miss, a clever, quick-thinking strategem. Very clever."

One of the Club's waiters brought a tray with a pot of steaming water, several clean bar towels, a small brown-glass bottle with ball of cotton wadding, and three rolls of gauze bandaging.  Felix immediately took up a towel and soaked it with hot water and began gently abrading the worst blisters, afterwhich he applied iodine with the cotton wadding.

"Say, Miss," Dash added, looking thoughtfully up at Anastasia, "just what was it clued you to the nefarious nature of those two, any-ee-yahaha!" Dash suddenly ground out in pain, turning his attentions from Anastasia to the doctor's ministrations, "If I didn't know you were a doctor, Doctor, I would swear you were the the Bos'ns mate from the old Sea Spray who gave me my first three stripes from the lash, back when I was twelve."

"I assure you, Sir, that I am being as gentle as possible." Felix groused in reply, "And your salty anecdotes aside, this proceedure shouldn't hurt nearly as much as you profess.  Now I reccommend that you be a man about this, Sir, and shut up."

Dash's eyes went wide, "Be a...?  Be a what?!" he sputtered in mock indignation, searching the room for unfound support towards his suffering.  Finding no such support, he suddenly grinned, and relaxed a little in the chair.

"Oh, I like this Doctor." Dash pronounced to the room in general, "He's got grit.  Yes, ineed, he does."

"If the good Doctor, here," Dash responds, hooking a thumb back over his shoulder, at Felix, "pronounces me fit for duty, I shall be happy to go.  A chance to travel with Nicola Tesla, of all people, on an adventure into Scotland to recover a stolen mine from villans who have the audacious grit to send lightning-gun armed assassins into London, the very heart of the British Empire!  By Heaven, Sir, who would not wish to go?"


((OOC: What I Listened To, While Writing This Post: "Best of InuYasha" audio soundtrack.  Yes, in Japanese ^_^ ))
This message was last edited by the player at 04:21, Thu 17 Oct 2013.

Lord Kentigern, my sword and pistol are at your service.  Viktor replied to the English nobleman's offer of an adventure. He assumed he'd have some better odds of avoiding deportation in the Lord's company, he liked the idea of travelling on a quest as it were with other brave souls such as Remi and then of course the beautiful Anastasia would be going and that would allow him to get to know her, he hoped. I have no love for dishonorable assassins and even less for the despicable types who would employ them.  I hope to assist you in any way I can. The cavalry officer smiled charmingly , then glanced first to Remi and next to Anastasia.

Using some strong alcohol--vodka seems to work just fine--Grimsby is able to wipe off the black hand symbol. Underneath is a strangely-shaped 'V', or possibly two 'V's, one above the other.

The point is toward the wrist.

((OOC: There is a picture of it in the Group 1 Game Map tab.))
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:35, Fri 18 Oct 2013.

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 72):

Grimsby Baskerville eyes the newly revealed VV symbol and remarks thoughtfully, "A singular and sinister mark.  That both these fellows bear it confirms that they were both members of the same cult or brotherhood."

Grimsby did recognize the over tattoo, which was apparently meant to incriminate the Black Hand. That's a group of anarchists. The under symbol he does not recognize at all; it's a new one for him.


"Well, then," Lord Kentigern announces, "I see some of you need to make arrangements. So, shall we meet in St. James Park... in one hour?"


One of the club's servers brings a new shirt and jacket to Dash.

"I believe these will fit you, sir," the server says. "It might not be up to your usual sartorial standards, but we are quite aware that accidents can happen, and try to keep spares in stock. Truth to tell, though, sir, no one has ever been shot here before. You now hold the nebulous honor of being the first!"

Grimsby added "The Black Hand and is a tolerably well known sign, used for an Italian gang of anarchistic tendencies who extort funds from their fellow-countrymen in Britain and abroad to support their dubious cause. But the underlying symbol is new to me.  The hand is bad enough, but if it is only meant to divert us from the true nature of these villains, they must be even worse."