By Remi's announced departure time, everyone had gathered out in the field where the airships were moored.

"No, I've never been to Graustark," Samuel Clemens was discussing with Lord Kentigern and his son Latimer. "As much as I'd like to visit the country, I'm afraid this adventure is for a younger group."

"How about you, Nikola? That's your part of the world, isn't it?"

"I shall not go either," the scientist replied. "There is nothing there for me any more."


Link to a picture of Remi's ship Falcon: link to a message in this game

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 1):

Grimsby arrived promptly carrying his small traveling bag --long experience had left him ready to go almost anywhere at a moment's notice. Hearing that the older
gentlemen will not be going, he commented, "Well, I can understand the decisions you have made, but I regret it; quite apart from your individual talents, I am sure that your high reputations would have made us more welcome in Graustark.  Still, if we wish to proceed quietly without attracting undue notice, it may be that traveling without such distinguished companions will be for the best."

Dash arrived carrying a small trunk slung over one shoulder. Hearing the decisions of Clemens and Tesla, he sets down the trunk and walked over to the two, offering his hand.

"Mister Clemens, it has been a pure pleasure making your acquaintance, sir. The next time you find yourself on Nantucket, please stop by Hawkesbury House.  You will always find yourself a most welcome guest there."

"Mister Tesla, it has been the achievement of one of my dearest desires to meet you, sir. I only wish we had been able to talk more. I haven't been able to spend near as much time as I would like discussing technical developments with anyone, since I graduated from the Massachusettes Institute of Technology. If you ever have need of investors, sir, please call upon the Hawkesburys.  I'm sure I can convince my uncle to invest in anything you are involved with, sir."

Matthew comes wandering up bumping a rather large case on one leg and holding the sample of Cavorite in his free hand. Still focused on the mysteries of the element in hand, he nearly bumps into the departing gentlemen. Looking up, he says, " Not going with? No?" he pockets the rock and waves goodbye, " Farewell then. Thank you so much for the use of your lightning gun Mister Tesla. It made our argument quite convincing against the squatters." he makes no mention of returning it, quickly moving to board before such questions are asked.

Stella arrives at the airship, superintending the efforts of a pair of footmen to shift her small trunk, a leather rucksack slung from her shoulder. After watching the trunk winched aloft, she climbs the rope ladder to the deck.

From that vantage, she observes her various 'shipmates' as they board the vessel.

Grimsby Baskerville watched Stella's arrival with a certain sardonic interest and remarked, "I hope you are prepared to make do with just your rucksack if we find we have to do much traveling in Graustark beyond Edelweiss --that's the capital. The rest is mostly mountains and forests, I gather."

"Oh, indeed, Mr Grimsby," Stella rejoins with a quiet smile, "I do enjoy a good ramble. I find it most beneficial to the pulmonary and cardiac constitution."

In between leaving the gathering and arriving at the airship Sam has collected his bowler hat, black umbrella and a well made, compact travel case.

"A pretty little ship, doubt it can carry much frieght but should serve as a passenger transport for a small group such as this."

In reply to Stella Mulberry (msg # 7):

Grimsby Baskerville replied politely, "I am very glad to hear that you are accustomed to walking.  We may end up doing quite a lot of it, if we leave our
airship."

The cavalry officer was still feeling out of sorts. He hadn't been on a horse for almost a week now. He was traveling light, too, though it was more by necessity. He'd brought his saddle, but hadn't had a chance to use it, so now he lugged it to the ship. To be honest, he didn't expect to return here to Scotland any time soon, so it seemed rather absurd to have to so just to fetch his saddle.

He came up on the tail end of a conversation.

"As I understand it," Viktor chimed in, "if the ship was on the waves, it'd be classified as a 'fast packet' ship. It's primarily intended to carry mail and dispatches. At least, that's what the French in Africa were using it for. So, no, not a lot of room for cargo."

He climbed aboard. He was almost used to the rope ladder now. He'd been the ship's crew on the flight up. It wasn't that Mercy and Stella wouldn't have done so, but he'd felt it was unseemly for the womenfolk to do that. As it turned out, Mercy had probably done just as much as he had, perhaps even more. She'd tinkered with the engines, improving their efficiency and even getting better torque out of them. Whatever that meant.

Mercy gathered her things, which was not much and headed to the ship followed by Hugo.  Her mind was still on the little contraption she had been working on earlier. She was not really paying attention to the conversations going on around her.  She stopped to say see you later to Samuel and Nikola.  For her this was not farewell or good bye, as she would see them again.

"Are you taking Hugo with you, Miss Kincaid?" Nikola Tesla asked her. Even though he wasn't going, he'd come out to see everyone off. "Mr. Remi was not too fond of the mechanical man. I do not think he wants it aboard, but I'm sure he will let you if you insist."

"If you do leave it behind, I will see that it is returned to the Gas Lamp Club in London."

"It has been a pleasure and an honor working with you... Mercy. I do not known when our paths will cross again, but... I will be heading back to the States soon, to a place called Colorado. Should you ever find your way there, you will be most welcome."

This message was lightly edited by the GM at 02:46, Thu 27 Feb 2014.

Mercy pondered a moment, "I know, but he could come in handy." She really did not like the thought of leaving Hugo behind. "I'm sure we will cross paths again some day. If I'm that way I will be sure to look you up."

Sam climb aboard the airship using the rope ladder, with a degree of compentance.

"I'm sure you are right, Viktor, I meant no disregard for this fine vessel. I'm just used to vessels of a larger stature. My company operates airships for commerical purposes, both passenger and frieght, but for both tasks size is money."

Having never really met Mr Tesla, Sam didn't feel the need to introduce him self with a farewell. Besides he had read somewhere that Edison was the real man of the electrical sciences, some periodical had mentioned it maybe the Times.

With everyone finally aboard, Remi hauls in the anchor and casts off the ropes. The airship slowly and gracefully soars upward. A moment later the engines kick in, the airscrews begin to spin and the ship picks up speed and elevation.

Within minutes, the ship is soaring over Scotland. The lights of Edinburgh are already in view.

"We're fighting the North Atlantic air current right now," Remi tells everyone from his position behind the wheel. "It's a northerly wind, and we're trying to go south. We'll have to get above it, pick up the higher airstream. That'll increase our speed, maybe allow us to catch the black ship... unless it does the same."

"The catch is... it'll start getting cold. Not as low as freezing... we can't quite go that high. So you should bundle up. Or if you want to get some sleep, the cabins have some heat from the engines and lots of blankets."

"I could use some assistance on the crew, if any of you are amenable. Viktor and I can probably handle it for the 30 hours it'll take us to reach Graustark, but we'd both be pushing it. Only have helm and sails to maintain trim."

Grimsby says "I can take a bit of cold --it gets quite harsh in the Himalayas -- so I don't mind staying out if needed.  But as I have no particular skills on airships, I may not be useful. If you don't need my aid, I'll seek a blanket in the cabin."

"I've a familiarity with sailing vessels, and I've some little experience at ship handling and navigation -- but that's all in water.  I've no experience helming a ship in the air.  But I'm willing to give it the old school try." Dash added.

"Good man, Dash," Remi replies to the American. "Helm's the same... it controls the rudder. It's easier to over-correct in an airship, and you tend to get a more immediate result. Sails are the same... the only difference is... it's a lot longer way down. Always use a safety line."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 20:58, Sun 09 Mar 2014.

There weren't any mountains on the first leg of the journey, so it was a routine four-hour shift.

The trip was going to take around 25 hours, perhaps a little less, perhaps a little more depending on the winds. Remi let Dash take the first shift with Viktor, choosing to get some rest before the next shift when they'd be flying over France. They weren't likely to catch up to the other ship before then anyway.

In her tiny cabin, wearing her warmest clothes and snuggled into two blankets, Stella whiles away her time between dozes with her feet up on her trunk, reading and making notes. Occasionally, she seeks out the galley for a cup of something warm, nodding pleasantly to anyone she encounters.

Since there seemed to be not particular need for him in sailing the airship, Grimsby alternated resting as warmly as possible in his cabin and keeping watch outside for any possible suspicious aircraft, varying the monotony with occasional target practice at passing birds. Seeing Stella passing, he would nod politely.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:24, Thu 13 Mar 2014.

Viktor had already discovered that aerial travel was even more tedious than sea travel, even though he'd done none of the later but had only heard tales of 'long days at sea'. When the sea was calm... that was the worst. At least waves gave you a sense of something happening as the ship rocked to and fro.

They both had the problem of weather, however, and extreme weather was bad for any ship whether it was airborne or seaborne. Fortunately, there was none on this trip... so far. What that meant is that two people on duty wasn't necessary at all times. Also, on such a small ship, it didn't take much to get to any spot on the ship from any other spot on the ship.

It was cold, though. He'd experienced his share of Balkan winters, so it didn't faze him overly much. That didn't mean he either liked it or was unaffected by it. Thus he made frequent trips to the galley for a hot cup of strong coffee. He actually detested the foul brew, much preferring tea or, better yet, a rum toddy. But the coffee seemed to have a better bracing effect than tea, and it kept him alert.

On this particular trip to the galley, he was surprised to find Stella there.

They'd made the shorter trip up from London together, but there was less crew then--him, Remi and a fellow that Lord Kentigern had lent them from his own ship's crew... what was his name now? Ah, yes, Duncan. Mercy would have joined in, but had been more interested in tinkering with the engines. Whatever she'd done to them had worked. They ran quieter now, with less vibration and greater efficiency... something about maintaining the proper over-pressure of the boiler.

There was still the occasional clank from the various devices, but feeding coal to the furnace wasn't as demanding anymore.

All that, and his own shyness of sorts, had kept him from conversing with Stella on that first trip, other than a mere 'Hello, lovely weather we're having' start that was quickly interrupted. At least he knew better than to use that line again!

"Ah, Miss Mulberry, keeping warm I hope?" he said to her. "I can't say I'm overly fond of this strange brew called coffee, but it does seem more suitable to cold lofty flights."

Stella looks up from her wrappings -- she seems to be wearing two coats together -- and favours the younger man with a pleasant smile. "Captain Stahler, isn't it? I am doing my best in keeping a minimal state of warmth. I do find the coffee helps.

"When I was younger, in my gold-rush days, the winters in Barkerville were frigid affairs indeed, much colder than this. We seemed to live on coffee. Well, on that and whiskey." She produces a flask from one of her coats and tips a bit into her mug.

"Will you take a drop? It's brandy."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:54, Wed 12 Mar 2014.

Mercy pretty much stayed hidden in the engine room. She sat there as she continued to work on the contraption she had started on back at the mansion.  From time to time she emerged above looking about as if finding something, before disappearing back into the engine room.

She had nodded off a bit, curled up in a ball right where she had been working. Once she woke up again, she went right back to work on her little bird.  She would stop from time to time checking the engines making sure all was in order.

In reply to Stella Mulberry (msg # 24):

Hearing Stella's offer, Grimsby appears at her elbow and remarks, "If you have any more brandy to spare, I would not mind a drop. I can furnish my own water to go with it."  His practical traveling kit also includes a canteen, which he produces hopefully.

"Why, certainly, Mr.-- Oh, I am sorry, but I'm afraid your name has slipped my mind," she smiles as she pours a healthy dram into a mug and hands it to Baskerville, "It mixes quite well with coffee or tea. Shame we have no chocolate to put it in."

"If you could see your way to spare a drop, Miss Mulberry," Viktor responded to the woman's offer, just as Grimsby entered the galley, "I'd be delighted to join you. I'm no longer in the military, so it's not against regulations."

"Ah, Grimsby, good of you to join us. It does seem to be a restless flight, doesn't it? I wonder if that's because we are all going into the unknown or whether that's a condition of flying for which we have yet to get used to."
This message was lightly edited by the player at 19:26, Wed 19 Mar 2014.

In reply to Stella Mulberry (msg # 27):

Grimsby replies, "Thank you kindly. I am Grimsby Baskerville, of Her Majesty's Colonial Office, presently on detached duty due to this curious affair. I do not commonly add brandy to my tea, though I like a cup in cool weather"
To Viktor he adds "So far, this flight has not been that bad, but I expect it will be rougher when we get over the mountains. If I recall rightly what I've read, Graustark is quite mountainous. Not good cavalry country, I fear."

Out on the windswept deck, Dash is manning the wheel.  As the great envelope of the gasbag abouve his head blots out the stars, and the darkened land flowing by below can barely be discerned, he is flying completely by the say-so of a dimly lit compass; maintaining a course that Remi had directed.

Bundled up in his trenchcoat, with dry clothes and warm woolen socks on his feet and his rumpled, white, billed sailors cap pulled down to his ears, Dash is enjoying the weather....singing to the shadows

O, what do you do with a drunken Sailor?
   What do you do with a Drunken Sailor?
O, what do you do with a Drunken Sailor,
   Er-lie in the Mor-nin?

Y'throw him in the Bilge and make him drink it!
   Y'throw him in the Bilge and make him drink it!
Y'throw him in the Bilge and make him drink it,
   Er-lie in the Mor-nin!

Way-ay up she rises!
   Way-ay up she rises!
Way-ay up she rises,
   Er-lie in the Mornin!

Matthew hears the singing even within the confines of his cabin, where he has spent the journey holed up studiously investigating the Cavorite. Samples had to be tested for density, pH balance, structural composition, gaseous content, and many other geologic scientific examinations. The one word spoken to him when the sample had been granted into his custody was at the core of his inquisition... anti-gravity. He hums as he works, one small part of his mind enjoying the song while the rest stayed obsessively focused on the rock.

Grimsby cocks an ear to the song and remarks, "I hope our steersman is more sober than he sounds.  I would hate to run into a mountain , or a passing airship."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:32, Wed 19 Mar 2014.

Matthew is not able to learn much from the sample material. He doesn't have a full lab for starters, plus some of the testing uses up part of the sample.

First of all, he's able to detect a crystalline structure. It's not large enough to provide gemstones from it, assuming anyone thought they'd be valuable.

The density is rather high, which he thinks can only be because of a previously unknown element.

It's pH neutral and has no gaseous content. He can't determine a melting point because he can't produce a high enough temperature. However, when he heats it up, he notices that the crystalline structure changes.

In its original form, it seems to absorb light a little bit, but he can't figure out where it goes. The heated version gives off light and is slightly magnetic.

"Ah, I'm getting a bit too comfortable here in the warmth of the cabin," Viktor adds. "I'll take a cup of coffee out to Dash, though perhaps we should skip the additive, hey?"

He fills up a spare cup, and then turns back to Stella and Grimsby.

"Any idea how Mercy is handling the trip? She seemed quite at home on the ship on the trip up to Loch Rannoch."

Grimsby replies, "I've not seen much of Mercy during this journey.  She seems to be spending most of her time in the engine room. Given her love for mechanisms, I suppose the engine may be more exciting than the scenery." "

Mercy had stayed in the engine room working on her little contraption. She put each piece in its place in a loving manner as her work neared completion. Putting the final piece in place and securing it. She jumped up in excitement.

"Tis done," she says as she looked at the shiny copper colored bird that sat in her hand. She leaves the engine room and heads to the cabins.

"Stella you in here," as she opens the door to Stella's cabin. "Nope," she says as she closes the door and spins about. "Stella where are you," she calls.

She makes her way to the galley and opens the door. "There you are," as she spots Stella, along with a couple of others.

In reply to Mercy Kincaid (msg # 36):

"Mercy, dear girl, come into the warmth," Stella replies with a pleasant smile, "Tea or coffee? And would you like a drop of something fortifying in it, as well?"

Matthew finally sighs with exhaustion, realizing that he had once again been so absorbed in his study of the rock that he had neglected to tend to his own need for food. The strain on his eyes and brain pulses as a dim headache, troubling any possible theory with the annoying pain of interruption. He pushes back from the desk, sighing with disappointment that he didn't have access to a fully functional laboratory. Following the scent of freshly brewed tea, Matthew wanders into the kitchen, blinking with surprise at the impromptu gathering of passengers in one place. Hearing Stella's offer to Mercy, Matthew says, " Coffee please. Unfortified." he smiles expectantly, the manic grin of overwork doing little to compliment the dark circles beneath his exhausted red-rimmed eyes. " Has anyone here ever worked with or heard of Cavorite?" he asks.

Grimsby frowns thoughtfully and replies, "I've a notion some very hush-hush experiments were being done on the stuff, but it was well outside my province, so I don't know anything more useful, I'm sorry to say. If it had been the Agra treasure, say, or moonstones, I might know more. but we don't see much Cavorite on the Northwest Frontier."

"Ah, Mercy! I was just about to go in search of you," Viktor chimes in, "to see if you could use a cup of tea... or coffee... or perhaps some company. Instead, you found us!"

"That's a fascinating device you've constructed. Pardon my ignorance, but... does it do anything?"

He listens to her answer for a moment before excusing himself.

"As fascinating as the company is, I have responsibilities I must fulfull. In this case, relieving Dash at the helm so that he can get warm is the immediate one."

He puts his Ruritanian fur hat on as he exits the galley and takes the extra cup of coffee to Dash. After chatting for a moment, and informing Dash of the impromptu gathering in the galley, he relieves Dash at the helm.

The warmth from the galley still infused his body, but despite the great coat he wore, the wind could cut through him easily enough. He turned his collar up a bit and put on the protective goggles.

"Steady as she goes," he says to the night wind.

Everything that was said went right over Mercy's head at that moment. "Look Stella! I finished it," as she opens her hands to reveal the copper colored bird. "Watch this," as she pulls out a tiny key and sticks it in the birds back.  She begins to wind the bird up and then removes the key. Suddenly the bird comes alive as it stands up and opens it's eyes. It then began to mimic bird movements as it moved its head, wings and tail.  Then the beak began to open and close as it started to chirp out a tune.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:29, Thu 27 Mar 2014.

Grimsby eyes the artificial bird with interest and remarked, "Very ingenious!  Could you incorporate a device to take photographs or record conversations?  It might have applications in my line of work."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:01, Mon 31 Mar 2014.

Stella claps her hands and smiles at Mercy: "How charming, my dear! It almost seems alive!"

After thanking Viktor for the coffee, and then double-checking that he can maintain the compass heading, Dash heads to the galley to warm up a little before retiring.

"Well, hello everyone." Dash says, as he enters the galley, removing his cap and stuffing it into a pocket of his trenchcoat, "Having a bit of a late-night coffee klatsch, eh?"

Dash walks over and refills his coffee cup, "I say, has any one of you ever been to this Graustark place?  I hear it's mountainous and land-locked, so I've never been.  I've heard of Graustark -- simply as one of many small European nations -- but I'm afraid that's the end of my knowledge."

Grimsby replies, "I've never actually been to Graustark, but I was briefed on it once, during the last Axphain-Graustark War --Graustark was losing and pleading for British intervention, and it looked for a while as if we might go in. Fortunately--or unfortunately from Graustark's viewpoint --we did not, and they ended up making peace in return for promise of a huge indemnity, which they will have to repay pretty soon. I believe Princess Yetive has been negotiating for a loan with some your American bankers, though I wouldn't call Graustark a good risk myself. I don't put much stock in the supposed confederation of Graustark with her neighbors --they have always behaved very independently and still do." 

" I hear there's good skiing. Read a travel brochure about it." Matthew says, adding his own plethora of knowledge on Graustark.

Mercy ponders a moment, "I am sure I could if I had the right components." She looked at the mechanical bird in her hand that had now gone to sleep as she pondered the possibility.

Dash sipped at his coffee, as he pondered the situation.

"As my Great Uncle is wont to say..." Dash suddenly said, "...'Nobody undertakes an activity for absolutely no reason.  Always ask yourself, what's in it for him?'..."

Dash looked around at those gathered in the galley, "So, we must ask ourselves, why would anyone want to bring this Mister Cavor to Graustark?  Just who is he, and why would anyone in a tiny, backwater nation like Graustark be interested in him?"

"Anyone have any ideas?" Dash casts pointed looks at Matthew and Mercy, "Anyone?"

"I've spent most of my life in North America and Australia and China," Stella says, "I'd never really heard of Graystark before. Oh, I imagine I'd seen headlines -- there was a war, was there? -- but nothing that stuck in my mind.

"As for Cavor, do we know anything more than his last name and that he is some sort of mining engineer? Does anyone even know his first name?"

In reply to Mercy Kincaid (msg # 47):

Grimsby responds, "It is nice to know that possibility exists, though I doubt it will be easy to find the materials you would need in Graustark. We might be able to make a brief stop on the way in somewhere civilized -- Austria-Hungary, say --and pick up a few things, if Remi is willing to take the risk, or spare the time."

"What?! Someone threw a party and didn't invite me?" Remi says in mock protest as he enters the galley. "And on my own ship!"

"I confess, I was having trouble sleeping myself. The cold seems to cut right through this son of the desert."

"As I understand it, this Professor Cavor... I believe his first name is Tristan, if it matters... is a scientist, potentially an inventor,  not a miner or engineer, though in this day and age, one can wear many hats. How he came by knowledge of this cavorite mineral is a mystery, but I believe it was Kentigern's son who gave it its name, not the professor himself. And that only because it is still unclear what it's composition is. Isn't that right, Matthew?"

"That it was serendipitous that it was discovered in Kentigern's estate seems a bit much to accept, so the secret of its discovery is equally a mystery. It may have something to do with Hertzian waves. Hertz and Tesla aren't the only ones experimenting with them.

He held up a book he was carrying. The title was The Coming Race.

"Kentigern had a copy in his library and let me borrow it. 'Tosh and nonsense' I believe he called it. On the surface, it would appear so. However, it was published only 4 years after Maxwell theorized Hertzian waves, but sixteen years before Hertz himself proved their existence."

"This cavorite could well be the source of this vril power. And this book was published around the same time as the reports of Captain Nemo. Two books documenting a hitherto unknown energy source? It pushes credulity to the limit!"

"Now where's my coffee?"

" ...and that only because it is still unclear what it's composition is. Isn't that right, Matthew?"

Matthew looks up from the rock in hand as his name his mentioned, nodding emphatically, " I've spent hours with this sample, running tests and studying it with what limited tools I have at my disposal, and yet I still have more questions than answers. Hertzian waves? ...an electric current.. Mmm." he says, turning his attention back to the rock. Ah, what he wouldn't give for a night in a proper lab in which to continue his research on the Cavorite.

"So, Cavor is a scientist and an inventor, and this Cavorite stuff may have something to do with a new source of power." Dash summed up, "And everybody and their brother, these days, will do a lot of things to get greater sources of power.  That goes a long way towards explaining the 'what' these mystery men are involved with -- they are after a new power source."

"Next is this issue of 'why' Graustark?  We have it on good authority that these tattooed ruffians have taken Mr. Cavor, and an undisclosed amount of Cavorite ore, to Graustark.  But, we've also got a cryptic note that could be interpreted to mean that they have some foul play planned in Graustark, rather than that someone in Graustark is behind all this.  Or maybe even both."

Dash drains his second cup of coffee, and puts it in the galley sink.

"Excellent coffee, by the way.  My compliments to whoever made it.  Well, many things to ponder, as I've said, and the morning shift comes early aboard ship.  Unless anyone has anything else to add, I believe I shall be off to my bunk."

In reply to Remi (msg # 51):

Grimsby remarks to Remi in Arabic, "It is said by your people that coffee is the black enemy of sleep and fornication.  Sleep, at least, we seem to be doing without on this voyage so far."
He also responds to Dash, "Indeed, a power source like this could be worth plotting for. Certain nations -- the German Empire for instance -- have shown an interest in submarines, and if such a vessel could indeed be powered indefinitely by such a source, as with Captain Nemo's craft, it would be a very dangerous weapon."

In spite of the coffee, the warmth seemed to make everyone sleepy again, and after retiring to their cabins, the rest of the day seemed pass quickly and uneventfully.

It wasn't long before the airship sailed over the Channel into the skies over France. Belgium was visible to the east and the Alps to the south.

The plan was to fly south over France to Lyon and on to Marseille on the coast, then head due east across the Ligurian Sea and Italy, and from there, east by southeast across the Adriatic Sea to the Balkans.

A more direct route through Germany and Austria wasn't recommended, nor was it practical as the airship would have difficulty flying over the Alps.

Although Paris wasn't too far off their current path, the urgency of their mission precluded stopping there for afternoon tea.

Scotland to Paris was 8.5 hours, and Marseille would be another 7 hours.

Remi was at the helm by 4pm when Paris was visible to the west.

He asked Viktor to prepare tea for those who felt it was the civilized thing to do, even at 5,000 feet.

"We should reach Marseille in another seven hours, putting us there about an hour before midnight."

"Sixteen hours in such small quarters can be quite taxing on the spirit, so I put this to you all: do you wish to stop before we get to Marseille, perhaps while there is still a glimmer of daylight? Or we could stop in Lyon for supper."

"Or would you wish to stop in Marseille? It seems the more likely place to find information on our quarry, if any is to be had. They will have the same problems we do, and it seems quite unlikely that they would be expecting pursuit."

"We've kept watch for them using our finest spyglass... alas, to no avail. Not even a glimmer. Of course, we don't know the full capabilities of the black ship. It is possible they took the high road over the Alps."

Tea was served by Viktor as he spoke, along with some freshly made crumpets.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:17, Thu 01 May 2014.

"I've put in at Marseille on a couple of occassions, aboard family traders." Dash says, "But I spent most of my time around the port area.  The sea port, that is.  Still, I might be able to get a lead on a small black zeppelin from some of the ship outfitters I know."

Dash shrugs, "After all, whether it sails or flys, a ship is a ship when it comes to everyday supplies."

Grimsby helped himself lbeally to tea with plenty of milk and sugar and a coupe of crumpets and then replied, "If Dash has sources of information in Marseilles, I would favor stopping there. I have not been there myself, but I believe Her Majesty's  Government has a consul in the port, as well as less official agents that I might get some information from as well."

Although a concensus wasn't reached, there was no real disagreement to stopping in Marseilles. Remi skillfully took the ship down to a lower altitude so it wouldn't appear threatening. Of course, since he was flying a French ship, even if it wasn't flying a French flag any more, helped.

But he was quite uncomfortable setting down in a French port.

The ship landed in Longchamp Park. They could take a train or carriage to any where in Marseilles that they wanted to go. Remi chose to stay on board the ship, to guard it and enable a fast getaway if it became necessary.

Grimsby, having donned a tweed suit suggestive of an English gentleman on holiday,
set off in search of the British consulate. Her found it was on the Rue de Prado, not far from the harbor. He entered and gave his card to a clerk; it not only carried his official rank in the colonial service, but also a small mark indicating he also served as a secret agent. On it he had written "For the consul in person, confidential." He then seated himself to await an opportunity to see the consul.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:46, Tue 22 Apr 2014.

Dash came out on deck dressed in the formal uniform of a Third Officer of a Hawkesbury Line freighter; a dark-blue, double-breasted longcoat with shiny brass buttons and a single gold braid at each cuff, over loose khaki-colored trousers and black colored, rubber-soled canvas sneakers*. A black leather belt with brass buckle was fastened around the waist of his longcoat, and a dark-blue, slouch-topped kepi with lots of gold embroidery -- looking much like the the caps worn by Union soldiers during the War Between the States -- sat on his head.

Dash assumed a stern-looking pose, with his feet slightly parted, and his hands clasped behind his back.  Then he glared at everyone for a few seconds, before breaking into a smile.

"Hawkesbury Line vessels don't put into Marseilles that often, just a couple of times a year, but often enough that ship chandlers will recognize the uniform." Dash said, gesturing at his accoutrements, "And a Trader -- especially if he's a Hawkesbury -- won't get a second thought over asking after the outfitting of a 'competetors vessel'.  My only concern is that, so far, we haven't really had any competition from dirigible shippers. But many folks know of my desire to get Hawkesbury Line involved in airships, so I hold little chance I'll arouse suspicion."

"I'll be heading to a banc, first." Dash added, "To exchange a couple of Sovreigns for Francs, then off to the port.  Anyone feel like coming along? Matthew...Viktor? I'm sure Remi has some sailors slops aboard; we could outfit you to look the part of a couple of strong-back Sailors, accompanying their Officer ashore?"

Dash suddenly looked a little shagrined, "Because, truth be told, my French is rather bad. Non-existant, actually. And it wouldn't hurt to have a French-speaker along. Mercy, Miss Mulberry, do either of you speak French?"



* = the word "sneakers" was already in use in America at least as early as 1887, as the Boston Journal made reference to "sneakers" as "the name boys give to tennis shoes." The name "sneakers" originally referred to how quiet the rubber soles were on the ground, in contrast to noisy standard hard leather soled dress shoes. Someone wearing sneakers could "sneak up" on you while someone wearing standards can "only stand on you".

In reply to Denholm Hawkesbury (msg # 61):

"I have a bit of French, Mr. Hawkesbury," says Stella, emerging onto the deck from below, dressed for town and tying on her bonnet, "I should be glad to accompany you. It'll be nice to warm myself in the Mediterranean sunshine and stretch my legs." She glances down at her diminutive lower limbs and looks up again with a twinkle in her eye and a grin: "So to speak."

Departing Marseilles a little after midnight, it's a 400-mile trip west across the northern Tyrrhenian Sea, north of Corsica to the Italian mainland, across the peninsula by Perugia through the Appenines gap, into the Adriatic Sea. From there, it's another 300-miles east-southeast to the coast of the Balkan peninsula, and inward to Graustark.

The ship does about 60 miles per hour, depending on the winds, so the trip should take about 11-12 hours.

You've got that long to deal with your captive, and make whatever plans you can.

"Oh, yeah ... I almost forgot your friend, here, my dear Grimsby." Dash knelt down on one knee, next to the captive man, and rolled him over to expose his bound hands.  Then he checks the backs of both hands for the tell-tale tattoo -- and, if found, even goes so far as to make sure it's real, and doesn't smear or wash off.

"Did anyone check this fellow for any kind of identification? A business card, a bank book, anything?"

Bellgrove responds to Dash, "Just to put this out there, my French is rather good, if I may say so. For the sake of what lies before us, I am willing to do whatever ever I may to make myself useful. (I do not know much of interrogation, but I know something of 'interviewing' a fellow.)

"After all, a good story is worth work well done, eh?"

Grimsby remarked, "My own French is adequate for most purposes, but it might be that an ostensibly neutral American would be able to learn more from this fellow than I can -- given my little affray with him, he can have no illusions about our mutual hostility. As he appears to still be unconscious, we might leave him alone in a compartment with Mr. Wander -- still bound, of course, and with others in easy call, and Mr. Wander could rouse the villain and feign a sympathetic interest in his plight -- perhaps hint that he could be persuaded to free the fellow if given a full explanation of "his side" of the business..."

"And if that fails," says Stella with a grin, "We can dangle him over the side by a rope around his ankle and offer to cut him free if he refuses to come clean."

Stella's words give Bellgrove a moment of pause before he responds to the Englishman. When he does there is a glimmer of humor in his unusual lavender eyes, "As the ever practical Miss Mulberry suggests, we might simply give the man the sharpest terms and permit him to come to them.

"You seem to have had some sort of communication with this fellow prior to his unconsciousness, Mr. Baskerville, is he a fanatic? Will he offer up insights without threats? You obviously suggested kinder methodology, and I am willing to try them before playing bad; however, it would be useful to have some sense of things before we begin this game."

Dash checks the man's wrist, and confirms that the Vril symbol tattoo is there, and it's permanent.

Although Grimsby didn't count the money he pulled off the man before handing it to Bellgrove, it was a sizable amount; he estimates now that it might have been as much as 5,000 francs.

When he searched the man back at the cab before tossing him into the back, he did find a derringer in the man's left boot and a stiletto in the right.

Only now back in the ship with Marseilles fading in the distance does he have the luxury to examine the man's billfold. It is the long style, rather than the wallet style, the kind that fits into a man's inside jacket pocket. One corner is missing... where one of the bullets clipped it.

In the other half from the money, there are two documents folded up. One is a letter of identification/introduction purportedly issued by the Serbian government which identifies the man as Durad Brankovic, a Serbian citizen who resides at 671 Gospodar Jovanova, Belgrade, Serbia. The other is a letter from the Lumiere Brothers claiming Brankovic is a business agent for them; it is signed by Auguste Lumiere. He is authorized to purchase certain chemicals and equipment on their behalf.

While the others are discussing how to go about interrogating their prisoner, Matthew has been fighting to keep his meal down.

Looking a bit green around the gills, he finally manages to offer his thoughts on the matter.

"I don't think that'll do any good," he says. "These folks are fanatics; they'd rather die than give up anything. In fact, unless I miss my guess, I'd say they are the victims of Mesmer."

"On the other hand, you could trick them. Not sure how, but he might talk if he is in a position of strength. I've seen their kind before... a touch megomaniacal. When they are in control, they like to brag about how great they are. It feeds their ego, as Freud would say."

"Bellgrove, Connor, look here, please." Dash says, holding the mans bound hand up such that the tattoo is clearly visible.

"To date, most of the thugs that have been involved in all the violence have had these tattoos, here on their hands. Something to watch for."

Dash then stands and looks over at Matthew.

"Not to worry, Matthew, old mucker, just remember how we broke 'em back in Scotland.  Soaking their stockings in kerosene does wonders to open their mouths." Dash says with a wink, and a friendly nudge to Grimsby's shoulder, "Eh, Grimsby?"



OOC: an image of the tattoo can be found in Game Map, Map for Group 1

Grimsby replies, "I am quite prepared to use whatever means are necessary to get this fellow to talk, but I till prefer to start gently and only turn to harsher means if milder measures have not persuaded him -- if we ever had occasion to surrender him to legal authorities, he would look better unmutilated.
However, while it might be true that he would boast if he thinks himself to have the upper hand, I am not sure how we can give him that illusion without risking giving him a real opportunity. I would like to keep him bound, and as long as he is tied up, I don't suppose he can be deceived into imagining we are in his power.
I regret to say, Mr. Wander, that the only communications I have had with him were blows and bullets, but they made his meaning sufficiently clear --he wanted me dead.
I think we can safely assume he is as fanatical as the rest of the agents of the Vril --they all seem equally determined to eliminate us or die in the attempt."

OOC: Thanks for the tip about the tattoo image!

Bellgrove rubs his chin as he listens to everyone else's contributions. When Matthew mentions Freud he looks at the man once more with interest, but does says nothing about the Austrian doctor. Instead he takes a breath and , "I see. Right. Well, I suppose we do not dare to leave him unchained?"

In reply to Bellgrove G. B. Wander (msg # 73):

Grimsby promptly answers "Having seen --and felt--this fellow in action, I certainly do not want him loose again. However, if the rest of the party feel otherwise, I am willing to discuss the point."

Connor, who had up until this point had been keeping very quiet, mulling over a cup of hot tea he'd made a little earlier, spoke up, "Do you think I might have any effect making him talk, gents? The other one that I had the great misfortune to have to bite practically jumped out of his skin when I did, screamed 'vampire' at the top of his lungs and all that."

The felinoids ears lay back and a low hiss came from him at the sight of the tattoo, making it all too clear that Connor had absolutely no love for the Vril society, "That's the mark all right...fanatical buggers..."

"Quite so, Conner. I had forgotten that fact. Both of us interviewing the fellow might be just the thing."

Dash shrugs -- then winces at the mild pain from his back.

"Well, if you two wish to start the questions with this ... gentleman ..." Dash gives a none-too-gentle prod with his foot to the thugs ribs, "Who is not fooling anyone by pretending to still be unconscious! Wakey-wakey, mein Herr."

Grimsby nodded at Connor's suggestion, though as Dash was speaking to the prisoner he did not comment audibly.

Dash's kick to the prisoner didn't evoke any response. Even a more forceful kick to his jewels produced no response.

A quick check detected a pulse, but it was low and thready. He appeared to be unconscious. His eyes, however, were dilated, generally the sign of some sort of drug.

"It's no use, this man is drugged," Connor said, his strong sense of smell picking up on the drug running through the human's veins, the felinoid crouching down for a moment to get a better whiff before he rose to his full measure once more, "Some sort of opiate mixed with an alkaloid-based compound...wicked stuff at any rate, until it wears off all you'll get out of this one is a wheeze and maybe a fart, but he's out like a sodden firebox."

"Hmph."

Bellgrove shrugs, "Well, let us make him as indisposed as we possibly can so when this wears off he shall be at our mercy...

"Though, it seems to me that one would not simply knock one's self out. If we forced him to vomit perhaps that might help? Otherwise, something tells me he is a dead man."

"I'm an engineer, not a doctor," Connor replied with a shrug, "But if he has been poisoned, I'd say it's too late to try and get it out of his system. However, if he has not, the real question should be why would the Veil let him live if he knows something? Perhaps he is more useful or dangerous being with us alive. I'd say the risk would outweigh the benefits of any information, indeed he might know nothing of use and we are just chasing our tails, if you'll forgive the natural analogy."

Grimsby responded, "You may well be correct, Mr. Holmes, but given our very limited knowledge of the Vril, I am willing to risk letting him live until he recovers enough to be questioned, assuming he ever does. If he is still comatose when we reach Graustark, we might seek discreet medical aid for reviving him."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:12, Fri 08 Aug 2014.

The ship crosses the Tyrrhenian Sea without any incident, reaching the Appenine gap just as dawn creeps in from the east. The prisoner still hasn't woken up, but he hasn't gotten any worse, either.

It's about another hour before the next course correction has to be made.

"Well, this lout's done himself in, I believe." Dash comments, as the sun rises over central Italy, "We might as well get rid of him, for I do not think he will be answering any questions any time soon, if ever."

Dash turns to Remi, "Cap'n Remi, will we be needing to re-coal, anytime soon? If I remember the maps of Italy correctly, the town of Perugia is at the western end of the pass we must fly through -- just ahead of us -- while the city of Assissi is at the eastern end. Perhaps we could land long enough to drop this garbage off at a hospital, or a Doctor, or something? A Franciscan Monastery, even?"

"Which reminds me, we should probably copy down the information on all of his documents -- that list of chemicals and supplies, especially, and the instructions for where they were to be sent."

Dash looks around at his companions, "Other than just shoving him overboard, I think this will be our best, quickest, option. Any other suggestions?"

Grimsby responds cautiously, "I grant you that the fellow probably needs a hospital, but I should like to give him until we reach Graustark to wake up --I should really like to have a chance to question him if he does wake.  If not, I think he will do as well in Graustark as he would in Italy -- at least the capital, Edelweiss, has modern medical facilities, I understand."

Bellgrove knows little of medicine or poisons or anything like that. He nods at Dash's words, but says little. Ultimately, he feels a bit out of place with things. After all, a few hours ago he was wandering through a warehouse yard in the process of investigating a story. Now he is on an aeroship going to a country he knows little about in pursuit of an organization he knows even less about.

Grimbsy seems to know what he is about, so that combined with Dash's certainty also makes him feel as if he need not have ideas if he does not have them. He smiles as Conner's 'natural analogy' and otherwise takes some time to get to know the ship. It has been a while since he has been on one and he realizes how much he has missed it. Had his life taken another course he might have spent the past several months on such a vessel and it is a bit surprising to him how easy it is to readapt.

"Grimsby, old man, I agree with everything you just said." Dash nodded his head as he spoke, "But, I still have two point to object to."

"First, and most important to me, is that this thug will require constant attention; should his condition either worsen or improve. I, myself, refuse to provide any kind of care or assistance to this poor excuse for a Man. In reversed situations, I am quite positive he would not hesitate to simply kill us. My only condecention to being a better Man than him is that I am willing to drop him somewhere where  he could be cared for. Beyond that, I will do nothing for him."

"Second, if we bring him to Graustark, and seek medical aide for him there, I believe we will be exposing ourselves to our enemies. This doped-up dolt is working for people located in Graustark. He is most likely known around Graustark.  If we wheel him into a hospital in Graustark, I feel confident in saying that the word of such an event will quickly spread, and his confederates will thus quickly converge upon us."

"Maybe, as back in Marseille, I am over-thinking this, maybe I am being paranoid. But, in truth, can you say that I am absolutely wrong in these suspicions?"

Grimsby responded, "I grant you we must watch this fellow at all times --having been subjected to his unkind attentions, I certainly don't desire more of them.  But there are several of us --myself among them --who have no skills for sailing this ship, so we might as well be watching him  --it would be more useful than waiting about for landing.
As for "wheeling him into a hospital" --I quite agree that would be most unwise.
That is hardly what I meant by 'discreet medical aid'. I should hope that the British envoy in Graustark  --or perhaps the government of the princess --could provide us with someone competent and trustworthy who could be brought quietly aboard to look him over. If he can be revived and questioned, well and good. If not, well." He shrugged. "I suppose he can be given private burial."

"Hmmm. Hand him over to the British Consul." Dash says, pondering the idea, "That's not a bad idea. But, I don't know about approaching the Princess' government. All these balkan countries are like political powderkegs, don't'cha know. We have no idea just how far these Vril people might have infiltrated the Graustark government. I mean, there's a reason they've taken Cavor to Graustark, yes?"

Grimsby replied, "I agree the British consul is preferable. From what I have heard, the princess herself is a decent sort, but there is no knowing how far the Vril may have infiltrated her government."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:26, Sat 16 Aug 2014.

"I shouldn't think the British government would relish taking charge of an unconscious man who likely isn't one of their nationals," Stella says, returning from her cabin where she bundled up and making for the coffee boiler, "Especially since he's been kidnapped from another nation's soil.

"We should just leave him in a field somewhere that he'll be found. I'm not sure Italy isn't the best choice, since there'll be nothing then to possibly connect him to us.

Stella obviously isn't troubled with scruples over a man who attacked them without provocation.

Grimsby replied, "The British government, if I may say so, has in the past had reason to respect my opinion in intelligence matters. I believe the British consul would assist us in handling this man if need be, and I would prefer not to simply leave him in a field.  After all, we know the Vril are active in Graustark, and presumably the chiefs of the Vril, wherever they may be, know this fellow was sent to attack us in Marseilles.  If he turns up in Graustark, word of it is likely to reach the Vril, and they will know we most likely brought him there."

Remi tended to let his actions speak louder than his words, but there were times when words were necessary.

"No, we do not need to take on coal in Italy," Remi replied to Dash's question. "The modifications Mercy made to the engine has considerably extend our range. We've also had a fair wind."

"I have been thinking about this Vril agents and what we found back in Scotland. As you just said, Dash, the Balkans are a powderkeg. I'm not sure I see a benefit to assassinating Lord Kentigern, other than to gain total control of the mine, but assassinating the Princess of Graustark could be the spark that sets off the powderkeg."

"Also on that list was the ruler of Bourbony. That's a peculiar path for the Black Ship to follow. It makes me think that Graustark isn't really their destination, but is just a convenient stopover. Graustark is a refueling stop, but it was selected because of something else on their agenda."

"So who is to say that Bourbony is their last stop?"

Bellgrove had been quiet letting the hands that have obviously been working together for a while talk things through. When there was a pause he cleared his throat, "It seems to me that you are all quite correct that leaving this fellow with the Consul is the best move for now. He is dead weight and doubtless the Consul could get some 'technical' help from 'somewhere' to deal with him and possibly learn something that we are not.

"The 'powder keg' that we find ourselves in the midst of is also an awfully good reason not to have to lug him about. Captain Remi brings up some rather valid points and in order to continue this investigation we are going to need flexibility."

Connor had been keeping to himself for the most part since he'd had a look at the prisoner, mulling over a cup of hot tea as he looked over the charts with the ship's navigator, a friendly chap despite his somewhat fierce countenance. The felinoid was comparing his own amateur computations to the pro's just for something to do, surprised to see his estimate of the airship's position was only slightly off.

"Guess being an amateur yachtsman helps sometimes," Connor mused quietly to himself as he sat down off to one side, sipping on his tea and looking out the windows once more, occasionally checking his watch and the little compass that was tucked into the lid along with a few more gadgets..

In reply to Bellgrove G. B. Wander (msg # 95):

Geimbsy replied seriously, "You have a very good point Mr. Wander. The death of the princess could set off quite a scramble for the succession-- the neighboring nations like Axphain and Ganlook would almost certainly jump in, and then the great powers with Balkan interests like Russia and Austria-Hungary might follow. There is also this Borbony business --no knowing what that might lead to.  All in all, if we can entrust this fellow to the consul, we can be ready to follow the trail wherever it may lead."

"Alright, then, it's agreed -- we drop this scum over the side..." Dash said jovially, rubbing his hands together and making as if to kick the thug, "Heh-heh, I mean we drop him off at Graustark, into the hands of the British Consul."

Dash suddenly sobers, as an idea occurs, "Say, Grimsby, we at Hawkesbury Trading have a kind of business code, that we use when we want to telegraph sensitive business information. I don't suppose you Foreign Office chappies have anything similar, do you? Maybe we could stop along the way and telegraph ahead to the British Consul in Graustark, letting him know what we need, and they could then be waiting at the aerodrome...?"

In reply to Denholm Hawkesbury (msg # 98):

Grimsby responded, "Yes, as a matter of fact, the Foreign Office has a code --more than one, in fact, and although I am officially under the Colonial Office, I have had occasion to use the Foreign Office codes. As you say, if we stop somewhere I could well send a message so the consulate would be ready for us --have a suitably anonymous coach waiting at the airship field or the like --that would speed the transfer, and then we could be on our way in pursuit of more Vril."

OOC: Oops! I goofed ^_^

Remi pulls out a map and examines it before he says anything.

"We can head down the coast and stop in Pescara. They are the most likely town to have a telegraph up the coast to Venice, and from there across the ground into the Balkans. Keep in mind that the Ottomans were forced to withdraw from the region because of their lack of modernization. Lack of rails and telegraphs had a tendency to keep them in the dark in battles."

"And Pescara is more or less on our way. It's only about a hundred miles away now, and it might even have a direct cable over the mountains to Rome. If that's any better. Might be able to relay a message through the Heliograph."

Grimsby says, "Thank you, captain.  If the party decides on a short stop at Pescara, I will see if I can send a telegram in the Foreign Office code to the British consulate in Edelweiss. Given what happened the last time we landed, I would suggest that I do not go off the ship alone."

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 102):

"I'd go with you Grimsby, old legume..." Dash gestures at the new injury to his arm, "But between this and the burns on my back, I think I should rest-up for the remainder of the journey; so I'll be ready when we get to Graustark."

"How about the Irishman?" Dash nods towards Connor, "I think there's a very good chance they don't know about him being with us, yet, so travelling with him could throw them off the trail." Dash turns to Connor, "Parli Italiano, signor Connor?"

"Or maybe Miss Mulberry?" Dash added, turning back to Grimsby, "You know, truth be told, I honestly think it was her accompanying me that kept those Vril brigands off our track -- they weren't looking for a man and a woman."

"I should be pleased to accompany you, Mr Baskerville, if you wish," says Stella with a smile, "Really, Dash, don't you think our Irish friend might be a bit too conspicuous? In a place as small as Pescara, the authorities might even lock him up until they are certain he poses no danger."

She turns to Connor, "I mean no offense, Mr Holmes, but I imagine you attract an inordinate amount of attention and comment. We are, after all, trying to be a bit surreptitious in our activities, you see."
This message was last edited by the player at 16:42, Tue 26 Aug 2014.

"I am happy to do act as escort as well, though I do not speak Italian.", offers Bellgrove.

Grimsby smiles warmly and replies, "I am very gratified that Miss Mulberry and Mr. Wander are willing to accompany me.  I quite understand that Mr. Hawkesbury needs more time recover, and I am afraid Miss Mulberry has a point regarding the likely reaction to Mr. Holmes in a small Italian town, though no one would question his
usefulness in a fight."

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 106):

"Well, then, I believe it's settled." Dash acknowledges, "Cap'n Remi, make for Pescara, if you please. Grimsby, Stella, and Bellgrove will go into town to send a message ahead to Graustark, while the rest of us wait here, aboard the blimp. With, maybe, a quick trip to the backery for fresh bread, we should be able to get in and out in just a couple of hours, yes? And then straight sailing to Graustark!"

" Sì, signore Hawkesbury, io sono fluente in tutte le lingue umane, (Yes, Mr. Hawkesbury, I am fluent in all human languages)," Connor replied in perfect Italian from his place by the window, switching back to English as he added to Stella, "No offense taken, madam, but I have ways of making myself inconspicuous to humans, so I'm not hanging around here if I can be of use elsewhere."

The felinoid's ears lay back as he gave a slight chuff of indignance at the thought of being left on the sidelines over the as-yet unfounded notion that everyone wanted to either assault or arrest him on site just because he wasn't human, but even so Connor knew how to make himself almost invisible when things got unfriendly and he needed to move around in the open.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 00:32, Fri 29 Aug 2014.

In reply to Connor Holmes (msg # 108):

Dash shrugs -- then winces at the slight discomfort it causes.

"Your call, Connor. At least you speak Italian. Buona fortuna."

"Parlo anche un po 'italiano," says Stella modestly.

Bellgrove grins, "Ich noch sprechen kein Italienisch, aber ich bin erleichtert, dass jemand tut!"

Grimsby says, "Well, if Mr. Holmes chooses to go, I grant he will be very helpful, between his Italian and his fighting qualities."

"Dein Deutsch ist sehr gut für eine amerikanische, Herr Wander, obwohl Sie wollen auf Ihrem Akzent ein bisschen mehr arbeiten könnten. (Your German is quite good for an American, Mister Bellgrove, although you might want to work on your accent a bit more), Connor replied to Bellgrove in kind in the German tongue as he got up from his seat for another cup of tea, as well as find more appropriate garbs for going icognito, again switching back to his slightly Irish-accented English as he added, "Right, I'm going to get together what I need for going icognitio, and maybe a spot to eat."

Two hours later, the ship is approaching the village of Pescara. An airship is rather hard to hide, so it was pointless to make any kind of 'stealthy' approach. The dissemination of newspapers, magazines and books has pretty much made the existence of airships common knowledge, even if few people have actually seen one for real.

So it isn't surprising that a large group of people come out to greet the ship as it lands. For security, Remi chooses not to bring it all the way down to the ground, so anyone disembarking has to climg down the rope ladder.

Grimsby, having made sure he has both his large revolver and his derringer ready and loaded, but neither openly visible, prepares to climb down the ladder. He says,
"Well, here we go.  This is a bit more obvious than I'd like, but it can't be helped. If we spot a policeman in the crowd, perhaps Miss Mayberry  can ask the way to the telegraph office -- if the tales of Italians are true, she might get the most friendly response. If not, Mr. Holmes could explain more fluently --or more forcefully." 

Soon enough, Connor came into the room from his cabin and got ready to go down the ladder himself, having changed his clothing to better hide his inhuman appearance and hopefully keep any unfortunate incidents from happening because of his looks.

The tiger felinoid's brown suit and trousers were gone, having been replaced by a set of jet-black robes (think Assassin's Creed for the style) with a large hood to hide his face in shadow, the robes themselves doing a good job of hiding his tail and his pawlike feet since they were synched up tight with a brown leather belt with a brass buckle, and he also wore brown leather gauntlet-gloves to hide his hands. Underneath, he had a toolbelt wrapped around one shoulder like a bandolier, and he wore a white shirt and dark grey pants. As before, Connor carried no weapons per se, just his usual walking stick, but he could certainly use that to great effect as he had proven back in Marseilles.

The overall effect was somewhat menacing, like a cross between some sort of warrior monk and maybe a pirate of old, but in general Connor found this getup to be useful when he had to go about certain areas of human society that weren't too friendly to his kind.

"Well," he said as he made to follow Grimsby down the ladder, "The Italians are a pretty nice people, generally, fond of their vino and a good bite to eat, but it would still be wise to stay on our guard. We'll find the telegraph office, but I don't think force will be a wise option if we wish to keep a low profile.."

Bellgrove is also prepared (that is armed under his suit) when he joins Grimsby, Conner and Stella. "And I shall smile warmly or scowl fiercely as the moment requires," he responds to the British agent as they all prepare to descend.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 18:16, Mon 01 Sept 2014.

In reply to Bellgrove G. B. Wander (msg # 117):

Dash walked across the deck to where everyone was descending. He was dressed in boots, denim slacks and a gray turtleneck pullover with his shoulder holster and broomhandled Mauser worn openly.

"Good luck, folks." Dash said with a smile, "We'll do our best to still be here, when you get back. Say! If the opportunity comes up -- and I'm not asking you to go out of your way -- but if you could, would you get a couple pounds of coffe? I really like Italian coffee."

"Would you like us to bring back a pizza too?" Connor quipped with a murring chuckle, not being able to resist a little humor, "In all seriousness though, the do have good food and drink in this part of the world, I could go for Italian any day. I'll see about getting you your coffee if any is about, Mr. Hawkesbury, no promises but I will try."

Not relishing another climb down (and back up) the rope ladder, Stella decides that, as Mr Holmes can clearly provide language assistance superior to hers, she will remain on board.

Grimsby says, "Well, perhaps I was unwise to suggest that Italians would respond warmly to Miss Mayberry.  As it is, I shall rely on you, Mr. Holmes."  He heads on
down the ladder.

Bellgrove is also surprised by Stella's decision, but he understands that women are want to change their minds. Still, it does seem as if having a woman along in Italy would make things easier. After all, he has read things about the Romantic Italians...

Nevertheless, he says nothing and with a nod he follows Grimsby down the ladder.

"Suit yourself, madam," Connor replied to Stella's decision to remain behind, making one last check on his garb to make sure it was adequately camouflaging his feline nature before he too went down the rope ladder, hanging on tight to his walking stick to make sure he didn't drop it until he stepped off the ladder onto the ground, ready to translate for Grimsby and Bellgrove.

As Grimsby goes down the ladder, he looks over the crowd, trying to spot someone likely to be able to give directions -- a policeman if possible, or if not, someone who at least looks like a solid local citizen.

In reply to Stella Mulberry (msg # 120):

As the others climb down and set off for the telegraph office, Dash looks over at Stella and gins.

"Ah, alone at last, Miss Mulberry." Dash says, looking out over the picturesque Italian surroundings, "Just you, me...Cap'n Remi and his entire crew..." Dash laughs.

"Well, then, how to pass the time? Do you play Whist, by chance? Perhaps a two-handed game of German Whist, or maybe we could talk Cap'n Remi into a game of Dummy Whist?"

In reply to Denholm Hawkesbury (msg # 125):

"I always find card games a most enjoyable pastime, Mr Hawkesbury," Stella says with a smile, rummaging in her rucksack and coming up with a sealed deck of playing cards, "But two-handed whist is so dreary. Perhaps a bit of vingt-et-un, penny ante?"

As she speaks, she breaks the seal and begins to riffle the pasteboards with considerable dexterity.

In reply to Stella Mulberry (msg # 126):

"Vingt-et-un?" Dash asks, "I'm afraid I am unfamiliar with the game, but I'm always up to learning something new. Please, educate me, Miss Mulberry," he adds with a smile,
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:55, Sun 07 Sept 2014.

In reply to Denholm Hawkesbury (msg # 127):

Stella gives Dash a quick rundown of the rules, eliciting the fact that he was familiar with San Francisco.

"Ah! it's many a year since I saw Frisco," she says wistfully, "My... uh... my daughter was born in Frisco..."

She drifts away for a moment, her face softening and her eyes misting a bit. Then she shakes herself with a forced chuckle and riffles the pasteboards: "We'll play for a penny a hand to start, hey? Just to keep things interesting. Here's my penny."

She snaps a penny onto the table and deals two cards to Dash and two to herself.

[Mr. Starmaster, will you select 52 cards in a secret roll and keep them for us. You can tell us openly what our first two cards are.]

In reply to Stella Mulberry (msg # 128):

"Oh. Right. Money." Dash says, standing and reaching into his pants pocket, "Since I wasn't going into town, I don't know if I -- ah-ha!"

Dash withdrew a small fistful of British coins -- a couple of shillings and several pence.

"There we are. One pence." Dash says, placing one penny next to Stellas, then piling the rest near where his cards lay.

Actually, it'd be the second card dealt, face up, that you can each see.

Dash has the 10 of Clubs showing, and Stella has the 2 of Spades showing.


FYI, you can use the Dice Roller to generate cards... Not sure how you'd work it in this situation, but the option is there.

In reply to Denholm Hawkesbury (msg # 129):

Dash's second card is the 7 of clubs. Will he have another?

In reply to Stella Mulberry (msg # 131):

*...Ah, yes...Seventeen...Both Clubs...* Dash thinks to himself, then looks up at Stella.

"Um, are the Suits of any importance? Otherwise...ah...I'll hold with these."

In reply to Denholm Hawkesbury (msg # 132):

"No, the suits are meaningless in this game. That's a very strong hand and an excellent decision, Dash."

She turns over her down card to reveal a six of spades for a total of eight. Without comment she reveals the next card which is the eight of diamonds.

"Very disappointing," the woman murmurs, "You see, Dash, I am getting into dangerous territory now with a total of sixteen, which you beat, but any card higher than a five will bust me.

"Well, there's no help for it, I suppose." She turns over another card: "Ach!" she exclaims, "The Queen of Hearts has busted me, the cow. You win."

She shoves the two pennies over to her opponent and produces another which she snaps onto the table.

"Will you hazard another hand?"
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 23:59, Sun 21 Sept 2014.

In reply to Stella Mulberry (msg # 133):

OOC: sorry! I forgot, is the first card face down, or face up?

When Dash puts in his penny, Stella deals two cards to him, face up: eight of spades and three of hearts.

One of her cards is face down, the other is eight of hearts.

"Eleven seems unlikely to be enough to win. Will you have another?"

In reply to Stella Mulberry (msg # 135):

"Yes, please." Dash answers, "Y'know, that answer seems, somehow, boring. It feels like I should say something more exciting, like Give Me a Card...no...Deal Me a Card? No. Deal Me? Card Me? Oh, that almost sounds good..."

"Okay, then -- Card Me!" Dash says with a grin.

Stella smiles: "The usual lingo is 'Hit me.'"

She deals the next card face up to her companion. It's the three of diamonds, giving Dash a score of fourteen.

"Hmmmm... Fourteen is a difficult point," she explains, "Still unlikely to beat me unless I go bust, but there's a good chance that another card for you might be eight or higher.

"What do you want to do, Dash?"
This message was last edited by the player at 11:54, Thu 25 Sept 2014.

In reply to Stella Mulberry (msg # 137):

"Fourteen? Not really that difficult." Dash grins, "Please, Hit Me."

The card comes up the 4 of Diamonds.

"Eighteen. Now I think I'll stop."


OOC:
02:33, Wed 01 Oct 2014: Denholm Hawkesbury drew the single card: 4D using a deck of 52 cards.

In reply to Denholm Hawkesbury (msg # 138):

Stella snaps out another card to Dash's side of the table -- 3 of diamonds.

"Seventeen now... still sticky, eh?"

In reply to Stella Mulberry (msg # 139):

"Mmmm...I don't know." Dash says, contemplating his cards, "I don't have a good feeling about the next card. I think I'll stay with these, Stella."

Grimsby enters the ship, where he says to those who stayed behind, "Well, my telegram was duly sent, and if the Edelweiss consulate receives it as they should, we should be able to hand off our prisoner to them, presuming he is still alive by then. If not, I suppose there is always burial at sea in the Adriatic."

"Bully!" Dash says, then frowns as a thought occurs, "Say...when was the last time anyone checked on that scoundrel, anyways?"

Stella turns over her hole card, Jack of Spades, setting it next to her eight of spades.

"That's eighteen for me. I will pay nineteen. Too bad, Dash." She removes the two pennies from the table with a slight smile. Recovering all the cards, she wraps them in a bit of silk cloth and stows them in her rucksack.


"Well done, away party," she congratulates the returning men.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:02, Sun 05 Oct 2014.

In reply to Denholm Hawkesbury (msg # 140):

Grimsby says "You have a good point there, Mr. Hawksbury. I had best have a look and see if I wasted my money asking the consulate to receive him."

Bellgrove glanced over the card game they returned to, but said nothing otherwise. When Dash said, "Bully!" he glanced up expecting something to be said to him, but then he realized that he was simply evoking the enthusiastically positive phrase often used. He remembered when he was a boy and had attended an event with his father with then Mayor Roosevelt and every time the often enthusiastic man would shout Bully!, which seemed to be quite often to his young ears, Bellgrove would look up thinking that he was being addressed.

As Grimsby offers to go look in on their prisoner he steps aside to permit him to pass "Given that we have only now returned I would expect that you might have the best answer for that question, Dash.", he says with a wry smile as Stella collects her winnings.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:31, Sun 05 Oct 2014.

There are still a lot of people on board the ship: Remi, Viktor, Matthew and Mercy, not to mention Stella and Dash, so the prisoner has been well-taken care of. Mercy has made sure he's been given water, but obviously he can't eat food.

In reply to Bellgrove G. B. Wander (msg # 143):

All amusement runs away from Dash's face at Bellgrove's comment.

"I have had nothing to do with that thug since his self-poisoning." Dash snarls, "If you recall, it was my suggestion to toss that assassin overboard while we were at great altitude. Since that suggestion was vetoed, I have washed my hands of the menace. I, myself, have not looked in upon him since the day he collapsed. Nor will I, until the day we get rid of him."

"Here," Connor interjected quickly as he finished climbing aboard the airship after his two companions, thrusting the bag containing Dash's coffee beans and a new coffee grinder into Dash's arms, trying to do the smart thing and head off his mercurial temper early before the human could get going in earnest, "The coffee you requested, Mr. Hawkesbury. Smells rather good, I must say, might we have a brew-up?"

The felinoid offered up a genuinely good-natured sort of smile as he pulled back the hood of his disguise, looking forward to changing back into something a bit more normal to wear. He didn't even begin to ask for the money that Dash's purchases had cost him, didn't think it very tactful to mention right at the moment, instead thinking of dipping into his own small but well-loved stash of teas if his entreaty was accepted.

Grimsby remarks, "I've no fondness for the fellow myself --after all, he gave me painful cause to dislike him.  But I value him enough as a source of information that I would not just throw him away. If he recovers enough for questioning, it will not be gentle." He smiles grimly and then gives the captive a rough and ready examination, checking his pulse and his pupils, listening to his chest and so on, to see if he shows any signs of change.

The ship lifts off and heads out over the sea. Some of the people remain at the site where you landed waving goodbye until the ship is out of sight... perhaps hoping it'll turn around and come back.

It only takes about two hours before the ship approaches the opposite shore. Remi has taken it up fairly high to stay out of sight of the ground, but also because Graustark is in the mountains.

In reply to Connor Holmes (msg # 146):

Dash pauses a moment to smell the coffee beans, then looks to the grinder.

"Ah, you forget, my dear Connor, that our Cap'n Remi is from Fezzan; a north african culture that is very much under the influence of France. And you know how the French like their coffee ... almost as much as the Italians." Dash smiles, "However, while the good cap'n does have a grinder in his galley, it is both small and finicky of operation, so this replacement is a wonderful surprise."

Dash then turns to Stella, "I thank you for the card game, Stella, it was a pleasant diversion. Although I could not really tell the difference between the game you were showing me, and the games of BlackJack I've seen played in San Francisco gambling halls. Perhaps the nuances were too subtle for me." Dash again flashes his Boston Blueblood smile.

"Well, this coffee won't make itself." He says, hoisting the bag into his arms, "And it gives me an excuse to skip the launching proceedures! Ta-ta!"

Dash scuttles off to the small galley, to heat some water and grind some beans for a fresh pot of coffee.

Out on deck, while Viktor mans the helm for the moment, Remi continues to keep an experienced eye out for the black ship or any other flying ship. At least he doesn't have to watch our for dragons or rocs.

"What concerns me are the air currents around Graustark," he comments to the others. "Mountains are always tricky... full of updrafts, downdrafts, cross currents, and unexpected swirls."

"I examined the maps while you were sending the telegram and fetching the coffee... much appreciated, by the way... so few airships have ventured into the Balkans that not much is know about wind patterns. I think our best approach is from the south. The cross currents should be fairly consistent at this time of day, and the downdrafts won't have started yet."

"If any of you have any experience in the Balkans, even if it's not flying, I would appreciate the input."

Without any other duties Bellgrove makes his way to the ship's bridge. It has been not so long since he was on track to one day be a Captain of such a vessel himself and the excitement he feels being up the ship actually takes him a bit by surprise. When Remi describes his thinking as to how to approach the journey he shrugs his shoulders, "I am afraid this shall be my first time in the Balkans, so I have nothing useful to contribute. That said, your thinking about how to get from here to Graustark illustrates why you are the Captain of this ship!"

Grimsby, having failed to elicit any new response from the prisoner, joins the others on the bridge in time to respond, "I regret I have not had a mission in the Balkans before.  I have passed through the Mediterranean en route east of Suez, and I have come down from Russian Central Asia into the Caucasus, but that is as close as I have yet been to the Balkans.  From my experience in the Himalayas, I fear you are right about the winds in the mountains, though the Balkan peaks as not so high."

Connor bustled about making fresh pot of Irish Breakfast tea for a time before arriving on the bridge area of the airship in time to hear the others discussing the route into Graustark.

"You'll need your best men on in the engine room, and your best at the helm and the elevator wheel, Captain," the felinoid spoke up after taking a sip from his tin cup full of tea after he'd fixed it up to his taste, "The winds through the mountains in the Balkans can change at the drop of a hat, so this ship will need to be able to turn on a sixpence and be ready go full astern to stop or use the screws to help pivot around some of the more difficult bits at a moment's notice.

That being said, your navigator and I were discussing the best route through here, and he and I were batting about the idea of taking an alternate route, with your approval, of course."

Walking over to the chart table, Connor put his finger on a river that wound through a set of lowlands, explaining as he moved along the route, "If we follow the rivers through these smaller hills, we'd have a greater margin of safety, for the hills and the forests to either side act like windbreaks, and since the terrain isn't as rough, there'd be more spaces to put down if the weather deteriorates or we have a mechanical problem. It takes longer than a more direct approach, perhaps a full day or two more, but the upshot is besides a safer passage, the only mountain crossing we have to make is when we get close to our final destination, and the peaks there aren't so high, so we can skim over them without going too high where the air is too thin for us to breathe or the boilers to support combustion."
This message was last edited by the player at 02:36, Wed 15 Oct 2014.

Apologies for the slowdown... rough week. As I tend to tell people, some days are diamonds, some days are rust. Pretty much had a week of rusty ones, starting with computer issues last Thursday. Mostly fixed. Looks promising for some diamond days ahead... but then RL rears up and bites you in the arse!


Remi has discussed the issue with Viktor, who is from the Balkans, though not this immediate area. If time wasn't an issue, Connor's suggested course would be the way to go. As it is, Remi steers the ship a bit south of Graustark and approaches it more head on than cross-wise. That way, he'll be better able to adjust for sudden winds.

The ship approaches Graustark from altitude, slowly descending as it makes its way closer.

Of course, the one thing that they hadn't considered was weather. Although not normally noted for low clouds, they do happen. There's a few low-lying clouds over the country at the moment, and Remi has to pass through one to land.

Dropping out of the cloud bottom, the ship is only 1,000 feet up, and it doesn't take people on the ground more than a minute to notice the ship.

I got about halfway through the previous post when my computer developed a problem... a column of keys (3, E, D, C) suddenly stopped working. While the E is the most commonly used letter in the English language, making writing posts without nearly impossible (and making it impossible for me to sign in), the important key is the C, since Control+C could have gotten around that... albeit with difficulty. I'm currently using a friends computer until I can buy a new keyboard.


Remi's navigation was quite good, as the capitol city of Edelweiss was dead ahead. Two other airships can be seen. There is a Graf zeppelin moored to a mast on one of the castle towers. There is a second smaller ship moored on the ground at the edge of the city.

When people below see Remi's airship, they wave up at it. Remi directs the ship to the same field where the other airship is because they have not been invited to the castle. As he gets closer, he can see a British Foreign Office flag planted in the ground at the edge of the field.

Even as he brings the ship down, a carriage can be seen rushing through the streets, apparently bound for your landing site.

Presuming that the British flag represents a representative from the consulate, Grimsby starts moving the prisoner into position on the deck to be transferred to the representative below once they have landed. He asks "Can anyone give me a hand with this fellow?"

Bellgrove moves to assist Grimsby, "Of course!

Grimsby grunts "Thanks, Mr. Wander. This fellow's a bit of a dead weight.  I just hope he doesn't die on our hands, literally, before we can get him to the consulate's care."

"'Dead'weight until either he makes himself less or we figure out how to do it for him. One wonders what his masters might think if they knew we had him and did not know he was in this coma-like state."

In reply to Bellgrove G. B. Wander (msg # 159):

Dash, standing nearby with his arms crossed and glaring at the limp thug, speaks up.

"Oh, his masters probably know we have him, Bellgrove." Dash says, "He dissappeared after assaulting us in Marseille, and we know he had more confederates in that city, so they will likely have noted his disappearance. What his masters don't know is his condition, or whether we've made him do any talking. They probably hope he's in this condition. Or dead."

Dash then turns his attention to the other airship resting at this airfield -- mentally comparing it to the description of the airship they've been chasing.


OOC: does it resemble the ship we've been chasing?

In reply to Denholm Hawkesbury (msg # 160):

Grimsby remarks, "Mt. Hawkesbury is quite right. We must expect that the Vril know we have their agent, and we must expect they will do their best to ensure he does not live to tell us anything. The moment of his transfer to the consulate is likely to be an opportunity for them to strike, provided they have agents here --which is very likely --and they know we are here --which is more doubtful. We must be on our guard." 

"Ah, Mr. Grimsby Baskerville, I presume?" the man from the carriage says as he steps forward when Grimsby disembarks from the ship.

"Neville Haversham-Smythe, ambassador-at-large, at your service. I believe you have a passenger who has taken ill. Perhaps we should quarantine him at the embassy... just as a precaution." the ambassador said, producing his credentials. He didn't look around at all, but there was a hard twinkle in his eyes that indicated he was aware that people could be listening.


While Dash never actually saw the black ship, it's description was unmistakable. Even if this other ship could have changed color somehow--not all that far-fetched these days--there's no way it could have been reconfigured to resemble this ship. The black ship was more like a zeppelin, only smaller.

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 162):

Grimsby bows slightly and says, "It was very good of Your Excellency to come in person. I am glad you recognize this Bruce-Partington case is a matter worthy of your attention." He includes the code words he had used in his message to confirm its authenticity. As he speaks, he accepts the ambassador's credentials and offers the ambassador his own. He scrutinizes the ambassador's credentials carefully.(OOC: Unless told otherwise, I will assume they appear genuine.) As all seems well, he goes on, "It is most kind of Your Excellency to offer the facilities of the embassy for the quarantine. It is very important" (he stresses the words slightly) "that this unfortunate fellow be kept under careful observation. If there is any change in his condition --especially if he regains consciousness-- please notify me at once. I am not certain where I shall be staying in Graustark, but you should be able to find me by enquiring from the captain of this airship while it is docked here."
This message was last edited by the player at 03:06, Thu 30 Oct 2014.

Bellgrove assists with the transfer of the Vril agent and as he does so keeps an eye out not only for untoward activity from the seemingly unconscious fellow, but from anyone or anything else. He is quiet otherwise and letting Grimsby lead and following whatever directions he is given.

In reply to Bellgrove G. B. Wander (msg # 164):

"Well, that is certainly not what we've been chasing." Dash says, pointing at the other airship on the field, as the thug is removed from theirs, "And the one up at the castle is too big. Which brings us to the next step..."

"We're here in Graustark for two reasons -- the first is to locate, and possibly rescue, Professor Cavor. The second is because we found a note with the name of the..." Dash suddenly stops speaking, a look of horror on his face -- as he realizes he's forgotten the Title held by the ruler of Graustark.

"Uh, the, uh...Duchess? Grand-Duchess?...of Graustark?  Anyway, what we do not know is whether her name was on this list because she is an ally or a victim of our opponents."

"Now, I think Cavor was some kind of metallurgist, wasn't he? I'm thinking we might locate the center of such industry here, in Graustark, on the chance that they are trying to have Cavor make a metal out of the ore that they stole from Lord Kentigern. Or, at least, make discrete inquiry as to where, if anyplace, such work might be done in this country."

"As for getting access to the Duchess...frankly, my friends, I'm stumped on that one."

Grimsby looks over his shoulder briefly to remark "The ruler of Graustark is Her Highness the Princess Yetive." Then he turns back to join Belgrove in carrying the prisoner over to the ambassador's carriage.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:10, Sat 01 Nov 2014.

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 166):

Dash gently slapped himself in the forehead.

"Well Praise the Lord I didn't make that slip in front of a local!"

The ambassador's credentials appear genuine to Grimsby, and Grimsby is not only aware that Haversham-Smythe was assigned to the ambassadorship of Graustark last year, but he even knows the man by sight, both of them having attended a formal function a few years back, though they never actually met.

Neville looks a bit more well-fed than that time.

Feeling confident that he is dealing with the right man, Grimsby, with Bellgrove's aid, brings the prisoner over to the ambassador's carriage, attempting to shield the body as much as he can so the person would not be identifiable to spectators. He says to the ambassador, "If your excellency's coachman can assist us with the carriage door, we should be able to get this poor fellow safely inside."

As Connor disembarked the airship, once more attired in his robes and other clothing designed to at least try and camouflage his inhuman nature from the rest of the world, something he wasn't liking having to do much, he took in Graustark with a quiet curiosity as he let the others get on with moving the captive into the custody of the of the British ambassador and his men.

The felinoid said nothing as he quietly checked his watch with a leather-gloved hand, giving the timepiece's mechanism a good winding before replacing it back into his robe's pockets and leaning a little on his sturdy walking stick.

There isn't much privacy out on the field where the ship landed, but the best way to disarm potentially prying eyes is to to not try to hide what you are doing. Putting the man on a stretcher and transferring him to the carriage would be normal procedure for a sick person.

Everyone (that wants to go) is then escorted to the embassy.

It's a two-story building along the inside wall of the castle. There is almost a full town inside the wall, though the majority of the populace lives outside the castle in the town proper.

The ambassador discourages significant talk, except for weather, how was the trip, etc. until you are safely ensconced in his office.

"So, gentlemen, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit to Graustark?" he asks once everyone is seated.

Grimsby replies, "Your Excellency may be aware there was an attempt to interfere with Lord Kentigern's project in Scotland, and although we were able to thwart it to some extent, we have reason to believe that the society responsible --the Vril -- is now intending new mischief in Graustark."

After helping with the Vril agent Bellgrove joins Baskerville and the rest of the company. Given his recent arrival to this team he lets others speak. Instead he stand attentively listening to the exchange and looking forward to catching whatever background he can.

In reply to Bellgrove G. B. Wander (msg # 173):

As Grimsby deals with the career diplomat, Dash quietly steps back, gesturing for Bellgrove and Connor to follow him over to a corner.

"Okay, Boys," Dash says quietly to his two companions, "While Grimsby gets H.M.'s Government up to speed, let me do the same for you two. Let me start by apologizing; I'd meant to do this on the trip from Marseilles, but I ended up brooding over the fact that we were keeping somebody alive who really, really wanted to kill us!"

Dash pauses a moment and shakes his head, "Well, never mind that. Okay. You..." Dash points at Bellgrove, bringing his finger close to his fellow American's chest, "...Mister Reporter, we are trusting to print none of this, until it's all over!"

"Right, then. This all started back in London. With the exception of Miss Mulberry, we were all just unrelated customers of that famous establishment, The Gaslamp Club. While there, a pair of Vril thugs came into the place with the plan to assassinate a British Lord, who was also frequenting the establishment. That would be Lord Kentigern."

"Several of us became keen to what was transpiring and chose to intervene. The thugs produced a lightning pistol -- the very weapon Mercy Kincaid now carries -- charged powerfully enough to kill." Dash hooks a thumb over his shoulder, indicating his back, "I, myself, tackled Lord Kentigern to the floor and safety, but the lightning passed close enough to my back to give me those second-degree burns you may have seen over the past few days."

"The thugs were rendered unconscious and handed over to the Constables. Meanwhile, Lord Kentigern deduced that a gentleman who was giving him some legal problems over a mine site in Scotland must have been behind the attack in London. Several of us who had assisted in foiling the assassination volunteered our services to assist Lord Kentigern in going to Scotland and securing the mine into which he had sunk considerable investment -- as well as checking in with the scientist jasper who was supervising the site, a Professor Cavor."

"We sped north to Scotland in Lord Kentigerns personal zeppelin, only to arrive and find that several of the mine workers had taken control of the mine site a day-or-two earlier, and had evicted the supervisor Lord Kentigern had set to assist Professor Cavor. We all went out to the mine, crossing the moors in the early morning hours, and captured the miscreants -- who turned out to be in the employ of the Vril Society. However, despite our decisive actions, the majority of the extracted ore, as well as Professor Cavor himself, had been absconded with. We managed to garner the information that both the ore and the Professor were aboard a small, black zepp headed for Graustark."

"We also found a list of names which included Lord Kentigern -- upon whose life an attempt was made, remember -- as well as the Princess of Graustark and the Queen of Bourbony. As yet, we are not sure if the Princess is victim or conspirator, but as we were chasing Cavor here, we are hoping to discover which, while we are here."

Dash looks from one man to the other, "I think that covers the salient points. Any questions?"

In response to Dash's seeming threat Bellgrove asks, "Well, sure... But why do you give a damn? I have already given my word on this matter, but I am curious as to why an American is so sensitive to British secrets? Were I able to get something together and wired off to my Editor it would be days before it came out and several more days before anyone here would likely know anything about whatever it is I wrote."

As to the background that they are given he shrugs, "I can not say that anything comes to mind now, but it may later. It is good to have the back story to better understand the fore story, eh?"

In reply to Bellgrove G. B. Wander (msg # 175):

Dash leans in closer to Bellgrove, and lowers his voice even more.

"Actually, don't tell our friend Grimsby this, but I could give a flying fig less about Her Majesty's interests in this affair. My concern is that I made a personal promise to Lord Kentigern to keep this affair as quiet as possible."

"Now, I know that your business is just as cut-throat as mine, but I'm asking you, again, to hold off filing any stories until this affair is over. Especially since it may involve the heads of two sovereign nations. Just hold off until we know what's what. Please."

"I have a question," Connor said, figuring he'd do no harm and maybe it would head off any bickering between the two men, "What ore did the mine contain that made it worth all these...entanglements." The felinoid knew the hearts of men could lust after the treasures that came from the depths of the earth, and not just the obvious things like silver or gold, hence his question.

Bellgrove glances at Conner, apologetically, but continues ignoring his question for the moment and holding up his hands as he speaks, "As I said, I have given my word. Back in Marseilles. You were standing there at the time. [OOC: "Dash and Stella in Marseilles", Message #116] Given that one likes a complete story before one starts proffering vignettes, I have no problem waiting until all is done. And as I told Grimsby then, I am happy to give him a preview before I submit whatever I submit when the time comes.

"So, enough with this or one of us is going to take offense."

"I'm afraid I don't know this Lord Kentigern of whom you speak," the ambassador replies to Grimsby. "It does sound like one of those Scottish titles. Nor do I know anything about his situation. The Scots are still rather insular, and little of their affairs makes it into the news. I daresay this Hertz fellow may have the solution to that!"

"I've not heard of this Vril Society either. Are they more anarchists, wishing to tear down what they themselves are incapable of achieving? Or are they another nationalist party espousing independence for some obscure sect that no one else has ever heard of?"

"The Slavs want independence, the Croats want independence, the Serbs want independence, the Bulgars want independence, the Romani want independence! It's enough to drive an ambassador grey before his time. The absurd part is that they are all the same damn peoples, just living on different sides of the river... or different sides of the mountain!"

"I think maybe the strangest nation of all right now is Trans-Balkania! It is little more than a bunch of Muslim Slav city-states in the mountain valleys south of here. When the Turks were driven out, they didn't want to be part of any non-Muslim state and so declared independence. They exist because WE support them, and it would require far too many troops and supplies to invade each mountain city one by one."

Grimsby gets the distinct impression that the ambassador hasn't had anyone to discuss his opinions with for awhile now. Although his words weren't necessarily negative, it's obvious that he would be more tactful in public.

However, his words and vague gesture does call Grimsby's attention to the map on the wall behind his desk. It is a map of Europe and the nearby surrounding regions. The map is painted on wood and looks quite old. There are a number of areas where the paint has been scraped away and repainted; these are noticeable because the paint is newer and of a different color.

"Now, what's the story on this fellow you brought along with you? He doesn't really have a disease, does he?"

Grimsby frowns slightly and says, "It appears our colleagues in the Foreign Office have not transmitted to you as much news as I had expected about these events. Lord Kentigern had a mine on his property producing a newly discovered mineral, cavorite, which appears to have potentially valuable properties.  The Vril Society have, or claim to have, certain occult powers which they believe entitle them to rule those of us who lack them, and apparently they believe cavorite can help them attain their ambitions. What part they intend to play in the complicated game of Balkan politics you describe, I cannot say, but I believe whatever it may be, it will be in their interests and contrary to those of Her Majesty's Government.
As yet, the only Balkan state in which they have shown an interest is Graustark, which is why we are here. If, as I suspect, they mean harm to Her Highness Princess Yetive, we must do our best to thwart them.
Regarding the fellow we are turning over to you, as you supposed, he has no disease. He was an agent of the Vril who attacked us in Marseilles, and in the course of our defense  he received an injury which has kept him unconscious ever since. We do not know when or whether he may awake, but we ask that you arrange that he be cared for and securely watched. Please notify us at once if he regains consciousness or if any unauthorized person attempts to interfere with him."
This message was last edited by the player at 01:39, Tue 25 Nov 2014.

"Well, it's official, time for a pint," Connor murmurred quietly to Dash and Bellgrove as he listened to the two Englishmen prattle on about politics, something the felinoid understood but never really had much enthusiasm for, "You think we'd be missed if we ran down to a public house for a few minutes? Or do we have to go straight back to feats of daring do and thwarting skullduggery?"

"The Foreign Office keeps most things close to the chest," the ambassador replies. "Here in the armpit of the Balkans, I'm sure they didn't feel the information was of any signficance. Need to know... that sort of thing."

"What exactly do you mean by 'harm to Her Highness'? Unless it was done by a blatant enemy of the country, it wouldn't have much of an effect."


Castle Grau looks a bit like a miniature version of Neuschwanstein, but not quite as fancy and certanly not as large. It is perched on top of a small mountain, though. It also appears to have been built in stages.

The city has grown up around the outside of the castle, but with the advent of modern artillery, the defensive effectiveness of the walls became rather moot, so the area inside the castle walls was no longer needed as a gathering area for the villagers in time of war. Instead, it slowly became its own little enclave... nearly a small town in its own right.

The embassies were put in that area, as well as certain shops that were either the favorite of the ruler or willing to pay a premium tax.

As Conor (and whoever is going with him) exit the embassy, he/they is met by Remi and Stella. At the mention of the pub, they go with you.

The pub that Conor finds is within the walls, and called The Prince of Ales.

When Connor entered the Prince of Ales with Remi, Stella, and anybody else who elected to come along on the brief interlude to adventuring so far, the felinoid quietly padded up to the bar, asking the barkeeper for a flagon of the best ale the place had, tugging the hood of his robes forward a little, figuring he'd see what would happen by letting the hood down a bit later, but not before he'd had a few drinks in case people didn't take too kindly to non-humans in these parts...

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 182):

Grimsby replied, "If Princess Yetive is the target of the Vril, I believe the harm intended will be fatal -- they seem to be a ruthless lot. Without knowing more of the politics of Graustark, I fear I cannot predict what the result would be. Unfortunately my specialty has been the tribes beyond the Northwest Frontier of our Indian empire, so I know little of the Balkans.  I have heard of the Graustark-Axphain War a few years ago that ended so disastrously for Graustark, and I know that Graustark is on bad terms with its other neighbor Ganlook, but that is about all. I do not even know who would be the heir to Graustark if Princess Yetive should meet an untimely end." Seeing his comrades depart, he added, "If you can offer a more educated opinion about what the Vril might gain by intervening here, I would be grateful.  Otherwise, I suppose I must join my companions and wait upon events."

"I, too, was consternated by the area's odd names when I first arrived here," responds the ambassador. "Ganlook was Yetive's father, and a small town of the same name has grown up around the statue where he was killed."

"Axphain is, indeed, Graustark's neighbor to the north, but it is Dawsbergen that lies to the south. Both countries are run by greedy rulers with territorial desires."

"There are no other heirs to Graustark's throne, at least none that are recognized. If Yetive was to die, claimant's would most likely plunge the country into civil war, making it ripe for picking by Axphain and Dawsbergen."

"That, in turn, could light the fuse of the Balkan powderkeg! The only time Axphain and Dawsbergen see eye to eye is when it involves annexing territory from Graustark. Otherwise, a dozen or more interlocking treaties with various countries come into play. For example, it is believed that Axphain has an agreement with Transylvania that would cede half of Graustark to Transylvania for their military help in Axphain invading Graustark."

"Dawsbergen probably has a similar agreement with Bavaria."

"Should both of those come into play, then Transylvania's ally Wallachia would also be dragged into the war."

"Essentially, most of the countries in the Balkans act like petulant children. They throw a tantrum if they can't get their way. On the other hand, no one really wants to start a war, but they are all afraid that they will be absorbed by the winning side."

"Great Britain and Germany and Austria enforce peace so far, but Russia and the Turks are still trying to gain territory here. Well, the Turks want back in, but their efforts lack the modern technology to accomplish that."

"Have you any idea who these Vril agents might be?"


No one in the pub seems overly concerned about Conor's appearance, but then Vampire Hunter is a legitimate occupation in the Balkans.

The ale that is brought to Conor is called Old Peculiar. It may not be Guinness, but it's pretty darn close.

Grimsby flushes --he is not accustomed to making political errors in his own sphere, but this is outside his regular line. He says in a more humble tone than usual, "I thank you for your further lesson in the complexities of Graustarkian
public life. Given that situation, what do you see as the most likely way the Vril might try to twist the situation to their advantage?"

Bellgrove nods and smiles appreciatively at Conner's invitation, but it is clear that he is rather interested in the give and take between Grimbsy the Diplomat. Accordingly he stays standing attentively and listening politely.

"I should be asking you that!" Neville replies to Grimsby. "It all depends on what they want to accomplish. Just because an event happens, even if it is the death of Princess Yetive, doesn't mean that it will set in motion some exotic chain of events."

"There are people, such as myself, that are in place to defuse such situations. I'd say, in general, two or three events would have to happen... in just the right place, at just the right time, and with just the right people for whatever they are trying to accomplish to actually happen."

"Not that I don't believe you, but are you sure you got it right?"

Grimsby replied doubtfully, "As you have lately demonstrated, you know more of the situation here than I do.  I can only say that if an understanding between Germany, Britain and Austria is maintaining the peace in these parts, anything that would tend to break that understanding could benefit the Vril. As Bavaria has attachments to Germany and Austria, any suggestion that Britain would move against Dawsbergen could mean trouble.  If the Vril conspiracy involved apparent threats to both Graustark and Dawsbergen, it might lead to such a suggestion, if Britain could be blamed somehow --possibly by a link to British cavorite..." His voice trailed off as he pondered.

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 189):

Dash, not actually being associated with H.M. government -- and not wanting to give the ambassador any reason to doubt Grimsby by revealing that Dash was American -- slowly followed Connor and the others out of the office.

He did pause in the outer office to ask the Ambassador's assistant/secretary to inform Mr. Baskerville that Mr. Baskervilles associates had gone to the nearest pub.

A thought had occurred to Dash -- following similar lines of reasoning as those being discussed by Grimsby and the Ambassador -- and he fell several steps behind the others on the way to the pub as he pondered. However, as he stepped into the pub and looked around, he made a decision, and walked over to where Connor was being handed a dark ale by the bartender.

"I say, Connor," Dash says in a confidential tone, gesturing at the barkeep to get him the same thing as he'd just given Connor, "As you seem to have a great affinity for languages, can you tell me -- what is it they speak, here in Graustark? German? Some Slavic language like Bulgarian or Russian? I suppose it would be too much to hope that the locals all have some fluency in English?"

Dash chuckles, "Even the heathen dialect you Irish accuse us Americans of speaking..."

"Graustark has its own language, sort of a cross between Slavic and German," Connor replied, taking a whiff of his ale in an almost suspicious manner before taking a taste and finding it to his liking, "Of course, there are regional differences, much like in the Alps you might find places that speak Swiss, French, German, or Italian, there are places here which speak in other tongues besides Graustarkian, but getting to the point, English is decidedly a minority here, probably the only places you might find fluent speakers are in hotels, government offices, and other sorts of places that are frequented by foreigners on a regular basis.

And so far as the Irish go, well all English is a second, foreign tongue to Ireland, brought by the English who invaded and oppressed its people for decades until the re-unification, and the Scots who came and married in after settling down, but that's another story. The native tongue of Ireland is Gaelic, just so you know. Gártha, mo chara,  Tá an babhta ar dom. (Cheers, my friend, this round's on me)."

After speaking the last in the old Irish tongue, the tiger-person smiled a little and took a deep swig of his ale, his long tail flicking slowly from side to side behind him as he enjoyed his drink and spoke with Dash and the others.

"I'm at a loss as to how to proceed," the ambassador answers Grimsby. "I only have a staff of two--my aid and my secretary, who happens to also be my wife."

"A favorite pasttime of people here is to make up outlandish rumors. It keeps the Policitat constantly busy tracking down the source and fining the perpetrator. While the court insists on a crackdown, especially after the one about Princess Yetive giving birth to quintuplets, the government gets a significant amount of its revenue from these fines. If the fines were increased, it might cause the rumors to stop, but then there'd be no income. Additionally, if the fines were so high that no one could pay them, then the ensuing debt could ruin the economy, not to mention the exorbitant police and legal costs entailed in collecting and enforcing the fees."

"I mention this becausel, without proof, your claim would fall into this category."

"Now, do you have any such proof? Or do you know who these Vril agents are?"



As Connor and Dash are enjoying the hospitalities of the pub, Remi walks in with Stella on one arm and Mercy on the other. Spotting the others, they come over and join you.
This message was last edited by the GM at 19:23, Wed 03 Dec 2014.

"Ah, I have bee looking forward to sampling this country's famed ale," Remi says.

"Where are the others?" he than asks as he glances around while ordering the ale.

"I fear I have bad news. The black ship was here, but left just about an hour before our arrival. We cannot pursue it until we refuel and restock. Better we do that here than try to find some place en route."

"However, there is some good news. I talked to the workers at the... um, airfield. Visiting airships is a major source of income for the country, as well as a source of news. If the black ship crew had talked to them, they probably would never have noticed anything."

"They spotted a person that matches the description of Professor Cavor, but he was never allowed off the ship."

"Also two people from the castle met the ship, conversed with presumably the captain. Two of the workers, inconspicuously resting behind some of the resupply crates, overheard some of the conversation."

"The black ship is apparently heading on to Bourbony."

"Also, a chest was transferred to the Skyhawk. That's the other ship on the airfield. Supposedly it is heading for a place called Laksha-dweep, wherever that is. The Skyhawk is scheduled to depart in about two hours."

"They also talked about some event, and those from the castle said it would be done by the end of the day."

"I was able to elicit a description of the two people from the castle, but their names are known anyway. They are not liked much. The woman's name is Iburra, and the man's name is Tindal."

"Viktor is keeping watch on the other ship, as well as guarding ours."

"I still say it is none of my affair, but I do not like these Vril. They reek of bad mojo."

"So, what do you wish to do?"

"Oh, I saw the most marvelous device!" she exclaims as she orders an ale, too, and after Remi stops talking.

"It was bench with a wheel on either end and a steam engine underneath it! The driver sits at the right end of the bench and uses a lever to control motion. That way, two people can sit on the bench at the same time and go forward! It's like a miniature carriage!"

After that outburst, she lowers her voice before continuing.

"I saw them loading coal onto the Skyhawk. It didn't seem like much, so I think they may have an alternate power source, possibly kerosene, as I saw some kind of pipe sticking out the aft end of the ship. If that's the case, then they may be using the coal just for ballast or a reserve."

"They might be distilling the coal into distillate fuel and using internal combustion to turn the screws rather than a steam plant," Connor suggested as he drained the last of his drink, thinking about asking one of the barmaids or the barkeep for another before he added, "It's really quite simple to do, all you do is burn the coal and spray a fine mist of water over it. You have a collection funnel and tubing over the fire, the mist rises and condenses to form a liquid fuel that packs quite a punch.

Coal's easier to acquire most places than liquid fuels, since steam engines are so common, and often as not you have to have a local chemist whip up a batch of benzene, kerosene, or whatnot, and only then in small cans, so it would make sense to make the fuel on-board using what's already available if you're wanting to use internal combustion power. Anyway, that's my technical two cents on that, still prefer steam over those explosion engines myself, anybody fancy another round?"
This message was last edited by the player at 00:06, Thu 04 Dec 2014.

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 192):

Grimsby replies a little impatiently, "Well, I do not know that I can offer definitive proof of the Vril's threat in Graustark, but the cumulative evidence is considerable.  You can see the tattoo on the wrist of the man we turned  over to you, which is supposed to the emblem of the society. I can, if you like, show you the remaining injuries from my encounter with that man in Marseilles, and my comrades can confirm that attack and our previous encounter with the Vril seeking Cavorite in Scotland. If you telegraph Lord Kentigern, I presume he can confirm the Scottish attack; if you telegraph Scotland Yard, the police could confirm an earlier episode at a London club that involved a Vril attack.   For the threat to Princess Yetive, we have only the document with her name, which unfortunately does not include the Vril's plans for her, but from all we know of the Vril, I am sure they mean her no good. Will that suffice?"

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 196):

Dash listens to the reports, then drains about half of his ale, before setting the glass down and frowning.

"Well ain't that just ducky!" he growls lowly, "Now we have to figure out how to be in three places at once."

Dash drains off the remainder of his glass, then un-gentlemanly wipes his lips with the back of his free hand.

"Ah! Well, this is info that Grimsby should hear -- and probably before he takes his leave of that Brit Ambassador." Dash says, turning towards the door, "I'll go bring him up to speed, you all stay here. Oh! And could someone be a dear and cover that ale for me? I've yet to pick up any of the local specie. Thanks ever-so-much! Be back in a bit!" Dash grins as he waves and walks out the door.

Once outside, Dash heads straight back to the British consulate.

OOC: I'm not sure, but I think Dash and the others may be a couple of minutes further ahead in time than Grimsby. If Grimsby is still in with the Ambassador when Dash gets there, he'll present himself to the person in the outer office and ask for readmittance.

OOC: I think you can assume Grimsby will still be with the ambassador when you get there, unless the GM rules otherwise.

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 198):

OOC: well then, if we assume that... ^_^



With the Assistants permission -- he had, after all, been inside the office only a few minutes ago -- Dash approaches the door into the Ambassador's office, knocks quietly, then enters the office.

Once inside, Dash assumed an attitude as if he were having a formal business meeting with his Uncle, and assumed the manners and speech pattern of a Boston Blue-Blood.

"Pah-don me, Gentlemen." Dash said deferentially, "I hate to interrupt, Mister Baskerville, but some news has just come from the airfield." Dash give Grimsby a quick, meaningful look, hoping that the Brit will understand that the information comes from Remi.

"It appears that the black dirigible we've been chasing did stop over here, in Graustark, to refuel and resupply. It left barely an hour before our arrival. It was overheard that the black airships next destination was the isle of Bourbony." Dash gave Grimsby another quick, meaningful look, "Also, our Professor Cavor was seen moving about onboard, but never left the black airship."

"It was also reported that two locals from the castle met with the Captain of the black airship and discussed some event to occur at the castle. The two locals -- a woman named Iburra and a man named Tindal -- assured the Captain of the black airship that everything would be done by the end of the day."

"And finally, a chest was transferred to the Skyhawk -- that's the other airship currently on the airfield. Word around the field is that Skyhawk is bound for a place called Laksha-dweep, wherever that is, and that she is scheduled to depart in about two hours."

Dash pauses a moment, then wraps up his report with, "Is any of that of significance to your discussion?"

Grumsaby replied, "Thank you very much, Mr. Hawksbury. Your news appears to be more urgent than our discussion at this point." He turned to the ambassador and said, "With Your Excellency's permission, I wish to follow up this report at once, as it seems urgent. If any of this news suggests something specific to you, I would be glad to hear it, but otherwise I believe I should be off. I will report any new developments when I can, and I trust you will do the same as regards the person we have entrusted to you."

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 200):

"Perhaps His Excellency can give us some information on the two locals -- Miss Iburra and Mister Tindal?" Dash asked, "The information we received sort of implied that they might be citizens of some import, here at the Castle."

Bellgrove has been listening carefully. Before the conversation started he felt as if he knew nothing of this region. Now he is probably one of the best informed Americans about the place. When Dash returns with his news he is almost sorry, because it is clear that the 'lesson' will be ending.

In reply to Denholm Hawkesbury (msg # 201):

Grimsby remarks "You have a good point, Mr. Hawksbury. Can you tell us anything of these people, Your Excellency? Are they courtiers or servants at the castle, perhaps?"

"Iburra and Tindal?" the ambassador repeats. "They are visitors to Graustark, just as you are. They claim to be inventors and are here to consult with the Triad."

"I don't know anything more about them. I have yet to meet them, but I've heard they are pleasant enough people, though a bit taciturn."


Almost as if on cue, there is an extremely loud crack of thunder from outside and everyone's hair stands on end! This is true of the pub as well. ((Poor Connor!))

Although not nearly as loud, the crackling of electricity can still be heard.

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 204):

"Oh, feathers!" Dash exclaims, turning suddenly towards the door, "I think that whatever was going to happen at the castle, may have just started!"

Looking back over his shoulder with a grin, "Well Grimsby, old pal, shall we go stick our noses into other peoples business -- again? Bellgrove, how about you? Ready to stand up for America in a little hands-on International Relations?"

Grimsby had also leapt p at the sound, and one hand was already on the pistol in his pocket. He snapped, " I fear you are right, Mt. Hawkesbury. We must be going. Pardon us, Your Excellency, but this sounds urgent." He moves quickly towars the door.

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 206):

Dash joins his British friend at the door, "I say, do you hear that noise? It sounds rather like electricity crackling, don't you think?" Dash grimaces, "What is it with these scoundrels and lightning guns? why can't they use a shotgun, like normal bandits?"

Dash chuckles as they walk through the outer office, and onto the street.

While the sound surprised Bellgrove he was unsure that the lightning sound was more than simple lightning, but he was not about to stand around, "Right. I'm with you!"

Grimsby smiles as Bellgrove joins them and says "Glad to have you." But he continues to hurry toward the noise.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:41, Thu 18 Dec 2014.

Meanwhile back at the pub,when the blast, whatever it was, went off, Conner suddenly knew how a powder-puff felt as all his fur bristled straight out all at once, the felinoid nearly spilling his second ale all down his front with the surprise, giving an angry-sounding hiss.

However, he quickly regained his composure and flattened out his fur again after the static electricity holding it out discharged, knocking back the pint of ale in one long gulp before he said, "Well, I guess our drink break is over, best go see what that was all about, eh?"

The static electricity continues, and as everyone rushes outside, the crackling noise draws their attention up above the castle. Off to one side of the castle, a large brass sphere is floating in the air! Bolts of lightning seem to arc from it to various areas of the castle, including the pub. Other than the static, though, the bolts do no damage.

Mercy and Connor, at least, recognize it as a dynasphere, one of those devices created by Nikola Tesla.

Grimsby hastens toward the castle, eying the dynasphere suspiciously. (He does not know what it is, but fears the worst.)

Bellgrove is taken aback by the floating lighting sphere-thing. "Well, that certainly explains the noise. It does not seem to be harming anything, does it?"

Grimsby replies suspiciously, "Not yet."

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 214):

"Well, now, what in the Wide, Wide, World of Sports is that thing?!" Dash exclaims, gesturing at the brass sphere with his left hand.

"More importantly, how're we supposed to stop it? I mean, it's flying...after a fashion. And without a balloon! It's made of brass, and it's flying! What're we going to do, throw a rope up there? I don't think we dare bring Remi's blimp over here; all that lightning would set-off the hydrogen in the gasbag."

"That's a Dynasphere, one of Mr. Tesla's brilliant but slightly off-kilter inventions," came a familiar voice, and sure enough it was Connor, who had exited the pub in order to have a look to see what had made the loud noise, and had eventually decided to rejoin Dash and Grimsby to see if he might be needed (he was an engineer after all, "It's based off of research done at the Wardenclyffe research station, and it flies by using electro-magnetic fields made by a huge generating apparatus that react against Earth's own internal magnetism, hence it floats on an invisible cushion of magnetic force, similar to what happens when you try to put two like poles on a magnet together.

If you really want to to get up there, I suggest donning a rubber suit and using about 4 ordinary horseshoes tied to a length of rope. That thing's cranking out so much electromagnetic energy all you'd have to do is throw the horseshoes up in the air and the sphere's own energies would pull you right up to it.

That's what's making all the racket, the thing's making its own lightning as a byproduct of staying aloft, and knowing Mr. Tesla, it wouldn't surprise me if you could direct that lightning as a weapon....The real question is, who's operating the sphere, and why?"

Not unfamiliar with the effect that was happening, Mercy was more concerned about the source. It was possible that the locals knew more about it.

Of course, there was the language problem.

"Excuse me, Kind Sir," she said after approaching the bartender. "Do you by any chance speak English?"

After finding out that he did, she pointed to her hair and asked:

"Does this happen often?"

"Yes, Miss, I speak the Queen's English. My mother was from Brighton," the man replied.

"This lightning effect is not common, no, but it's been happening about once a week now for the last month. Everyone with a spanner now thinks they are inventors. In the case of the Triad, that may actually be true."

"They have the Princess's blessing to pursue their researches because... well, because every other country seems to be doing the same. Everyone is trying to invent the Ultimate Weapon or the Ultimate Defense."

"Rumors are saying the Triad hasn't figured out which one they have yet. Personally, I'm leaning towards the Ultimate Weapon--the ability to annoy everyone equally!"

"Har-har-har!"

In reply to Connor Holmes (msg # 216):

Grimsby responds gratefully, "I am very glad you know this object Mr. Holmes. Is there any particular reason we would need to get on it?  Is there any reason to suppose it could be useful to the Vril?"

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 219):

"Yeah, well, maybe someone can do damage with all that lightning," Dash frowned, "But just now, it looks like its all bluff and bluster!"

Dash looks at Grimsby, "I don't think that this...!" he gestures at the electrical sphere, "Is the two rascals we thought it was. Unless things start blowing up in the next few minutes, we may have to look elsewhere. Dash it all!"

Approaching closer and with a bit more perspective, it can now be seen that the brass sphere is only about 10 feet in diameter. There is a cable or wire connected to it. Over the course of the next few minutes, you can tell that the power fluctuates, getting lower and stronger at diferent points.

It's location isn't that far away, but clearly over the castle proper. The achoring or grounding cable would seem to indicate that is being operated from the castle roof.

Grimsby answered "You may be right that this outré object is not the work of the villains we seek, but we know they are based at the castle, so we may as well go there anyway."

"Aye, standing here looking at it is only going to get us so far," Connor concurred as he rubbed his furry chin for a moment, somewhat relieved to see that the sphere was only a small one, although even a small dynasphere could be hazardous due to all the lightning it was chucking about, "You want to ring the doorbell, or should I?"

Grimsby replied, "I doubt the castle has a doorbell, but unless matters are badly amiss, I expect it has some sort of guard are gatekeeper. We shall have to see if he will admit us. If I find him, I will offer my credentials." He strode up to the gate of the castle, looking around for such as sentry as he had described -- or for that matter, for anyone else.

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 224):

Dash looks over at Grimsby,

"Hmm, maybe." Dash said to Grimsby, "Your credentials will probably get us in the gate, but I doubt they'll get us up to the roof in any kind of quick time..."

Dash suddenly broke into a wide grin and stepped over next to Bellgrove, draping his arm over the man's shoulder in a jovial, familiar manner.

"This, however..." Dash said, pointing at Bellgrove's face, "...will likely get us an almost immediate audience!" Dash wiggled his eyebrows and gave everyone a knowing look.

"As I have said, many times now," Dash explained, "I know very little about this nation of Graustark. But, the small bit I do know comes from Society gossip back in Boston; and that is that one Grenfall Lorry -- of the New York Lorry's, mind you! -- had been known to be associating with the Princess Yetive when she was travelling in America. A few Society wags even claimed that Grenfall had made exclamations of love for the young Princess."

Dash faced Bellgrove and gave him a friendly shake, "I do believe that the Princess would just love a visit by an American Journalist. You did say you worked for the New York Herald, didn't you Belly, old boy?"

Bellgrove's face maintained the same look of horror throughout Dash's speech; however, towards the end of it, as the words sunk in, and seemingly, he grew used to the Bostonian's close proximity, the look of discomfort modified somewhat. "Yes. I suppose... Well, yes, I am with the Herald.", he mumbled finally.

Regaining himself he continues, "But something tells me that our man Grimsby's credentials might get us rather better access. Whatever the case, we ought to find a door and present ourselves if we are going to determine what will work best."

Grimsby starts to exclaim,"If the princess is so besotted with an American that a Yankee journalist will mean more to her than an accredited representative of the British Empire ---" He interrupts himself and continues with visible restraint, "Then so be it. We can count ourselves fortunate that Mr. Wander may possess the qualifications to gain admission. Meanwhile, we still need to find someone to admit us, for whatever reason." He goes on looking around the castle for an entrance and someone in charge of it.

In a lot of the remodeled or rebuilt castles, the primary entrance was now an obvious, easily-accessed 'front door' arrangement, since it was more about fancy processions than defense. Modern cannons can render just about any castle a pile of rumble in mere hours.

Both the British Embassy and the pub were on the inside of the outer wall, but along the outer wall. The embassy had been to the left of the entrance, while the pub had been to the right. The 'new' main entrance to the castle proper was directly opposite the gates of the outer wall.

The highest part of the castle--the main hall and the two main towers--were off to the left of this entrance. The inner wall, the inner garden, and watchtowers were off to the right. The dynasphere is floating over the inner garden area.

Going up to the main door--grand two-story arched doors--there are no guards visible, but the doors are closed. Both doors have a large brass doorknocker in the center.

Trying the doors indicates they are locked. When you use the doorknocker, a panel in the door that you didn't notice before swings inward and a face appears that swiftly appraises you.

"Ah, the visitors from the flying ship!" the man says pleasantly enough. "What can I do for you gentlemen... and lady," he adds when he spots Mercy.

Grimsby announces formally, "I am Grimsby Baskerville of Her Britannic Majesty's Colonial Service, presently on detached duty in pursuit of malefactors believed hostile to the Crown of Graustark whom I have reason to believe may have penetrated this castle. I request permission to enter and continue my pursuit of these villains. My associates are all reputable persons, but they are quite capable of explaining their own qualifications." 

"Please, come on in," the factotum replies, opening the door, apparently impressed with Grimby's credentials even as he gives the others a suspicious glance.

"We are mostly concerned with teenage vandals and destructive children running loose within the castle," he explains as the group enters. "Otherwise, the days of nefarious culprits are long past. We run daily tours if needed, but otherwise the castle is open to everyone. Not that I don't believe your claims, Mr. Grimsby, but perhaps you should see the Sergeant-at-Arms."

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 230):

Grimsby replied, "Very well. Please direct me to the Sergeant at Arms. I may assure you that these villain are far more dangerous than youthful vandals." He refrained from correcting the factotum's use of his first name, as he wished to remain on good terms with the fellow at the moment.

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 231):

Dash surreptitiously nudged Bellgrove with an elbow, and whispered from the corner of his mouth,

"Reporter...Dynasphere over castle...Story!!" he whispered to Bellgrove.

When nudged by Dash Bellgrove turns and looks. He really looks. A look to indicate that one ought not to be nudged. And turns away without responding.

He does not otherwise indicate why, but he clearly does not agree with Dash's approach and is happy to let Mr. Baskerville's credentials lead their way.

"You go check with the sargent-at-arms," Mercy calls out as she heads down the first cross hallway. "I'm going up to the roof!"


She heads down the hallway on the right. She only vaguely remembered the aerial layout of the castle, but she was sure there must be a flight of stairs somewhere down this way.

Grimsby watches Mercy's departure with a certain bemusement and remarks, "Perhaps one of the gentleman should follow Miss Kincaid. Would you undertake it, Mr. Hawksbury?"

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 235):

Dash's jaw had literally dropped, as Mercy simply walked off into the castle. When Grimsby spoke, Dash turned to him with a stunned look.

"This is a European castle, right? It's the residence of a European monarch and Head of State, right?" Dash asks his British friend, "What happened to 'the Balkans are a political powderkeg'? And yet, you want me to just go traipsing off through a Princess' castle?"

"Honestly?"

"I ask you, how long would I get away with that behavior if I did that in Buckingham Palace? Are you trying to get me beat up....or even killed?"

Dash's demeanor suddenly becomes calmer, and he shrugs his shoulders,

"Yeah, sure, I'll go with Mercy..." he says, before walking after the young woman.

Connor had his own ideas on how to get into the castle, producing one of the business cards he used for his engineering firm from his pocket and showing it to one of the guards, "I'm Mr. Holmes, here to check up on the flux capacitors that were ordered from my firm, they're still under warranty, which means free inspection and repairs, as per the contract."

It wasn't a lie, either, he had received a few orders from Graustark for pieces of equipment, although Connor didn't exactly remember whether it had been for the palace or for some other enterprise, if the latter he could always claim the wrong address if he was called out on it and walk away before breaking in somewhere else, although there could always be a chance that the guards would buy it and let him in if they didn't know any better.

Bellgrove too is taken off guard by events. He knows Mercy less than Connor, so when the cat-man steps forward he follows. To date despite the Irishcat has shown himself to be unexpectedly subtle, so the New Yorker assumes that whatever he has up his sleeve will be compelling.

When he offers his card Bellgrove is standing behind him in the manner of a secretary or assistant.

The factotum directed Grimsby down to an office on the left where a gold plaque on the door read Sargent-at-Arms. You get a better sense of the layout of the castle because the wall on the right is nothing but high windows looking out onto a courtyard. The courtyard has been truncated over the years by the addition of rooms at the opposite end. You can see a number of people up on the roof, and even the bottom half of the dynasphere is visible.

The main part of the castle is therefore to your right.

The door was open, and inside was a desk with a man in red and black military dress sitting behind it. He was going through a stack of papers on his desk.

He looks up as Grimsby enters.

"Hello, there! Sargent Arnaud DeCostas at your service. What can I do for you today?" he asks as he stands up.


Connor's identification apparently gives the factotum the impression that he (and Bellgrove) are not with Grimsby.

"Certainly," the man answers. "I believe the Triad is expecting you. As you have probably surmised, they are up on the roof of the Grand Gallery. Take the side hall on the right and go down to the stairs at the end."


Dash hurries after Mercy, who he's come to realize doesn't conform to the idea of any woman he knows. As she goes down the side hall, she stops and tries opening every door she passes. Whatever she was looking for, she doesn't seem to find, but she doesn't stop until she reaches the end of the hall, and suddenly vanishes out of sight to the right.

Upon reaching that area, Dash sees the circular flight of stairs, clearly in the corner tower, and he hears Mercy's footsteps up the stairs.
This message was last edited by the GM at 22:31, Fri 09 Jan 2015.

In reply to Denholm Hawkesbury (msg # 236):

Grimsby replies coolly, "If this castle is as dangerous as you believe, Mr. Hawksbury, surely Miss Kincaid should not be left to wander it alone. If you can persuade her to return and proceed more conventionally under such protection as my position may provide, I would be grateful. Meanwhile, I am bound to see this sergeant at arms."

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 240):

"Bully!" Dash shouted back, over his shoulder, raising his right arm as if he clenched his old cavalry sabre while leading a charge, and followed Mercy down the passageway.

After following along as she tried each-and-every door, Dash turned the corner and found himself at the foot of a stone spiral stairway.

"If you had just asked, Miss Mercy," Dash called out, starting up the stone stair after the younger woman, "I could have told you we'd find the staircase in the tower, here. It's a fairly standard architectural design concept; towers have staircases. This one should go all the way up. Just remember that the tower is taller than the castle roof, you'll be looking for the next-to-last doorway."

Dash increased his pace, to try and catch up to Mercy.

Connor was inwardly pleased with himself that he'd gotten Bellgrove and himself into the castle with a bit of cleverness, although outwardly the white tiger felinoid's face was a mask of cool concentration, his ears perked up and listening carefully as he made his way down the hall towards the stairs, his walking stick held tensely in hiss handpaw since he was wary of any untoward surprises

"Be on your guard," he cautioned the human man, "With these sorts of places, not all is as it seems sometimes. If anyone asks, you're my assistant, so try to look intelligent and comprehending if the talk turns to technical matters, smile and nod, that sort of thing..." Hearing footsteps up ahead, Connor's eyes narrowed, but he went steadfastly ahead, wondering what was to come next...
This message was last edited by the player at 03:15, Sun 11 Jan 2015.

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 239):

Carrying on calmly as his comrades go elsewhere, Grimsby bowed politely to DeCostas and said, "Sargent DeCostas, I am Grimsby Baskerville of Her Britannic Majesty's Colonial Service, presently on detached duty in pursuit of the agents of a secret society who are apparently intended harm to Her Highness Yetive. I have reason to believe they may be attempting to infiltrate the castle, and I have come to ask if you have seen any sign of intruders, or indeed any strangers, however plausible, who might have sought entrance here of late."  As he speaks, he offers his identity card.

In reply to Connor Holmes (msg # 242):

Bellgrove replies to Conner in a low voice and with a wry smile as, "Right. The old 'smile and nod' it is. You might say it is one of my specialties."

"There are strangers here all the time," the Sargent replies to Grimsby. "I believe they are being called tourists these days."

"It does not strike me as reasonable that these agents you seek would be so conspicuous as to be clearly identifiable as such."

"However, at the present time, the only people here in the castle that might conceivable fall into that category are the two scientists, Iburra and Tindal. They are up on the roof with the Triad conducting an experiment."


Mercy had rapidly walked down the hall and then up the stairs to the next level. The steps continue upward but also open out onto two hallways going at right angles to each other. There are no visible doorways on the right-hand wall of the left passage, but there is one visible down the right passage.

As Mercy heads down that way, she sees that the left-hand wall is a series of tall arched windows that looks out onto the roof of the building. It's a rather narrow roof, since it only covers about half of the hallway and rooms. It's being used as some sort of patio, for there are a number of potted plants scattered around the roof, plus some wooden chairs.

Looking out through the windows, five people can be seen standing down by one corner. There is a winch to which is fastened the dynasphere. In the center of the windowed wall are a pair of French doors. They are closed.

It is just about now that the electrical charge stops.


Connor and Bellgrove wound up heading in the same direction as Mercy and Dash, pretty much following their footsteps.

As Mercy and Dash stop to look out the windows, Connor and Bellgrove catch up.

As Mercy reaches the next level on the stairs, she tosses a quip back over her should at Dash.

"Of course, I'm just an empty-headed woman that couldn't possibly have figured out that stairs would probably be found in the tower! If you must know, I was also snooping as I went," she says. "Besides, with this second level, there could have been additional stairs added along the way."

She looks out the window, studying first the dynasphere and then the people.

"That's about what I expected," she says, as if she's expecting Dash to understand. "They are using the wrong phase. It doesn't even look like they understand phase."

In reply to Mercy Kincaid (msg # 246):

"That's assuming they're using a polyphasic electrical power system and something like Mr. Tesla's AC power." Dash responded, "What makes you think they aren't using DC power? That sphere looks to be throwing around a lot of voltage, but very little amperage -- otherwise we'd have a lot more destruction out there."

Dash pauses, seeing the look that Mercy is giving him.

"What?" he asks her, "I went to college! I have a degree in Mechanical Engineering from the Massachusettes Institute of Technology. I know it's a small school, and not that well known, but the curriculum was excellent. Great things will happen there, one day, I know it."

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 245):

Grimsby replies , "I thank you for your information.  With your permission, I will go to the roof and attempt to discreetly ascertain if these persons might belong to the organization --not to say gang --that we have been pursuing.  I will not interfere with the experiment unless it becomes necessary to protect innocent lives" OOC: Unless the sergeant objects, Grimsby will depart as indicated.

"They are attempting wireless power transmission. That can't be done with so called direct current," Mercy explains to Dash. "Nikola theorized that at least three-phase current would be needed, but he was trying to invent five-phase. It's about more power in than it outputs, by a factor of a thousand with DC, if even possible. Three-phase may take a factor of a hundred."

"Not very practical."


As Connor and Bellgrove join Mercy and Dash, one of the men involved with the experiment notices them. A look of panic seems to come over him, and he quickly runs over to another door.

As the sergeant did not object, Grimsby will go out and head up the stairs. He is not running, but he is moving quite briskly. His right hand is on the familiar butt of the pistol in his pocket.

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 250):

"Well, now, that seems peculiar." Dash says, nodding towards the quickly running man, "We are just standing here, not discernibly different than any other tourist group that might be wandering the castle, and yet upon sighting us, that fellow reacts like someone who's just seen a Papist at a Southern Baptist Revival."

Dash turns, slightly, to glance sideways at Connor, "I say, Mister Holmes, would it be your opinion that that gentleman, running there, is simply performing his amusing impersonation of a Quail being flushed from hiding, or is that the flight of someone who thinks he's been caught with his hand in the cookie jar?"

"I'd say the second option is the more likely, Mr. Hawkesbury," Connor replied as he began to go after the fleeing man, "This quail knows something methinks, and being a sporting fellow, I'm going after him, feel free to lend a hand or ask those other chappies what's going on, be back in a flash."

With that the felinoid picked up the pace with a bit of a glint in his eyes, for it was always interesting to go after a live quarry, although he was still of a cautious bearing despite his apparent enthusiasm for the hunt..

In reply to Connor Holmes (msg # 252):

"Mr. Wander, perhaps you should also join the hunt." Dash said with a smirk, "I shall stay with Miss mercy, here, and unleash her upon those fellows still with the Sphere -- ah! Grimsby, old chap! Welcome!" Dash said with a wave, as he noticed the Brit coming up from below.

"We have a quail on the run..." Dash pointed off to where Connor and Bellgrove (?) were headed, "...who fled at our appearance, here. And Miss Mercy and myself were just about go out and beard the participants of the Dynasphere Experiment in their den, so to speak."

"What's your pleasure, my friend?"

Grimsby replied. "You seem to have things well in hand up here, Mr. Hawksbury, so I think I shall join the chase." HIs pistol had now appeared in his hand, and he took off after the others in pursuit of the running man.
This message was last edited by the player at 04:24, Wed 28 Jan 2015.

In reply to Grimsby Baskerville (msg # 254):

Dash looks down at Mercy, "Well, Miss Mercy, what say we step outside and get a closer look at this Dynasphere." Dash looks around for a door among all these windows, "You say that they are attempting something like the broadcast power idea of Mister Tesla?"

Having been prepared to be at an utter loss amongst the technical and scientific talk that he had been preparing himself for Bellgrove felt a rather significant bit of relief when the fellow suddenly ups and runs.

"Quite so, fellows, let us see if we can not chat with He-Whom-Exits!", he replies. As he and Conner had approached the scene moments prior he had begun taking his notepad out of his coat in secretarial fashion, but as they move to pursue he pushes that back in and pulls out his Colt.

"Tally Ho, lads!"

There were French doors as part of the windows, which is what you'd used to step out onto the balcony cum rooftop. It wraps around the central courtyard. The door was at one corner, the inventors at the corner to your right, and the fleeing 'inventor' then ran to the opposite corner from you and dashed through the French doors there.

As Dash and Mercy move over to the remaining inventors, Connor, Grimsby and Bellgrove pursue down the left-hand balcony, across the back, and through the door.

Once through the door, there is a hallway to the right, which has windows all along it, and you didn't see the fleeing inventor go down that way, so he must have gone to the left, which becomes a cross hallway. Again, to the left runs along the back section of balcony, which you all ran past, so most likely you would have spotted him if he went that way. That leaves only the cross hallway right.

Clearly, he is more familiar with the layout of the castle than you are. You are heading deeper into the main part of the castle. After dashing down the hall a ways, you hear rapdid footsteps probably running down stairs. Just up ahead, what you thought was doorway turns out to be the entrance to a flight of stairs going down.


"The fleeing man and the brunette inventor over there are the two people that made contact with the black ship," Mercy tells Dash, as she strides over to the others.

"Hello!" she calls out. "Marvelous invention you have there! My friend here is afraid he'll be... what is the term they are using now? Oh, yes... electrocuted! I tried to reassure him that it isn't possible, but he still needs convinced. My name is Mercedez Kincaid. This is my friend Dash."

"However do you get the power sent over such a large distance? Are you using the von Guericke principle or the Hertz method?"

Grimsby plunges down the stairs, hoping to regain sight of the fleeing man.

Bellgrove is also down the stairs after the man.

Clearly Connor is a bit quicker than the others, however it's all he can do to keep up with the fleeing person who is much more familiar with the layout.

Once down on what you thought was the 'ground floor' turns out to be a more literal ground floor, since it's below the 1st floor, yet isn't quite underground--there are windows at the back that send light into the level.

However, the target doesn't stop there, but heads further down into the dungeon level.

Connor has nearly caught up with him when he darts around a corner and Connor hears a door slam just as he reaches the corner. Peering around the corner, he sees that it's a short 10-foot hallway that ends in a door. He hears bolts slammed into place before he can get to the door.

"Grrrrawl! Dash it all!!" Connor snarled in a very tigerlike fashion as he skidded to a sudden stop in front of the bolted oaken door, only a pace or two away from having put his shoulder to the thing and bashing it clean off its hinges before the bolts could be rammed home, but now it was too late, even more galling to the felinoid was that his prey had been able to outrun him..

In between heavy pants as he caught his breath, for like his wild cousins he was built for the sprint and then a quick powerful kill, not an endurance run, he hissed, "Bugger must be enhanced...no ordinary human can run as fast as I can at full tilt.. Always a first though...."

Even as he built up towards a second wind, his mind was still going a mile-a-minute, looking for an alternative way or a shortcut and maybe resuming the pursuit..

Dash works hard not to frown as Mercy makes him out to be the bumpkin in their effort to gain knowledge, but decides he won't play the fool, but simply the uninformed dilettante.

So, in his best Bostonian accent -- the one he only uses when brought to the carpet before his Great Uncle, the Family Patriarch, Dash adds, "And just how do you keep such a magnificent thing aloft? Is it filled with that...oh, what is it you science chappies call it? Oh, yes! Hydrogen! Is it a balloon filled with that hydrogen stuff?"

In reply to Connor Holmes (msg # 261):

Bellgrove, not being an enhanced human, arrives at the barred door shortly after Conner and no less out of breath and frustrated. As he catches his breath he too scans the door, "One would expect a castle dungeon door to be a strong one..."

Glancing wryly at Conner, "Shall we attempt to put our shoulders to it? It seems as if we have little other option unless your mechanical aptitude might be able to somehow get the hinges off the thing."

Grimsby comes up behind Bellgrove, having joined the chase a little later. He is winded enough to be without his usual dignity, but clearly shares the frustration of the others. He says briefly, "I'm willing to add my shoulder to the door, if that's the best we can do." He sounds more angry than hopeful.

"All we'd be doing is making a few scratches and injuring our shoulders," Connor said with a shake of his head, "That's three foot thick solid oak with reinforced iron hinges, which are on the wrong side so I can't cheat and pop the pins. If I had some explosive, I'd bust through this quick enough, but alas, left my dynamite in my other trousers..."

Up on the roof...


One of the women steps forward and responds to Mercy's and Dash's comments.

"Greetings. I am Karma van Lyskra," she begins. "This is Professor Zornig from Axphain and Dr. Rood from Dawsbergen. And this is our guest, Miss Iburra from Spain."

"Any spark would set off hydrogen explosively, Mr. Hawkesbury, so we cannot use it. The sphere is held aloft by electromagnetic force."

"Now, how did you get in here? This is a restricted area."



Down in the dungeon...


As Connor, Grimsby, and Bellgrove stand there contemplating what to do about the door, they hear a faint scraping sound. It is Connor, with his sharper hearing and mechanical experience, that first realizes that the sound is the bolts on the inside of the door moving.

He quickly realizes that the dynasphere's magnetic energy is pulling the bolts open.

Grimsby hears the sound but does not recognize it.  He says "What's that noise?" sharply.

Connor smiled as he heard the bolts slowly retreat under the influence of the dynasphere's powerful magnetic fields, the same fields that were making the tools on his toolbelts clink and occasionally shudder, and was playing havoc with his well-loved pocket watch.

"That, lads, would the door unlocking, thank you very much Mr. Tesla," the felinoid said to Grimsby and Bellgrove before raising his leg and giving the door a sharp, powerful kick, sending it flying open with a great slam, meant to surprise anybody who might've been on the other side and maybe bowling them over...

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 266):

Dash thought quickly. The Spanish woman, Iburra, was standing too close to the controls of the Dynasphere to take any chances. Quickly, Dash decided upon a program of half-truths.

Continuing in his snooty Bostonian accent, "We are in this quaint castle of yours because our bona fides were accepted at the gate; how else? As for why we are here, it is at the behest of our patrons..." Dash points up at the floating metal sphere, "...and that!"

"I work for Lord Kentigern, the Scottish Industrialist. I'm here to look into certain...interests...he has in Graustark, at the moment." Dash watches Iburra for any reaction, "And Miss Kincaid, here, has been sent by her Mentor -- you might have heard of the chap? -- Mister Nikola Tesla, after he'd heard rumors of your work."

In reply to Connor Holmes (msg # 268):

Grimsby gripped his pistol firmly to keep it from being moved by the electrical force, and began heading toward the doorway as soon as Connor opened it, saying "Thank you, Mr. Holmes" as he went.

Pfui. This one got away from me... again. I 'wrote' a response in my head... and forgot to post it.


Down in the Dungeon

As Grimsby, Bellgrove and Connor enter the room beyond the door, you can see the man you were chasing sitting at a desk in the opposite corner of the room. He's rapidly operating some sort of device.


Up on the Roof

"I attended one of Mr. Tesla's lectures in New York two years ago," Karma replies.

"Ja, I have several of his books," Professor Zornig adds.

"So why would our humble little experiment interest either of you, or Lord Kentigern or Nikola Tesla?" Iburra asks.

Not trusting whatever the device was the man was using, Grimsby pointed his pistol squarely at the man's chest and snapped, "Put your hands flat on the desk, and don't move."

Bellgrove also raises his pistol taking careful aim at the man's right shoulder.

"Or don't. You have a count of three: One..."

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 271):

Dash responds to the lady spaniard, "For myself, this experiment of yours holds only a mild interest, and even less to Lord Kentigern. As I said, I am here only in....pursuit....of other business interests of His Lordship."

"However, as Lord Kentigern and Nikola Tesla are correspondents, upon learning of the trip out here, Mr. Tesla asked that I escort Miss Kincaid, here, on an errand of investigation for him into your experiments -- but I'll leave those technical details to her."

Dash affects an uninterested shrug of his shoulders, "I'm just here to meet a scientist who's working on a project for Lord Kentigern." Dash watches the three carefully for reactions, as he continues.

"Perhaps you've heard of the Gentleman -- he's supposed to have arrived in Graustark some time ago -- a Professor Cavor?"

"Two..." Connor put in calmly as he pulled off his gloves, the razor-sharp claws in the tips of his handpaws' fingers coming out, his ears laying back as he bared his fangs and growled for good measure. If bullets didn't frighten the man and convince him to step away, a pissed-off tiger-man might...

Grimsby calmly finished the count with "Three." and waited briefly to see if he needed to do more.

In the Basement...

The man operating the device makes a quick glance at the intruders and then seems to double his efforts on the machine. He pays no heed to any commands or threats.


On the Roof...

Although all three of the experimenters seem doubtful of Mercy's ability to understand what they are doing let alone assist in some way, the woman seems to understand being a woman in a man's field of endeavor.

"Well, I've come to appreciate the axiom that too many cooks spoil the broth," Karma replies, casting quick glances at her two cohorts, "but perhaps you'll have an insight, Miss Kincaid, that we've not been able to see."

"So far, all we've managed to do is spin a little weather vane via static electricity. It's certainly not going to light up an entire city, or provide power to a locomotive."

"Pray tell, how did Mr. Tesla solve the problem of voltage drop?"


At Dash's name-dropping, the three inventors give no sign of recognition. And while the Spaniard shakes her head in the negative, he's pretty sure the contraction of her pupils indicates at least recognition if not actual concern.

"Mr. Tesla has never written any books," Mercy counters Professor Zornig's statement. "He's a very private person and seldom writes down anything, but I suppose it's possible that one of his assistants over the years might have published something in his name. I would be very interested in viewing these books, Professor."

"As for voltage drop, he came up with a phased electrical discharge system. It was only three-phase but seemed to be on the right track. He plans on venturing into the realm of five-phase once he returns to the United States and rebuilds his laboratory at Wardenclyffe."

Hearing Grimsby's count and since the man does not cease Bellgrove breaths in gently and pulls the trigger.

Since Wander has fired, Grimsby waits to see the effect of that shot before firing himself. He wants the man wounded and intimidated, susceptible for questioning, not dead, if possible.

This is a free-form diceless game, so there is no dice rolling. If it comes down to it, I compare the appropriate attribute for your character against an appropriate attribute of the target. Whoever has the better attribute succeeds. If it's a tie, I'll go with what makes the story more entertaining.


He hits the man in the shoulder, and the force of the hit partly spins the man around. Now that he sees the three of you, he grabs his gun that was on the desk, raises it and shoots back. His first shot slams into the door frame.

"That is what one gets for not aiming at the head!", Bellgrove says as he goes to a knee and returns fire hoping.

Seeing that the man has the audacity to take on two armed opponents, Grimsby decides there is no point in trying to save him for questioning and joins Wander in returning the fellow's fire.

Dash gives a casual wave of his hand and shrugs non-commitally.

"Ah, well, no matter." Dash says, "I missed our last meeting, but my people have just located where he is, now, and I will be seeing him after this visit."

The man was in the opposite corner, facing the wall, sitting in front of a desk. The apparatus on the desk he was operating with his right hand, which was also the hand that he used to pick up the gun that was laying on the desk. He had to turn in his chair slightly to see and aim at Bellgrove and Grimsby.

Between Bellgrove's shot, which does hit him in the right shoulder, and Grimsby's follow up shot, the man is driven backwards and knocked out of the chair to the floor.

OOC: Does that mean that Grimsby's shot missed, or that Grimsby fired into him on the floor?
This message was last edited by the player at 01:35, Mon 23 Feb 2015.

It was probably Bellgrove's shot that put him off balance, and Grimsby's that knocked him to the floor.

When the man falls Bellgrove moves forward carefully, "I would love to interview this fellow, Mr. Baskerville, but am happy for you to ask the first questions if he is still alive."

Grimsby leans over the man, looking to see where his own bullet hit him, and at the same time asking sharply, "Are you with the Vril?"

Although the man isn't dead yet, his injuries are fatal and he will soon be.

Grimsby isn't even sure if the man can hear him, but he doesn't reply.

In reply to GM StarMaster (msg # 290):

Grimsby shrugs and looks at the man's wrist, to see if he shared a logo with the Vril.

Bellgrove moves forward to take a look at the device the man had been trying to manipulate, "Well, that did not go as planned for any of us, did it?", he says dourly.

Yes, the man has the Vril tattoo on the back of his hand.


As Bellgrove looks at the apparatus, he has some resemblance to a telegraphic emitter, but it has no wire leading from it. It doesn't take much to guess the device is using Hertzian waves to transmit (and presumably receive) wireless messages.

"Some sort of wireless transmitter...", Bellgrove mutters as he looks more closely attempting to figure out whether or not it is possible to get some sort of replay of whatever message the man was attempting to send. Indeed, if he managed to complete a message...

Grimsby is coolly searching the dying man for anything informative, but at Bellgrove's words he looks around, "So that is what it is? I had thought it might be a sort of weapon. In a way, I wish it had been. Now his comrades most likely know we are here, while we, unfortunately, do not know the whereabouts of his comrades, aside from the folk on the roof, who may be innocent."   

Up On The Roof...

"Perhaps, Miss Kincaid, you'd be kind enough to explain this phase current?" Karma responds.

"I can probably do an adequate job of explaining 3-phase transmission through wire," Mercy answers, "but I fear I know nothing about 5-phase or how phased current can be propogated through the air. I know he was comparing it to lightning, but aren't we all?"

"I have no idea why my associate ran off like that," Iburra speaks up then, "or why your comrades chased after him, but perhaps I should go look after him. They don't intend him any harm, do they?"

She waits a moment for a reply before starting to move off in the same direction.


Down In The Dungeon...

On the apparatus, there is a coherer that punches Morse code dots into a continuous strip of paper tape. It is unclear if it can be used to record outgoing messages, but it can be used for incoming messages. There appear to be remnants of such burnt to ash in a ceramic dish off to the side.

Searching through the man's clothes, you find his papers that aver that he is who he said he was. You find a billfold with 6,000 banknotes (Graustark gavvo) in it. You also find a small folding pocket knife with several blades, as well as a small electro-mechanical device. It's about the size of a matchbox.

You also find a rolled up strip of paper tape.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:23, Sat 28 Feb 2015.

Grimsby pockets the knife and sets aside the wallet for further examination. He holds out the device and the paper to the others, saying, "Can either of you make anything of this machine? Or the tape?  I suspect it may record a message from the device he was trying to operate."
This message was last edited by the player at 04:01, Mon 02 Mar 2015.

Bellgrove scratches his chin, "I do not know."

With a sigh he rubs his forehead, "Let's see.... What do we have? It seems as if this tape was integral to the machine's operation. These ashes suggest that either the tape was burnt in the process of sending, but since that does not seem to be what we saw... Perhaps the message sent is on this tape and the wise user burn the remains? We shall take a look at the spent tape that is unburnt..."

And having spoken he begins looking at the tape that is currently in the machine to see if there's anything that further than indicates how the device works and whether or not messages sent are left on the tape in the machine.

The device on the table is a box with a few dials and switches on it. In that respect, it doesn't look like anything Bellgrove has ever seen before.

However, there are parts of the box that fold out. One such part is a telegraph key but with a spark-gap emitter. The other part is the ticker tape device.

Since the man was still operating the device when you burst into the room, he wouldn't have had time to put the paper tape into his pocket. Also, the tape mechanism isn't anywhere near the ashtray. The ashes in the tray are most likely from previous transmissions that were burned after they weren't needed.

The paper tape from the man's pockets has a series of holes punched in it. It looks like Morse code.

The small device in the man's pocket just vibrates when turned on.

Bellgrove couldn't figure out the device, but that inspired little more than a sigh as we had not expected that he would manage to understand. Rather he looked at the tape the man had in his pockets, "Wait... This might tell us something."

Dash assumes a feigned look of surprise.

"What?!" he squeeks out, "You mean that that wasn't Professor Cavor who ran off? My associates were so certain it was him! No, no, of course they wouldn't hurt your associate -- they think he's Cavor!"

"That being the case, however, you are correct, Miss Iburra, better safe than sorry. Perhaps we should go and correct this misunderstanding." Dash gestures towards the door Iburras cohort had fled the roof via, earlier, "After you, Senorita." he says with a pleasant smile.

As a reporter who often had to file a story via telegraph, Bellgrove had learned Morse code, so while it is hard to learn to read it from a paper, it can be 'translated' into words. There is paper and pens in the room that he can do his translation.

'G-I-V-E  P-R-E-S-E-N-T  T-O-N-I-G-H-T  A-T  M-I-D-N-I-G-H-T'



Meanwhile, Iburra replies to Dash as she heads through the door.

"I have no idea where he's run off to, but I suppose he might have gone down to the lab in the dungeon."

She leads the way down to the lab where the others are, and you discover that they have, indeed, shot her associate.

"Oh, my God! They've murdered him! GUARD! GUARD!" she begins yelling as she turns and runs back the way you came.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:16, Sat 14 Mar 2015.

Bellgrove shows Grimbsby what he has transcribed, "It seems that somebody is to receive a gift at midnight."

In order to do the transcription he had holstered his pistol, so when others enter he is leaning over a desk upon which the transcription lays. When he hears the woman's cry he looks up surprised and says in a low voice, "It seems we have an international incident here, my friend."

In reply to Bellgrove G. B. Wander (msg # 303):

Grimsby mutters "Could be awkward. Must hope the consul can speak for us. Explaining the Vril
to the locals may be hard.  Wonder if this lady is one." However,  he pocketed his gun and
assumed an air of patience.

"Bollocks that, let's get the hell out of here," Connor, who had been rather quiet up until this point as he observed the proceedings, growled to Grimsby and Bellgrove impatiently, the felinoid none too keen to be thrown into another cage...

He was of course quite curious to understand what was really going on in this strange place, but when somebody shouts bloody murder for guards, in his opinion it was time to skedaddle no matter what the circumstances, people tended to jail first ask questions later....

In reply to Connor Holmes (msg # 305):

OOC: Sorry it's taken so long to post; just kinda lost the time...


Dash had been expecting something like this -- well, he wasn't expecting to find a body apparently dead on the floor! -- which was why he'd wrangled things such that Senorita Iburra had preceeded him down here.

So, while there is little he can do about her shouts, when she turns to run out of the lab, it is to not only find Dash blocking her way, but also to find him pointing his short-barreled Mauser at her.

"I'm afraid you'll need to stay with us for a little while longer, Senorita." Dash said with serious demeanor, "And do stop your shrieking. While I may be a Boston Gentleman, I also fought in Cuba, and I am not abouve pistol-whipping a Spaniard into silence."

Without taking his eyes from Iburra, Dash adresses his companions, "By Thunder, fellas, did you have to kill the bloke?" he asks while trying to kick the lab door, behind him, into some semblance of closed, "How's he going to tell us anything? At least tell me he was Vril!"

"It appears that he was. We did not mean to kill him, but he refused to stop sending when we warned him we would shoot if he did not stop doing so."

He moves forward and hands the message he transcribed to Dash and passes the device to Connor, "He was using this to send it."