IG thread

Syrtis Major (May 23, 1899, 5pm) The sun is settling low in the sky as Robert steps from the hansom cab and onto the street. He and Louis had been fortunate to find an apartment in one of the historic Martian buildings that had been restored to its former splendor. The upper floors were still blocked off, but their fourth floor flat was well appointed and comfortable.

Arriving at the top of the last flight of stairs, Robert enters his home, and notices a note on the kitchen table. He immediately recognizes Louis' neat script:

My dearest Robert,

My cousin Penny sent me a message to meet her at the Fox and Hound in the Residency. I will be home by 5pm.

All my love,

Louis
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:25, Fri 28 Aug 2015.

The tall man that mounted the stairs was somewhere in his early thirties and the prime of his life.  He had a strong, lithe build with large powerful hands and an easy dexterity as climbed.  Bright blue eyes looked out of a handsome face enhanced by a well trimmed beard and a smile seemed to twinkle in laugh lines and the wry turn of his lips.  He was dressed in well made but plain civilian clothes with the unmistakable air of the military about them.  Under one arm he carries a plump package wrapped in oiled paper and bound in twine.

The flat consisted of a small entry hall with a closet, a dining room, what could be called a library or sitting room, a kitchen and master and guest bedroom.  The rooms were still sparsely furnished but bore the evidence of his wife's firm hand and excellent taste.  The only evidence of Robert's input was a large painting of a set of dueling Martian sky galleons and a case of books covering naval and Martian history and several examples of the new genre of science fiction.  He smiled seeing that they had all been graciously but carefully exhibited out of direct view in the library.  In the short time that they'd been married he'd made several wrenching adjustments from a lifetime of bachelor existence to one of conjugal bliss.  It wasn't that a life as a naval officer ingrained habits of neatness and care in him; it was arranging life to please another as well.  Fortunately he'd found that task to be an easy one given the lovely and intelligent woman that was now his wife.

Robert set down the package on the counter and picked up the note.  He frowned for a moment and then pulled a battered but well made pocket naval chronometer.  It was 5 PM already and Louis wasn't home yet.  If he knew her cousin Penny then Louis would be late.  Heading to the pantry he mixed himself a gin and tonic with a touch of lime and set the tea kettle on the gas fire.  Settling into his battered and stuffed chair in the library he began to read Verne's latest book and listened to the bustle of traffic on the road four stories below.

The next time Robert checked his watch, it was six fifteen. The sun had set, and tendrils of the Martian night were infiltrating the streets. Syrtis Major was safe enough during the day, but most human residents tended to not linger in the streets at night. The war had inflamed passions on all sides, and another worker in Robert's building had been shot three nights ago while walking home. A door slammed somewhere downstairs, but there was no sound of footfalls on the stairs outside.

The telephone that had been installed in their flat a fortnight ago was also silent. The Governor had decreed that certain government officials, including Robert's and Louis' departments, should have the devices at hand. A few public buildings and businesses also had the devices - including the Fox and Hound.

Looking up from his book, Robert started as he glanced first at the setting sun and then at his watch.  He marked the spot in his book with a silk ribbon and then rose and went over to the phone.  After checking the operation for a few moments he rang up the Fox and Hound.  He wasn't worried but it was time that Louis was home and more than likely would appreciate being rescued from her cousin.

"Hello, this is Robert Darlington, is my wife Louis there?  She's meeting with her cousin, a miss Jenkins."

"I am sorry, Mister Darlington," the hostess said in a soft Irish brogue, "Missus Darlington and Miz Penny did not keep their reservation today." The crinkling of a turning page comes through, along with the mutter of background conversations and the clinking of glassware. "They also did not come in earlier or late, Sir."

Robert was quiet for a moment in shock.  He took a deep breath then and continued in a normal voice.  There was something very, very wrong here and he had to take immediately action.  "Very well then, thank you for your information miss.  I wish you a good eve."

Putting the phone back on the hook Robert moved immediately to the cabinet and pulled out his big Webley revolver.  The act of checking the action, loading it and pocketing a box of cartridges calmed his mind a bit.  A sap was stuffed in his pocket as he thought back to what might have happened.

First he went quickly through Louis' things on her desk, looking for any letters or evidence on where or what she might have received.  Failing that he would go down to the doorman and find out if Louis had taken a cab and perhaps trace her that way.  Otherwise she might have been abducted along the way or perhaps she and her cousin had innocently made other arrangements.

Louis' secretary is a masterpiece of Martian chestnut and weathered liftwood, both taken from refurbished aerial ships. The top is rolled open, and most of the shelf slots contain papers pertaining to their family - bills and other documents. Robert's eye falls on an envelope lying amidst a sheaf of writing paper. It is the characteristic grey of one of the city's messenger service, and the corner of a message form is protruding from the torn envelope. Picking it up, Robert reads it:

Meet me at F&H. 3PM. Game is afoot. Penny.

He also notes that the revolver Louis keeps in the top of her desk is missing, along with the holster and the spare cylinder.
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:35, Tue 01 Sept 2015.

Robert glances at the envelope and then folds and puts it into his pocket.  He's relieved the Louis had her pistol.  Knowing her, he was confident in her ability to handle herself but one could always get surprised.  Thinking for moment he considered that it looked like Louis and Penny were up to something.  This note was not a summons to an afternoon high tea.

With a thought he goes over and calls the agency for which she was working.  There was a chance she was on some kind of job for them or maybe just off on a search for adventure.  He knew she was bored after a few months of keeping house in their little flat and had actually encouraged her to seek something to keep her occupied.

The telephone rings several times, and then the operator comes back on the line. "I have no other number for Zane and Elder, Sir. I am sorry. Was there another number I can connect?"

Robert shook his head in frustration although such reaction served no purpose over the electric driven lines of the telephone.  "No, no other number thank you operator."  He hung up and tapped his foot as he thought.  Penny mentioned that the game was afoot.  That indicated that the two women were up to something or after something.  He tried to recall everything he knew about Louis' sister as he looked again at the message from Penny.  Perhaps there was some clue as to where the cousin had been staying from the address block on the message.  That might provide some clue before he checked with the doorman on how Louis might have traveled to her appointment.

The message was sent from the offices of Zane and Elder at 2:15pm this day. A loud *pop* reaches Robert's ears, apparently from the building's front door at the street level. Someone shouts, a woman? Then, the pounding of feet on the stairs comes from outside Robert's door. Another, louder pop sounds, and a woman screams in terror as the pounding feet come closer.
This message was last updated by the GM at 11:48, Wed 02 Sept 2015.

Moving with trained reflexes at the first 'pop', Robert seizes his pistol and heads to the door.  He cocks his weapon and holds it ready as he throws open the door with a bang, using the noise and motion as a distraction as he steps out into the corridor.

Robert steps out onto the broad landing at the threshold of his apartment door. The floor here is about eight feet wide, and the landing encircles the stairwell with open wrought iron railings. He sees a woman on the stairway below, just turning the corner from the third floor. She is running up the stairs two at a time, having hiked her skirt to her waist to accomplish it. Her right sleeve is bright with blood, and Robert can hear her panting in terror as she races toward him.

Below, a stocky man in business attire pounds his way up the preceding staircase,  with a large pistol in his right hand. He is outpacing the woman, and he will arrive at the landing below about when she gains the fourth floor landing.

Robert takes in the situation in an instant,  He brings his pistol to bear on the man and shouts.  "Hold in the name of the Queen, no shooting here." He thinks for a moment if he knows the woman but his focus is on the man below with the gun.

The woman *seems* to be familiar, but Robert finds himself with no time to think about it.

"Zur Hölle mit der Königin," the man snarls, bringing the pistol around on Robert. The weapon's report is deafening in the hallway, and the iron railing rings like a bell as one of the heavy bullets crashes into it. Robert is showered by bits of bullet jacket, and he hears another round zip past his left ear. The man slides to a halt on the landing, and brings his weapon up in a two handed grip.

The woman gains the top of the stairs, screaming like a banshee as she spies Robert. "Louis is in danger! Penny is dead! They are trying to kill me, too!"

Robert doesn't spare the woman a glance but instead fires with cool precision back down the stairwell at the German.  He didn't think whatever the man said was particularly flattering but Robert had been under fire before both on the deck of a ship and leading sailors and marines ashore.  A small part of his mind pondered the woman's words as she speaks of Louis.

OOG: Please roll 1d6-1 for each shot (up to three) Robert fires. His Marksmanship skill won't help here, but you may subtract any Close Combat skill he has. Low numbers are better, and a 6 is always a miss. The target gets a saving throw for each hit before it's called an actual wound.

Robert fires three rapid shots, his braced position and superior height on the floor above aiding his fire.

17:13, Today: Robert rolled -2,-5,-5 using d6-6,d6-6,d6-6.  Shooting.
I think I got that right.

The Webley barks three times in rapid succession, bucking in Robert's grip as he brings it on target after each shot. The man lurches backwards with three blotches of red staining his vest, and slams into the wall at the base of the steps. His pistol clatters to the floor, and the man slides down the wall.

"Robert!" The woman staggers to a halt next to Robert, and slumps to the floor like a dropped doll. Her right sleeve is soaked in crimson blood, and her face is a sickly pale gray. He recognizes her as a worker in his office - Henrietta? No, Harriett, but her last name escapes him at the moment. Her breathing is rapid and shallow, and she is staring at him with a look of quiet desperation Robert has seen in too many faces on too many battlefields.