Matthew takes the offered sample with eager curiousity. Pulling out his notebook and a jewelers eyepiece, he quickly begins to record his initial observations regarding the mass/weight ratio, composition and color. Once back with his equipment he could run further tests on density, conductivity and chemical reaction. He mumbles incomprehensibly to himself as he scribbles in his notebook, seemingly oblivious to everyone else around him. " Fascinating... that's interesting... what? ...no, couldn't be... how is that possible? ...perhaps it's a gaseous content."

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 178):

Grimsby exclaimed to Kentigern, "Conservative! That's not what the F.O. said after I came out of Afghanistan with a bagful of Cossack heads! But what is done on the frontier is one thing, and what can be done in the midst of--so-called--civilized Europe is another."

"Still, my caution only involved hot pursuit of the fleeing airship. If we are merely an (apparently) unrelated peaceful airship passing over France en route to the Balkans --or wherever this quest may take us -- there should be no grounds for international protest. I will board Remi's craft for the expedition."

Turning to Remi, he gave a brief bow and said in Arabic, "May your valiant vessel bear us through the heavens as his flying steed Buraq bore the prophet (upon whom be the praise and the blessing)."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:51, Sun 09 Feb 2014.

There was a slight commotion at the door, and a moment later, the butler escorted someone into the room.

Latimer seems to know the person, as he stands up and goes over to greet him.

"Mr. Worth! Back from your trip alreay?"

"Father, gentlemen and lady," Latimer turns to the others, "may I present Mr. Sam Wroth. As we were unhappy with our German investors, even before this incident, I've been looking around for another option. A mutual acquaintance recommended Mr. Wroth."

"He arrived two days ago."

"Mr. Wroth, let me introduce Miss Mercedez Kincaid and her mechanical bartender Hugo, my father Lord Kentigern, Mr. Denholm Hawkesbury from the United States, Mr. Matthew Renfrew the scientist, Mr. Grimsby Baskerville... a detective, I believe, and Mr. Remi, master of his own airship."

Clearly, he didn't know that much about everyone.

"Indeed, I spent a small amount of time walking the hills. A fine activity but one that could be endless in this country." Sam replies to Latimer during a brisk handshake.

Sam Wroth looks like he is ready for his day job at the bank, due to his rather default black suit. He accent confirms that he is English, or very good at faking it.

As each person is introduced he will acknowledge them with a firm handshake for the men, and a verbal "Charmed." for the ladies. The mechnical bartender just gets a raised eyebrow.

"I hope they are not all here to tender investment bids, the competition will be fierce indeed." Sam continues, as Latimer brought the issue up he felt safe in mentioning it himself.

Grimsby replied, "No, indeed, we are not rival investors. Speaking for myself, I am an agent of the Colonial Office, usually on duty on the Indian frontier, but as I happened to be in London when this singular affair broke out, I have been seconded to the protection of Lord Kentigern and his  potentially valuable property."

Dash, standing next to Grimsby and nodding his head, jumps in,

"My story is pretty much the same as Grimsby, here.  We interrupted a rather -- hostile -- take over attempt on His Lordship, down in London, and I tagged along for the excitement.  And the potential trade opportunities.  My card."

Dash produces a business card from his left trouser pocket, and hands it to Sam.

"Denholm Agravain Saebroc Hawkesbury, of the Hawkesbury Trading Company, Nantucket, Boston and San Francisco, at you service, sir."

"Oh and do call me Dash.  Everyone does."

"Protection? Hostile takeover attempts that required the precursor of rather? Well this won't do. I came here expecting to broker a deal regarding this and I find that my potential competitors are already resorting to underhand methods and techniques.  This won't do at all." Sam seems a tad taken back by the information he has just received and inferred.

"No, this type of affair has no place in business. Latimer what ever your plans are to deal with this, count me in on them. Consider it a requirement, if you will, of future investment in this matter." Sam follows on to declare.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:34, Fri 14 Feb 2014.

Mercy had been silent as they entered the mansion.  When the men started talking about things that had no interest to her, she vanished into a corner somewhere. She plopped herself down and began to disassemble a cock, that happened to have vanished from the mantel.

She reached into her pouch and pulled out a jewelers glass, putting it on as she got to the intricate part of he clock.  She was so focused on what she was doing that she had no idea that another person had arrived.

Having been a cavalry officer, he understood all about charges, but charging off to Graustark in an airship was beyond his experience. There was implications that the princess was to be assassinated... assuming that the names on the list were, indeed, targets. The first name on the list had been Kentigern; but had it referred to the mine here or to the assassination attempt. Those here at the mine might not have known if the assassination attempt was successful or not, or might have jumped the gun... whoever had made the list and crossed off the first name.

On the other hand, perhaps they had gotten word that it hadn't been successful and that Kentigern was on his way home. That would certainly explain why they had left so abruptly.

Still, Princess Yetive of Graustark was in this odd society's sights. Plus Cavor was being taken there. Well, they didn't really know that, but that's sure what it looked like.

So there were going to head to save the day. On the off chance that Cavor had gone somewhere else, there was Lord Kentigern, his son Latimer, Samuel Clemens and Anastasia still here to look for other leads.

Viktor wasn't that versed in the legal and political ramifications of their actions, so he felt it best to not intrude in the negotiations. He glanced around and spotted Mercy sitting on the floor by the fireplace. It looked like she was repairing one of the Baron's clocks. Apparently the dialogue wasn't her cup of tea either.

He moved over to where she was sitting and sat down near her.

"Not interested in the gabfest either?" he asked, then nodded to the clock and added, "Is it broken?"

"I do not wish to rush anyone," the Fezzani national suggested, "but the other ship has quite a headstart on us. If we fly a bit higher, we might catch a strong wind that can make up the time. The longer we wait, the harder that will be."

He had not been here in Scotland long, but the cold March weather did not agree with his desert metabolism, though he could tolerate it better in the open skies.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:57, Fri 14 Feb 2014.

"Huh," Mercy says as she looked over at Viktor. She was now holding what looked like the inner works for something. "No it was working fine," she says as she went back to work. She began to assemble pieces here and there. After a moment it seemed like her idea was coming forth as she continued work. Viktor could now see it was starting to look somewhat like a bird.

In reply to Remi (msg # 189):

Grimsby replied, "I am ready to go, and fly as high as you think wise." He had become sufficiently acclimated to Indian temperatures that he had no great fondness for Scottish weather either.

Dash nodded in agreement.

"Just let me grab my coat and my trunk, and I'm ready."

Dash looked over to where Mercy and Viktor were talking quietly, their heads together over some object Mercy was working on.

In a fair immitation of a Boston Blueblood drawl, Dash called out, "Oh Miss Mercy, Viktor, old chap - uh-ha - fancy a balloon flight over to The Continent?"

Stella is looking somewhat pale and wan with dark circles around her eyes when she joins the company in time to hear Mr. Hawksbury say:


"Oh my," she remarks, "Are we going to fly again? Well, I hope by now I will have gotten my... What is the aerial equivalent of 'sea legs' then? Never mind.

"If you are bound for Graustark, I may be of some assistance, as I have one or two connections in the region."

Matthew pauses momentarily when he notices the small 'bird machine' the young lady is working on. He approaches her hesitantly, his curiosity battling with his lack of confidence in addressing a lady, " Excuse me, Miss Kincaid?" he politely asks, " Is the machine one of your own design? I have a few cogs, wire and the like if you need." his interest so compelling, he boldly leans into her personal workspace for a better look at the design and/or any trace of the Cavorite element.

In reply to Stella Mulberry (msg # 193):

Grimsby comments "I am glad to hear you may know some useful people in Graustark.
Most of my informants are the other side of the Caucasus, or at least the Bosphorus."
This message was last edited by the player at 00:38, Sun 16 Feb 2014.

"Past contacts are good, I have a few all around the world myself, by virtue of the transient nature of business. We should also keep in mind that new contacts are only a introduction away. Quite often portraits of the monarch, signed by the manager of the bank of England, can generate those introductions." Sam adds, wanting to aid in the ways he understood best.

"Ha!" Dash exclaims cheerfully, slapping his right knee with his right hand, "I got that one!"

Dash looks from Grimsby to Remi, then back again.

"He's talking about Baksheesh..." Dash says with a wink, bringing up his left hand and rubbing the thumb over the fingertips, repeatedly, "Palm Grease... La Pequeña Recompensa..."

Dash turned towards Sam with a grin, "On the floors of the great Trading and Shipping Houses we just call it Operational Costs."

Grimsby comments "Baksheesh in some form seems to be a universal language, though actual coin is more acceptable than paper in most of the wilder corners of the world where I have wandered. I have not been to Graustark, but I believe it would be about on the border of the civilized zone. Paper might pass in the capital, but I would not offer it in the hills."

"My ship is at your disposal," Remi replies, quickly growing impatient with all the palavering. "Bring whatever baggage you think you'll need, but make haste! My ship sails in 20 minutes!"

"My own contacts lie somewhere south of Graustark, but I might have one or two there as well. The Turks have not been gone from the region for that long."

"I am already packed, Captain," Stella says firmly, "I just need a strong man to fetch my trunk down to the landing stage." Her gaze sweeps over the gallant assembly, then she turns to Mercy.

"Mercy, dear, what a clever contraption. Will you bring it along to Graustark?"

Mercy was too caught up with what she was doing when Denholm called out.  "Hum . . .," was all she said as she continued to work.  She had all the innards set and was now working on a frame to keep it all in place.



She did not even notice as Matthew leans over to see what she was doing.  Again her response was, "Hum . . ." She was too wrapped up in what she was doing at the moment to comprehend what was being said to her.



There was just something about Stella's voice that seemed to cut through her concentration.

"What," she says as she whipped her head about, nearly smacking her face into Matthew's body who was in her personal space.

In reply to Remi (msg # 199):

Grimsby says "Right you are. No point talking when we could be flying. I'll collect my bag and join you on your ship forthwith." He goes to collect his light traveling bag.

"It seems we are moving, Ladies, Gentlemen. I will meet you at this airship." Sam says. He leaves the room to collect his travelling gear.

"Right-o!" Dash says, heading out to gather his gear.

"What's that Detective fellow down in London, the one who's always getting his name in The Strand magazine -- what's that he's always saying? Ah, yes -- The game's afoot!"