An hour seems to pass all too quickly, and those who are willing to aid Lord Kentigern meet him in St. James Park, an area not too far from the club.

Not surprisingly there are two other airships moored in the park. One is a royal airship; the other looks to be privately owned.

Only one, though, has activity around it. Lord Kentigern's airship is just finishing taking on supplies.

The name of the airship is The Flying Scotsman.

Mercedez Kincaid and Hugo are already there, as are Samuel Clemens and Nikola Tesla.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:45, Wed 23 Oct 2013.

The former Ruritanian cavalry officer had retrieved his meager belongings from the hotel room he had been provided with and now strolled across the park enjoying the brisk night air and carrying his duffle bag.

Good evening again Miss Kincaid, Mr. Tesla and Mr. Clemens.  ah...HugoViktor glanced at the airship sans all the cargo activity Who does that one belong to, if I might inquire? He spoke to the entire group. I do hope the rest of our Company will be joining us soon. I'm anxious to be away from here for Lord Kentigern's sake, knowing whoever tasked those despicable assassins is still on the loose. They are sure to have discerned by now that the plan was foiled and may be none to fond of all of us at this stage of the game I fear.

Grimsby Baskerville packed his kit with the efficiency of experience, notified the Colonial Office of the direction his investigation was taking him and arrived at the park in time to hear Viktor's remark. He responded "Good evening. I fear you are all too likely to be right. Those two fellows were clearly mere tools of a larger conspiracy, and those who sent them are likely to be much more dangerous.
The sooner we are off, the better."

After the whole event in the Gas Lamp Club, Remi did a lot of thinking. What he concluded was that he had to stay on the run, and the best thing to do that was to perhaps surround himself with more eccentric people so as to not draw attention to himself. He took a keen interest in the fellow who spoke Arabic, and honestly was a bit skeptical of him.

Remi traveled out early in the morning to the spot outside London, where he'd hid the Falcon and was amazed to see that it was still there. It took some effort to get the Ship into the air on his own, but he did and flew very low to the park where they were to meet.

The ship was small, an 8 crew vessel. It was built for speed and maneuverability... but with only one fellow manning it, it was anything but.

Remi managed to land and drop anchor without crashing the thing into the ground. With a satisfied sigh he hopped onto the railing and said to the group below

"Hello! All aboard who's coming aboard. The Falcon here is the fastest ship this side of the globe!"
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:35, Wed 23 Oct 2013.

Grimsby stared up at the fine airship that had unexpectedly appeared and said.(in Arabic) "Peace be with you!"  adding (in English) "Do you intend to follow Lord Kentigern in your own swift vessel of the air?"

Remi responded to Grimsby, a slight grin on his face. "Well, I do not intend on leaving this here." He was crossing his arms across his chest, his right hand still wrapped in a bandage. Remi would walk along the railing with precise grace, dipping his leg over the edge every so often. "Though, I do not quite have the man power to fly it on my own. I could use a hand," he paused looking at his injury "pun unintended."

All he knew right now was that this ship couldn't stay here, so the sooner it gets aloft the better.

Having made a discreet exit out a side door to avoid the crowd of gawking onlookers that had gathered outside the Gas Lamp Club, Anastasia had taken the time to freshen herself up a tad following the scuffle. She had quickly dropped by her townhouse to don something more appropriate for travel and grab some items she might require. And so, refreshed and now laden with two bulging suitcases, Anastasia arrived at the park to see some of those she had met earlier gathered around two docked airships.

"Evening all. I do not believe I had the pleasure of being introduced to you all earlier. I am Anastasia Waldorf-Smythe, though I would advise you leave out the surname for the sake of expediency. Are we quite prepared to depart?"

I believe we are now that you have arrived Ms.  Waldor...er Anastasia Viktor smiled at the newly arrived and pretty high society woman. I believe I'll offer my assistance to Remi then, as I quite enjoyed his sort of company durin the altercation in the club Then hollering up to Remi Toss down a line to haul up my bag and I'll climb up the anchor rope, if you'd be so kind

((OOC: What the Falcon looks like. ))
The Falcon is a smaller Airship, built like an old sailing ship. It was a French vessel, apart of the fleet sent down into Africa. It was mainly used for Scouting and sending message, so it was a very fast and agile ship. She has an open deck, room enough for the crew to work the lines and perhaps room for a few people to merely stand about. Below the deck is the minimal storage deck, the bilge, but most importantly the engine room. It houses two powerful steam engines, tuned to their peak allowing them to outrun almost any ship out there. In the Bow of the ship the crew cabin is an open space, including 4 bunk-beds, a small galley, and other various pleasures.

The Falcon is cramped, but comfortable.

This message was last updated by the player at 15:23, Wed 23 Oct 2013.

It had been only a little over an hour since Samuel Clemens had introduced everyone back in the Gas Lamp Club, but there were a lot of names and faces, more than just who had actually been present, so not remembering them all was perfectly understandable. Then, too, perhaps Anastasia did not want to reveal too much mental acumen to those she had just met.


It had been a quick walk back to Battersea Park for Remi--only a half hour's stride to retrace his steps--and while an unattended airship might have easily tempted him, no one in London center was quite so brazen. Besides, he'd actually managed to hide it fairly well, and there wasn't much activity in the park at night. It was too early for the criminal element to be out, and the location would have been slim pickings anyway. Cutting through the park was only a shortcut to the river.

So Remi had plenty of time to wrangle the craft loose from its moorings, ease it out from under the trees and back into the air. Taking it up some distance had merely been precautionary to keep gawking eyes in London's streets from sighting it and thus drawing attention to it. A straight line would have put him in St. James Park in five minutes, but a more circuitous elevated flight had him approaching from the east, as flying over Buckingham Palace would not have been advisable.

As Remi slipped his ship into St. James Park not far from the other non-royal airship, he did notice that no flag was flying over Buckingham Palace, which meant the Queen was not in residence there. Dawn was still nearly ten hours away.

After Remi made his presence known to the others, thus answering Viktor's question, Lord Kentigern came over.

"Impressive ship, Mr. Remi!" he exclaimed. "Looks French... and fast... what the navy often calls a packet ship, I believe."

"So. If you plan on accompanying me in your own ship, as we'll be flying at night, it is always possible that we'll get separated. We're flying north to Scotland, of course. We're heading to Rannoch Moor. My estate is High Rannoch, in the village of Rannoch, which lies on the western tip of Loch Rannoch. It's about 120 miles northwest of Edinburgh. The rail line runs through Rannoch. I had it built to provide quicker access to Rannoch School and Kinloch Rannoch at the other end of the loch. So if you get lost, look for the railway and just follow it."

"The mine is out on the moor, but I think we'll stop at the Bridge of Gaur, just a few miles south of Rannoch. For all the convenience of airships, they can be spotted from several miles away!"


Tesla and Mercy were having a conversation as well.

"I think it would be prudent that we not put all our guns in one basket," Nikola was telling Mercy. He'd been able to gain permission to hold the electric guns while he investigated their source, or so he'd told the sergeant. He had one and Mercy had one.

"Mr. Clemens is more interested in accompanying Lord Kentigern, and I must say I prefer the more luxurious mode of travel myself."

"So I get stuck with that rickety airbag?" Mercy protested, glancing at Remi's ship.

"My dear, you are far more accustomed to 'roughing it' than I am! Alas, I don't think Hugo will fit on Mr. Remi's ship, and I gather he wasn't too fond of your robot bartender anyway."

"So you're sending me off with those ruffians... without an escort?" Mercy complained, whined and half-pleaded.

"Mercy Kincaid!" Nikola replied in mock shock. "Of all the ruffians here, you are probably the ruffiest!"

Mercy frowned at the comment for a moment before bursting out with laughter. "Yes, I suppose I am at that." Suddenly she had the electric gun in one hand and an 1881 Remington-Stokes 3-barrel derringer in the other!

Nikola was only mildly surprised at the rapid display of weaponry, and couldn't help wondering what other surprises her clothing might conceal.

"Won't Hugo be missed at the club?" Mr. Clemens asked as he joined the conversation.

"Probably," answered Mercy, "but I told the staff to say he was on holiday."

"Haha! Well played, Mercy!" Clemens responded. "Not only should that forestall further inquiries, but I daresay it will enhance his legacy. The speculation on that alone should keep interest going for a few months as everyone keeps coming back to see if he's returned."


Mercy then went over to Remi. "Do you mind if I accompany you on your ship?" she enquired. "Hugo has decided to go with Mr. Tesla... for a... tune-up."

Remi was a little thrown off that Lord Kentigern recognized the sort of ship it was, let alone that it was of French origin. Playing it cool he merely nodded "Yes, French indeed." He also made a note of the general direction of where he was to fly, feeling better to know that if all else failed he could follow the Locomotives.

Hopping off the rail onto the deck, Remi secured a rope ladder to the side and tossed it down. He also threw down a rope that was attached to the cargo winch crank. "I have room for seven, not including me. So, I have no quarrels with people coming aboard." With the mention of Hugo going on a separate ship, he sighed in relief.

"Well?"

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 10):

When Grimsby saw Mercy produce her derringer, his hand slipped onto the familiar grip of his own, but seeing she meant no harm, he relaxed. He said "It appears that
the Falcon will have a lively crew, but my duty binds me by Lord Kentigern's side. I look forward to seeing you and your fellow-travelers in Scotland, Sidi Remi."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:54, Fri 25 Oct 2013.

After thanking first Felix for his ministrations, and then the club server for the shirt and jacket, Dash quickly sent a message off to his ship, telling the Captain that he would not be returning to Boston with him, and also to have Dash's possessions packed into his trunk, and then send the trunk to St. James Park.

Once at the landing field, Dash went over to the group gathering beneath Lord Kentigern's Flying Scotsman.

"Hello Again, fellow adventure seekers!" Dash said jovially, "Allow me to introduce myself, to those of you I haven't met, yet.  I am Denholm Agravain Saebroc Hawkesbury, of Hawkesbury Trading Company, Nantucket, Boston and San Francisco.  However, I would be pleased if you all just called me Dash."

Dash Looked up at the massive envelope of the Flying Scotsman, floating overhead. "An amazing vessel, Lord Kentigern.  I look forward to travelling in her."

Viktor watched the sassy Miss Mercy produce her weapons with skill and speed and arches a favorite eyebrow, admiring both skill and beauty May I assist you aboard Madame...? Once he had done so if she took him up on his offer, Viktor ties off his duffel bag to the winch and then agilely shimmied up the rope ladder. Then safely aboard and on the deck of the French Packet, he assisted Remi with winching his gear aboard and turned to clasp hands with the darker man. It was good to have a man I could count on back their in that fight. Know you can depend on me in any other.  Now, How can I be of use here my good man? The Ruritanian looked about the rigging and sails and steam engines, knowing little, yet confident in his climbing and rope handling abilities.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:19, Thu 24 Oct 2013.

As everything was placed aboard the two ships, everyone boarded.

On the Falcon are:
   Remi
   Viktor
   Mercy

On the Flying Scotsman are:
   Lord Kentigern
   Nikola Tesla
   Samuel Clemens
   Grimsby
   Dash
   Hugo

Undecided are:
   Anastasia
   Matthew

Lord Kentigern, seeing as there are few people with Remi, calls up to him.

"Do you need any crew? I have men to spare!"


((OOC: Not sure if Matthew is still with us. It seems as if Felix, Leon, Miko, Steve and Triston will not be joining us. However, there might be a new person arriving. Waiting to hear from them.))

Lord Kentigern consults his wrist chronometer, and glances up at the sky.

"We can wait a few more minutes, perhaps," he announces. "We should be on our way before the moon comes up, and before the wind changes. I think there might be a storm brewing."

Even the smallest of storms on the ground could be trouble up in the skies, though it was mostly being blown off course that was the issue. Just as he announced this, someone came running across the park towards them. In the dark, it was hard to tell who it was, until Mercy called out.

"Nessa! Up here!" Mercy then turned to Remi. "That's my friend, Vanessa! I told her she could come! Oh, you do have room for her, don't you? She's almost as good with machines as I am... sometimes even better!"

"Ahoy! Yoo-hoo! Hey! Hang on there!" A diminutive figure carrying a leather rucksack trots toward the mooring station, followed by two porters with a steamer trunk. Stella hated to run, but she hated to miss this opportunity more.

"Ahoy, the Falcon!" The voice calls out breathlessly from below. "I thought I wasn't going to make it. Bloody, stupid cabdriver, if I ever..." Her voice trails off into an inaudible mutter, but clearly isn't anything nice. She directs the porters to the cargo net just before the airship's crew hauls it up.

Casting a dubious eye at the rope ladder, she opts instead to perch atop her trunk, grasping the ropes of the net. Her eyes widen as it swung into the air, but she reaches the deck with a grim smile.

"Permission to come aboard? she says as she hops nimbly to the deck, "I was invited by my friend Mercy-- Mercy, dear, here you are!"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:42, Sun 09 Feb 2014.

"I shall accompany the Lord Kentigern and the others. And, a pleasure to meet you ... Dash."

The last word sounded uncomfortable coming out of her mouth, as though she wasn't entirely fond of such an informal nickname. Eying the rope ladder that Remi had tossed down with more than a hint of distaste, Anastasia voiced her doubts about managing such a climb.

"If we are expected to board the ship in such a manner, I shall be the last to do so. The very last thing I need is my mother hearing that I climbed a rope ladder in a skirt while men stood below. And believe me, she will hear."

The Flying Scotsman is rigid-frame airship, about medium-sized as such things are measured, but it's still huge! It has the newer design, with the gondola built into the bottom of the frame. It's designed to actually touch down all the way to the ground, but it also has ramp extensions for certain occasions. This, however, isn't one of them. Kentigern had no need to hide his airship in amongst the trees, so it's out in the open.

Due to the design of the gondola, though, there is two steps up to access the gondola's interior. Anastasia has no need to climb the rope ladder, like on Remi's ship. Mercy and Stella, both being 'tomboys' and dressed accordingly, aren't bothered by the niceties of society.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:02, Sun 09 Feb 2014.

In reply to Anastasia (msg # 18):

Grimsby replied, "There is no need to display your limbs on boarding this vessel.
Not that a gentleman in Her Majesty's service would look." A slight smile suggested he was not entirely serious.

As Stella quickly embraces Mercy the company has a chance to assess her.

She stands under five feet in height, robust but not voluptuous, with none of the physical anomalies of dwarfism, despite her stature. Although her manner is certainly active, she looks to be in her forties and to have led a fairly active life. She has a ruddy complexion, dark eyes, and red hair that may or may not be hennaed twisted in a chignon at the nape of her neck. She is dressed in a very practical traveling suit, well-tailored but not expensive, as well as calf-high laced boots. In her hand is a hat that owes its heritage equally to a ten-gallon and a bush hat.

Turning from Mercy's embrace she smiles openly as her friend introduces Remi and Viktor: "Good day to you, Captain, and thanks for having me aboard."
This message was last edited by the player at 13:53, Sun 09 Feb 2014.

Viktor's eyes looked the newcomer Stella over from feet to curly hair as he spoke, giving her a rakish half-salute.

"That would be the dark skinned man over there," he indicated Remi, "and I am Viktor Stahler, late of Her Majesty's Ruritanian Cavalry troop, at your service  Miss...?
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:06, Sun 09 Feb 2014.

"I'm Stella Mulberry," she says by way of explanation, "I've been all over the Continent, across America to the gold fields of Canada and the fleshpots of San Francisco, then to Kimberly in Australia and Shanghai.

"I never tire of travel, though so when I looked up Mercy and heard she was off to Scotland -- on a balloon, no less! Well, I invited myself along. Hope it's not an inconvenience."

Her smile is a hundred candle-power as she turns it on Remi:"I'll try to make myself useful, or at least not get in the way."
This message was last edited by the player at 14:01, Sun 09 Feb 2014.

"A pleasure for me as well, Miss Anastasia.  Mister Grimsby." Dash responded, acknowledging both travellers by bringing a knuckle to the bill of his cap in salute. Stepping forward to the door into Lord Kentigern's airship, Dash turns and offers a hand to assist the lady up the step into the vehicle.

"After you, Miss Anastasia.  Have you flown before?  I must admit, this will be my third time aloft, but I still find the entire operation quite exciting."

Remi had been winching the rest of the Cargo onto the ship, piling it all onto the deck to be sorted out later. Once that was settled he grasped Viktor's hand and said "You can rely on me if I can rely on you, friend."

Remi rested his left hand on his scimitar and tucked his injured one into his sash casually. He stepped coolly over towards Stella and bowed quite regally, saying "As-salaam alaykum. I am Remi, I am the Captain of this ship."

Remi rose from his bow and gave a devious smile, slowly turning towards Viktor. "Now, don't just stand there amallale₁ those cases of luggage must be stowed in the crews' quarter! Sfissaae!₂"

Remi then nodded his head to Stella and Mercy: "You won't get any special treatment either. I'll have the two of you work on getting the moorings off and raise that anchor."

_{1: White
2: Quickly}
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:12, Sun 09 Feb 2014.

"Aye, aye, Captain!" Mercy responded to Remi's command.

She looked over the side to see what the mooring lines were actually moored to, as well as what the anchor was anchored to. She figured this was some sort of joke he was pulling, since the anchor had dug into the ground and the mooring lines were wrapped around ground stakes.

Then again, maybe that's how he did things on his ship.

She pulled out a pair of workgloves, put them on, then swung over the side of the ship where a mooring line was, and promptly slid down it. Once on the ground, she unfastened the line from the stake and tied it around her waist. No way was the ship taking flight without her!

Next, she went over and wrangled the anchor out of the ground. She supposed, without the mooring lines, the ship might have pulled up the anchor from sheer lift, but it would have left a nasty divet in the ground. She didn't think that would be appreciated. So after carefully removing the anchor, she spent a moment putting the disrupted ground back into place.

She then moved to the remaining mooring line. She was glad the Falcon's stop here in St. James Park was only a brief one, otherwise there'd have been four moorings instead of just two... even more for a storm.

The last mooring was going to be tricky, almost impossible to undo while under tension. She had to wait a moment for the wind to shift the Falcon down a bit to ease that tension. Then it was loose, and Mercy ran for the rope ladder before it was out of reach. She could have climbed the mooring line around her waist if she'd been desperate, but the ladder was easier.

"Mooring lines and anchor all free," she reported to Remi. "Sorry if I'm not using the correct terminology."

Stella watches her friend scurry about with some concern, disengaging moorings and anchor. Stella may be brave in most circumstances, but she feels the captain is putting the girl at unnecessary risk. Although dressed for travel rather than labor, she steps to the power-winch and makes sure all the settings are correct. Throwing the switch to the "UP" position, she nods in satisfaction as it begins to lift the anchor.
This message was last edited by the player at 14:08, Sun 09 Feb 2014.

An amused smile spread across Anastasia's face at Grimsby's comment, striding over to the gondola of the airship as she replied.

"I should hope no gentleman would look, though I am not so naive as to think so."

Accepting Dash's proffered hand with only mild reluctance, Anastasia ventures on board the craft and peers round at the interior, curious as to what she might see. Her manner is somewhat stilted, as though she were more than a trifle nervous but utterly determined not to show it.

"I have not. Complex machinery and I are not on the best of terms. But if we keep me away from anything moderately resembling a control I am sure it will be fine. Moderately sure."

Anastasia walks up the gangplank to the door of the gondola. She noticed that there was an additional gangplank at the rear where supplies were being loaded.

The forward gangplank was hinged where it was attached to the condola, and folded up into place when the ship was airborne. There was an additional door as well, as much as aesthetics as safety.

Through the door, she was in a short hall going straight ahead. Immediately to her left was a wide folding wooden door in the closed position. A few steps ahead, the hall turned right, showing two closed doors in that direction, plus there was an open on the left. That door gave access to... the parlor... or perhaps the sitting room. It was as wide as the whole gondola, with windows on both sides and lace curtains on them. The walls were plain but polished wood.

Opposite the door she came through (in the parlor) was another door, which also stood open. It showed a longer hallway lined with doors.

While the place seemed well-appointed, it did seem a bit austere, but she decided that must be to cut down on weight.

There were twenty chairs in the parlor, and a few small end tables.

"If you'd like a tour," Lord Kentigern told her, "I'd be glad to show you once we are airborne."

In reply to Denholm (msg # 24):

Grimsby replied "It is actually Mr. Baskerville --though I think you were misled by a colleague of mine who addressed me informally. Grimsby Baskerville, of an old Dartmoor family, though I am one of its lesser branches."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:28, Sat 15 Nov 2014.

Dash opened his mouth to comment...

A look of concern came across Dash's face, as he whipped his cap off his head with his left hand, while offering his right to Grimsby.

"My dear Grimsby, I offer my deepest appologies!" Dash said, crestfallen, "I meant no disrespect, sir.  You are correct in that, after hearing those London Bobbies calling you 'Mister Grimsby', I made an erroneous assumption.  Do forgive me, old chap."

Dash put his hat back on.

"A Basingstoke of Dartmoor, eh?" Dash added with a chuckle to his voice, "That makes our families almost neighborly, sir!  We Hawkesburys hail originally from just outside Bristol; sailing to Nantucket in the early Eighteenth Century to get involved in the whaling, there.  Could be we have a distant cousin in common, eh?"

Viktor knew a cool response when he received one from Stella, however he was pleased at Remi's seeming assurance of mutual aide and so chuckled aloud as he snapped to and  dutifully obeyed the orders of the ship's Captain.

 Viktor easily snatched up the bags and carried them into the crew quarters to stow them beside his own duffel bag for the moment. Returning out onto the deck he busied himself with any other preparations Remi deemed necessary to get them underway.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:17, Sun 09 Feb 2014.

In reply to Denholm (msg # 31):

Grimsby replied coolly, "The error was understandable, pray do not trouble yourself over it. As far as I am aware, none of my family was ever in trade in Bristol, so I doubt we are kin. Our senior line has always been among the landed gentry, though the younger sons like me must fend for ourselves. One of my cousins went to Central America and another is now in Canada, while I have devoted myself to the lands beyond our Northwest Frontier in India."

One man arrives later than everyone else, a tall lanky man in an ill-fitting tweed suit that is just a tad too short at the sleeves and pant leg. Dark shadows under both eyes indicate a lack of proper sleep and the gleam in his dark pupils are beginning to show a fraying of sanity within the mind. He smiles to those gathered, setting down a clinking case and duffel. " Sorry I'm late. I haven't been sleeping well as of late." he says waving to those gathered to forego any extended hand shaking session, " Matthew Renfrew. Came all the way from Draven, Govenia to be here. I'm a long way from home but ready to fly." He walks over to the closest portal and looks out on the ground below. He was eager to have a window seat for the launch. Having made introductions, his attention is more focused on the details outside as he keeps only one ear open for conversation within. Matthew hadn't spent much time in the company of civilized folks and it showed in his withdrawn and awkward social skills.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:20, Wed 30 Oct 2013.

Dash frowned at the young man, then leaned a little closer to Grimsby, speaking in low tones, knodding at the fellow, "I say, Grimsby old sport, isn't that the young chap who rushed into the Gaslamp Club and was placed in handcuffs by your Yard friends? I mean, I know that for all intents and purposes Sam Clemens basically invited the whole of tonights attendees at The Club to come on this romp, but what's all this about his coming from Govenia to be here, eh?  Perhaps he's slipped up and let us know that he had forknowledge about the events at The Club?  Perhaps he's even with those assassins?"

Grimsby replied very quietly, "I believe my colleagues cleared the fellow --or he would still be in custody.  However, it would do no harm to keep watch on him.  I will welcome your help on that."

In reply to Grimsby (msg # 36):

"Well then, my dear Grimsby, let us put into practice the suggestion about friends and enemies given by that Florentine fellow to his new Prince, and get this Renfrew chap a little closer, shall we?" Dash quietly responded, then stepped forward with a smile, offering his hand to the newcomer.

"Well met, sir! Allow me to be the first of our company to welcome you!" Dash said jovially, taking a step towards Matthew, "Although Mister Clemens..." Dash gestured towards the snowy-haired old gent, "...has already made us quick introductions to one another back at The Gaslamp Club, please allow me to refresh to you the introduction of myself and our companions, here.  I am Denholm Agravain Saebroc Hawkesbury, of the Hawkesbury Trading Company of Nantucket, Boston, and San Francisco.  Please feel free to call me Denholm or, as I prefer, Dash."

Dash made a small bow towards Kentigern, "The Right Honorable Lord Kentigern, our host and patron for this adventure," Dash then turned slightly so that he could place his left hand on Grimsby's right shoulder.

"This jocular fellow is Mister Grimsby Basingstoke, late of Her Majestys Service in India." Dash then turned once again, and gestured towards Clemens, "My fellow countryman and man of no few words, the esteemed Mister Samuel Clemens.  Just in case you hadn't recognized the old busybody who got us all involved in this adventure." Dash gave the novelist a wink and a smile, then turned his attentions, "This gentleman is the astounding Mister Nicola Tesla, whose genius outshines even the Great Edison, himself!"

Dash again turned and, placing his right hand on his chest, over his heart, he bowed towards Anastasia.

"And last, but by no means the least, is the independant and self-determined lady who brings grace amoung us boorish misanthropes.  Mister Renfrew, I give you Miss Anastasia Waldorf-Smythe." straightening up, Dash then made an elaborate gesture of presentation towards Matthew, "Gentlemen and Lady...allow me to present to you our collegue for this lark to Scotland, Mister Matthew Renfrew.  Of Govenia."

Dash then did a double-take, as he noticed some activity in one corner of the salon.

"Forgive me, my dear Matthew! I have almost forgotten another of our group, with whom I believe you are already aquainted!" Dash drew everyone's attention to Hugo, who was, at that moment being placed by a handful of Lord Kentigerns dirigible crewmen.

"This, of course, is Hugo, the mechanical bartender from The Gaslamp Club..." Dash frowned, "...who appears, now, to be without a bar."

With the final placement of Hugo, Lord Kentigern conferred with his crew, and then addressed the group.

"It is now 21:17. We are casting off. The run to Scotland should take us just under 8 hours, barring any adjustments for windage. We expect to be there no later than 5:30am, well before dawn."

"If anyone would like a drink, there is scotch and brandy available."

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 38):

"By Jove, yes!  A measure of scotch would be quite welcome." Dash enthused, "And who would join me, so that we may toast the success of this venture?  Gentlemen?  Miss Anastasia?"

Dash turned to Lord Kentigern, "Dare I hope, My Lord, that you have a single malt Glenlivet?"

"While I prefer Tobermory Black Bottle from Mull," Lord Kentigern replies to Dash, "I do, indeed, have Glenlivet on board. My grandfather helped finance the building of that distillery back in '24."

"I must say, though, that I dinna like what this Hopkins company has done to the Black. As my mechanic is wont to say, 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it'! So finding a bottle before 1890 is getting harder and harder. The only redeeming factor is that aging it for 12 or 15 years means there is still hope for some of the old malt coming due soon."

As he made this statement, there was a clank and rattle from the corner where Hugo began moving forward, his programming kicking it to fulfill its function. Unfortunately, the flooring of the Flying Scotsman wasn't up to the task of support his weight... at least not that of one foot! There was crashing splinter as the floorboards gave way under Hugo's massive weight.

Nikola hurried over to Hugo, said a few words, and then assisted the mechanical bartender to stand back up onto the support boards that he'd been brought aboard on. Crew were soon rushing about to remain the damage.

"When do you see that these days?" Sam Clemens asked the group. "A servant eager to do its job!"

He then turned to Anastasia.

"I would think a woman of your refinement, Miss Anastasia, would much prefer a brandy! If you aren't used to airship travel, which I assure I am not, I hear a brandy helps one sleep at night."

"In my younger days, the thrill of the trip alone would have kept me awake, but, alas, those days have come and gone. It's still a bit early to retire, though. Would any care to join me in a few hands of cards?"

"Gin and tonic for me --Tanqueray and Schweppes, if you have them." said Grimsby.  "I trust there is small chance of malaria in Scotland, but Indian custom is still strong. As for cards, Mr.Twain, are you one of those Americans who have been bringing us the game of poker?" 
This message was last edited by the player at 01:20, Fri 01 Nov 2013.

"Be that as it may, your Lordship," Dash responded, "you must remember that, while educated, mine is still an American palate, and back home in New England, Glenlivet leads the list of fine scotch whisky."


"Despite the pinnacle social achievement that it would be for me to sit and play cards with old Mark Twain, himself," Dash lamented, "I'm afraid I must decline.  I have already spent a full day overseeing the unloading of the company clippership, and then dealing all afternoon to refill her cargo holds.  And, as we shall be reachiing that place to which we are headed in order to assist His Lordship in just under eight hours, I'm off to my slumbers.  After a nightcap, of course."

Rising from his place near the window, Matthew says to the bartender, " Glenlivet, neat please." he smiles gratefully, then turns to Grimsby, " I have played poker and would enjoy passing the time with a few hands Mr. Basingstoke." He hopes to get to know these gentlemen better so that he may get a chance to explain the case of mistaken identity that transpired at the Club. Whether or not he would be invited in on the card game would soon reveal how much damage the incident had done to his social status.

Inclining her head in the direction of the young man introduced as Matthew, Anastasia was unsure whether to be amused or mildly offended at being termed 'independent'; it sounded awfully like the adjectives one struggles to come up with upon being presented with a particularly ugly child. Why, he looks so ... healthy. But she was given little time to ruminate on such things as she was offered to partake in various spirits.

"I shall join both in the toast and with the game of cards, taking a brandy if you please. Though I must warn you my mother has disallowed me from playing whist or bridge in the games she hosts, she accuses me of cheating. But I assure you, I am simply more skilled than they."

"As I understand it," Mr. Clemens responds, "you can't play poker unless everyone has a gun, which would leave me out! My wife insisted that I learn to play whist... a gentleman's game, she called it, though she and the Lord know that I'm no gentleman! Too ornery for that!"

"Miss Anastasia gives us our fourth, unless Lord Kentigern wishes to join us?"

"I'm afraid I prefer chess," Lord Kentigern replies, "but enjoy yourselves."

"Then perhaps you would accept my offer for a chess match," Nikola interjects.

"I was going to suggest to Nikola that he program Hugo to play whist as that could alleviate the short-handed problem in a pinch," Mr. Clemens add.

"That would be... quite acceptable, Mr. Tesla," answers Kentigern.

There is a sideboard along the aft wall of the parlor from which a fancy gold and silver chess set with an ebony and ivory inlaid board is pulled, as well as a few decks of cards.

The chess board is set up on one table and the cards on another, and the crewmen fetch the requested drinks.

After Anastasia takes her seat, held for by Mr. Clemens as the senior male present, Clemens takes an adjacent seat, opens one of the boxes of cards and begins shuffling them. He sets the deck on the table, indicating to Anastasia that she can cut first if she'd like.

((OOC: Need a dice roll with the card deck option, as the two highest cards cut form a team against the two lowest cards.

This is just to establish the teams, per whist rules. High intelligence, plus some luck, is usually the key to winning.))

[22:44, Fri 01 Nov 2013: GM StarMaster on behalf of Samuel Clemens drew the single card: 2H using a deck of 52 cards.]

Having seated herself at the table, Anastasia took a sip of her drink, already beginning to focus her mind on the game. A faint smile present on her face at being given the chance to exercise her mental muscles, she reached over and cut the cards Mr. Clemens was holding, turning them face up to reveal the six of spades.

22:49, Today: Anastasia drew the single card: 6S using a deck of 52 cards.

"Well, my dear," Clemens says to Anastasia, "it looks like I've got the smartest AND the prettiest partner!"

The odds were certainly in favor of that assertion, but Lady Luck was quite fickle.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:15, Sat 02 Nov 2013.

Dash accepted his glass of Glenlivet -- with a nod of acknowledgement towards Matthew, a fellow Glenlivet man -- then raised it with the others.

"Gentlemen and Lady.  To the United States of America, to The Queen, and to the successful recovery of Lord Kentigern's property" Dash toasted, then, hearing a squeal and a hiss from the corner of the salon, he added, "And also to hoping that Hugo doesn't fall through the floor somewhere over the north country.  Cheers!"

Matthew raises his glass for the toast, smiling as he feels a modicum of acceptance. He hesitates in taking an available seat at the card table however, knowing it is a game for teams and allowing one of the other gentlemen a chance to play. He looks expectantly to Mister Basingstoke, who had suggested the game in first place. As for himself, Matthew would be quite content to watch, as he had little experience with playing Whist.

Over on the Falcon, it was quickly discovered that the lighter, smaller ship was also the faster of the two, and was soon racing ahead of the Flying Scotsman. However, it wasn't quite as maneuverable vertically. Kentigern's ship could rise and descend more easily than the Falcon.

"Hey, Vanessa," Mercy called out to her friend. "let's go check out the engines! They sound like they're running a big ragged!"


Remi is manning the helm, mostly because he's not sure if anyone else can be trusted to do it. He could tie off the wheel, but that couldn't correct for any wind drift.

Suddenly a bird lands on the railing. It's an albatross. It squawks at Remi as if to complain about this big bag of air that's in the way.

02:22, Sun 03 Nov 2013: GM StarMaster, on behalf of Matthew, drew the single card: 3H using a deck of 52 cards.


"Well, it seems as if I spoke too soon, Miss Anastasia!" Sam Clemens said as Matthew cut the deck to reveal the three of hearts. "Unless Grimsby here manages to find another two, it would appear we shall be adversaries instead! I hope you brought your wits! I sharpened mine just before boarding!"

The albatross quickly catches Matthews attention, and although he tries to ignore it's presence, he finds himself unable to focus on anything inside the ship as the words of Coleridge come to mind and he voices a couple of stanzas from memory. Day after day, day after day. We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean. Water, water, every where, And all the boards did shrink; Water, water, every where, Nor any drop to drink." he says. Going to the portal, he knocks on the outer hull, trying to spook away the bad omen. " Shoo bird! Shoo!" he says, knocking and waving his arms at the albatross.

Matthew must have been staring out the window daydreaming for a moment, though how he spotted the bird on the other airship was anybody's guess. Inside the enclosed cabin of The Flying Scotsman, there was no way the bird woud hear or see him.

His attention drawn back to the card game, he found the luck of the draw had teamed him up with Samuel Clemens.

"My boy," Samuel said to him, "I hope you are sharper at cards than shooing birds! If that's an albatross, it is a good omen, though, so I wouldn't be too eager to chase it away."

Matthew looks puzzled. " A good omen? Really? ...huh." he says, recalling only that a dead bird had been hung around the neck of the captain in the soon to be epic poem. Perhaps a dead albatross was a bad omen, but apparently, while breathing, they bring good fortune. He shrugs, turning away from the portal and his futile attempt to gain the birds attention. " I did not know that." he says to Samuel.

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 50):

Grimsby shrugs and draws KC. "Well, it is no deuce."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:35, Mon 04 Nov 2013.

In reply to Denholm (msg # 48):

Grimdsby replied "To the Queen, our guests,and the safe return of Lord Kentigern's property."He ha no interntion of toasting a foreign power, however friendly its current representatives might be.

Though she had little love for either the Queen or the America's, Anastasia obliged in raising her glass out of politeness, taking a delicate sip of the fine liquor before returning her attention to the game at hand. As the matter of the Albatross was mentioned, she remarked about it almost absentmindedly while rummaging looking down at the card which indicated her partner would be the agent named Grimsby.

"Yes, it is not the presence of the bird which is considered bad luck, but rather the killing of one. For they are oftentimes regarded as the wandering souls of sailors lost at sea. Though what this could mean for encountering the bird in the air, I couldn't speculate."

Grimsby responded, "There are some very queer tales of reincarnation in India, though I never saw a case myself that I would call proved to the satisfaction of modern science."

"Yes, it does seem strange for an albatross to be this far from the sea," Clemens responded, as he dealt out the cards after Grimsby and Matthew changed seats.

"Perhaps it was blown off course and just chose to rest for a moment on the Falcon's railing. Certainly this airship wouldn't provide a perch!"

"They are amazing flyers, but it takes a lot of effort for one of them to get out of the water."
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:11, Mon 04 Nov 2013.

Anastasia seems momentarily distracted by something behind Grimsby's shoulder, her expression and body stilling. It passes quickly, her gaze flickering away to fix on the cards being shuffled. After a couple of seconds pass in this manner she begins to voice her opinion once more.

"Science is all well and good with its nuts and bolts and such, but I do not believe it is relevant in all aspects of our lives, nor should we try and make it so. The work of Mr Clemens, for instance, would likely have been quite dreadful if it were penned by a machine that churned out prose. Science knows nothing of soul."

Grimsby notes Anastasia's  odd reaction and casts a brief sharp glance over his shoulder to see if he can detect anything that might have provoked her behavior.

[Private to GM StarMaster: I trust you will let me know if Grimsby sees anything.]

However, he continues to watch the cards and responds calmly to her remark  "I should say Mr. Clemens' work displays the quality of a first-class mind, but whether that mind includes an essence that survives the grave is another matter. Still, there are odd legends even in my own family..." His voice trails off for a moment and then he resumes in a determinedly lighter tone
"Certainly, I do not think a mechanism like our faithful Hugo is capable of literature."
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:48, Tue 05 Nov 2013.

After the toast, Dash nursed his scotch while the others settled themselves down to their game of whist.  Once the partners had been established and the cards dealt, Dash finished off his drink and set the glass down.

"Thus endeth the day." Dash said to the room in general, "While it may be true that there is no rest for the wicked, I offer as definative proof of my goodness that I now retire."

Dash gave a small bow to his companions.

"I wish you all a good night, and I'll next see you in Scotland"

Whistling a jaunty sea chanty, Dash headed sternward to his cabin, where he set out some clothing and equipment from his trunk, and then went to bed.

Grimsby replied to Dash with a brief nod and rather abstracted "Good night." Between the game and Anastasia's strange conduct, he had little attention to spare.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:38, Thu 07 Nov 2013.

Matthew does his best to contain his social anxiety with one bouncing knee. He offers a small wave and soft spoken, " G'nite sir, May all your dreams be pleasant." before turning his limited attention back to the card game. Puzzled, he asks, " Are we still playing whist? ...who is my partner? More importantly, who deal's?"

ON THE FLYING SCOTSMAN

Kentigern retired after his nightcap, leaving two crewmen on duty.

Nikola Tesla also retired early, leaving Samuel Clemens, Anastasia, Grimsby and Matthew to wind down over a game of whist.

The partners were Anastasia and Grimsby agains Samuel and Matthew, with Samuel dealing. The first hand was actually close as the real trick of the game was counting cards. Of course, others played just for the fun, and not everyone could count the cards that well. So it was a game of intellect, and there were four keen intellects there.

The deal passed to Anastasia for the second hand, which was even closer as the cards seemed to favor Samuel and Matthew more, and Matthew loosened up and the game came back to him. Still, Anastasia and Grimsby won the hand, but still didn't have enought points to win the game yet.

Thus it went to a third hand, deal passing to Matthew. The cards had definitely turned to Samuel's favor, and the team of Samuel and Matthew won the hand easily, evening the overall score. Both teams were now only one point away from winning.

With Grimsby dealing, the cards definitely turned against him and Anastasia... and Samuel. Matthew had such a great hand that it didn't require counting cards, and it was almost impossible to screw up even if he'd been trying.

So the winners were Samuel and Matthew.

The game only took a half hour, and the concensus was that another game would be welcome. The teams this time were Samuel and Grimsby against Anastasia and Matthew.

The first hand was won by Samuel and Grimsby, the second one was very close, but still went to Samuel and Grimsby. Anastasia ran the table in the third hand, though, to win the game.

That left enough time for a third game with the remaining team of Anastasia and Samuel against Grimsby and Matthew. Anastasia and Samuel won the first hand, even though Matthew had good cards, but Grimsby and Matthew bounced back to take the second hand. The third hand was the closest one yet, and Grimsby and Matthew came out the winner.

So the big winner of the evening turned out to be Matthew, who was on all three of the winning teams.

The combination of the drinks, the mental exercise of the game, and the fact that they were expected to be in Scotland in eight hours finally sent everyone off to bed.


ON THE FALCON

One of Lord Kentigern's crew had been sent over to The Falcon to assist because only Remi was qualified, though Mercy was probably capable enough. After finally accepting the crewman to take the helm for the long night trip to Scotland, Remi retired. There were hammocks or bedrolls to suit one's sleeping needs.

Mercy insisted on going below decks to 'tamper with the engines'. It was her way of relaxing.

That left Viktor and Stella on deck for a moment.

The albatross still perched on the ship's railing, moving this way and that on a seeming whim. Remi was aware that such a bird following a ship was considered good luck, and that killing it was very bad mojo. It was a creature of nature anyway, so he didn't mind its presence.

Being from Ruritania, Viktor hadn't seen too many albatrosses before now. In fact, it was probably safe to say that he'd never seen one. It was an ocean-going bird, and not even a hurricane would have carried one into the mountain country of Ruritania.

As Stella enjoyed the night air, though, she kept glancing at the bird... there was something odd about it. She was used to see birds, of course, but after a few minutes, she finally realized that the bird didn't seem to move... correctly... for a bird. The movements looked more... mechanical, somewhat like the tiny little bird in a cuckoo clock. Only this was considerably bigger.!
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:26, Sun 09 Feb 2014.

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 65):

Grimsby thanked the others for the game, and retired for the night, though even in his berth he kept a hand on his faithful derringer. He mused for a while about some of his stranger companions, particularly Remi and Anastasia, but concluded he lacked enough data for form verifiable hypotheses, and eventually drifted into his usual light sleep.

Vaguely suspicious that the young gentleman who kept winning was exercising some method of cheating that she couldn't quite discern, Anastasia kept a watchful eye on him for the entire game, aside from when her gaze would stray to the seemingly empty patch of air behind the table. She kept up with the conversation, mostly, though her mind was more on the cards than anything else. While slightly galled that her whist prowess was not what she believed it to be, Anastasia had better sense than to get riled over a card game, and retired wishing a sincere good evening to all.

Upon reaching her room, Anastasia cursed the lack of her maid, for trying to remove a corset by oneself was a nigh impossible task. But she eventually triumphed over her apparel, tying up her hair and tending to her beauty regimen before falling soundly asleep.

Matthew actually feels bad for winning, attributing it all to 'beginners luck'. Bidding a good night to his fellow players and offering a congratulatory handshake to his partner Samuel before finding his way to his cabin. The first few hours are restless, his mind going over unanswerable questions before finally keying in on the lulling drone of the engines. He sleeps fitfully, waking earlier than he wanted. Systematically performing his morning hygiene regimen, he makes his way back to the lounge with the now familiar dark circles beneath both bloodshot eyes. He is quiet as he once again finds a seat near the window and looks out on the ground below.

The night seems to have passed by all too quickly, and the change in the motors may have awoken you. An airship can never keep to an exact schedule because of the vagaries of the wind, and a light tailwind allowed the two ships to arrive in Bridge of Gaur about ten minutes before 5am.

The bridge went over the Gaur River that emptied into Loch Rannoch. The town was mostly on the south side of the bridge, but there were a few farms to the north. A small hill lay to the southwest, and it was behind that that Lord Kentigern brought in the Flying Scotsman.

It took about fifteen minutes to get the two ships moored before anyone could disembark. Kentigern sent one of his crew ahead into the village to rouse the lodge. At this time of year, 5am was still a bit early for anyone to be up and about. Dawn was about an hour away still.

Although it was only about a mile to the lodge, a carriage arrived to carry everyone to it.

Soon, everyone (except Hugo) was sitting around the dining room table as coffee, tee and breakfast was served.

"What do you think our plan of attack should be?" Lord Kentigern asked. "Should we rush right out there to the mine?"

Grimsby responded thoughtfully, ""Rush' is not the word I would use, but it might be wise to do a bit of cautious reconnaissance and learn more of current conditions at the mine before we make further plans." 

The Ruritanian was busily devouring his breakfast, finding himself truly famished after the night of gunplay and travel.

Viktor smiles at the mention of reconnaissance, "Scouting is a specialty I am quite experienced in, thanks to Her Royal Ruritanian Majesty's Cavalry.  I'd be more than happy to ride out to the mine and have a look about.  Is there a mount or two available in this village? " He glances at Grimsby, his appraisal of the man rising a few notches at his careful decision making.

Matthew begins to realize what he's stepped into. He was no soldier, only a scientist with a knack for the new branch of forensics. How could he help? He could only aid in the planning if anything at this point. " Reconoitter is definitely the best approach, we should know our obstacles so that each May dealt with in turn.", He says, " Lacking any skill at stealth, I will wait here to help develop a plan after your report Mister Stahler."

Grimsby responds "I presume that Lord Kentigern must have some mounts available.
Herr Stahler and I can go and report back to Matthew.  Are there others who wish to go?"

"Yes, I have plenty of mounts, unless you are planning a cavalry charge," Kentigern says. "Not sure that's a good move, though. The moor in the dark is a tricky place. There's a road of sort, but they'll be watching that."

At that point, Kentigern's son comes rushing in.

"I can tell you all you need to know!" he snaps out. "Ten men, not counting the leaders... Herr Lambrecht and Herr Walmond. They keep the mine going all day and night! There's usually three guards down in the mine, two on watch up top. They've set up two tents to the north."

He sits down at the table, pours himself some coffee, and wolfs down some breakfast.

"I think they're waiting for something, but I have no idea what."

"I can lead you to the mine on one of the back paths. I used to play on them as a kid, so I know all of them. There's one that'll take you right up to the back of the mine shack. It's only about a mile."

Grimsby says "Well, that news certainly spares us a nasty foray. But are you thinking we should all follow this path of yours for an immediate attack?"

"Well, that's a possibility," the man answered. "By the way, I'm Latimer... Latimer Swinton."

"I suppose an alternate would be to send a few up the road as a distraction... This isn't my sort of... talent, though, so whatever you fellows decide is probably best."


"We could send Hugo up the road," offers Mercy. "He moves slow enough that we could easily get into position before he gets there."

Upon waking, Dash had dressed in the clothes he'd laid out before retiring -- his darkest turtleneck wool sweater -- a faded charcoal gray -- and a rugged pair of faded indigo-blue denim trousers he'd picked up at Levi Strauss & Co, a clothier back in San Francisco.  Colonel Rooseveldt had raved about them so much, back in Cuba, that Dash had got himself a pair, the next time he was in San Francisco. Said jeans had been tucked into a worn pair of black leather Wellingtons with wool socks, while his rumpled white cap covered his head.  He was openly wearing his pistol; he'd strapped his brown leather shoulder holster over his sweater, and the large, complicated-looking pistol was nestled under his left shoulder.  The wooden "broom-handle" grip identified the weapon as a Mauser repeating pistol, to anyone with such knowledge.

Dash finished his coffee, and set the cup down, as everyone started to make plans.

"Actually, there is one question that's been on my mind." Dash interjected, looking towards the two Kentigerns.

"We've been rather blithely bandying it about, but, just exactly how does one steal a mine?  I mean, did these Germans -- I assume they are German, sir, from your use of the Herr honorific -- did these men appear from now where and rush into the mine while it was unoccupied, and now refuse entry to any who wish to?  And you say that they are working the mine?  If so, then are they somehow getting the ore out, or are they stockpiling it inside the mine?"

"They have to know that they are surrounded, and that your own workforce, if not members of law enforcement, are out here, prepared to stop them.  Yet these brigands, as we have been told, appear to have holed up in the mine and are operating it as if that is of no concern to them. It is one thing to believe that they may be trying some legal ploy that depends upon the principal of possession, but all that that would require would be the occupation of the mine."

"I do not take these actions of theirs to indicate they are part of a longer-term plan -- as would be the case for any legal claim against the ownership of the mine.  No, I believe that they are simply plundering, and that they plan to mine for as long as they believe they can get away with it, and then escape with the ore."

"Which, again, begs the question, where did they come from, and how do they plan to escape with hundreds of tons of ore?"

"Not sure they are German," Latimer replies to Denholm's questions. "That is, the two men are from Germany, but I don't think they are working for the Germans. Can't quite put my finger on what makes me say that, but something just seems a bit off about them."

"Anyway, they came by carriage. Said they were interested in investing in the mine, offered to pay for expansion. Father thought that was a good idea, since he didn't have the funds to do it himself. They agreed to father's terms, signed the agreements, and he took them out to the mine to give them a tour."

"Of course, looking back, it all seems suspicious now. For instance, how did they hear about the mine? It's only been in operation for about six months, and we're not exactly the center of civilization out here on the moor."

"Lambrecht and Walmond were now partners, and they quickly took over the mine. I mean, we didn't have any guards or anything. We only had two people working the mine, under old Cavor's direction. I'm afraid, Mr. Hawkesbury, that you have an erroneous perception of the mine. This isn't one of those huge coal mines like you have over in the Colonies. This is just a small 4-man operation. Cavorite is quite rare. We get maybe ten pounds of ore a day, if we're lucky, then we spend at least one day a week chipping away the impurities."

"The extra men appeared in the village, two or three at a time. Came by rail. Next thing we know, they are out at the mine waving guns, claiming this is what the Laird wanted. Security, they said."

"I have no idea how they plan to 'escape', as you put it.

"Ah, yes, quite right." Dash said, tapping himself on the side of his head, "I did have the image of a Tin mine I toured in Wales, last year, in mind.  But, as you describe it, this seems more akin to the prospecting mines for gold and silver out in the state of Nevada."
Dash frowned as he thought a moment.

"If these gentlemen -- this Herr Lambrecht and Herr Walmond, as you call them -- are legal partners in this endeavour, then what do you wish from us?  I mean, I agree that its quite unethical, this manner in which they are trying to squeeze you out of the partnership, but it's not like we could go charging in there, guns blazing -- we wouldn't have a legal leg to stand on."
Dash paused and thought some more.

"Okay.  They have actual posession of the mine, itself.  In a court proceeding they can make this advantageous for themselves.  However, just operating the mine isn't enough, they would also have to show a profit from their operations, which means getting the raw ore out of the mine and getting it processed and available for sale.  Lord Kentigern, with your greater influence in this region, perhaps you could arrange a shut down of transport to and from the mine -- essentially, place them under seige.  Mean while, we..." Dash gestured to indicate the group, "...could, acting as your agents, attempt to, shall we say, aquire the already mined ore from these skalawags, and return it into your possession."

Matthew listens attentively, forming his own theories and possibilities. " Perhaps they aren't after hundreds of tons of ore, perhaps it is something smaller but of equal or greater value. An artifact? An ancient Lairds treasures? Precious stones?" looking out the window toward the eastern horizon, he asks Latimer, " Are you certain the entrance is the ONLY access to the mine? How far are we from the coastline? Where is the nearest castle relative to the mine?" His study of geography lead him to believe that Scotland was an area where coal would be predominant, and such shale deposits were often honeycombed by natural cave systems.

In reply to Denholm (msg # 79):

Grimsby said "If need be, Her Majesty's Government might choose to exercise the right of eminent domain, claim the mine, and then return it to Lord Kentigern.
But if these persons chose to contest it legally, it might be quite a lengthy process, and might involve international complications, if as you suspect, these persons are agents of an unnamed hostile power.
Since they have set the precedent of appealing to force, we may feel entitled to meet force with force.
 But I confess I am puzzled just what they are doing.
If they are intending a short occupation, quick looting and a speedy retreat, I should expect them to depart by air. Since they arrived by land, that would imply they have allies who might come by air to carry them away. Remi and his crew may want to keep watch for any approach by air, while the rest of us close in on them by land."

Dash pondered the offerings of both Matthew and Grimsby.

"Actually, you both make good points, based on these blackguards apparent disinterest in any blockades that Lord Kentigern may set up." Dash said, his New English mode of speach coming forward, "Either they have some means of a rapid escape overland -- or by air" Dash nods toward Grigsby, "-- or they have some other means by which to leave."

"So.  How to approach this subject..?  Brother Grigsby, here, as a Government Man -- and therefore our resident expert on British Law --" Dash flashes an evil grin and a wink towards Grimsby, knowing he's placing the Colonial Agent on the spot, "has said that violence can be applied against these brigands...if necessary.  He also brings up the possibility of a planned aerial escape, which we must take into account the possibility of."

"Brother Matthew, now," Dash gestures towards the man "brings up the interesting suggestion that these devils may have some other means of exit in mind -- no pun intended -- and that they may leave via some unknown underground route towards the coast.  While this may be merely a guess, my own experiences tend to prevent me from writing off those things which may seem unlikely.  The unlikely choice has too often risen up to bite me in the a..." with a sudden glance towards the women-folk, Dash catches himself, "...uh, that is...has bitten me, uh, by surprise."

Dash pauses a moment in thought, then turns towards the Ruritanian.

"Brother Viktor!  I take it from your bearing, as well as several comments you've made, that, like myself, you are a former Cavalryman.  You were a professional soldier, yes?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 05:12, Thu 14 Nov 2013.

"Indeed I was" replied Viktor, "and my instincts on this tell me we need reconnaissance before we proceed too much further. Some of us should go have a look about and gain more intelligence about our adversaries strength and motive before we rush into any action."

"As I also believe." Dash agreed with a nod, "However, as I see it, there are two areas that come to the forefront of interest."

Dash raised a finger, "One, on the chance that Matthew is correct, and these cheats have some means of exit other than the main mine enterance, I believe an aerial recconnaisance looking for activity at nearby ruins, or ships anchored just off the coast might be in order."

Dash raised another finger, "Two, mention was made of a pair of tents set up by the skalawags.  I believe it more likely that this is the quarters of the two leaders, rather than that they sleep inside the mine.  And, as such, it may be where they keep any papers that might indicate their plans."

"Rather than any attempt to infiltrate the mine, I would suggest we pursue these two venues.  Brother Remi," Dash turned towards Remi, "I take it that you are familiar with ships and their usage, as well as the ways of some...sailors." Dash said that last with a smirk and a wink at the big man, "So you might have a weather eye for hidden lairs or coastal caves and passes amoung the hills."

"That, and your blimp is faster and more agile than Lord Kentigern's dirigible, so it would be the better choice for an aerial recon."

Dash picked up his coffee cup, saw that it was empty, shrugged and put it back down.

"Though I am loathe to separate our forces, I believe this to be the best way to utilize the manpower that we have."

"Some of us should go with Brother Remi to scout the region, while the rest of us raid the scoundrels tents. I would also put forward that the ladies accompany the aerial recconnaisance, as well as Mister Clemens -- in deferrence to your age, and the rugged terrain, sir." Dash nodded respectfully towards Mark Twain, "I would not presume to dictate Mister Tesla's choice, but I do believe you, also, would better serve aboard the blimp, sir."

"The rest of us will trudge overland and make an investigation of the tents and encampment."

Dash sat back in his chair, and smiled broadly at the group.

"That is, those are my suggestions.  If anyone has any other thoughts, I am amenable.  But, unless Mister Clemens can produce one of his Mediums, or someone of that nature, to divine us some answers, this is how I believe we should proceed."

Dash suddenly sat up and snapped the fingers of his right hand.

"And what about the mine supervisor, this, uh, Cave-er fellow you mentioned before?  Where is he?  If we actually end up needing to enter the mine, he might be a useful fellow."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:30, Fri 15 Nov 2013.

Grimsby said "I agree that Remi and his ship should watch from above, with those who would be safer on her, while the rest --including myself--approach on the ground. Whether that approach turns into an actual attack on the tents may depend on what we find are we get closer to them."

Latimer finally finishes his full English breakfast, all the while listening to the planning.

"Cavor and the two miners spend most of the day in the mine," he explains, "which isn't all that large or deep. It's only gotten a bit bigger than the original pit because the vein they were following went sideways. They come up for meals. The Welsh miners don't give a fig who winds up with the ore, they just like mining."

"Cavor is a bit obsessed about this strange ore, too. Never did understand it, but he's convinced my father of its importance. I just never get the impression he has much loyalty. It may have something to do with a problem he had at unversity."

"At night, Cavor and the miners sleep in one of the tents with two or three of the guards. Lambrecht and Walmond sleep in the other tent."

"They haven't let me into the mine for awhile now, and finally banned me from the site a few days ago. I tried to get the local constable to intervene, but he's convinced the Germans have legal title to the mine. I don't know how. Don't know if they bribed him or what."

"There was no other way out of the mine when I was last there. I suppose they could have dug something since then, the peat is soft enough, but it would need braced. I haven't seen any indication that sort of material has been brought in."

"With all due respect, Mr. Hawkesbury, you need to take a look at a map of Scotland. We're a hundred miles from either coast. Wagons and horses don't cross the moors very well either."


"I'm going with Latimer!" Mercy speaks up as she flourishes the lightening gun.


"I daresay I'm not as old as you think I am, Mr. Dash!" Mr. Clemens adds, as he flashes a derringer. "I may not be as spry as I was in my younger days, but I assure you that the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated!" He says this last with a twinkle in his eye.

"I shall accompany Mr. Hugo up the main road. If I encounter the opposition, I shall convince them that I am reporting on this new substance and that Hugo is my amanuensis! Should those brigands choose violence, I shall take refuge behind Hugo... until you deal with them, of course!"


"I shall have to decline participating in this sortie," Mr. Tesla said. "I am not trained in combat or weapons, and would be more of a liability."


"Well, whether it's scouting or sortie," Latimer says, "we'd best be going. It'll be light soon."

Remi ate sparingly. The food in a 'fully Monty' as it was sometimes called was not to his liking. He'd learned that a full stomach was not the best thing to take into battle.

"Going aloft may have its advantage, but we shall no more be able to see into the tents or the mine than you will from the ground," he responds to Dash's suggestion. "We put down on the other side of the hill so that the guards wouldn't spot us. Airships are quite readily spotted when they are in the air."

"Should we actually encounter another airship, what do you propose we do about it?"

"Mind you, I'm not objecting to your plan, Dash, but I fail to see what advantage it gains."

Grimsby said to Remi, "If you would not feel ready to do battle with another airship, O Master of the Wind, you might at least follow the other and see where it went, if it carried off these Germans.  Your craft is swift and should be able to keep pace with anything they might have."
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:55, Sat 16 Nov 2013.

Matthew stands dressed in his long woolen overcoat and leather gloves, ready to ride. " So off to the stable then?" he asks, trying his best to mask the fear with a zealous smile of excitement. " Are we to apprehend them by sheer brute force or...?" he mimes a pistol with one hand, hoping nobody would hand him a gun.

Although Grimsby's comment did not quite sound like an insult, Remi might have considered it such in different circumstances. In this case, he decided that Grimsby's ignorance of aerial matters accounted for it.

"Even if we had the man-power," Remi responded to Grimsby, "it is almost impossible to board another airship in mid-flight. Other than that, it requires a cannon to engage in aerial combat, so unless you have one in your pocket, that can't happen either."

"Assuming that these brigands do have an airship, just how far would you expect me to follow them?"

In reply to Remi (msg # 90):

Grimsby shrugged and said "I have no weapon in my pocket ...large enough to stop an airship. I could requisition one, but by the time it arrived they would be long gone, assuming they came at all.
As to how far you would follow, you as the captain would make that decision.  I should think it would depend on how far and how fast they seemed to be flying.
If they showed signs of travelling a short distance at a slow speed--unlikely, I expect--you might stay with them to their destination before returning to report.
If--as is more likely--they departed with great speed and seemed likely to go far -- who knows, perhaps as far as Hamburg or even Riga-- you might only stay with them long enough to gain an idea of their approximate heading before turning back."

Matthew sympathizes with Remi's predicament and offers a solution, " I don't know what you have by way of raw materials on board, but with a few lengths of pipe, a pressure system and a release valve, I'm sure we could construct a pneumatic cannon quite readily." he shrugs at any puzzled looks, " ...Used to make them as a kid. Potato cannon. Spudzooka."

Dash smiled and slapped the tabletop, as he bounced to his feet.

"A direct assault it is, then!  Bully!!"

Dash then turned to Lord Kentigern,

"Your Lordship," Dash spoke jovially, "you have, here, at your command an armed force of mostly-foreign nationals in a country with rather strong gun laws, who are about to trespass upon land that the current occupants actually have some tenuous legal claim to."

The smile suddenly fell from Dash's face.

"As a businessman, I feel I should tell you that this has criminal action written all over it.  And as someone who followed Bloody Teddy up San Jaun Hill and lived to tell the tale, I can tell you this is damn foolish."

"We all want to help you, Your Lordship, but just what is it you wish us to do?  Do you want us to get them out of your mine?  Prevent them from doing any mining?  Stop them from profiting from this venture?  Determine just what this venture is, so that you can take the proper leagal steps?"

"What, Sir, exactly is it you want us to do?"

"If you are looking for a reason to bow out," Kentigern replies to Denholm with a scowl, "then you have my permission to withdraw!"

"Otherwise, I remind you that you are not on American soil! Your rebelious colonial laws are not in force here! This is MY land! I am the law here!"

"As to what I want you to do... what I want US to do... is... all of the above! Some nefarious scheme is transpiring, of which I am the victim! It is time we put a stop to it!"

"Now, those who are with me, we must go now!"

He gets up and follows his son out of the room, followed by Mr. Clemens.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:01, Sat 23 Nov 2013.

Grimsby looks after Lord Kentigern with a rather wry expression and says quietly to
Dash, "Some of our old nobility tend to forget they are no longer feuding feudal barons. But in this case, I believe Her Majesty's interests will be served by supporting his lordship, and I hope the local constabulary will turn a blind eye on his foray." Then he turns and follows Kentigern briskly out of the room.

"I'm not saying I want to shoot anyone." Dash said, following Grimsby, "I got enough of that in Cuba, fighting for Uncle Sam.  I just wanted to be sure that, if it comes down to it, and I have to shoot at people, I'm not going to go to prison for it.  And His Lordship, there, seems pretty sure he's got the local law in his pocket, so I'm all in."

Grimsby responds to Denholm, "If you came through Cuba, I expect you can get through this little expedition. I've done my share of shooting beyond the Northwest Frontier, though most of it did not involve open war."

"I do not skulk!" Lord Kentigern replies to his son Latimer, and accompanies Samuel Clemens and Hugo to walk up the main road to the mine.

"We will give you a 15-minute start," he concedes.


Latimer heads out south, skirting a few buildings to find one of the paths he mentioned. Mercy accompanies him.


So who is going with whom?

Grimsby says "I believe I may be more useful joining Latimer --I prefer not simply being a target, though it is also my duty to see Lord Kentigern does not die. I would rather do that by arranging that anyone who tries to kill him dies first."

He smiles a bit grimly and goes after Latimer, pausing briefly to remove a rather large pistol from his luggage.


This message was last edited by the player at 03:31, Tue 26 Nov 2013.

"Well, I do have a history of rushing up hills towards danger." Dash shrugs, following after Latimer, "Who am I to argue with history.  Unless history has cannons.  I'm not charging into cannon fire ever again..."

Dash follows Latimers lead in skirting buildings and staying to the shadows.

More sheep than shepherd Matthew is quick to follow Dash and Grimsby. He feels more than a little out of place with all the talk of cannon fodder, but his curiosity is stronger than the fear and he does his best to tread lightly as he follows the rest of the group investigating the mine entrance.

The baggage was all brought to the lodge while breakfast was served, so Grimsby has no trouble stopping to pick up his gun.


As the group, consisting of Latimer, Mercy, Dash, Grimsby, Matthew and Viktor, rush out of the house, Latimer stops in the den and opens the gun cabinet.

"Anybody else need a weapon?" he asks. He selects a revolver, and pockets a box of ammunition. "I don't expect this to be a war, just a skirmish. If we need more than 50 rounds, we may have already lost!"


Out of the lodge and down the road, past three of the houses, Latimer leads the group between two houses down along a footpath that heads off beind the houses into the moor.

There are no street lights, so the dark is only pierced by the stars, a few house lights, and a half moon low on the horizon. In the east, a faint glow can be seen on the horizon... what is commonly referred to as 'false dawn'.


Out on the moor, it is not as flat as it is usually portrayed or shown. It is lightly rolling, though little of it actually rises more than three feet high in this area. There are some grasses, mosses, bracken and ground-clinking heather, as well as an occasional shrub pretending to be a stunted bush.

Latimer walks quickly, not quite a run.

"We should get there in about 20 minutes," he whispers. "When we get closer, we'll need to crouch a bit to keep from being spotted against the night sky."

Noticing Matthew's aversion to guns... at least the firearms type, when they pass the houses and walk into the moor, she pulls out the electric gun she liberated from the would-be assassins.

"If you don't have any firearms training," she whispers, copying Latimer, "maybe this will suffice. You should have some sort of protection; I don't our opponents will bother checking to see if you are armed before they shoot you."

"It's an electric gun. Nick... Nikola Tesla... invented it, and I've built one, but this one we got from the assassins. It discharges a 'bolt of lightning'... well, it's just an electrical arc, but it looks like lightning. It's only good for about 30 feet."

Using the skills he was taught in the Army and in Cuba, Dash keeps pace with Latimer, while noting the -- compared to himself -- diminutive form of Mercy slogging along with the rest of the group.  He dropped back, noting that Mercy was speaking with Matthew and handing him something.

"Excuse me, Miss Mercy," Dash said quietly, as he fell in beside her, "But I would have thought that you'd have wanted to accompany Hugo the Mechanical Marvel, not slog it out on the moors.  Little Lord Latimer, up there, did seem to think it possible that we will see some gunplay, even if only a few warning shots.  Do you mind if I ask, purely for conversational purposes only, why you're out here, with us?"

A big grin spreads across his face, as he casts his glance at Matthew and winks.

"Perhaps this young buck has caught your fancy, Hmm?" Dash jokes, stretching around behind Mercy to slap Matthew on the shoulder.

Taking the weapon from Mercy, he smiles, holding it firmly in hand while keeping his finger away from the trigger. " Thank you very much ma'am. Do I have to turn it on or is there a safety release?" he asks her, wanting to be sure he knew what he was doing before the need to use it arose.

"The whole point of creating a mechanical man," Mercy replies to Denholm, "is that it doesn't need supervision... it can function on its own."

"As for why I'm out here, it's the same reason you are! It's okay for a man to run off to war and get his bloomin' arse killed, leaving his poor widow home to mourn his sorry arse and raise three squalling infants without any income or money, but Lord forbid a woman does the same! She wouldn't even leave a mournin' widower behind cause he'd be out in the hen house before her blood was dried! And HE'D still have his damn job!"

"So I'll be damned if I'm going to sit at home and cry a river over some philandering swag!"


She turns back to Matthew then.

"This gauge here on the side indicates how many charges it holds. It looks like it's got eleven shots; only one was used."

"This button here is why we think Nick's plans may have been stolen. You have to hold the gun just so, pressing the button down in order for the trigger to work. That was his design!"

Matthews eyes grew wide as Mercy tore into Dash, even wider than they were from the surprise of him smacking him on the shoulder. Still tightly clutching the gun - he had feared dropping it in a misfire from being smacked - he says only, " Thank you ma'am." still looking a bit confused. She seemed rather tech savvy despite Matthews understanding that women had trouble with simple quadratic equations. He keeps moving low and quiet so as to maintain the element of surprise.

Grimsby glances back and says briefly "Once we get closer to the mine, I hope we will not risk conversation." He then turns back to following Latimer.

In the dimness, from the expression on his face, it looked like Dash was giving serious consideration to Mercys words.

"Well, now, Miss Mercy," Dash said after a few moments, "I can't really say as I disagree with what you said, given the strength of character I've seen in many women making a living for themselves and their families out on the American Western Frontier, as well as the level of commitment and outright bravery I saw in the lady guerillas fighting in the Cuba Libre.  I have to admit that it just doesn't seem right that women get different treatment than men."

The grin returned to Dash's face, "However, I didn't ask you what a woman was doing here, I asked what you were doing here, with us, rather than being with such personages as Nicola Tesla and Samuel Clemens?  And, of course, your Hugo."

Dash gave a little chuckle, "Truth be told, I think that I'd rather be with Nicola Tesla than anywhere else!  I truly believe that he is the greatest technical mind of our time!  Wouldn't you agree, Matthew?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:05, Mon 02 Dec 2013.

" Undoubtedly." he whispers in agreement. There was that other fellow he had read about in the papers, ...Edison? However, he had read bad things about the use of direct current and felt that Tesla's approach to be far more sane. " Direct current can be quite deadly." he says, holding up the lightning gun as proof of his point.

Mercy doesn't seem to be fazed by Dash's correction, though. Apparently any opportunity to espouse her women's rights platform was just fine by her.

"Again," she replies to Dash in a quieter voice, "the same reason as you. I like adventure! I like action!"

"As for you, Mr. Matthew, you've got it quite backwards. The Mr. Edison is a proponent of direct current, which is safer, but does not have the range of alternating current. A DC power plant would provide power for about five city blocks only, so you'd need dozens to power a complete city."

"Nick's AC power plant in Niagara Falls provides power for any entire county!"

"And, as for the gun, it's about how much current you push through it. It's like a miniature lightning bolt. Most of the time, if you are struck by lightning, you're dead. Some people, though, actually survive. The gun Nick designed wasn't meant to be lethal, but the possibility always existed. Someone has made this one a bad sort. However, I dialed it back. It'll only knock someone out... for maybe an hour."

In reply to Mercy (msg # 111):

Grimsby had been attempting to quietly reconnoiter ahead, but found himself drawn into the conversation. He remarked, "I am not concerned with current myself. but I understand that Mr. Edison has held up the fact that alternating current is used in the new electric chairs used for execution as proof of its deadliness. I don't say that's a fair argument. Edison is a very clever man, but possessive about his inventions. Mr. Tesla himself would best know the truth of this, but I once heard that Edison promised Tesla a bonus for some work, when it was done, said it was only an American joke."
OOC: I ran across that material in a life of Westinghouse years ago.

" Edison doesn't play fair." Matthew remarks, doing his best to keep up with the conversation despite his own personal inaccuracy. He stays low and keeps his voice down, knowing they were fast approaching the tents outside the mine. " A bonus in business is nothing to joke about. Oft times contractors rely on such dividends and build it into future budgetary needs. To promise and not deliver! That's... that's ...just not fair."

Grimsby says "One should certainly play fair with one's colleagues and friends, though the enemies of the realm may be another matter.  All's fair in war, if not love."
 

By this time, everyone's eyes had adjusted to the starlight. It was late enough in the season that there wasn't much snow on the ground, though more could arrive any day. The night was clear and cold, and the stars were shining brightly.

Latimer finally held up a hand for caution, gesturing for everyone to be quiet and crouch down a bit as they moved.

A building could be vaguely seen up ahead, and the path they were following wove in and out among the rises. Nothing was quite as big as a hill, though.

Crouching down behind one of the rises, he gestured the first person forward, indicating they should move as quietly as possible up behind the building. He repeated this until everyone was behind the building.

They could now hear sound coming from within the building. The building itself was a timber frame with peat blocks built up around it and a tin roof.

As near as they could tell, nobody was on guard. Mercy was about to move around the corner when she pushed back, held up a finger for quiet, then pantomimed a guard having a smoke.

Grimsby held up one finger and cocked his head in a questioning gesture, signaling "Is there only one guard?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:07, Thu 12 Dec 2013.

Even in the dim light, Dash understood everyone's meaning.  So, assuming that there was only one guard, Dash reached out to lightly touch Mercy to gain her attention, then pointed at the tesla weapon in Matthew's possession, then pointed at his own ear, then made a 'how much?' guesture with both hands.  He repeated this -- point at gun, point at ear, gesture 'how much?' -- a couple of times, then looked at Mercy, awaiting an answer.

Back at the Gaslamp Club, when the weapon had been previously fired, Dash was a little involved with tackling Lord Kentigern out of the line of fire -- and the searing pain as the weapon's discharge burned his back -- to actually remember if it made any noise, never mind how much.

After a few moments, Dash decides that the risk is worth taking and jabs Matthew in the shoulder, then points at the Tesla gun, then mimes pointing the gun around the corner and shooting the guard.

Mercy understood Dash's gestures, and replied with her own. She pointed to Grimsby's gun and held her hands about three feet wide. Then she pointed to the lightning gun and held her hands about one foot apart.

She then held up her hands in prayer... not quite... and used her thumbs to indicate some sort of door.

She pointed around the corner at the smoking guard and held up one finger. She then held up her hands again, shifted to two fingers, then three fingers. Finally, she pointed to the building, then down, and held up four fingers.

She then pointed to Grimsby and Matthew and held her hands in prayer again.

She pointed to Viktor and then towards the smoking guard.

And then she pointed to Dash and herself, and then to the building.

Her last one was to Latimer, and then the building.

Finally, she held up her forefingers in a 'wait' gesture, then did a credible robotic mime and poured a drink.

Matthew gives a thumbs-up gesture, takes gun in hand and points it around the corner toward the guard. He takes aim and waits for another nudge to get it all started... when he gets the signal, it's only a matter of hitting the trigger.

In reply to Mercy (msg # 119):

Mercy pulls the youthfully exuberant Matthew back a bit, and points to the tent.

She didn't fault him; she was once like that. Well, she still was a bit.

As Mercy tries to get her plan across, everyone hears the faint clanking of machinery, indicating that Hugo is coming up the road.

The guard hears it, too. He stops his minor pacing, and peers down the road to see what's making the noise.

Mercy pushes Viktor out towards the guard, sends Grimsby and Matthew across the road to the tent, and then she, Dash and Latimer step around the corner to the door of the mining shack.

Grimsby glances at Matthew to make sure they are together, draws his larger pistol and enters the tent with his best combination of speed and caution, ready to tackle the expected guards.

Dash pulls his Mauser from his shoulder holster and pulls the charging handle with a light metallic "cha-chack", then follows Mercy to the door.

Dash places his free hand on Mercys shoulder, halting her advance until he sees that Viktor has handled the guard. Then Dash steps forward to quickly and quietly work the doors latch, and step inside, brandishing his pistol.  Not knowing if the interior is illuminated with watchful guards, or pitch dark and empty, Dash halts just a step into the hut, and takes his bearings -- ready to threaten anyone inside with his pistol, if needed.

Just as the action starts to heat up, there's this massive lull, as if time was standing still...

OOC: I am ready to continue as soon as the rest are. Merry Christmas!

This is not the way a cavalry officer makes a charge! Viktor thought as he moved around the corner of the building.

He thought Mercy's tactics made sense, since there were now three possible locations for guards: the tent, the mine and the one on duty. Without better knowing what the situation was, they couldn't risk one of them sounding the alarm and alerting the others... for who knew what they might do!

In the dark like this, however, he wasn't sure how well he could sneak up on the guard smoking. The glow of the cigarette's end helped Viktor locate him in the dark, though the eastern sky was already lightening up enough that the guard was outlined against it.

Then he heard the clank of Hugo, the mechanical bartender, coming up the road. The guard heard it, too, but had no idea what he was hearing. Viktor thought to wait a moment until the guard actually saw Hugo, which was likely to surprise him even more, but Mercy gently urged him forward. The plan's success really depended on him keeping the guard silent, which seemed to rule out shooting, at least until someone else shot first.

Viktor switched to holding his revolver by the barrel, and raised it to strike with the butt of the weapon. As he gingerly stepped forward, his foot may have scrapped a pebble through the dirt, making enough of a sound to alert the guard, for the guard started to turn! Throwing caution to the wind, Viktor quickly took a long final step to get him within reach and swung the gun down on the guard's head!

As Viktor moved to take out the sentry, Grimsby and Matthew quickly moved across the road to the tent. They have no trouble pushing through the tent flap, into darkness. It takes a moment for their eyes to adjust to the extremely dim light, coming in only from the now half-open tent flap.

There appears to be only one person in here, on the left, still sleeping on a cot. There are six cots total.


Dash and Mercy slipped around the corner of the building just as Viktor bashed the guard. Even as Dash tripped the latch, he saw a dim light slipping out from under the door, letting him know that there was some light.

With the door open, more light spilled out, but Dash could now see that the interior of the 'mine' was a rather simple affair. There was essentially a 10 foot square pit in the center of the single room. There was a 5' wide dirt walkway around the pit, a chair just inside to the left of the door, and a workbench against the left wall. It appears there is a small window in the wall above the workbench, but it's been covered over by a black cloth.

There is a wooden ladder in the 20-foot deep pit, leaning against the right side. The light is coming from down in the pit, which is where the digging sounds are coming from.

"Keep digging!" a harsh voice commands the diggers.

At the bottom of the pit, there is a tunnel going off to the left.

"I need a drink!" someone else snaps back at the first voice.

"You can drink when then digging is done!" the first voice replies.

"You stupid Kraut! If you shoot me, then YOU'LL have to do the digging! So unless you want to start swinging a pick, you'll let me have a damn drink of water!"

Grimsby touched Matthew's hand in the darkness and indicated he should stand ready in case of trouble, then pressed the muzzle of his pistol against the head of the sleeping man and whispered harshly "Stay still, and surrender in the name of the Crown!"

Dash opens the door, covering the room with his Mauser...only to realize that everyone in the "room" is actually 20-feet below, down a shaft.

Dash turns to glare at Mercy for a moment -- this would be so much easier if Matthew were here with that damn electriky pistol.

Returning his attention to the mine pit, Dash ponders a moment, then -- making sure he was back away from the edge of the pit, and not in any line of fire from below -- Dash clears his throat, then speaks in a good, solid deck-hands voice.

"Right, then, Lads!" Dash calls out to those below, "Lord Kentigern says that the jig is up, and all operations at this here mine are to cease immediately.  We got a good bunch of lads up here, all armed and under authority of Lord Kentigern, so no funny business.  Just drop yer tools or any weapons ye might be carryin, and come up the ladder one at a time.  Let's keep this peaceable, and ye kin all be enjoying breakfast at the nearest pub in no time."

Matthew stands ready with Grimsby. He frowns with concern as Grimsby places the metal gun against the sleeping mans head, for if he were to shoot now, undoubtedly the charge would travel through the gun and shock both men. He can only hope Grimsby will pull back when the time comes to shoot.

Viktor's tactic works just fine. The butt of the gun sends the guard to the ground, unconscious. Fortunately, he wasn't wearing a helmet.


Grimsby and Matthew get the drop on the sleeping guard. With a gun barrel pressed to his head, he just continues to lay there.


Dash and Mercy, with Latimer following them, entered the shack, and Dash calls out for the guard or guards to surrender.

There's the sound of a brief scuffle, and a guard edges into sight with someone else held in front of him. The guard is holding a gun to the man's head.

"I think not, Amerikaner!" the guard replies. "You vill drop your veapons or I vill begin shooting the hostages!"

Grimsby whispers firmly to the man "Put your hands in front of you." and gestures for Matthew to tie them with some of the bedding.

Dash and Mercy, with Latimer following them, entered the shack, and Dash calls out for the guard or guards to surrender.

There's the sound of a brief scuffle, and a guard edges into sight with someone else held in front of him. The guard is holding a gun to the man's head.

"I think not, Amerikaner!" the guard replies. "You vill drop your veapons or I vill begin shooting the hostages!"

Dash takes a half-step back, making sure that the German can't see more of him than he can see of the German.

Then he smiles...and a half-second later he chuckles a little bit.

"Got it right on the first guess, kraut." Dash responds, "I'm an American.  In fact, most of us, up here, are.  His Lordship hired a bunch of us as mercenaries, seeing as how we Americans could give a spit about the lives of a bunch of gritty Brit miners.  So you just go ahead, shoot up all the rockgrubbers you got down there, use up your ammo, and once all the Brits are dead, we'll shoot the hell out of you, then tell the newspapers we didn't get here until after you'd done all the shooting."

Dash's smile turned to a sneer,

"C'mon, Fritz, think about it!  You're all alone out here.  We've got you outnumbered and outgunned.  Hell, I could order the boys to just roll a couple of cans of kerosene down into that hole you're in, and we could have us a real South Carolina-style barbeque.  And I'll still blame you to the authorities for the death of the miners!  I...still...win!  Kertigan still wins.  You die.  Pointlessly."

"Now, you're probably a mercenary, just like me.  Do the smart thing, cut your losses and surrender.  Lord Kertigan doesn't care about you, once he has his mine, here, back, he'll probably just turn you loose with a boot to the ass.  Unarmed, of course."

"So, stop fooling around.  Throw your weapons up here, then climb out one at a time -- or start shooting. Either way, I'm sending one of my boys to get the kerosene."

Dash turned momentarily -- making sure the German couldn't see his face -- and flashed a wink and a smile at Mercy and Latimer.

"What's it gonna be, Fritzi?"

Both Mercy and Latimer--especially Latimer--are shocked at Dash's words. Dash can tell that Mercy was eager to shoot the villain, though.

Mercy picks up on the bluff almost right away, but it takes a nudge from Mercy for Latimer to catch on.

As the guard seems to hesitate while thinking over his options, Latimer quips up then. "I'll get the kerosene."

He actually goes over to the door, opens it, and then lightly slams it closed again.

That seems to galvanize the guard into activity. He pushes the miner out into the pit. "Climb!"

A moment later, he pushes a second miner out into the pit with the same instruction. Then he tosses his gun out onto the floor of the pit. He steps out then with his hands raised. He seems half expecting to get shot, but apparently that's better than being burned alive.

Dash takes a steady bead with his Mauser, as the German climbs up out of the pit.

"I'll keep him covered, Mercy, while you tie his hands behind his back."

Though he keeps his eye on the German, Dash then adresses the miners,

"Sorry about the threats to you chaps, but as you can see, I've got Mister Latimer here, with me.  He's going to take all of you outside and explain the situation to you.  Now, just in case any of you were cooperating with this Kraut, I want you to remember that he was willing to use you or your friend as a bullet stopping device -- so ask yourself, is that the kind of person you really want to work with?  Now outside with Mister Latimer, the lot of ya."

Dash keeps a careful eye on the German as/if the men file out, but he keeps the possibility in his mind that one, or more, of the miners might try to grab him or his pistol, so he remains wary until they are all outside with Latimer.

About the time that Dash escorts the two miners and the German guard outside of the shack, Hugo and Lord Kentigern and Samuel Clemens arrive.

The guard that Viktor bashed on the head is still unconscious, and Grimsby and Matthew have the other guard tied up.

"Where's Cavor?" Kentigern asks. "Where are their bosses?"

Once their prisoner's hands have been tied, Grimsby says "On your feet, come with us outside, and don't try to run or I'll shoot your legs." He then herds the prisoner out to join the others. He adds to Matthew "Thanks for your help with this fellow. Let's see what our friends have found."

Dash leans close to his German prisoner and, in a stage whisper, says,

"Hey, Fritzi, here's your chance to get in good with Lord Kentigern.  Tell his Lordship what he wants to know, and you might, yet, leave here with a jingle in your pocket..."

Matthew is numb, moving like a man in shock as he diligently binds the man as instructed. Having since stashed the gun in the back of his pants, so he could tie a proper knot, he pulls it back out, pointing at the half awake man before motioning with a wave to follow Grimsby outside the tent. He does his best not to think about what he's doing and simply just doing it. Once again, the time to reconsider his brash decision has long since passed, all he can do now is follow through on the choice. Right? Wrong? He did his best to ignore any internal moral nagging as he pushed the lightning gun in the mans back to emphasize that they still had the upper hand in this hostile take over.

The guard that Dash is interrogating ignores his questions and just stares straight ahead.

However, he does notice that the guard has a familiar tattoo on the back of his hand.

Standing behind his German prisoner -- the mans hands are tied behind his back -- Dash calls out quietly,

"Grimsby, old chum, take a look at this." Dash says, indicating the tattoo when Grimsby comes closer,

"Look familiar?" Dash asks quietly, "Why don't you go check your chap, and I'll check the fellow Viktor took down.  Mercy can watch Fritzi, here."

Grimsby says to Matthew "Keep an eye on this fellow while I see what Denholm wants." He goes over and looks at the tattoo and nods, saying "Yes, I believe that matches the ones we saw earlier." He then returns to his prisoner and examines his hands to see if there is a matching tattoo.

As Grimsby walks away, Dash leaves his German prisoner in Mercys care, and walks over to the former guard that Viktor laid out.  With a nod to Viktor, Dash kneels and rolls the unconscious man over to get a look at his bound hands, checking for the distinctive tattoo.

"Mister Latimer, sir!" Dash calls out, as he checks the unconscious man, "Ask your lads, there..." Dash indicates the two miners with a nod of his head, "...if they overheard anything about the whereabouts of the 'Bosses', or even this Cavor gentleman."

Upon examining the backs of the hands of the guards, the same 'V' symbol can be found on the left hand of all three of them.

The two miners that were down in the mine are Welsh, and don't speak English all that well. Latimer asks them about anything they overheard, but they can't help as they didn't understand much of anything the guards said. They do tell him, which he relays to the others, that Cavor left the pit about two hours ago.

"Is this Cavor fellow known for taking early morning constitutionals," Dash asked, "or could he be headed to a nearby village to meet a train, or something?  Anyone know the local train schedules?"

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 146):

Once Grimsby has confirmed the symbol on the hands of the prisoners, he says to Matthew, "These fellows are part of the same lot we met in London. Keep a sharp eye on them so they don't escape -- but if they run, try to stop them without frying them too thoroughly with that gun of yours--we need them in shape for more questioning."

"I suppose Cavor could have left to catch a train," Latimer replies. "The London daily comes up here as the first leg of its trip because of the school, so it departs here about this time."

"If he did, though, it would have been at gunpoint! These Germans were keeping him a prisoner, too. He's the one that insisted on supervising the mining. He was very particular about the ore they were digging."

"Speaking of which, has anybody searched the tent? The ore was in a small chest."


Lord Kentigern stalks off to the tent, and a few moments later a lot of cussing and swearing can be heard from inside.

" Grimsby..." Matthew says, looking a bit puzzled by his own thoughts, " When I first met Hugo, there appeared to be a 'ghost in the machine' as it were. His amber eyes flared a bright electric blue for only a moment and he said... now what was it?" He scratches at his head with his free hand, trying to coax the memory from the chaos of his mind, " Ah yes, he said... 'Cavor. In. Graustark.' ...could this be the same man? Is he the one behind their tattoos? The wrist of the black hand perhaps?"

Grimsby said "Thank you for sharing that data, Matthew. Graustark is one of the smaller Balkan principalities, recently locked in a bitter struggle with its neighbor Axphain, but its connection with this affair has yet to be discovered.
If what Latimer says is true, Cavor could hardly be the mastermind behind the
group with these symbols on their wrists. The black hand proved to be literally a cover for another symbol of an even more sinister sort, but who does lead the group is a matter we must compel these prisoners to discuss."

At the mention of Cavor in Graustark, the guard that was sleeping in the tent has a momentary reaction of surprise, puzzlement and concern before his expression returns to one of stoic determination.

Dash does a double take, then breaks into a big grin, and gestures at the man Grimsby and Matthew had captured.

"Oh, ho!  Oh, ho!  I saw that, Buster!" Dash chortles, as he walks over and pokes the barrel of his Mauser into the man's chest, "That means something to you, yeah?  Maybe you know all about Cavor going to Graustark, huh?  Maybe you know how, and why?"

Dash suddenly shoves his face up close to the prisoner's, and glares at him.

"Hmm.  Yeah.  I can tell...you're a tough guy.  Hard as nails. One of them square-jawwed Teutonic types.  Hmmf!  You'll never talk, no matter how hard we beat you, or how much Lord Kentigern offers to pay you.  Well, when I was fighting in Cuba, the local rebels had a way of getting hard-ass Spanish Army types to talk..."

Dash turns away, gesturing wildly skyward with his pistol.

"Boys, strap him to a table and take off his shoes, but leave the stockings!" Dash suddenly stops and spins back around to face the prisoner -- a maniacal grin on his face.

"And get me a can of kerosene..."

Grimsby says "Very good, Denholm. If the kerosene doesn't work, I've seen a few things up beyond the Northwest Frontier. There's one with a red-hot iron rod..." He makes no attempt to match Denholm's grin, but suggests a casual willingness to experiment.

Matthew pales at the mention of torture, swallowing loudly. He begins to mull over reasons to excuse himself as they await the delivery of kerosene, then decides to offer the man a way out of bodily harm. " Please sir, these gentlemen are offering more than simple threats. These are men of action who will follow through. Please, tell them what you know, I beg of you sir." he leans in closer, whispering, _{" ...We're Americans. This ain't no joke. They will seriously hurt you."}

"Damned Colonials!" Lord Kentigern snarls as he comes out of the tent, though it isn't clear just who he's referring to. "We'll have none of that. A gentleman treats everyone with honor, whether they have any or not. If you don't, then you are just as bad as they are and don't deserve any consideration."

"That doesn't mean we have to be fools. Did you search them? Before you give this man his shoes back, search him and search those shoes. His sort likes to hide things in the heels."

Dash frowns and heaves an exaggerated sigh.

"Oh, very well, your Lordship. We'll coddle 'em...for now"

Dash winks at the tough guy who reacted to the mention of Cavor being in Graustark, "But the next time I ask you a question, Hans, if you don't tell me what I wanna know...things will get warm for you."

Dash turns toward the tent, "Viktor, old Cossack, if you wouldn't mind, would you take charge of the prisoners while Grimsby, Matthew and I search the tent for the clues his Lordships believes are there?  Perhaps you and Mister Clemens could search their pockets, while we are in there?"


OOC: are Hugo, Clemens and Tesla here?

Lord Kentigern and Samuel Clemens accompanied Hugo up the road, but Nikola Tesla remained behind.


Searching the tent does not reveal any astounding discoveries. The three confirm that the coffer full of cavorite is missing. A few documents for a Jurgen Penst, Wolfgang Altmann, and Erich Ingall are found, which seem to belong to the three captured guards.

Three bunks to the left of the tent entrance were theirs, while two on the right were the bosses' bunks.

Apparently all three of the guards traveled with valises, which are tucked under each bed. There is a change of clothes in each one, and in the one where the guard was sleeping you find found two pistols.

Under the boss's bed, Matthew finds a torn piece of paper. It has three words written on it:
The only other thing of interest is 'French postcard' found in the bunk of one of the miners.


Back outside, there are several discoveries. All of the guards had a knife tucked into their boot, besides the pistol carried in a holster, each had a second gun in the small of his back, the heel of each left boot had some small device hidden in it, and the one that reacted to mention of Graustark had slip of paper in his pocket that had two words written on it: Graustark and Vril.
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:48, Mon 13 Jan 2014.

Grimsby eyes the notes thoughtfully."Yetive...Vril" those words should mean more to me.  I shall have to think a moment."

"Fleur...as in Fleur-de-Lis?" Dash asked, incredulous, "The symbol for the House of Bourbon and the Spanish Monarchy?  What the hell does Spain have to do with this?"

In reply to Denholm (msg # 160):

Grimsby, having thought a moment, replies, "Spain is not the only Bourbon realm -- Bourbonny island is under Queen Fleur, who claims descent from King Louis XVI of France. And Yetive is the Princess of Graustark -- this matter may be taking us into exalted circles."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:26, Thu 16 Jan 2014.

OOC: I hope I got my geography right ^_^


"Bourbonny Island?" Dash asks in a puzzled tone, "You mean that backside-of-nowhere little island east of Madagascar?  That's just a coaling station for the French East India Company...isn't it?  That island is ruled by a Bourbon Queen?"

"And Graustark!!  That's on The Continent, right?  What is going on that's involving two petty monarchies on opposite sides of the globe from each other?  Lord Kentigern do you have any dealings with anyone from either nation?"

Dash gives an almost-Gallic sigh-and-shrug.

"Great! A quick side trip to Scotland to look into mining futures now turns into a globetrotting adventure.  If I don't bring back some kind of trade deal, my Uncle will kill me...then throw me out of the Family."

Dash looks up and scans the faces of their prisoners, finally facing Lord Kentigern.

"Your Lordship, I think it wise we make any further plans out of sight and sound of these rascals.  Now that we have them, their fates are yours to decide, of course." Dash grins slightly, and gestures towards the prisoner he had gotten up from the mine.

"However, I would like to point out that I made a deal with Fritzi, here, that if he cooperated he might gain his freedom, and maybe even a little coin to jingle in his pocket.  So far the man has kept his side of the deal; not only surrendering with no problem, but also giving up some useful information -- which I'll pass on, after these other rascals are dealt with."

Dash turns his head to give a really big smirk towards the prisoner from the tent, "You've just made bad decisions all around, haven't you, Hans?  Should have cooperated when you were asked."

Dash made a show of raising his Mauser, pointing it between the fellows eyes, and pretending to fire.

OOC: Dash did not - DID NOT! - pull the trigger on an empty gun, here!  He'd charged the Mauser earlier, so there IS a round in the chamber.  He's just miming firing the gun, and it going off.
This message was last edited by the player at 05:28, Fri 17 Jan 2014.

Grimsby commented, "Lord Kentigern, it is your right to bring a complaint against these prisoners, but Her Majesty's Government may also have grounds for holding them until we have ascertained what foreign agents are doing on British soil.I would suggest that we transfer them to a suitable gaol if our interrogation has been suspended." 

Mercy had been standing there not really paying too much attention to the conversation that was going on at the moment.  Something kept nagging at her as she kept repeating the word virl over and over.

"OH," she suddenly says as her eyes went wide as it dawned on her. "Virl is from the book The Coming Race. That's why the term sounded familiar. I knew I had heard it somewhere before.  Well technically it was read, but that's beside the point."

Grimsby says "You're right, Mercy. I knew I had seen that word before.  Unfortunately, I have not actually read the book, though I looked at it in a library once.  Can you tell us more about it?"

"Well," Mercy begins to say as she ponders how to summarize the book. *"The book is about a young, independently wealthy traveler, who accidentally finds his way into a subterranean world occupied by beings who seem to resemble angels and call themselves Vril-ya.

The Vril-ya are masters of Vril energy, an "all-permeating fluid" that is a latent source of energy that spiritually elevates its hosts that gives them the ability to heal, change, and destroy beings and things.

But only those who can master their will through training and to a degree also depends upon their hereditary constitution. The destructive powers in particular are awesomely powerful, allowing a few young Vril-ya children to wipe out entire cities if necessary. It is also suggested that the Vril-ya are fully telepathic.

But it seems that the Vril-ya will run out of habitable spaces underground and start claiming the surface of the Earth, destroying mankind in the process if necessary."

She pauses a moment to catch her breath and then continues.

"The uses of Vril in the novel among the Vril-ya vary from an agent of destruction to a healing substance. Vril can be changed into the mightiest agency over all types of matter, both animate and inanimate. It can destroy like lightning or replenish life, heal, or cure. It is used to rend ways through solid matter. Its light is said to be steadier, softer and healthier than that from any flammable material. It can also be used as a power source for animating mechanisms. Vril can be harnessed by use of the Vril staff or mental concentration.

A Virl staff is also mention.  The Vril staff is an object in the shape of a wand or a staff which is used as a channel for Vril. It is describes as hollow with 'stops', 'keys', or 'springs' in which Vril can be altered, modified or directed to either destroy or heal. The staff is about the size of a walking stick but can be lengthened or shortened according to the user's preferences. The appearance and function of the Vril staff differs according to gender, age, and so on. Some staves are more potent for destruction, others for healing. The staves of children are said to be much simpler than those of sages; in those of wives and mothers the destructive part is removed while the healing aspects are emphasized."


* Information used from here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vril
This message was last edited by the player at 01:52, Sat 18 Jan 2014.

Grimsby listened intently to Mercy's explanation and replied, "Indeed! It seems Vril may be a very potent power. We must see that the villains we are now investigating do not gain access to it. A Vril staff in the wrong hands could be deadly!"

"All-permeating fluid," Dash snorts, "sounds as ridiculous as Liquid Aether, to me.  Hey!  Maybe Tesla knows more about this Vril stuff.  I mean, if it's real, maybe he's worked with it before, or knows of someone who has."

"Hold on . . . hold on," Mercy says as people seem to get their knickers in a wad. "Vril may or may not exist. Hypothetically if vril did exist, it could be any number of things. For all we know it could just be another name for greek fire or nitroglycerin. We really can't take what is written in that book at face value."

Grimsby responded to Mercy more cautiously this time, "Vril does not sound like Greek fire or nitroglycerin from your description of Vril's properties.  Both are nasty in their own ways, but they could not destroy entire cities, nor do they have the potentially positive powers vril apparently has, assuming the book is correct. That, of course, is another question.  As I have not read it thoroughly, I cannot estimate its reliability, but I don't care to take risks with possible dangers to the nation."

"Well, now, that explains a lot," Sam Clemens speaks up then. "I've heard of this Vril Society. They tried to get Nikola to join, but he turned them down flat. The book was pure fiction, only barely entertaining. Nikola said as much."

"That makes them fanatics. This isn't about Germans, but something deeper."

Grimsby snorts"'Barely readable' was my experience of the only novel of Bulwer-Lytton's I've read, so I can well believe it of this one too. But if the Vril Society is real enough to have tried to recruit Nikola Tesla, they are a significant menace. Who knows how many other scientists they may have tried to recruit?  And not all of them may have had Tesla's good sense to reject the offer."

Without Professor Cavor, there isn't really much point in continuing the mining operation, since the Welsh miners only have a vague clue of what they were looking for. With the samples gone, there's not even anything to compare.

"For what it's worth, you've done an outstanding job in reclaiming my mine for me," Lord Kentigern comments to everyone.

"I'm not really sure what to do with these cads, but I believe we can find a place to secure them until I decide."

"We might as well head back to the manor. Latimer, invite the miners, please. We shall give them a hearty meal, a warm bed and decent night's sleep, and suitable pay. Then we will see about continuing the mining operation."


It's a relieved but quiet party that makes the short trek back to the manner. The exercise helps keep the chill away until the morning sun sheds its warmth over the landscape, even if it won't be much at this time of year.

As they are walking back, a shadow passes over them. It is Remi's airship... and it appears to be heading BACK to the landing site.


When they get back to the manor, Remi is waiting for them.

"I am ashamed to say that you were correct," he admits to the group. "There was another airship, a small black cigar-shaped dirigible. It would have been hard to see in the darkness, which was no doubt the intent of its design. It had already departed, and I would not have seen it except that it stood out against the false light of dawn."

"It is as fast as my own ship, so it was impossible to catch it. It would have been hard to bring down even if i had caught it. It was heading southeast over the channel when I decided to turn back."

Grimsby exclaims, "Confound it! More international complications! I do not blame you for turning back --we have enough to do without bringing the French into it, or whoever else may be involved. But we will have to do more to find out who is back of this."

Mercy follows the group in silence as everyone makes their way back to the manor. "So what now," she asked. It seemed like there were so many things going on at once.

"Well, as I see it, we have not, yet, accomplished our goal." Dash says, "We promised his Lordship, here that we would assist him in regaining his mine.  Now, while we may have helped him regain control of a hole in the ground, by his own declaration, the mine is useless without this Cavor character.  So, by my thinking, we've only recovered half of the 'working' mine."

"Thus, as much as it grieves me to agree with Grimsby, here, about wanting to avoid international entanglements, I think it is clear that we must go to Graustark and rescue Mister Cavor, and bring him back to Lord Kentigern."

Dash turns towards the big African and raises an eyebrow,

"All this would have to be done on the sly, so that Lord Kentigerns enemies hear nothing of our intent. It will probably involve illegally entering the territories of a sovreign nation, or two.  It will, in fact, be rather dangerous.  I don't suppose you'd know where we might find an airship that could perform such activities, would you, mate?"

"I daresay you are even more conservative than I am, Grimbsy!" Lord Kentigern comments on the detective's statement. "And while I don't wish to disagree with you, France does not own the air! Even if some treaty agreed to not violating their air space, however would they enforce that?"

"In this case, it would be necessary to disregard that anyway. It's not so much that WE have to get Professor Cavor back as it is to prevent others from gaining his services. He's the only one that even knows what cavorite is... and what it can do."

He lowers his voice conspiratorially at that point.

"Anti-gravity."

As if on cue, one of the miners brings in a small box and hands it to Lord Kentigern, who promptly turns around and hands it to Matthew.

"I understand you are a scientist. This is a pound of the cavorite ore. See what you can discover from it."

He then turns to see what Remi's response is to Denholm's 'suggestion.'

It wasn't that he was disregarding Dash's question, which was clearly directed at him, but he was waiting to see what Lord Kentigern had to say in response to Grimsby. Now he'd heard.

Anti-gravity? He knew what the idea meant, but what did it really mean?

He preferred not to stay in one place for two long, and his one day in London had somehow managed to bring trouble down on him. It had never been directed at him, but he'd been caught up in it just the same.

Here in Scotland, it had been his decision to 'get involved', but that had been more about getting out of sight of the London gendarmes.

Had he not been a pirate in a 'previous life', then flying a stolen French airship over France would have been crazy! Actually, it was still crazy, but now it was like Fate had thrown down a gauntlet at him.

"You wish to fly into the face of danger," he finally says, "and ask if I will guide you. But of course!"

"I do appreciate a good adventure and relish the challenge!"

He looks around at the others and asks: "So who will join us?"

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!"