Post by: lawastooshort on August 22, 2011, 04:43:52 pm
Roll to Be a Gentleman Spy
The year is 1906.
The year of the Dreadnought and of the first Viking submarine!
The year of the first aeroplane flight in Europe!
The year of the first recorded weaponisation of Nazi monkey brains!
The year of a nascent arms race between the British and the Germans, and the year when the British Empire realised that a new branch of the Admiralty was needed to combat the growing Prussian threat in the East: MI:G – Military Intelligence Gentlemen. A force of the Empire’s Finest, to cope with matters beyond the purview of regular police and intelligence services. A force of British Gentlemen, trained both to be and to protect the future of Great Britain and her Empire through the rigours of Rugby, grouse shooting, and commanding butlers.
Spoiler: Rules, edited Jan 2012 (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Character Sheet (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Please try to bold your actions, it'll be easier for me. Thanks.
Post by: lawastooshort on August 22, 2011, 04:44:14 pm
2 - areyoua
Name: Winston Smith
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
3 - _DivideByZero_
Name: William Wellington
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
5 - Geen
Name: Henry McGeenyton
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
6 - Scriver
Name: August von Fersen
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Roll of Honour: The Gentlemanly Deceased
4 - Firelordsky
Name: Thomas Wallace - died for the King in the heat of battle, of self-inflicted bowling-ball-on-a-chain induced wounds.
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Roll of Honour: The Gentlemanly Misplaced
1 - Darvi
Name: Link. John Link.
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
7 - Hitty40
Codename: "G"
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Waiting List
Quip
Talarion
Zako
Name: Charles Cavendish
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Name: Torin Filib Wallace
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Name: Baron von Orlofferfelde
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Powder Miner
Name: Juan Daniel.
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Yoink
Spinal_Taper
Name: Sir George Williamson the Third
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Darvi on August 22, 2011, 04:45:46 pm
Name: Link. John Link.
Nat.: British-European with a dash of Scottish. Just like me! xD
Relation: the father. Jack Link.
Skill: Adaptable to new environments: +1 to disguise.
Trait: Charismatic: +1 in social situations.
Bio: Being the son of a politician, John noticed that there were ways of self-enrichment that didn't make yourself unpopular with the public. After having conned his way into the Bank of Scotland (using an esoteric combination of sweettalking, a disguise and a rubber duck), he managed to get away with ~50 mil.£ . After he got traced by Scotland Yard, MI:G made him an offer: use his skills for them or go to prison. Obviously he accepted, and now he is working for them to protect the Kingdom.
Post by: areyoua on August 22, 2011, 04:49:54 pm
Nationality: American
Relation: You wouldn't happen to know my 16th uncle twice removed John D. Rockefeller would you? I certainly don't. (Which means none)
Skills: We Carry Large Sticks +1 with blunt weaponry
Traits: We Never Lost a War!(yet) +1 when obviously losing.
Item: A walking stick capable of serious bodily harm.
Bio: On loan from the United States Marshals. By on loan, I mean that he resigned after "accidentally" clubbing a fugitive to death. In his defense, he did it in self-defense and was even acquitted, but you know how the courts are. One charge, and you're mistrusted for the rest of your days.
Post by: Geen on August 22, 2011, 05:01:22 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on August 22, 2011, 05:04:51 pm
In.
Relation: ??? I don't understand.
Apologies. This is just if you want to have your character have a rather high placed relative whose name you can drop. I suppose it might get one entrance to certain clubs, but it won't be much use in mortal combat with a Foreigner!
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on August 22, 2011, 05:07:46 pm
Nationality: English
Skill: A Quite Talented Salesman (+1 to persuasion)
Trait: Top hat Acquisition (+1 to acquiring a Top Hat through any means)
Item: A Top Hat.
Bio: A hat salesman who became famous for his stylish implementation of top hats.
Gentlemanliness: 5.
Caddishness: 0.
Post by: Darvi on August 22, 2011, 05:08:51 pm
Ah.In.
Relation: ??? I don't understand.
Apologies. This is just if you want to have your character have a rather high placed relative whose name you can drop. I suppose it might get one entrance to certain clubs, but it won't be much use in mortal combat with a Foreigner!
Also, guess where I got a name from so quickly.
Post by: lawastooshort on August 22, 2011, 05:11:49 pm
Ah.In.
Relation: ??? I don't understand.
Apologies. This is just if you want to have your character have a rather high placed relative whose name you can drop. I suppose it might get one entrance to certain clubs, but it won't be much use in mortal combat with a Foreigner!
Also, guess where I got a name from so quickly.
was randomness anything to do with it?
Edit: Oh. Then perhaps it is yours. I say.
Post by: Darvi on August 22, 2011, 05:16:34 pm
Post by: Firelordsky on August 22, 2011, 05:17:42 pm
Name:Thomas Wallace
Nationality: Scottish
Relation: He is the great-great-great-great-great-great-greatgrandson of William Wallace who is known for his gentlemenliness throughout England
Skills: En Garde!!!(+1 to duelling)
Trait: Flexible(+1 to getting into tight spaces)
Item: Greatsword
Bio: A duelist who duelled his way into a bank vault and got away with a fortune, but shortly after he was arrested by Scotland Yard and was made an offer to join the MIG which he happily accepted.
Gentlemanliness: 5
Cadliness: 0
Post by: Geen on August 22, 2011, 05:22:22 pm
Nationality: English
Relation: A gentleman descended from a long line of tophat-wearing warriors, ninjas, and knights. His father invented the monocle.
Skill: Gracefull combat- +1 to Gentlemanly forms of combat, AKA fencing, pistol duels, using a sword-cane, etc.
Trait: Refined Accent- +1 to vocal and social interactions
Item: Monocle
Bio: A middle-aged man, descended from a line of inventors, psychopaths, and warriors. Often wears a top-hat and a monocle, preferring it to those barbarian bowler hats. Has a moderate amount of experience in espionage, prefering grace to brute force. Has a taste for tea and biscuits, but dislikes coffee.
Gentlemanliness: 5
Caddishness: 0
Post by: scriver on August 22, 2011, 06:46:54 pm
Post by: Firelordsky on August 22, 2011, 06:52:08 pm
Post by: IronyOwl on August 22, 2011, 06:57:05 pm
Onto the waiting list with me.
Post by: Hitty40 on August 22, 2011, 07:01:59 pm
Nationality: German
Relation: None. Went againest his country, cutting all ties.
Skill:Quick and Clean(+1 to attacking rolls)
Trait: Fluid diplomacy(+1 to rolls related to talking to Germans)
Item:Mondragon Rifle (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mondrag%C3%B3n_rifle)
Bio: A trained marksman and negotiator in the German police force, "G", as everyone calls him, has always taken a liking to English culture:tea, biscuits, gentlemanlyness, he moved- well, actually more like deported to England after learning Germany calls off all imports of tea and biscuits. After learning this, he then went and bought the most expensive rifle he could possibly find, and go on a killing spree, taking down 40 people with just an 8-round clip. There he found himself a new life, and was invited to join the MI:G a few years later.
He enjoys hunting, eating biscuits and drinking tea, and chatting up a conversation.
Post by: quip on August 23, 2011, 01:28:29 am
Post by: lawastooshort on August 23, 2011, 02:01:18 am
I could give up my spot if you really want it.
That's the spirit old boy!
+1 Gentlemanliness!
Name: William Wellington
Skill acquired!
Top Hats (+1 to Top Hat wearing)
Name: Henry McGeenyton
Skill acquired!
Monocles (+1 to Monocle wearing).
Right - getting the Foreword ready, this will be a small introduction with a minor action and then the Prologue is mostly ready too.
There is a waiting list of 4 so far, so either I could make being a Gentleman Spy even more dangerous than I had planned and speed the waiting up, or I could keep it as it is and add a 6th person at the risk of my losing track or having to type up 20% more actions. I don't know which would be better, really.
Any suggestions?
Also - I have posted your character sheets at the top.
Also - please feel free to make suggestions or constructive criticism - I haven't Gm'd for a while.
Please try to bold your actions, it'll be easier for me. Thanks.
Post by: lawastooshort on August 23, 2011, 02:29:45 am
10.17pm, Wednesday 16th, January, 1906. A country residence. Great Britain.
Curiously, just as you are finishing your port in the Drawing Room after dinner, the butler - what's his name, Smythe? anyway, the butler brings you the following telegram:
IF YOU ARE A PATRIOTIC SUPPORTER OF THE KING AND EMPEROR STOP IF YOU WISH TO GAIN GREAT HONOUR AND NOBILITY IN HIS SERVICE STOP IF YOU ARE FREE FOR A PERIOD OF ADVENTURE AND EXCITEMENT STOP PLEASE ACCEPT THIS INVITATION TO MY CARD GAME STOP 9 O'CLOCK THURSDAY THE TURF CLUB STOP
"No signatory, Smythe?"
"It's Jenkins, Sir"
"Who the ruddy heck is Jenkins? What's he doing inviting one to mysterious games of cards at this hour of the evening?"
"I'm Jenkins, Sir. The telegram was merely signed with a letter M"
"Well, I say. I have to admit I was rather taken at the bit where it says 'patriotic'. Get the car ready for first thing tomorrow morning Smythe, and telephone ahead to prepare the town house! And fetch another glass of port!"
9.51pm, Thursday 17th, January, 1906. The Turf Club, Piccadilly, London.
You are enjoying the game of cards you and these fellow gentlemen have been invited to when one of the butlers approaches and offers you a telegram. The other gentlemen around the table all seem to be receiving a telegram as well.
YOUR FAVOURITE DOG HAS JUST PASSED AWAY STOP VERY SORRY STOP
My word! The Turf Club's butlers are famously reliable! Your favourite dog must have passed away!
What will you do?
[Please post your gentlemanly (re)actions!]
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Darvi on August 23, 2011, 03:13:56 am
I also appear to have forgotten to give myself an item. I shall then have a
Post by: lawastooshort on August 23, 2011, 03:18:33 am
What dog?
I also appear to have forgotten to give myself an item. I shall then have atowelnapkin.
Yes - I noticed that in the post above the Foreword, but then posted the Foreword so you might not have seen it. I have given you a napkin. Good choice.
Regarding the dog, well, it is assumed a gentleman has a hunting dog or several. You know, to pick up the dead grouse and all that.
Post by: Darvi on August 23, 2011, 03:24:46 am
Post by: lawastooshort on August 23, 2011, 03:29:04 am
Wait, it's code for "you are about to have a fucking job to do", right?
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Darvi on August 23, 2011, 04:09:28 am
Weep a gentlemanly tear. Wipe it away with the napkin.
"Gentlemen, I must excuse myself. I have something to attend to."
Stand up and leave. Calmly.
Post by: Firelordsky on August 23, 2011, 06:46:10 am
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on August 23, 2011, 11:00:41 am
Post by: Geen on August 23, 2011, 11:03:35 am
Post by: areyoua on August 23, 2011, 11:14:16 am
First of all, question the spelling of this note, what kind of country spells favorite like that? Then, ask the butler from whom the telegram came.
Post by: scriver on August 23, 2011, 11:15:44 am
I could give up my spot if you really want it.No need for that, good sir, our host has graciously extended another invitation to my self.
Spoiler: charsheet (click to show/hide)
Puff my pipe while solemnly and quietly reminiscing the many fine adventures ywe had together, then share the bad news and raise a glass to her honour.
"It is a sad day to see such a good hound pass away from us, a finer and more loyal companion I could never ask for. Ah, how I wish now that we would have had time for a last hunt together. But such is life, that good friends depart at the most inconvenient times. I say instead, that we should appreciate our comrades while they are alive, and take a moment to remember those dear to us that has gone away from us, through death or distance. A cheer, I would ask, to those we wish would grace our company once more."
Post by: lawastooshort on August 23, 2011, 12:09:44 pm
I am also just waiting for a possible 7th Gentleman if IronyOwl posts in time.
p.s. edit:
Scriver I notice you chose two skills, which is one too many (the Gentlemen with two skills above acquired them through the GM (Gentleman Master)'s discretion after creation. I'll let you have both, but I think, if I remember, that I may also add 1 to your caddishness, having learnt of your rakish fondness for Women!
Post by: Geen on August 23, 2011, 12:59:04 pm
Post by: Darvi on August 23, 2011, 01:03:41 pm
explosive pocketwatches?That sounds extremely suicidal.
Post by: lawastooshort on August 23, 2011, 01:19:12 pm
Also, is this gonna be realistic ish or are we gonna have crazy gadgets like laser monocles and explosive pocketwatches?
Viking submarines
I shall also give a fuller answer which does not include a lengthy exposition of the economic state of turn of the century Norway and the subsequent unlikelihood of aforementioned nation developing a submarine in 1906:
Explosive pocket watches is an excellent idea. In. Lasers however sound quite unlikely. Not in. I think this will be the general rule. If it is feasible-ish for 1906, then I will certainly consider it. Feel free to suggest any gadgets you would be interested in acquiring.
Post by: scriver on August 23, 2011, 01:25:55 pm
Feel free to suggest any gadgets you would be interested in acquiring.Cane Guns? (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cane_gun) Apache Revolvers? (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apache_revolver) German Ax-Pistols?
Granted, those are both real majjingies and the two latter are not gentleman-like in any way but they are awesome as hell.
Post by: Dwarmin on August 23, 2011, 01:56:06 pm
I asked.
Post by: Geen on August 23, 2011, 02:10:08 pm
Exactly the point, Darvi. Exactly the point.explosive pocketwatches?That sounds extremely suicidal.
I'm up for a moncle that doubles as a telescope, or one possible of starting fires with light. Also, cane-katana. NOW.
Post by: Darvi on August 23, 2011, 02:15:54 pm
<>Exactly the point, Darvi. Exactly the point.explosive pocketwatches?That sounds extremely suicidal.
Post by: lawastooshort on August 23, 2011, 03:18:16 pm
Are steam powered Nazi robot spiders powered by living ape brains in glass jars going to be allowed?
I asked.
Obviously they would in all likelihood not be allowed. Germany's defeat in World War 1 could be considered to be the vital catalyst in the formation of the National Socialist party, and the deadly arms race between Germany and the British Empire that we are accurately recreating is some time before World War 1 and its nefarious consequences. So a Nazi in 1906 would be incredibly improbable, unless time travel was invented.
Post by: Darvi on August 23, 2011, 03:19:28 pm
So a Nazi in 1906 would be incredibly improbable, unless time travel was invented.It most likely is. (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ptitlekz83hawz)
Post by: lawastooshort on August 23, 2011, 04:01:11 pm
Weep a gentlemanly tear. Wipe it away with the napkin.
"Gentlemen, I must excuse myself. I have something to attend to."
Stand up and leave. Calmly.
[5] Like an experienced Gentleman, Mr John Link calmly rises and excuses himself from the table, expertly manipulating his napkin. Those closest to him even remark a gentlemanly tear roll gently down his cheek, an extraordinarily appropriate display of emotion in this distressing time.
Trait gained!
Knows When To Display Feelings (+1 when speaking to ladies)
Become left-handed and Leave, silently.
[4] Clearly having dealt with similar tragedy before in his distinguished life, Mr Wallace employs the traditional Harrow Method for dealing with a great upset, and becomes left handed. He gets up to leave, wordlessly.
Trait gained!
Left Handed (+1 to being left-handed)
Remove my top hat, cry a bit, then replace my top hat and convince everyone that I have to leave, doing so afterward.
[5] William Wellington removes the telegram from the silver platter that it is brought on, and reads the contents without so much as a flicker of movement crossing his stylishly accessorised figure. He de-accessorises his figure, and in a brief and remarkably controlled manner cries several honest English tears. He replaces his hat, and, just before von Fersen rises to his feet, convinces the table that he must leave, and he turns to do so.
Trait gained!
Extraordinarily Convincing (+1 to convincing)
Cry into my monocle, give the butler my regards, pay my bill, and leave for the funeral. Also, admire Zero's top hat and ask if he has a spare.
[5] Your display of emotion is appropriate, your respect towards the butler is appreciated. Whether or not Mr Wellington has a spare top hat is for him to decide, but your fine eye for fashion even in a time of distress is well noted.
Trait gained!
Particularly Calm (+1 to remaining calm)
Gentlemanliness Increased!
The butlers of London's finest clubs will soon know who this polite and well-dressed man is. And if there is something more important to a Gentleman than his favourite dog, well, whether he know it or not, it is his butler.
What happened to the stiff upper lip?
[editor's note - excellent question]
First of all, question the spelling of this note, what kind of country spells favorite like that? Then, ask the butler from whom the telegram came.
[2] Questioning the butler, Winston Smith makes the faux pas of questioning the King's English, leading to a rather sullen attitude towards him from the aforementioned butler, and no satisfactory response.
Trait gained!
Fallible Pedant! (-1 to Pedantry)
Skill Acquired!
Knowledge of the English Gentleman (+1 to discerning real English Gentlemen)
Caddishness Increased!
The butlers of London will soon all have heard about your terrible faux pas!
Puff my pipe while solemnly and quietly reminiscing the many fine adventures we had together, then share the bad news and raise a glass to her honour.
"It is a sad day to see such a good hound pass away from us, a finer and more loyal companion I could never ask for. Ah, how I wish now that we would have had time for a last hunt together. But such is life, that good friends depart at the most inconvenient times. I say instead, that we should appreciate our comrades while they are alive, and take a moment to remember those dear to us that has gone away from us, through death or distance. A cheer, I would ask, to those we wish would grace our company once more."
[6] Informed of his loss, August von Fersen pauses for reflection, and then rises to his feet to propose a toast. His speech is a moving one, and appeals to the best in all men. Several gentlemen at a neighbouring table are witnessed to have turned to face our valiant group of gentlemen, and more than one was seen to wipe away a tear.
Skill Acquired!
Tremendous Orator (+1 to Speeches)
Gentlemanliness Increased!
Renowned for his apposite toasting!
[traits and skills will not be so easily gained in future turns]
Post by: lawastooshort on August 23, 2011, 04:12:46 pm
As most of the gentlemen get up to leave after having politely listened to von Fersen's tremendous speech, but before any get more than 3 strides from the table, a rather tall and distinguished looking man walks in and addresses the table.
“Gentlemen! Worry not – your dogs are, in fact, safe. My humblest apologies for this ghastly sleight of hand. Such a thing shall never be repeated, and this I swear upon my honour.”
He has a significant moustache, one that you know, from your experience, requires some considerable grooming each morning. You all manage to withhold a gasp - it's Sir William Melville! Originator of the Melville Moustache and one of the most powerful and important men in the Empire, although few know of him outside a select social circle.
"Gentlemen," he begins. "You have passed you first, second, and third tests. First - you are here this evening, in response to my telegram requesting your Patriotism. So I assume you are Patriots. Or at least,” he continues, raising an eyebrow adroitly in the direction of Mr Smith, “you must wish to show that you a true gentleman, and capable of Proper British Patriotism and Language.”
“Secondly, you have all, to a Gentleman, reacted correctly in the face of tragedy! When I was 7, Jenkins, my Dachshund, fell into a mine when Mother and Father were taking me around Europe on the Grand Tour. He died, and I have never forgiven the Europeans since. Never. I haven’t forgiven them in the fields, I haven’t forgiven them in the streets. I haven’t forgiven them in the hills! I will never forgive! But I didn’t show that at the time! No Sirs. My upper lip was as stiff as... I say... as stiff as a stiff breeze at sea!”
“ Where was I? Ah. Yes. Thirdly! You seem to all recognise me - so you clearly have more wherewithal than the average gentleman, and clearly have some interest in the fortunes of the Empire!"
"Your last test is this: to come with me to my rooms on Oxford Street, where I shall describe to you in comfort and in detail the foul machinations of the Prussians. Foul Machinations that must be stopped! We shall also have brandy, and cigars"
And with this seemingly over-theatrical but eminently sensible final flourish, he turns, and in a deep and commanding voice orders the nearest butler to ready his carriage.
You all follow.
Post by: lawastooshort on August 23, 2011, 04:14:02 pm
A comfortable drawing room, 4, Oxford Street, London.
Melville has been speaking for nearly an hour. It is clear it is something he enjoys.
“…so I sent Smythe to fetch another ruddy bottle and shot the pesky fellow! I say…”
His voice once again dissolves into laughter, and he stops to take a sip of brandy. Leaning forward to cut the end off a third cigar, he starts again.
“Now, where was I. Ah yes. Our chaps down in Portsmouth have been building a splendid battleship. A rather loud and dirty thing, a battleship. Anyway, perhaps I’ll tell you about that another time. You see gentlemen, this battleship, HMS Dreadnought she’s called, well, this battleship will change the course of History! She will be more powerful than any other machine of war built by Man. And this ruddy Prussian, Hans von Junker, has only gone and ruddy stolen the damnable blueprints!”
“Our man in Portsmouth has just telegrammed to say that he has boarded the Portsmouth to London night train. He must not be allowed to leave the country with those plans. And no one else must find out about this! If anyone finds out that Lord Pointington-Smythe-Jones lost the bloody blueprints to a German there will be no end of trouble. Especially not if they find out how. I say, what!”
He lights the cigar.
“Now, this von Junker is a dangerous man. You must all have heard of the disgraceful affair of the Damaged Hat last year? Well, it was he tha…”
He is cut off by a startling commotion coming from the hallway, by uncouthly loud and violent voices, and finally by a butler running breathlessly into the room, barely pausing to knock.
“I say, Sir Melville, awfully sorry – it’s the Germans”
And with that horrifying warning, he falls over, dead. He appears to be bleeding onto the carpet!
“I say,” says Melville, pulling a revolver from his desk, “Those fiends are probably after my cigar collection again! Here, I have a pair of revolvers in that commode,” he adds, addressing your group of gentlemen and pointing to an ornate piece of furniture in the corner of the room. He appears to muse for a second. “I say. Perhaps they’re after me this time. That would make sense, having discovered their plotting. Damn their eyes! No Sirs, you won’t be getting me yet,” he proclaims, rising to his feet. “I have gentlemen to command and a Nation to protect!”
Protect Sir Melville from the Germans at all cost!
Post by: Firelordsky on August 23, 2011, 04:23:58 pm
Help out Mr.John Link
Post by: Darvi on August 23, 2011, 04:24:26 pm
[/grammargentleman]
Post by: areyoua on August 23, 2011, 04:26:53 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on August 23, 2011, 04:30:05 pm
It's Dachshund.
[/grammargentleman]
Excellent work. Keep it up and you may reach Infallible Pedant (+1 to all pedantry).
Now that im ambidextrous i can dual-wield. Get out my trusty claymore(Scottish version of greatsword) and prepare to "greet" them.
My apologies: you posted that you wanted to become left-handed, not both-handed, and that is what you had some remarkable success in achieving.
Post by: Geen on August 23, 2011, 04:30:35 pm
EDIT:HE IS A GRAMMER NAZI! That means... He's from the future, and on the enemy's side! TRAITOROUS SCUM!
Post by: lawastooshort on August 23, 2011, 04:33:45 pm
Grab a revolver, ask for a top hat, and use my monocle to magnify sunlight and set the enemy on fire.
EDIT:HE IS A GRAMMER NAZI! That means... He's from the future, and on the enemy's side! TRAITOROUS SCUM!
and I am a weather Nazi:
Quote
10.57pm, Thursday 17th, January, 1906.
A comfortable drawing room, 4, Oxford Street, London.
It's a marvellous idea, but for the lack of strong sunlight indoors during the English winter night time.
Post by: Darvi on August 23, 2011, 04:34:34 pm
Also, claymores aren't really dual-wieldable.
Grab a revolver, ask for a top hat, and use my monocle to magnify sunlight and set the enemy on fire.
EDIT:HE IS A GRAMMER NAZI! That means... He's from the future, and on the enemy's side! TRAITOROUS SCUM!
Spoiler: I punch nazis in the face. (click to show/hide)
Calmly grab a gun. Leave the room and look for an exit that allows me to flank the Germans.
Post by: areyoua on August 23, 2011, 04:36:20 pm
Post by: Darvi on August 23, 2011, 04:37:42 pm
Or I'll edit the action into my previous post. So much for that :P
Post by: areyoua on August 23, 2011, 04:38:25 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on August 23, 2011, 04:39:18 pm
Unless you're going to take Sir Melville's gun, there's not a gun left over for you.
You are all well aware of Sir Melville's reputation. Several extremely reliable gentlemen, including an Austrian Arch-duke, report having seen him strangle a horse with a single finger.
Having said that, anyone failing in their attempt to grab a gun would most certainly mean that there is a gun for Mr Link to put to better use.
No, no. You can have the gun. You don't have another weapon, and I do.
Someone appears to have understood the rudiments of gentlemanry rather quickly!
Gentlemanliness Increased!
With scant regard for your own safety, you look to that of others.
Post by: Darvi on August 23, 2011, 04:40:16 pm
Post by: scriver on August 23, 2011, 05:47:23 pm
If there is a fireplace in the room, I grab a fire iron, otherwise something heavy and metal-y I can easily wield, like a candlestick. As un-gentlemanneristic as it might be, neither was barging in in the middle of a private meeting like this. A lesson needed to be delivered!
"Surely, my friend, you are not averse to me borrowing this?"
Post by: Geen on August 23, 2011, 06:43:11 pm
Anyways, stop being greedy and gimme a gun!
Post by: scriver on August 23, 2011, 07:01:11 pm
Anyways, stop being greedy and gimme a gun!Gasp!
What rudeness!
Post by: areyoua on August 23, 2011, 07:17:36 pm
Wow. I watched that gif for like, two minutes.
Anyways, stop being greedy and gimme a gun!
The irony there is enough to craft a life-size replica of the USS Monitor (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Monitor).
Post by: scriver on August 23, 2011, 07:26:25 pm
Post by: areyoua on August 23, 2011, 07:27:35 pm
Post by: Geen on August 23, 2011, 07:31:49 pm
Anyways, let's kill some Germans! Or possibly only wound them. :P
Post by: Sensei on August 23, 2011, 11:51:16 pm
Let's mix it up a little- do you suppose there is room for a villain in this tale?
Name: Baron von Orlofferfelde
Nationality: Prussian
Relation: Son of senior Baron Orlofferfelde, though disowned, consult biography.
Skill: Chutzpah- +1 to attempting to disguise an ungentlemanly action.
Trait: Whiplash- This evilly curled mustache, when twirled, reveals him as a friend of uncouth figures and a foe of honourable ones, both things he uses to his advantage.
Item: A concealed dagger of the three-edged pyramidal sort. Creates stab wounds which are very difficult to stitch.
Bio: This fiendish cad ascended the family under his father by the same name, but squandered the family fortune and alienated his thus poverty-stricken family (who were left with but one country home and a mere dozen servants), refusing to take the title of Baron von Orlofferfelde the Seconde. He reasserted his fortune and grip on power through industrial espionage and 'acquired' an aeroplane manufactory. People who accuse him of murdering the previous owner have a nasty tendency to disappear. While he name is known among the eastern royalty, he certainly would not be admitted to any reputable English club- not without a disguise, at least.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on August 24, 2011, 12:07:30 am
Failing that, smother one of them with my top hat.
Post by: lawastooshort on August 24, 2011, 02:04:45 am
My, I should say this reminds me of one of my RTD uncannily
My sincerest apologies, I wasn't aware of this.
Quote
Let's mix it up a little - do you suppose there is room for a villain in this tale?
I foresee two problems with this, despite the rather fetching background of this pleasingly spiffing character.
The first is that I have a story already planned out, based loosely on the exploits of my own great-great-grandfather, so I'm not yet sure how I would be able to work a villain into it. Worse, this is my first RTD and I don't know whether I would yet be able to handle the complexities of having two sides to deal with. I will have to reflect on this, hard.
The second is that there are already three people on the waiting list, and it would be terribly ungentlemanly of me to not hold to my promise of letting them play in order. I will have to reflect on this even harder.
I may well be open to suggestions, however.
Post by: Sensei on August 24, 2011, 02:48:30 am
Haha! I mean in writing style, and besides, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, or great minds think alike, or some saying like that that fits in this context.My, I should say this reminds me of one of my RTD uncannily
My sincerest apologies, I wasn't aware of this.
Although it seems a little unsporting to offer GMing advice as a player, here's how I'd answer the problems you forsee:
I can't say how adding a villain player would affect your story, naturally. As for having two sides: I would just let them both post normally, and make a point of encouraging people to roleplay and not be competitive about it (otherwise metagaming becomes an unavoidable issue). Naturally, the fairest way to operate the waiting list would just be to put a new villain at the back of the line with everyone else, unless you started the game off with two separate lists. If you do decide to jump a villain in, people will probably be less irked if characters are short lived anyway.
Post by: lawastooshort on August 24, 2011, 02:54:21 am
The drawing room door is still open, disturbed as it was by the dying butler. You see that the Germans coming down the hall are smartly dressed, and have clearly disguised themselves as gentlemen. It must have been the only way they could gain entry to Sir Melville’s quarters.
They appear to outnumber your group, and at least one is brandishing a revolver. Several are armed with umbrellas and they are speaking amongst themselves in an unintelligible tongue.
They are heading directly for the drawing room!
One of Sir Melville's servants, spying the open door and the bleeding corpse in quick succession, does what only seems natural to him: he gently closes the door, and out of nowhere produces a damp cloth with which he sets to cleaning the worst of the rapidly spreading bloodstain.
Unfortunately his instincts also work quicker than his intellect when there is a loud but polite rap on the door from the other side. He stands and opens the door.
A surprisingly smartly dressed German bursts unannounced into the room and attempts to strike down the servant with his umbrella. He fails miserably, and only manages to stumble embarrasingly into the centre of the room. But another German soon follows in penetrating the privacy of Sir Melville's drawing room, and another, and then yet another.
They move to attack, but thanks to that remarkable gentlemanly courage and the sacrifice of the unknown butler, the Military Intelligence Gentlemen are ready!
Mr Smith, showing a remarkable knowledge of Military Tactics Past and Present, is ready by the door.
Cave in their skulls with thebatwalking stick.
[4] As the second German walks in, Smith caves in his skull with his walking stick! The German falls to the ground, clutching his German head! He is clearly dead!
Mr Wallace follows suit, bravely attacking with his mighty and surprisingly inconspicuous claymore.
Get out my trusty claymore and prepare to "greet" them.
[3] He gets in a rather good swipe with the noble weapon, but the German shows remarkably good reactions and sidesteps the blow, the impact of which is largely taken by a now ex-bookshelf which decorated the wall.
Henry McGeenyton is in the corner of the room, arming himself with a revolver.
Grab a revolver, ask for a top hat
He absent-mindedly asks Wellington, or anyone else who hears, for a top hat. Sir Melville, even in mortal danger, notes this excellent grasp of decorum, and realises the man will indeed go far.
[3] He manages to arm himself with one of the revolvers just as the Germans burst in.
John Link, showing an even keener military mind, exits the room.
Calmly grab a gun. Leave the room and look for an exit that allows me to flank the Germans.
[2] Link leaves the drawing room on the right hand side, and indeed seems to have found a means to flank the Germans!
“Most excellent!” he thinks to himself, before realising that he forgot the revolver in the drawing room.
“Bother,” he mutters, before all of a sudden blushing slightly and being thankful that no-one heard such a coarse exclamation.
He quietly opens the door to his left and pokes his head round in a distinguished yet stealthy manner. He sees a German just behind the door! He appears to be brandishing some form of shotgun!
If there is a fireplace in the room, I grab a fire iron, otherwise something heavy and metal-y I can easily wield, like a candlestick.
Back in the drawing room, Von Fersen [4] grabs a fire iron, one end of which is blisteringly hot!
"Well, I'll say,” says, indeed, the young Swedish noble.” Let us give those Germans a greeting to remember, shall we? Surely, my friend, you are not averse to me borrowing this?"
Sir Melville doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.
Persuade the Germans to settle this with a game of chess instead.
Failing that, smother one of them with my top hat.
Wellington, that master of the spoken word, appears unaware entirely of the commotion going on in the now German-invaded room, until three of them approach him, apparently hell-bent on attacking the poor fellow.
He turns at that very instant and [6] is lucky enough to find that they speak English well enough for him to persuade them all that they should perhaps take this into the study and settle their disputes with a good game of chess.
They all take a seat in the study and Wellington opens with a classical variation on the King’s Indian Defence. Then, while the German trio are discussing their next move, the Englishman strikes!
He smothers one of the Germans with his top hat, smiting him instantly! He attacks a second with his top hat, but his opponent avoids the blow.
The third German is still very much absorbed in the game of chess, and appears to believe that this is merely part of Wellington’s opening strategy.
You have gained experience in the art of top hat fu! You are a third of the way to mastering this Skill!
Post by: lawastooshort on August 24, 2011, 02:56:22 am
After the briefest of pauses he comes to his senses, aims his trusty revolver, and fires three steady shots. Two Germans fall dead, but this deadly and corpulent display is rather ruined when he absentmindedly reaches for his glass of brandy when firing the third shot, falling off balance and shooting dead the servant who had so recently been struck by a Prussian umbrella.
What seems to be the rest of the Germans are now either in sight in the corridor, or in the drawing room itself.
They attack.
One strikes Smith with his umbrella, and he strikes the poor American on the arm! He drops his walking
Wound acquired! Gashed Right Arm.
The German narrowly missed by Wallace is armed with a cane-sword takes a swipe at him, but only manages to get the sword stuck in the wall.
A second umbrella armed German makes over to McGeenyton and strikes him over the head! Remarkably this direct hit seems to have no effect, and Henry is able to shrug off the blow and turn to face his assailant, getting off a shot in the process and shooting the umbrella out of the fellow's hand.
A German seemingly armed only with his fists makes his way into the drawing room and squares up to von Fersen but is unable to get in a manly blow, landing only a light slap, which embarrasses all who see it.
Embarrassment gained! -1 to attacks next round
Unarmed and caught by surprise, the non-chess-playing German in the study (to the left of the drawing room) attempts to box with Wellington. He manages to land a non-fatal blow which nevertheless ruins the appearance of Wellington’s bowtie.
Item acquired! Slightly crumpled bowtie! You temporarily suffer -1 to Gentlemanliness!
The German that Link has spotted moves steadily towards the drawing room doorway and raises his double barrelled shotgun, ready to fire.
Post by: Darvi on August 24, 2011, 03:00:01 am
But in a gentlemanly manner. Vulcan neck pinch or something like that.
Post by: lawastooshort on August 24, 2011, 03:06:00 am
Quote
Although it seems a little unsporting to offer GMing advice as a player, here's how I'd answer the problems you forsee:
I can't say how adding a villain player would affect your story, naturally. As for having two sides: I would just let them both post normally, and make a point of encouraging people to roleplay and not be competitive about it (otherwise metagaming becomes an unavoidable issue). Naturally, the fairest way to operate the waiting list would just be to put a new villain at the back of the line with everyone else, unless you started the game off with two separate lists. If you do decide to jump a villain in, people will probably be less irked if characters are short lived anyway.
At the moment the characters aren't short lived - the Germans seem adverse to rolling sixes, and I didn't start off with two separate lists, no.
I would be happy to waiting list you, and if I figure out a way to convincingly add a villain, or we get to the point of the story where the villain appears, I will certainly consider adding you before your spot on the waiting list is reached.
There is villain to appear very shortly, I'll think about whether you could take his part but I don't think so yet.
Are you PM-able?
Edit: Oh, and no, I'm grateful for the advice - thank you.
Post by: lawastooshort on August 24, 2011, 03:21:44 am
There are two Germans with Wellington in the study, left of the drawing room. There is one German in the hallway in front of the drawing room, spotted by Link. There is one German left per gentleman in the drawing room, in addition to the embarrasingly stumbled German in the centre of the room.
There are three German, one butler, and one servant corpse in the drawing room, and one German corpse in the study.
Post by: scriver on August 24, 2011, 05:20:43 am
Grab umbrella with one hand and strike at my foe with the hot iron in the other.
Post by: Firelordsky on August 24, 2011, 07:03:29 am
Post by: lawastooshort on August 24, 2011, 07:09:34 am
Challenge the german who is assaulting Mr. John Link to a duel!
I think there is some confusion (I apologise if it is my fault): Mr John Link is currently sneaking up to a German, he is far from being assaulted.
It is Winston Smith who is being most violently assaulted, if that helps.
Edit: I will assume that's who you mean if you don't change the action. Hope you don't mind.
Post by: areyoua on August 24, 2011, 10:58:28 am
Post by: Geen on August 24, 2011, 12:17:34 pm
Post by: Darvi on August 24, 2011, 12:18:53 pm
Post by: Geen on August 24, 2011, 12:21:47 pm
Post by: Darvi on August 24, 2011, 12:22:39 pm
Actually it's 11PM, or close to.
Post by: Geen on August 24, 2011, 12:26:25 pm
Post by: areyoua on August 24, 2011, 12:27:48 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on August 24, 2011, 12:30:19 pm
Will update in around 3 hours if dbz has posted his action.
Post by: Darvi on August 24, 2011, 12:32:01 pm
Post by: Sensei on August 24, 2011, 12:36:58 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on August 24, 2011, 12:56:38 pm
Smith has been gouged in the arm? What of his clothing? Was the cad wearing short sleeves?
It's very unlikely. My inventory system is rudimentary. I may remember to update this relatively important point: his evening jacket is most probably ruined.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on August 24, 2011, 01:27:41 pm
Scream upwards dramatically, before straightening my bowtie (#1 priority) and then using my top-hat to trip the blasted fellow.
Post by: lawastooshort on August 24, 2011, 02:37:38 pm
"Kanalje!"
Grab umbrella with one hand and strike at my foe with the hot iron in the other.
Enraged at the Germans’ lack of politesse, von Fersen insults his foe, [5] grabs an umbrella with his off-hand and strikes at the impertinent fellow with the hot iron in the other. The blow is expertly dodged, but von Fersen has time to deliver another blood-curdlingly vicious attack to the German with the umbrella. Caught off guard, the German is hit in the face! His moustache is sheered right off! His visage is horrifically injured! The German passes out with the pain!
“Have it, you scoundrel,” the Swede mutters, looking about the room for another enemy.
Challenge the german who is assaulting Mr. Winston Smith to a duel!
By the doorway Thomas Wallace sees the German violently strike Smith, and, in a clear and comprehensible voice befitting of one of such noble lineage speaking to a foreigner, challenges him to a duel [2].
Unfortunately it becomes clear that the fellow is not just a German, but a cad to boot. He declines the offer of honourable combat and strikes at Wallace without so much as an “En garde!”
His blow is struck true and it seems that Wallace will be struck too, but at the very last instant he raises his trusty claymore and blocks the blow. It shatters the German umbrella! He is disarmed! He is dishonoured! Winston Smith and his evening jacket are, at least temporarily, saved from further punishment.
His tactical retreat covered by Wallace's brave intervention, Smith backs away towards the commode where the revolver was absentmindedly left by Mr Link, but [1] disaster strikes! He falls backwards! No physical damage is done, but he does look a little ungentlemanly, and he is prone and still unarmed!
Seeing his comrade's plight, McGeenyton realises drastic measures are ready.
Use my monocle to set the German on fire with sunlight. If this fails, pistol whip 'em. If THAT fails, just shoot them in the head.
He removes his monocle with the calmness of an iceberg, and attempts to set the German facing him on fire using the natural power of light! But [1] a calamity occurs! He fumbles and drops the monocle to the floor, where it happens [1] to catch the light of the full moon, concentrating it into a powerful beam which sets Sir Melville's curtains alight!
Oblivious to the raging inferno that is risked in the adjoining room, Wellington is facing off the Prussian in the study, and is aware of his camarade rising from the chess table in the corner of his eye.
Scream upwards dramatically, before straightening my bowtie (#1 priority) and then using my top-hat to trip the blasted fellow.
With blood colder than a myriad glaciers, he [5] straightens his bowtie, admires the marked improvement in the large mirror above the drinks cabinet, and stoops slightly to trip the blasted Prussian before him.
He succeeds admirably, and the Prussian is thrown to the floor, considerably dazed by the impact. Wellington has time both to glance disapprovingly at his floored assailant and to turn to confront the second fellow in the imposing Crouching Swan, Top-hat of Fury stance.
The German strikes at Wellington with his fists. He seems about to land a stunning blow, but Wellington is ready, and uses the natural grace of his stance to dodge the vengeful fists. He circles his despicable foe.
Back in the drawing room, oblivious to the encroaching flames, the German that McGeenyton tried to set alight attempts to fight back against this horrifically gentlemanly attack. He strikes with his umbrella! McGeenyton dodges!
The remaining German in the room, the one who originally stumbled into the room like a youngster stealing his first taste of father's brandy, leaps over Sir Melville's desk to take on the great man himself. He leaps over! He attempts to land a punch! Sir Melville sidesteps niftily, and, faced with a counterblow, the off balance German falls into the burning curtain. He struggles to put himself out, and as he does so he smashes straight throught the sash window! He falls 40 feet! He bruises his skull! He breaks his kidney! He appears to be deceased!
Out in the hallway, the sinister looking German with the shotgun advances, aiming down the gunsight at the occupied Sir Melville who appears to be looking for his miniature bell to summon a servant to deal with the broken glass. He reaches the doorway.
Just as it seems he is about to fire, Mr John Link jumps out from behind!
SNEAK ATTACK, SUCKER!
But in a gentlemanly manner. Vulcan neck pinch or something like that.
[1] In a very gentlemanly manner, Link clears his throat.
“I say old chap,” he begins.
Whatever his intentions were are unclear. Did Link wish to deliver a solid blow to the German’s face? Did he wish to chide him severely for his lack of manners and hope that the German would die of embarrassment? We may never know.
The German spins round in surprise and fires with one barrel as he turns!
He misses – presumably because of the astonishing dodge Link performs which begins with a headlong dive into the wall and ends with the English gentleman prostrate on the floor clutching his liver.
“Hände hoch!” orders the German swine, “Get up und surrender in the name of the Kaiser!”
He is pointing the still half loaded shotgun at Link’s chest. In his own inimitable way, John Link has saved the life of Sir Melville.
Trait Acquired! Heroic Incompetence (+1 to likelihood of terrible incompetence having a somehow beneficial outcome)
Clarification edit:
There appear to be the shotgun armed German attempting to capture Mr John Link just outside the drawing room, two Germans in the study with Wellington, McGeenyton's German, and Wallace's, both in the drawing room. There is a flaming and apparently deceased German on the pavement below Sir Melville's rooms. His liver is broken. One assumes a servant will handle this matter appropriately. Sir Melville's curtains are ablaze.
Post by: areyoua on August 24, 2011, 02:50:45 pm
Wait, but I'm American.
Get off my bottom, grab the gun, and shoot the German trying to take John Link's soul. If I can see him, that is. I think he might be in another room, so in that case, just try to grab the gun again and shoot the nearest German.
Hold on, I've only my left hand to do it what if I roll a 1?
Wait, but I'm American. We invented Las Vegas! (but not yet, and not really...)
Post by: Geen on August 24, 2011, 03:18:27 pm
Post by: scriver on August 24, 2011, 04:52:24 pm
Post by: Firelordsky on August 24, 2011, 05:06:23 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on August 24, 2011, 05:19:50 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on August 24, 2011, 05:23:16 pm
Post by: Darvi on August 25, 2011, 05:33:36 am
Post by: lawastooshort on August 25, 2011, 05:55:48 am
Battle rages throughout Sir William Melville’s Oxford Street Quarters. The Germans seem to have annexed the hallway; the English forces in the study are terribly outnumbered. But it seems that the gentlemen have turned the tide, and the drawing room is, albeit ablaze, coming under their control. But at what cost?
Get off my bottom, grab the gun, and shoot the German trying to take John Link's soul. If I can see him, that is. I think he might be in another room, so in that case, just try to grab the gun again and shoot the nearest German.
Hold on, I've only my left hand to do it what if I roll a 1?
Winston Smith sees the German threatening Link's very soul. He tries [1] to get up to assist his new found comrade in gentlemanship. He absent-mindedly attempts to support himself with his gashed arm! He falls back down! His head is bruised! It affects his vision!
Grab monocle, shoot the german, andrunwalk gentlemanly like hell.
Henry McGeenyton [6+1] swiftly grabs his monocle and expertly puts it into place, temporarily aiding his sight as he [3+1] shoots the German! The German suffers a flesh wound to his arm! He drops his weapon! He offers his surrender!
In the study, Mr Wellington is locked in mortal combat with the German former chess player.
Fold my top hat into a rigid disk and attempt to take out the capable German with a quick blow to the temple. Then help the downed German up before smothering this one with my top hat as well.
He just manages to fold his top hat into a lethal weapon before [6] splitting his skull with the resulting top hat-ogami! The German is taken out! The body drops instantly with a loud thud.
Experience Acquired! You have gained further experience in the esoteric arts of the top hat.
Item Acquired! Your top hat is now a crumpled top hat.
Take off jacket, it is time to get serious (and we don't want to wrinkle it, of course - that would hardly be proper). Rush to the aid of my fellow gentleman Wellington, and land a furious hail of umbrella and hot iron on his assailant!
Realising that Wellington went alone into the study with three Germans, von Fersen deduces that he could be in mortal peril. If he were, obviously he wouldn't be so ungentlemanly as to call out, so the Swede removes his jacket, carefully hands it to a passing butler, and rushes into the study.
He is just in time to see Mr Wellington help the last German in the study to his feet, but the German is a cad! He attempts to strike at Mr Wellington, but with such limited success that the Englishman dodges the blow easily.
Mildly enraged, Von Fersen instinctively strikes a blow on the German with the [2] clearly poorly weighted hot iron! He misses, but [5] he is able to follow this up with a murderous attack with his umbrella which his foe is unable to dodge. This flatfootedness proves to be his undoing. The umbrella pierces his chest! He is run through! Even a Guardsman could see that he has passed away!
“I say,” declares von Fersen in the vernacular of the English gentry whilst shaking the German off the end of his umbrella, “they don’t like it through ‘em, these Germans, do they! I must congratulate you on your level-headed gentlemanliness on helping that poor fellow to his feet. I’m not entirely sure I would have had the presence of mind to do the same.”
Mr Wellington: Gentlemanliness Increased! Decorum before personal safety!
Shove the barrel aside and punch the german in the chest. A throatpunch or groinkick would certainly be more effective, but extremely tasteless.
Back outside in the hallway, the prostrate Link [5] thrusts aside the menacing barrel, and leaps to his feet in a single swift movement. In a flash, his hands form a manly fist, and he lands a punch on the German’s chest. He is lightly dazed!
Gentlemanliness Increased! Showing Honour And Restraint In The Face Of Caddish Danger!
Kill the German attacking my fellow gentleman Link
Noticing the failure of Smith to come to the rescue of the prostrate John Link, Wallace, with no thought of his honour or safety and unaware that Link has in fact managed to resist with considerable gallantry, violently assaults the shotgun-wielding German from behind with his mighty claymore [5]. Lightly dazed and unable to dodge, he is split from head to toe. He is struck down! There is a blood spatter upon the carpet!
Gentlemanliness Decreased! The man violently attacked another from behind!
Gentlemanliness Increased! The fellow saved another gentleman!
There is a single German left in the drawing room, and he is unarmed. He looks around uncertainly. Behind him he sees his leader, cleft into two parts. He sees the Englishman and the Swede exiting the adjacent study, dusting off their clothing. He sees a butler sweeping up the broken glass behind Melville’s imposing desk, and he sees a second butler extinguishing the fire that was burning from floor to ceiling. As he finishes his survey of the room he realizes Sir William Melville is aiming his revolver directly at him, his cigar in the corner of his mouth.
“I think you might do well to offer your surrender sir”
Sir William, with his left hand, tinkles his little bell, and shortly another butler arrives to take care of the two prisoners. The fight is over.
Post by: lawastooshort on August 25, 2011, 05:58:07 am
11.04pm, Thursday 17th, January, 1906.
A comfortable but rather untidy drawing room with a broken bookshelf, a shattered sash window, and the smouldering remains of some rather expensive curtains, 4, Oxford Street, London.
The smoke clears, reminding Sir Melville to take a puff on his cigar. He straightens his tie. The smoke rises.
“There isn’t a minute to lose! You must leave immediately, and stop the scoundrel von Junker! He clearly knows that he is uncovered. You may keep the side arms if you wish, and anything else that you feel you may need. Be assured that you will have the full backing of the Admiralty. Do not fail! Do whatever is necessary! Be discreet, and be gentlemanly! You are the beacons of the Empire in the dingy and ill kempt morass that is the Continent!”
Mini-aside edit - I don't know if you want to equip anything / formulate a plan etc.
[GM aside] – whether you choose to act as a group, various small groups, or as individuals, I don’t really mind (obviously some choices may require me to type more and update more slowly, but don’t let that stop you doing what you feel best. If those blueprints reach Berlin the British Empire will in all likelihood fall. The new world will have no place for Proper Gentlemen! Von Junker and the blueprints are currently on the night train to London.)[/GM aside]
Further asides spoiler:
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Darvi on August 25, 2011, 05:58:45 am
"I must say, must you be so brutish? You have caused quite a mess here,"
NINJAAAAA.
Post by: areyoua on August 25, 2011, 06:59:37 am
Find a Doctor, and a tailor to repair my injuries. Then interrogate the German.
Post by: Firelordsky on August 25, 2011, 07:14:19 am
Post by: Darvi on August 25, 2011, 07:35:40 am
Post by: areyoua on August 25, 2011, 08:22:18 am
Post by: Darvi on August 25, 2011, 09:01:19 am
Post by: scriver on August 25, 2011, 09:33:57 am
Post by: lawastooshort on August 25, 2011, 09:48:28 am
The next update might take longer than the rest have done, as I wasn't expecting either prisoners or interrogation. Also, updates will possibly be slower over the weekend as I get more free time (lunch) in front of a computer at work than at home.
Post by: areyoua on August 25, 2011, 09:50:57 am
Find a doctor and a tailor to repair myself and my coat. Wait until after Link finishes to interrogate the German.
Post by: Darvi on August 25, 2011, 09:52:52 am
Post by: scriver on August 25, 2011, 10:39:34 am
Quote
What do you think is fairest? That I roll for initiative for your actions, or that I roll them in the order you post? I have kind of combined the two so far.Roll initiative, I think, unless someone explicitly states they're trying to interrupt/stop somebody from doing something or do something before another.
Also, I forgot to add on my previous post:Quote2) Would you have any objections to the first major villain being an invited PC rather than a GM controlled NPC? It might make him more of a challenge / imaginative. This isn’t likely though as I can’t quite figure out how to do it yet and I’m not sure it would be fair.2, I'm fine with it.
3) Are you prepared for a possible death? I haven’t scripted one, but I guess with enough 1s and 6s it could happen. I hadn’t really thought about it before, but there were some upsetting sequences of 1s and 6s in Part Three of the Prologue, e.g. Link's sneak attack, McGeenyton's monocle, and the sequence of 6s and a 1 that led the flaming German out of the window, not to mentioned Smith's bruised head.
3. And also ready for death. It would be an honour to die in the service of the British Empire!
No particular backs to feed yet, though. ;)
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on August 25, 2011, 11:26:37 am
Quote
1) Do you have any feedback before Chapter One begins in earnest? As mentioned, this is my first RTD, my first real contribution to the forum, and I seem to be doing a great deal of typing. So if I am doing anything wrong or that could be improved I would prefer to know than to never find out. If you don’t like it there would seem to be very little point continuing. Posts or PMs will be acceptable. Some GM feedback would be - so far I am enjoying GMing your gentlemanly actions.I do say, it's quite astonishing for it to be your first RTD. It's creative, fun, and interesting, and it adds a new dimension to gameplay with the whole gentlemanliness aspect.
Quote
2) Would you have any objections to the first major villain being an invited PC rather than a GM controlled NPC? It might make him more of a challenge / imaginative. This isn’t likely though as I can’t quite figure out how to do it yet and I’m not sure it would be fair.You could do it via PM, although I can't figure out any way to keep him from seeing the protagonist's plans.
Post by: Geen on August 25, 2011, 12:14:13 pm
2.I dunno...
3. HELL YES I AM!
Henry McGeenyton Questions the wounded German, offering him a cup of tea.
Post by: Darvi on August 25, 2011, 12:29:53 pm
Henry McGeenyton Questions the wounded German, offering him a cup of tea.That's like asking somebody to lend you some money while punching them in the face.
Post by: areyoua on August 25, 2011, 12:38:56 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on August 25, 2011, 02:15:52 pm
GM Morale Boosted! The story shall advance!
Also, general consensus and common sense would indicate that I should keep it to just the Gentlemanly PCs. I'd rather keep it simple and therefore hopefully continuable until
If I am correct that that is all 6 gentlemen ready, I shall proceed with the turn, as soon as I can.
oooh, and edit: Sacrificing oneself for King and Country would give an enormous Gentlemanliness boost it has to be said.
Post by: areyoua on August 25, 2011, 02:31:09 pm
1. I think your writing is quite amazing. Loving the gentlemanliness of it.
2. I'm all for letting more people play, it's much more fun than sitting on the sideline, but if it causes trouble for you, then that's a bigger problem.
3. Between the severity of the death wound, and the glory that I would get for being an American in defense of England, I would gladly die for
Post by: lawastooshort on August 25, 2011, 04:16:38 pm
Henry McGeenyton Questions the wounded German, offering him a cup of tea.
As the aftermath is cleared away, Henry McGeenyton takes his wounded foe to one side, quietly and politely questioning him [3] as to his fellows’ intentions as he offers the chap a strong cup of tea [6]. As McGeentyon calls for a servant to bring a platter and a tea set, the German confesses that, unfortunately, as a junior, or rather non-Prussian, member of his group, he wasn’t let in on much in the way of planning. He does reveal though that when he returns to Germany, God willing, he shall certainly recount his honourable foe’s kindness to his father, William Ernest of Saxe-Weimar-Eisenach. He asks his more Prussian comrade to join him in some refreshment.
Gentlemanliness Increased! Merciful to his foe!
Find a doctor and a tailor to repair myself and my coat. Wait until after Link finishes to interrogate the German.
Aware that in his present company there is little more pressing than matters of tasteful appearance, Winston Smith leaves Sir Melville's Oxford Street chambers to repair the damage to himself, and, perhaps more importantly, his evening jacket. He leaves the building, passes the smoldering corpse of the German encircled by shattered morsels of glass, and pauses to admire the full moon shining through the first few flakes of snow that are beginning to fall and silently shroud the street. The British Gentleman might typically like to imagine Smith’s countrymen as unrefined, perhaps even a little uncouth, but it would be hard to argue that this young man is not a splendid specimen of a gentleman, able both to fight like a soldier and to admire the finer facets of existence as would a poet.
Despite the late hour, he [6] happens across both a tailor and a doctor without much further ado. The tailor manages to fix his jacket with remarkable skill and rapidity; the doctor prescribes Smith a sharp shot of fine brandy and sends him on his way, entirely mended. Smith pauses in the doorway of the doctor's cabinet, lights a cigar, and strolls slowly back down the street, healed in mind, body, and garment.
Item lost! A ruined evening jacket!
Item gained! A suitable evening jacket!
Wounds healed!
Back in Sir William Melville's drawing room, temporarily the most important and historic location in the Empire - although this fact is for the moment unknown to the occupiers - a heated discussion is underway.
Straighten my bowtie.
"I must say, must you be so brutish? You have caused quite a mess here,"
Mr Link is straightening his bowtie, all the while admonishing his fellow gentleman for causing such a blood spatter on the fine hallway carpet. He seems to care very dearly about the mess and the uncouth manner in which it was caused, for [1] he manages to crumple his bowtie! If only his butler were about.
Item Acquired! Crumpled bowtie (temporary -1 to Gentlemanliness)
The atmosphere threatens to sour; not only do the gentlemen disagree on the correct approach with which to deal with their German prisoners, the five gentlemen, the illustrious Sir Melville, and the aforementioned prisoners have all just witnessed the sad demise of a once magnificent bowtie.
Von Fersen realises there is a situation to rescue, he realises, indeed, that it is time for a return to good old fashioned gentlemanliness.
Thank the butler for taking care of the jacket before putting it on. Have a good smoke to calm the nerves. Pose gentlemanly with pipe in hand before the Germans.
The so recently enraged von Fersen thanks the waiting butler with a nod of the head, and retakes possession of his jacket. He reaches into his breast pocket and serenely removes an expertly crafted pipe, into which he inserts a small amount of tobacco, which he in turn deftly lights with an ember from the fireplace.
The calming effect is, inwardly, particularly noticeable, and although the well-bred Swede had managed to look impressively calm even whilst impaling a German with an umbrella and some not inconsiderable blood rage and then unfortunately witnessing the massacre of Link's bowtie, von Fersen's act radiates an outer calmness which spreads forthwith throughout the fine Edwardian drawing room, bringing back an ambience of days gone by. He pauses briefly in front of the two prisoners, [5] intimidating them with his gentlemanliness.
Sharpen my claymore and prepare to interrogate the German cad.
The poor souls, cads though they are, surely deserve the pity of our dear reader: they turn from one honourable gentleman to another, only to see the fearsome Scot Wallace sharpening his claymore - the very one that so recently split a man from head to toe. To the untrained observer this might have seemed perhaps unnecessary, yet an honourable warrior such as Wallace knows that if one lives by the sword, that selfsame sword had best be kept in tiptop condition - ready for service in the flash of an eyelid. He seems to be preparing to interrogate them [4], and they both remember the stories their mothers told them about the beastly English.
Open up my top hat and put it on. Then calmly walk over to the German and stand there, looking serious.
They appear to be further intimidated, nay, they appear to be positively confused with fear, a fear which deepens as Wellington makes his move.
Realising what Wellington must have done to their camarades in the study, one can understand their mindless panic when that proud top hat practitioner approaches them seemingly preparing his top hat! He has a deathly steel in his eyes. He displays a supreme seriousness.
But as he stands there before them, the Germans seem to receive an unhoped for lifeline.
"Wait. I can speak German. If you leave the room, I can pretend to be a spy, and he might be more than willing to share what he knows with me."
With a quiet word in their ears, Mr John Link requests that the other gentlemen leave the room, and benevolently approaches the pair [6].
"I say," he begins, in his most proficient German. "Do not be doing the vorrying. I have been sent here by Chancellor von Bülow himself; I am on your side!"
The first German looks suspiciously at him - "Your accent is not that of Prussia," he starts, but his fellow German interrupts.
Heroic Incompetence! "Look at his ridiculous bowtie Jan - no true Englishman could have made such a hash of that! His accent may sound strange to our ears but every Bavarian does! It is barely German that they speak in the South! Let us hear what our friend has to say..."
Some ten minutes later, the gentlemen in the study are having a lively discussion with Sir Melville about the merits of 1889 Ararat brandy in relation to that of 1890 when Link opens the door.
"I say, gentlemen," he interjects, "it appears we must leave with some considerable urgency. Von Junker's train arrives at Waterloo Station in an hour, and a car is waiting for him to take him directly to Dover, where it seems they have arranged for some kind of flying contraption. The Kaiser is sparing nothing to get his mitts on these damnable plans!"
He blushes at the vulgarity but does not stumble in his speech.
"Where is our young American? We haven't a moment to - "
At that moment Winston Smith is ushered into the study by one of Melville's butlers.
"Ah. I see," continues Link. "I say," he asks the butler, "would you mind awfully apologising to those two Germans with regards to my heinous deception? Fellows, let us prepare ourselves, and let us depart! I believe we have an Empire to save!"
Post by: lawastooshort on August 25, 2011, 04:37:30 pm
regularly over the next four days but have family stuff to attend to.]
Post by: Darvi on August 25, 2011, 04:43:30 pm
I must say, we must leave for Dover immediately. Junker will most likely arrive by ferry, since there is no other way to cross the British Channel.
E: Von Junker. Not Junker. Our Prime Minister has nothing to do with this.
Post by: areyoua on August 25, 2011, 04:51:58 pm
Someone can also try to grab the revolver, but we only actually succeeded once, I think, in grabbing it.
Propose the following plan.
Send a telegram to Waterloo Station informing them to be on the look out for a German, perhaps by making all passersby undergo a speech examination by reading a passage from a book, yes, it's awfully racist, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Then speed to Waterloo, grabbing a cab to increase our speed. If we miss him, send a urgent telegram to Dover telling them to be on the lookout for a loud, noisy flying contraption, and to stop it by any means necessary. (They're not going to see anything at night)
After doing some research, if we're on oxford street than Waterloo Station should be no more than 1.5 miles away, which means we could walk there and still have time to sip a cup of
Post by: Darvi on August 25, 2011, 04:58:26 pm
If anything, we should do that in Calais, and try to catch him ourselves. Do we have a picture of the man?
Post by: scriver on August 25, 2011, 06:12:06 pm
Perhaps we should ask our host if he has any additional weaponry to spare for the Service of the King?
Otherwise I agree with Darvi, we should send a telegram to whatever contacts we have in Calais and tell them to be on the look/hear-out. I doubt he'll be arriving by ferry, though, seeing as he's already in England and trying to leave. I think we should split up, having some of us go to Waterloo Station and try to catch von Junker there, while the others travel to Dover to try and find the flying contraption. That way, if we miss him by W Stationg we won't have to travel at a desperate, ungentlemanly pace to Dover. Well, not all of us, at least.
Post by: Darvi on August 25, 2011, 06:15:03 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on August 25, 2011, 06:18:00 pm
Post by: scriver on August 25, 2011, 06:27:29 pm
Wait, is he trying to get in or out of the country?Out. He already has the blueprints and is currently on a train that will arrive at Waterloo Station in an hour. From there he'll go by car to Dover, were the damnable Preussian has a "flying contraption" waiting that'll take him out of the country.
Post by: Darvi on August 25, 2011, 06:28:29 pm
Post by: scriver on August 25, 2011, 06:34:58 pm
Ah. So he's not going through Belgium then.Well, we don't know that. He might be entering Germany through, aiming for that coveted trope subversion ;)
Also, this was an edit to my post above but I'd thought I'd just post it here so nobody misses it:
So yeah, unless somebody objects to the splitting up plan, I think it would be best to go half each. I volunteer to go with the Dover-headed party.
Post by: Darvi on August 25, 2011, 06:38:10 pm
Our best bet would be to find the flying apparatus, and either prevent him from getting on it, or hide on it and wait until lift-off to arrest him, when he cannot get away.
Post by: Geen on August 25, 2011, 06:55:52 pm
Why that little... >:(
Post by: scriver on August 25, 2011, 06:58:39 pm
On a related note, we do want to capture and present this new flying-contraption-thingie to the King as well, don't we?
Post by: Darvi on August 25, 2011, 07:02:36 pm
I volunteer for the aircraft-tracking team, by the way. My ways with words could come in handy if any people in Dover have noticed such a thing.
And straighten my bowtie, properly this time. It's unsightly.
Post by: Firelordsky on August 25, 2011, 08:59:52 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on August 26, 2011, 12:41:48 am
Hey, he forgot my action!
Why that little... >:(
My god. I do apologise. I'll fix that as soon as I am able.
Post by: Geen on August 26, 2011, 12:56:31 am
Post by: lawastooshort on August 26, 2011, 04:59:42 am
Winston Smith is going to pick up his walking
The group will, if possible, send a telegram to possible Calais contacts warning them to be on the lookout for a villainous looking German, which doesn't narrow it down a great deal, in a flying contraption, which does.
The the group will split.
Wellington, appropriately enough, is going to try to meet the Prussian at Waterloo (which suggests the Prussian may arrive late! Sorry.), possibly accompanied by Winston Smith, who is keen on a walk and a cup of tea. They most probably have time to to do both.
Von Fersen, Link, and Wallace are heading to Dover, to interrogate the local populace regarding the possible location of a flying contraption.
Post by: lawastooshort on August 26, 2011, 05:10:25 am
Do we have a picture of the man?
He's rumoured to look like this, with an added monocle, but obviously in civilian clothing:
http://historywarsweapons.com/wp-content/uploads/image/HindenburgPaul.png (http://historywarsweapons.com/wp-content/uploads/image/HindenburgPaul.png)
Post by: scriver on August 26, 2011, 05:14:28 am
Post by: Darvi on August 26, 2011, 05:16:37 am
And weapons ain't my style. You guys can do the killing.
Post by: lawastooshort on August 26, 2011, 05:20:32 am
Ah. Since I already put my Swedish mitts on the gun, I'll grab one of the umbrellas as well and leave the sword-stick to someone else of my fellow. Unless nobody make claims on it, of course.
Well, you have been quite deadly with the old umbrella so far.
Post by: Zako on August 26, 2011, 05:35:44 am
Post by: areyoua on August 26, 2011, 07:01:05 am
Grab an umbrella, and stick with the plan set out by Link. Don't forget my walking
Post by: lawastooshort on August 26, 2011, 07:06:50 am
Indeed, England's a rainy country (or is that Wales?) either way, it's best to be safe.
Grab an umbrella, and stick with the plan set out by Link. Don't forget my walkingflying furry animalstick.
Are you going off to Waterloo, or to Dover? I will assume Waterloo, I'm going to try to update today.
Post by: areyoua on August 26, 2011, 07:08:02 am
Post by: Geen on August 26, 2011, 12:14:59 pm
Post by: Zako on August 26, 2011, 12:22:13 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on August 26, 2011, 12:23:59 pm
Follow the others, asking for a top hat.
Which others? Are you going to Dover or to Waterloo?
Post by: Darvi on August 26, 2011, 12:51:26 pm
Harharhar.
Post by: HighEndNoob on August 26, 2011, 02:08:25 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on August 26, 2011, 02:26:24 pm
Grab an umbrella and head to waterloo, watching for the next train.
I have to say I don't know what to make of this.
McGeenyton - I'm probably going to randomise you to decide which group you follow. I'd send you automatically to Waterloo to even the numbers, but democracy isn't a terribly gentlemanly thing.
Post by: lawastooshort on August 26, 2011, 02:31:13 pm
Before the gentlemen depart, Sir Melville orders one of his servants to telegram ahead to Calais, where he has a contact waiting. He suggests however that if von Junker manages to leave Dover he could then go anywhere – Calais, Rotterdam, Berlin; the German could even go through Belgium, which would surely lead to a tricky diplomatic situation.
While the group straighten their jackets and put on their hats, Winston Smith remembers his walking
“Gentlemen,” he starts, “I believe it is time we made haste.”
Wellington and Smith decide to leave immediately, planning to travel on foot at a gentlemanly pace to confront von Junker at Waterloo Station. Sir Melville summons his car, and as these two noble regiments of the King’s finest are about to leave, the infamous spymaster speaks.
“I say old chaps. I shan’t make any further speeches: you know the importance of your task. But I will wish you good luck, and God’s blessing. McGeenyton,” he continues, “I have something that may be of some utility to you.”
He shakes the hand of every gentleman there, and as he shakes that of Mr McGeenyton, he presses something into his palm.
It is an explosive pocket watch.
Item Acquired! An Explosive Pocket Watch.
The Second Battle of Waterloo
Misters William Wellington and Winston Smith leave Sir Melville’s rooms and descend to the street, the late night snow still gently falling, lending a peaceful air to the opening gambit of their vital task.
They head East through London, through Covent Garden and past the magistrates’ court on Bow Street, and around half an hour later they cross the Thames and arrive at Waterloo Station. The time is 10 minutes past midnight, and Smith notes that they have some 20 minutes before Hans von Junker’s train is scheduled to arrive.
He suggests they stop for a cup of tea in the lounge still open inside the entrance.
The Assault on Dover
Shortly after the first group leave to intercept von Junker, the remaining gentlemen are to be found conversing in Oxford Street, weighing up the relative merits of the guillotine cut or the English cut when preparing cigars. The general opinion is veering towards support of the latter, unsurprisingly, when one of Sir Melville’s butlers brings the car around.
It is a fine machine, which the butler explains Sir Melville had commissioned specially and was made by a chap called Royce in Manchester. It gleams silver in the moonlight.
Link, von Fersen, McGeenyton and Wallace climb aboard, and the intrepid gentlemen are driven forth through the night for the port of Dover.
It is around 3am in the morning when they arrive in Dover’s town centre. There isn't a soul to be seen, and the snow lays an inch thick upon the ground.
Post by: areyoua on August 26, 2011, 03:13:21 pm
Find a patriotic Frenchmen (towards either England of France) and warn him of the threat Germany poses to France, and see if I can't convince him to help us
Doesn't have to be a PC, and he doesn't have to do much. I just want to do something while waiting for von Junker.
Post by: Firelordsky on August 26, 2011, 03:36:05 pm
Post by: Darvi on August 26, 2011, 03:38:21 pm
Find a few ScotsAaaand done.
Post by: scriver on August 26, 2011, 03:57:24 pm
It saddens me that at the last battle of Waterloo, the Prussians were onWhy Frenchmen? Britishfolk not good enough? ;)yourour side and with a decisive role at that, but now, just half a century latter, we must put up with Germans seeking to steal from us. But wait, if the Prussians switched sides...
Find a patriotic Frenchmen (towards either England of France) and warn him of the threat Germany poses to France, and see if I can't convince him to help usrecaptureNapoleonvon Junker.
Doesn't have to be a PC, and he doesn't have to do much. I just want to do something while waiting for von Junker.
Post by: Firelordsky on August 26, 2011, 04:12:06 pm
Post by: Geen on August 26, 2011, 05:03:02 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on August 26, 2011, 07:02:30 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on August 29, 2011, 10:24:18 am
The Waterloo Détente
Walk to the train station and watch the train as if waiting for someone. (Well, I am)
Find a patriotic Frenchmen (towards either England of France) and warn him of the threat Germany poses to France, and see if I can't convince him to help usrecaptureNapoleonvon Junker.
[4] Finishing his tea at Waterloo, Wellington strolls over to the platform where Junker's train from Portsmouth is expected, looking very much as if he is waiting for someone to arrive. While he does so, his comrade in gentlemanliness, Winston Smith, searches around for a patriotic looking Frenchman or two. [3] He happens to find one - a smartly dressed chap carrying a bottle of wine who's somehow managed to find, in the small hours of the morning, two magnificent looking baguettes. He says he also has to meet someone arriving on the Portsmouth train, and that, as a true patriotic Frenchman, he would be honoured to help you. He says his father fought the Prussians at Gravelotte, and he is angry that they stole France's finest beer producing regions! He promises he will signal discreetly with his baguettes at the first German he sees. You both walk to Platform 4a where Wellington is waiting.
The train should arrive shortly.
The Dover Affair
Find a few Scots that are patriotic towards Scotland and enlist them to help us, i mean which Scot wouldn't help a relative of William Wallace.
[6] Strolling at a gentlemanly pace around the centre of Dover, Thomas Wallace comes across a company of the renowned Black Watch, the distinguished regiment of Highlanders. Apparently they are on duty in Dover, protecting the South of England against the Europeans who are threateningly near. Their captain, Captain McWallace, is honoured to make the acquaintance of a gentleman related to that paragon of Scottish gentlemanliness William Wallace, and when you tell him of the terrible threat you are fighting he readily orders 6 of his soldiers to come and help your search! They are all armed with Lee-Enfield rifles with the traditional Scottish claymore bayonet attachment!
Play I see what you don't see while we're in the car. And what I'm seeing is an aerial transportation device.Once arrived, start chatting up a few locals about any exotic devices that they might have seen.
[3(+1)] While Wallace is enlisting the Scots, John Link spots a police constable on patrol in the wee hours.
He approaches him and explains the German threat, and the constable informs you that he happens to have seen a strange flying contraption resembling an enormous rugby ball with an attached biscuit box land a mile away by the coast that very afternoon. He gives you detailed directions and wishes you good night.
Follow Darvi around, and let him do the talking. Except for the polite conversation necessary for any gentleman of tact, of course.
[1] Von Fersen, descending from the car with the others, soon gets distracted when he passes a tobacconist's shop with a particularly fine and rare blend of pipe tobacco advertised in the front window. He's inspired to take out his pipe and have a quick smoke, and when he's finished preparing and lighting it he turns around to discover that he has lost his gentlemanly companions.
As he takes a calmly bemused puff on his finely crafted pipe, two men approach. They are very clearly Germans, and they ask you in a coarsely accented English what a fine gentleman like you is doing about in the streets of Dover on such a cold night? They don't seem very friendly, but then you have rarely met any Germans, especially recently, who do.
Search around the streets.
[3] Henry McGeenyton, meanwhile, searches around the streets, but it is very early on a snowy Friday morning, and no one is to be found.
The Joy of Waterloo
Standing about at Waterloo, looking for all the world as if he was waiting for someone to arrive, which he is, Wellington hears the approaching sound of a magnicent British steam engine. As the train hoves into view, his heart is stirred by the tremendous feat of engineering that bears witness to the ingenuity of his countryfolk, as any British gentleman's heart would be.
The train slows in an explosion of steam and screeching brakes, to Wellington a symphony of exquisite Britishness, a sound signifying the triumph of the empire over the entire Earth! It is as if Apollo himself aimed his steam powered bow from the port of Portsmouth, willing it to land at Waterloo station precisely at 36 minutes past the hour of 1. It is a miracle in metallic form!
Mr Wellington's euphoric musings are interrupted when Smith nudges his elbow.
"I say," he says, "The Frenchie is waving his baguette!"
Wellington and Smith turn. The man they see descend from the foremost first class carriage is undeniably, inescapably German.
He steps off the train and looks around - particularly shiftily, as Winston Smith would later recollect. He is in a hurry, and is nervously carrying an attache case.
Post by: Darvi on August 29, 2011, 10:33:20 am
Purchase some. You never know when the next teatime begins.
Wait, wasn't Fersen supposed to be following me? Blimey, let's find him.
Post by: areyoua on August 29, 2011, 11:28:28 am
Ask to see what is in the attache case. If he starts running, try to hit him in the hand with the case so that he drops it, then his legs to stop him from running. You can't escape
Post by: scriver on August 29, 2011, 12:54:40 pm
"Ah, good sirs, you see, a great misfortune has fallen upon me. I was on my way to a fabulous hunting party at a fellow gentleman's estate over in Canterbury when my best gun dog, a black-coated retriever, got it in his mind to run away - God knows why, he's never shown any such disposition before. Nonetheless, I find myself in this miserable position as I can not leave for my friend's without him, and me and my butler has been forced to look for him all night.
Oh - but forgive me, I forget my manners. I am August von Fersen. A pleasure to meet you." I hold my hand out to greet them. "You wouldn't have happened to spot such a loose dog, would you?"
If they fall for my ruse and go leave me alone, I follow them at a distance, wherever they head next.
Post by: Geen on August 29, 2011, 05:00:21 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on August 29, 2011, 05:05:38 pm
Offer the angry Germans tea.
Well, you're not with von Fersen and the angry Germans just yet, but if you bump into them in the course of the next turn then I will roll this. It is perfectly possible and particularly gentlemanly.
Post by: Firelordsky on August 29, 2011, 05:27:07 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on August 30, 2011, 04:36:06 am
Oxford, Friday, 4th January, 1906
Dear Professor Birkeland,
I wish to send my humblest expression of gratitude for your enormously kind offer. I should be delighted to visit your laboratories this spring. As you know, I have been working on an experimental weapon of my own, although I suppose one should not discuss this in a written form. As is obvious in the aftermath of the Affair of the Damaged Hat, the enemies of the British Empire are remarkably cunning nowadays! But I should be extremely interested in seeing your magnetic-coil powered, as you call it, electromagno-cannon.
I plan on visiting your wonderful fjords beforehand, it would be marvelous if I could have a sighting of one of your renowned Norwegian Blues – I have been a keen ornithologist since the wife suggested I take up a side-interest to distract me from my constant musings on terrifying machines of death, and parrots are a particularly fascinating subset.
Since I plan to spend a month hiking in the glorious fjords beforehand, I was hoping that April would be an appropriate time to come to visit your laboratories? Please let me know at your earliest convenience. It would be delightful to meet you and you wife again; it has certainly been a long time since Helsinki! Hopefully nothing of that sort shall happen again, however. I’ve heard that they have delightfully rebuilt the centre of that fine city.
With the kindest regards from both I and my good wife,
Yours sincerely,
Professor Blythington-Smythe
Post by: lawastooshort on August 30, 2011, 04:37:02 am
Edit: if only there was a gothic looking font like in Asterix.
Post by: areyoua on August 31, 2011, 11:56:04 am
Post by: lawastooshort on August 31, 2011, 12:14:35 pm
How long is it polite to wait before going on with a turn? I've PMed DBZ.
Post by: scriver on August 31, 2011, 12:36:33 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on August 31, 2011, 03:13:10 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on August 31, 2011, 04:08:35 pm
The Prussian Ultimatum
Kindly address the Preussian schweinehunde in a non-threatening way.
"Ah, good sirs, you see, a great misfortune has fallen upon me. I was on my way to a fabulous hunting party at a fellow gentleman's estate over in Canterbury when my best gun dog, a black-coated retriever, got it in his mind to run away - God knows why, he's never shown any such disposition before. Nonetheless, I find myself in this miserable position as I can not leave for my friend's without him, and me and my butler has been forced to look for him all night.
Oh - but forgive me, I forget my manners. I am August von Fersen. A pleasure to meet you." I hold my hand out to greet them. "You wouldn't have happened to spot such a loose dog, would you?"
If they fall for my ruse and go leave me alone, I follow them at a distance, wherever they head next.
Calm in the face of the Germans' interrogation, von Fersen explains that he is out in the streets in this ghastly weather searching for his best hunting dog [6+2]. The German pair are more than convinced: it seems that they aspire to the position of gentlemen themselves, and they have such sympathy for von Fersen's terrible, although imaginary, plight that they offer themselves to help the courageous Swede with his search!
Experience Gained! You have gained considerable experience in Masterful Pipe Holding (+1 to Gentlemanliness whilst holding a pipe)
Gentlemanliness Increased! Calm in the Face of Disaster Amongst Fellow Gentlemen!
Elsewhere, after speaking to the constable, John Link looks for a shop which might happen to be open at this hour from which he can purchase some biscuits - after all, one never knows when one might be required to partake in tea [1].
He knocks on the door of a likely looking establishment and enters.
When later recounting the anecdote to his most trusted gentlemen confidants, Link couldn't for the life of him remember which, in the resulting confusion, took place first: his recognition of Charles Frederic Moberly Bell, the distinguished editor of the most distinguished and influential Times of London, and his friend and majority shareholder the Marquis of Leicester, owner of an estate of upwards of sixty thousand acres somewhere in the North; or his realisation that not long after 2 o'clock in the morning he was in a house of ill repute in the port of Dover with many sailors.
They both clearly recognised him; they had both been to many of Sir Jack Link's dinner parties: John Link was left with nothing to do but beat a hasty and mumbling retreat.
Gentlemanliness Increased! The Importance of Tea and Biscuits!
Caddishness Severely Increased! Disgraceful Public Scandal! Found In a Brothel!
Hmmmm, biscuits.
Purchase some. You never know when the next teatime begins.
Wait, wasn't Fersen supposed to be following me? Blimey, let's find him.
He hurriedly closes the door and turns back into the cold winter's night and, in the shock, forgets his biscuits and realises he has mislaid his Nordic companion von Fersen. He tries to remember where he last recalled seeing him, and although he is still mentally reeling from the sudden blow, as it were, of finding himself publicly recognised in a brothel by his father's business acquaintances, he manages [5] to trace his way back to where von Fersen should, and indeed still does, find himself.
Quite bizarrely, he appears to be walking the streets of the port of Dover at around 2 o'clock on a cold wintry morning calling out for his hunting dog with two gentlemen who are unequivocally of the German persuasion.
Offer the angry Germans tea.
As Link stands at the end of the street wondering what to make of the strange and foreign threesome he sees before him, Henry McGeenyton wanders up to the very same disturbingly Germanic threesome and offers the Prussians tea [1].
Unfortunately, McGeenyton is not quite so proficient in German as he believed, and manages to insult them both horribly! It is all they can do not to beat the man with their umbrellas immediately – in the face of this shining English paragon of gentlemanliness they realise the correct thing to do is to challenge the insulter to a duel.
“You may choose both the weapon, and whether to face us vun by vun or both at the same time, son of a schweinehunde! But you may not choose the time! Zis time vill be now!” they conclude, getting angrier and more vaguely European as they speak.
At this moment Link strolls towards the now angry and gesticulating foursome, and leans in towards von Fersen, set slightly apart from the other three smoking his pipe distinguishedly and wondering whether to keep up the pretence of looking for his dog or whether to reveal the truth, and his friendship with McGeenyton, and risk losing a little gentlemanly face.
“What the devil is going on?” softly inquires the bemused Scot of the Swede.
The Waterloo Deception
What to do with the shifty German? He may be von Junker, he may be no one important, and he could be a decoy. Then again, he is a German...
Ask to see what is in the attache case. If he starts running, try to hit him in the hand with the case so that he drops it, then his legs to stop him from running. You can't escapethe U.S. MarshalsMI:G! If he refuses, mumble something about Normandy, and let Wellington try to convince him to let us look at it.
As the German approaches where Winston Smith is waiting on Platform 4a of Waterloo Station, the American steps into his path and demands to see what is in smart leather attaché case he is carrying [1].
The cunning descendant of the Visigoths shouts out in alarm, crying "Thief! Thief!" and as two police constables who happened to be passing run to his rescue he pushes brusquely past the American and his companion and makes his escape. He flees down the platform towards the station exit!
The two police officers run towards Smith, ordering him to stop in the name of the Law!
Caddishness Increased! Publicly Scandalised!
Follow through with the plan, brandishing my top hat in case he takes off.
Luckily Wellington was ready with top hat in hand [6+1], and strolling briskly to intercept the running German he launches the hat in a deadly arc which connects with the villainous spy's head and takes it clean off the stump of his neck with the elegance of a new-born lamb being swiped by a golden eagle on a desolate Highland peak.
Wound Inflicted! His head falls off! He is deceased!
As the German's headless corpse crashes to the ground on the semi-deserted platform at Waterloo, Wellington gentlemanly and authoritatively approaches the two police constables attempting to chastise Smith and calmly explains the situation [4+2]. They realise their error and apologise profoundly to the American, offering what help they can in the continuation of the gentlemen's vital quest.
Experience Gained! Top Hat Maestro! (+1 to Top Hat Fu)
Both Wellington and Smith approach the body of their erstwhile opponent. Smith gives the corpse a gentle prodding with his deadly walking
The attaché case is empty.
A Useful Chat In Dover
Go talk to the locals and find out anything that could help us.
Meanwhile, several streets away from his companions in Dover, Thomas Wallace and his squad of fearsome highlanders are walking the streets, hoping against hope to happen upon a local who, at this time of night, might be able to tell them something useful [4].
He meets a group of fisherman who are returning from depositing their catch, and they accurately describe to the mighty band of Scots where they saw an illuminated and large apparent flying contraption, no more than one mile away, that nigh on a dozen men appeared to be readying for flight.
A Useful Afterthought In London
As Winston Smith rises from the empty attaché case upon the floor, William Wellington walks over to where his top hat has landed [5+1]. He bends to pick it up, and, as he straightens it back out into a form suitable for the adorning of a gentleman's head in London, out of the corner of his eye he spies a hurried figure a hundred yards or so away and rapidly nearing the great wide doors of Waterloo station, clearly carrying some sort of briefcase, and clearly running as fast as he can, in a manner that one could only, if asked to describe it in one word at a later date for one's chronicler, characterise as Germanic.
There is no doubt in Wellington's mind that this, and not the unfortunate decoy, is the infamous Hans von Junker.
[OOC note: The events at Waterloo are happening slightly before those at Dover, about an hour before – I figured either do both bits simultaneously to recreate the splitscreen tension of such oeuvres as 24 or give the Dover group an extra turn of playing I see what you don’t see and what I see is a flying contraption with Darvi in the car. I can roll that missing turn for you if you wish; I can only speculate at the moment what would happen when half of you roll [1]s again...]
Post by: areyoua on August 31, 2011, 04:31:39 pm
Look for a rock to hit in the direction of von Junker with my walking
Post by: scriver on August 31, 2011, 04:53:31 pm
Brandish shotgun at the Germans, while holding pipe in corner of mouth.
"Oh, but good sirs, I think no such actions are in question. As much as I regret being as ungallant as to stop you from partaking in by-honour-obliged combat, me and my friends - whom you've just met - are running out of time, and I believe we all agree the needs of King and Country outweighs those of our personal honour. You see, we are here looking for a contraption of flight we've been told you have here, and I estimate it is well over due that you take us too it."
Puff some smoke in their faces. "Of course, we only need one of you for that, so if any one would feel a greater need of retribution than the other, I suppose one quick duel could be arranged."
((I feel I have been using the word "brandish" a lot lately. I hope I am not repeating myself.))
Post by: Firelordsky on August 31, 2011, 05:23:21 pm
Post by: Geen on August 31, 2011, 07:19:06 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on August 31, 2011, 11:42:12 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 01, 2011, 02:59:14 am
Before I write up most of the turn - do you wish to duel to the death? Or until severe wounding? Or the first strike? I think having seen Scriver's action it will only be against one of the Germans.
Edit: I am assuming that you are ok with the duel taking place right now / this turn, that is. The Germans are keen.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 01, 2011, 10:00:53 am
Hammerfest, January, 1906
Dear Professor Blythington-Smythe,
Ah! The Norwegian Blue! Such beautiful plumage! I used to see them often when I was a small child, but now they are so often deceased that they are all but extinct. They do stun so easily. Nevertheless, the fjords are still a sight of great beauty, I am sure that you will greatly enjoy this part of your trip.
It would be tremendous to share with you my work on the electromagno-cannon. I have been working particularly hard these last months; in fact I would have to admit that it is causing a little friction between Frida and I. I fear she is not so happy up here in the Northern cold, and with more and more Vikings about it is true that sometimes life is getting a little hard.
I have made great advances though, and I have some further ideas that are coming to fruition. I should like to work on them with you a little if it is possible: I think together we could develop the electromagno-axe-cannon! With your industry and my Viking heritage I do not see why it could not be so. Also, an elk-mountable version. I have seen this one in my waking dreams although Frida claims it is but another sign of my obsessive overworking.
It will be delightful to meet you and your wife again; I believe I have not seen Hilda since the convention in Prague. I have heard that it is a beautiful city once again now that the rebuilding has been finished.
With my kindest regards,
Yours sincerely,
Professor Birkeland
Post by: Geen on September 01, 2011, 02:00:38 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 01, 2011, 02:24:16 pm
Good luck sir!
Post by: Geen on September 02, 2011, 11:43:50 pm
CTHULHU IS DISPLEASED WITH YOU...
Post by: lawastooshort on September 03, 2011, 04:58:25 am
The Retreat From Waterloo
Wellington grasps the edge of his hat while turning to face the fleeing German. With a swift flick of the wrist, he throws his hat in such a manner to trip the suspected Von Junker while catching him off guard.
As von Junker tries to flee the station, the deadly top hat wielder Wellington wafts his gentlemanly projectile through the air at the spy’s Germanic legs [5+1]. Within mere feet of safety, within crawling distance of the great and parting doors of Waterloo station, von Junker falls, tripped by the top hat that is, even as he turns to see his attacker, returning to the Englishman’s hand as if by some miracle of superior English design and wit.
My goodness, that poor German, but what to do about von Junker? I can't yell, that would be ungentlemanly, and I can't be seen running through London. Then again, I am American... No, can't use that excuse again. I bet if I throw my walkingbatstick I'll roll a 1, hit the King, and be held in the Tower until I die. Then again, that can always happen... I guess I can always take the German's head and hit is like abaseballcricket ball. Perhaps something less extreme.
Look for a rock to hit in the direction of von Junker with my walkingbatstickbat. Of course, this is England, so hit it cricket-style to avoid angering the locals.
Coming to the same conclusion at the same time as his companion in arms, Smith casts his eyes about for a rock with which to assail the fleeing villain [6]. He happens to find a rounded half brick, shaped almost perfectly like a
Opening fire simultaneously with Wellington like a miniature line of brave red jackets on some Napoleonic battlefield, the American Winston Smith tosses the half brick into the air and half volleys it with the power, finesse and Great British cricketing style of the great W. G. Grace towards his now downed opponent [6].
Just as von Junker is struggling to his feet and barking out to an unseen co-conspirator, the half brick flies straight and true, and severs the German’s arm!
The lethal weapon exits Waterloo Station through the now wide open doors, carrying before it the amputated limb, still clasping the vital briefcase and the still more vital documents. The macabre entanglement of improvised cricket ball, unattached arm and national secret flies through the window of a waiting automobile; the surprised driver turns around and recognises the briefcase as Wellington and Smith appear in the doorway to apprehend their defeated foe.
Realising his fellow spy will not be joining him without considerable delay, the driver starts the car, abandons von Junker to these vicious Anglophones, and chugs away into the snowy London night.
The Duel Sometime Before Dawn
Rush to the flying contraption with me Scots because Scottish Highlanders know how to do everything.
Whilst a few streets away a small group of gentlemen’s honour and duty wrestle each other to the death like the proverbial unstoppable force and immovable object, the oblivious Wallace and his band of Highlanders, mind trained ruthlessly on the task at hand, set course for the flying contraption on foot, marching at a steady pace with drum and bagpipe blazing their awe inspiring battle hymns [4]. With any luck they should arrive in approximately fifteen of the King’s minutes.
A few streets away…
"Ah, mister Link, we were simply partaking in a sporting game of charades, and I do believe I won."
Brandish shotgun at the Germans, while holding pipe in corner of mouth.
"Oh, but good sirs, I think no such actions are in question. As much as I regret being as ungallant as to stop you from partaking in by-honour-obliged combat, me and my friends - whom you've just met - are running out of time, and I believe we all agree the needs of King and Country outweighs those of our personal honour. You see, we are here looking for a contraption of flight we've been told you have here, and I estimate it is well over due that you take us too it."
Puff some smoke in their faces. "Of course, we only need one of you for that, so if any one would feel a greater need of retribution than the other, I suppose one quick duel could be arranged."
Foreseeing their potential use in locating the air transportation device, von Fersen nearly averts the duel that both McGeenyton and the Germans seem so set on; when he realises that there are Germans enough to serve both, on the one hand, King and Country, and, on the other, honour, he volunteers to act as McGeenyton’s second as John Link looks on with a bemused and possibly disapproving expression.
The Swede puffs some smoke in the pair’s faces [4] whilst brandishing his shotgun in a manner which suggests very much that they are now his prisoners, whatever the outcome of the forthcoming duel should be.
"The weapon for the duel is to be swords (Which my gracefulness bonus counts towards). Good day, sirs. You are sure you do not want tea? And I would prefer to fight you one by one."
Given the emptiness of the street, the earliness of the hour and the urgency of the matter, the offended German suggests that their current time and location would be most suitable for regaining his satisfaction. His fellow agrees to be his second and produces, as McGeenyton requests, a pair of dueling swords of the French style.
As they walk to their positions to the faint and puzzling sound of bagpipes, the German curtly asks of McGeenyton,
“First blood? Or to the death?”
“To the death,” comes the reply. “Are you sure you don’t want tea?”
Post by: lawastooshort on September 03, 2011, 05:09:27 am
At around 30 minutes past two in the morning of Friday 18th January, 1906, Henry McGeenyton and Hans von Papen are to be found strolling down Park Avenue in Dover to Connaught Park, where they are to fight a duel with the intention of satisfying the German's honour after McGeenyton's accidental but unacceptable slur. With them are the seconds - on the Englishman's side, the noble Swede von Fersen; on the German's, his friend and collaborator, Wilhelm von Hellweg - and also the Scotsman John Link, playing the role of neutral observer who will ensure that protocol is followed.
Stopping in a small clearing, the two protagonists shake hands, and the seconds hand them their weapons, after inspecting both to ensure that they are equal and worthy. The snow still falls gently about them; the night is silent. The two remove their jackets, take their weapons, and walk a few steps one from the other.
As the observers take their positions a short distance from the valiant pair, Link gives a silent signal for them to commence: he raises his napkin, and as he drops it, the two men advance.
They circle for the briefest of moments, each sizing the other up and hoping to spot a weakness.
The German swoops in first to aim a blow straight at McGeenyton's chest: he misses and is off balance as McGeenyton parries with considerable strength. A true gentleman, he lets von Papen recover, and strikes. He manages a strike to the German's chest, but at the last he sidesteps and it merely grazes his arm. The blood stains through his shirt, the rest as white as the fallen snow. Von Papen immediately attemps a riposte, and McGeenyton, the experienced swordsman, catches the blow upon his sword. The one sword slides down the other so that both hilts meet and the two fighters come face to face, mere inches apart.
McGeenyton wins this battle of strength and will and pushes the German back. The combatants circle once more. Von Papen seems irritated at suffering the ignominy of taking the first hit and he leaps in once again to strike a blow for his gentlemanly honour and McGeenyton, caught unawares by this German fury, barely manages to avoid the blow. He takes an ugly wound to the thigh, seriously damaging his finely tailored trouser leg.
Taking a step back, the Englishman is barely able to avoid von Papen's next vicious thrust, but as he sidesteps with all the grace of an expert duellist he strikes back as von Papen goes tumbling past him completely unable to react. He runs the German through! His kidney is pierced!
Von Papen is seriously injured. In pain, he drops his weapon to the ground.
He is beaten.
Wound Acquired! Gash to Thigh!
Item Acquired Damaged Trouser Leg
Gentlemanliness Increased! Renowned Duellist!
Post by: Firelordsky on September 03, 2011, 07:27:36 am
Post by: Geen on September 03, 2011, 12:02:29 pm
Post by: Darvi on September 03, 2011, 12:39:01 pm
Stand aside and watch. This is something he has to do himself. (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ptitle7pn5uvdh) Of course if there's cheating going on I can feel free to interfere.
Post by: scriver on September 03, 2011, 01:41:42 pm
Also, echoing Geen, they should be completely disarmed.
Post by: areyoua on September 03, 2011, 02:11:29 pm
Take von Junker's ruined suit, and use it to stanch the bleeding from his arm, and get him to a doctor. Of course, afterwards, ask him where and what the flying contraption is, and if he has anything else that might be interesting to know.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on September 03, 2011, 06:04:44 pm
Ask him where he was heading next and who was driving him.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 04, 2011, 11:24:37 am
Stand aside and watch. This is something he has to do himself. (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/ptitle7pn5uvdh) Of course if there's cheating going on I can feel free to interfere.
They've duelled now, and Mr McGeenyton is the victor! Do you have a post-duel action? I think the consensus is to take the wounded German to a doctor and then to have the other one lead you to the Airborne Flying Device.
Post by: Darvi on September 04, 2011, 12:10:14 pm
Post by: Geen on September 04, 2011, 01:09:03 pm
Post by: Darvi on September 04, 2011, 01:16:59 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 04, 2011, 01:19:33 pm
Hey, what about MY pants and wounds?
I didn't forget about them, but as you will see, McGeenyton did. Too gentlemanly for your own good.
As an aside [edit], I'd say that tailorly damage sustained in the course of a duel is probably quite a dashing look: when you recount to the gentleladyfolk the story behind the damaged trouser leg I'd imagine there could even be light swooning; when you inform a gentleman that you incurred such misfortune whilst defending King and Country he should probably feel some considerable admiration, and when you conclude the tale with your victory, he should most likely feel somewhat in awe.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 04, 2011, 01:23:02 pm
Edit: minor note - I'll get back to putting some of the dice rolls in when I do the next turn. Had a tiring weekend and there wasn't really a great deal of action this turn.
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Firelordsky on September 04, 2011, 02:46:01 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 04, 2011, 05:06:10 pm
Von Junker lay on the stone floor of Waterloo Station, his eyes following the car carrying von Hildebrand and the blueprints for which he'd given his right arm as they started off into the night and disappeared round the corner onto Leake Street. He heard the two Englishmen approach, their finely crafted shoes echoing with a hollow sound, ringing out in the vast man-made cavern of the station. He sighed to himself almost imperceptibly, unmoving.
He couldn't blame his protégé for so heartlessly driving off: he'd taught him to be so ruthless and so cold blooded himself. He'd taught him well, and if von Junker couldn't outwit a pair of English gentlemen... well, perhaps he no longer deserved the honour of serving his Kaiser. No, von Hildebrand had been right to leave him.
With some surprise he turned as he heard the first man bend down and, asking in an unexpected and soft American tone for him to let his evening jacket be removed, take the jacket off and start to tend to his wounded stump.
It had been a shock, certainly, to see his own arm fly before him, but, he supposed, it was always likely to be his fate, a similarly gory end. He'd seen worse. Of course, he'd dealt out worse himself - to French, Austrians, Russians, Danish, most often and most recently to the damned English. He'd never come up against an American before. They were never keen on coming to Europe, and he'd never wanted to travel so far himself, he'd never wanted to spend so long away from Agathe or her cooking.
As gentlemanly as this one seemed, he was clearly a bloody amateur in medicine. If he'd meant to it would surely have been impossible to inflict such pain, thought von Junker. Outwardly he tried not to show what he imagined was a weakness. He gritted his teeth. The American had the right idea to staunch the flow, it was true. He was already weak from the shock, but above all from the sudden and enormous loss of blood. It was slick and warm beneath him, and cooling desperately fast. He felt it draining from him, and felt his life draining along with it. He had enough wit left to amuse himself with the thought that this sounded dreadfully melodramatic, but then he realised that it was probably true. He ignored the pain as best he could and returned to his musings.
He'd helped turn the tide of wars, had Hans von Junker; his most recent and possibly greatest coup though was the Affair of the Damaged Hat, which but last year had brought down the British Government and sent its ripples across the globe. Entirely bloodless. Masterful. He'd been personally honoured by the Kaiser for orchestrating the affair, and he smiled as he thought how, thanks to his cunning and in no small part thanks to his bravery, Agathe and his now grown children would live in honour and comfort.
No. He had known that this was coming soon. He'd been getting old. He should have taken the offer to stop all of this years go. It was a young man's job. He wondered what the other man was saying to him. He seemed quite pleased with himself, but for all von Junker's personal loss, it seemed to him, his side had won. The blueprints were on their way to Dover; soon the Kaiser would have them and then one day the most powerful navy in the world.
"You are von Junker, are you not?"
He opened his eyes. He didn't know it, but he saw the faces of William Wellington and Winston Smith look down upon him expectantly. Not for lack of English - his linguistic skills had been such an asset for so long - but now he couldn't make out what the Englishman said. He wondered about this for a moment. He closed his eyes again. He drifted back to Agathe's face, the eyes that he'd known for so long, he remembered Werner's and Gratia's faces, that he'd known since their births, for their whole lives. He saw Agathe's smile from the day they married. He would be happy if he never saw another thing.
"I say, you are Hans von Junker, are you not?"
His eyes stayed closed.
More than an hour later, von Hildebrand was speeding towards Dover in a car carrying his erstwhile companion's arm and the briefcase he'd sacrificed it for. He had barely three dozen miles left to travel before his rendez-vous with the new fangled contraption the Kaiser had ordered be sent as their means of escape.
This, of course, is unknown to our second band of intrepid gentleman adventurers, at whose vanguard is the brave Scot Thomas Wallace, heading a miniature column of heroic Black Watch highlanders. As they march on to face the enemy, he walks down the column, enquiring if any of the soldiers happen to have a bowling ball on a chain about their person. Oddly enough, one of them does, a private MacMurray, who proclaims himself proud to offer whatever assistance he can to one of the heirs of Wallace, even to go so far as to give up his favoured battle weapon.
The fearsome column marches on, mere minutes away from their destination, the air about them fouled by the majestic wrath of the drum and bagpipe, the sky seemingly rent apart as if being assaulted by the tartan god of war himself, the countryside about them shivering in frozen fear. By Wallace's reckoning, if the fisherman's directions are correct, they cannot be more than five hundred yards from their enemy.
Still in Dover, more heedful of decency and humanity than cold urgency, the famous duellist McGeenyton has wounds and captives to attend to. With him on one side and Link on the other, they manoeuver the severely wounded Hans von Papen about the silent streets of Dover until von Fersen, carefully watching over his unwounded prisoner, finds a hotel where he convinces the night porter to take care of their enemy and to seek recompense in London in a day or two.
Before they leave, McGeenyton offers the German tea one last time.
He accepts, and at McGeenyton's command the night porter brings them tea, although sadly there are no biscuits. They share a few minutes' truce and then the disparate band finish their refreshment, and, with the wounded von Papen propped up as comfortably as possible in a chair before the fireplace, they leave into the cold morning air.
Von Fersen, brandishing his shotgun, orders the remaining German to lead the way to where he is supposed to meet his conspirators. He obeys, no longer having a choice, and, accompanied by McGeenyton and Link, they set forth upon the path not so long ago travelled by Thomas Wallace.
As they walk, McGeenyton realises he has forgotten his own wound in his gentlemanliness, and has repaired neither his leg nor his suit. As he remarks upon this sorry fact to his peers, he meets with a stirring reply from von Fersen.
"Sirs, we go to war! We go to save your glorious nation of the King of Scotland and England! Shortly we will worry no more of our earthly attire, for we will be dressed in the glory of martial struggle and noble sacrifice! We will not worry for our corporeal wounds, for our inner hearts will be whole, and our gentlemen's wills bent upon the destruction of our foes! We will not feel the cold biting upon our own limbs, for our steel shall bite upon those of our enemies! We will not... We will not... bother... Anyway... Let us make haste. The hour is late. This brandy should do the trick for your leg old boy."
Not far behind Thomas Wallace and his imposing column, the three gentlemen and their prisoner make good time, their presence signalled in the wintry night by the crunch of their feet on the snow laden ground and the smoke of von Fersen's pipe in the cold laden air.
In London, Jenkinson jumps out of the car without turning off the ignition. He runs breathless up the stairs of Waterloo station where he spots the two gentlemen crouched around the body of the German spy.
"Sirs! I know that man! It is von Junker! You have had success then? Sir Melville has sent me. If you have the blueprints already we should collect the other fellows in Dover. It is a dreadful place; the quicker the better if you ask me. I say - let's go, we shall arrange for a constable to attend to this unfortunate man. Terribly cold tonight, what?"
Thomas Wallace Item Acquired! Bowling Ball on a Chain.
Henry McGeenyton Items Acquired! Two Duelling Swords.
Gentlemanliness Increased! Offering Tea to One's Foe!
August Von Fersen Gentlemanliness Increased! Taking Care of the Defeated.
Winston Smith Gentlemanliness Increased! Particular Chivalry! Attempted Kindness to a Foe!
Trait Acquired! Fatally Bad Doctor! (-1 to Medic type rolls)
Post by: Firelordsky on September 04, 2011, 06:34:55 pm
Post by: Darvi on September 04, 2011, 06:37:34 pm
Post by: areyoua on September 04, 2011, 07:53:15 pm
Post by: Zako on September 05, 2011, 12:52:25 am
Post by: scriver on September 05, 2011, 07:30:54 am
Anyway:[ b]Keep moving after the Preussian[/b]. Talk with him about all the elk you can hunt in Sweden, and offer to let him purchase an antler from a twenty-pointer, or perhaps some genuine elk droppings, as it is said Germans enjoy such things.
Also, gentlemanly re-inform Link that:
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
). The group split up, two peopl going to Waterloo Station to intercept Junker and the other four going looking for KNFM in Dover.I guess I probably repeated some stuff you already new, but I'd thought I'd make it thorough to begin with. Anything I left unclear?
Post by: areyoua on September 05, 2011, 07:39:14 am
Damn, Ninja'd
Post by: Firelordsky on September 05, 2011, 07:45:26 am
Post by: lawastooshort on September 05, 2011, 07:47:05 am
...Nazi? It's like, twenty years until they even become a player! We're not even past the first world war yet. And England is as good a world dominator as it gets at this point! :P
Also, gentlemanly re-inform Link that:Spoiler (click to show/hide)
I guess I probably repeated some stuff you already new, but I'd thought I'd make it thorough to begin with. Anything I left unclear?
My word. Excellent stuff, my noble Swede. I was trying my best not to mention either the British Imperialism / No Nazis Yet points, especially as we'd briefly touched on the latter when discussing er... monkeybrain powered nazi robo spiders? (bit of a spoiler for chapter 3 that!). And I am quite grateful for not having to type out a long plot recap (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/RecapEpisode) as an internal monologue as Link trudges wearily along the frostcovered path towards the enemy wondering exactly what the hell he's doing there (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/FramingDevice).
I am also going to try not to name any more Germans as it gets a little distressing when they die.
Edit: Many apologies to those of you have not yet posted an action, but I don't feel that there is much that you would miss if I go ahead and post the next turn: hopefully it will bring you all together slightly faster than if I waited. We've had enough waiting around; it is time to unleash the umbrellas before
Post by: lawastooshort on September 05, 2011, 10:12:39 am
Smith glanced up at Jenkinson and shook his head. Whether it was at the over-optmistic Englishman or at himself neither truly knew. He was surprised at how rotten inside he felt - not at their failure, but at von Junker's heroic but sad demise.
"We don't have the blueprints, no," he explained. "They're still attached to this man's bloody arm, and they're both of them heading towards Dover as we wait here chatting." A strange thought entered his head that he would never be able to explain for as long as he lived: first an urge to shave his head and to encourage peace between his fellow man; then the feeling that he would have to roll a six, and that surely if the die turned up a one, the world would be enveloped in a never ending war, a war to end all wars...
"The others may well be waiting for this other German fellow down in Dover, but there seems little point in hanging around waiting to find out - let's go, he's only got about a ten minutes head start, I should say. I trust you can get us there as fast as a German? And, I say, Wellington? Do me a favour old chap? Never let me do any medicine on you if it ever comes to that - I'm bloody useless at it."
Von Fersen worried about his comrade John Link. He wouldn't say what had happened in Dover just before rejoining him and McGeenyton, and von Fersen worried that what had happened was a strong blow to the head. He was asking him to recount again, step by step, the events of the last 6 hours that had led him to be strolling briskly through the frozen Kentish night towards a German flying contraption which, if it managed to take off with its stolen bounty, could lead to German domination of the continent, if not the world. He'd been invited a few weeks before, with a member of the Swedish embassy, to view the battleship HMS Dreadnought. She was a terrifying and fantastic vessel, and even just remembering back to his brief snatched views of her stirred something sea-going and ancient in the young noble's soul.
Anyway - he'd told Link twice already, and that seemed more than enough; he had a captive to take care of. The German seemed to be faithfully leading the way for McGeenyton, Link and von Fersen - he was, of course, honour-bound, and probably saw that delaying the inevitable discovery of his countrymen's flying device meant delaying his escape from this incredible Swede's interminable ramblings on the subject of elk hunting, elk antlers, elk dropppings. Apart from recounting again and again to his fellow gentleman, the brooding Scot, exactly what they had done over the course of the night, it seemed that all the damnable Swede would talk about was elk and their by-products.
He volunteered to buy some of the proffered genuine elk droppings, half in fear, and half in hope that that would be the end of the matter.
It turned out that von Fersen didn't even have any elk feces on him; the German was surprised to find himself mildly irritated. It was true, after all, that his father, God rest his soul, had been an avid collector. Perhaps there was some symbolism in his sudden nostalgia.
He started to wonder if he too had been lost to the folly of these three magnificently eccentric gentlemen - the furrow-browed amnesiac Scot, the duelling tea-fixated Englishman, the elk-obsessed Swede. Was it the madness brought upon him by the cold and his captivity? Or did he really hear the visceral howl of those awful highland instruments of ancient days carried on the night wind? The sound of bagpipes at this time and at this place seemed, to him, unimaginable - they struck a fear that cut him quicker than the chilly sea wind that had begun to pick up. It was no wonder the Kaiser was reported to want to ban them under the impending revision of the Geneva Convention. That was no Godly sound.
His reverie was abruptly brought to a halt by the distinctive report of a rifle bursting into life in the near distance, its boom exploding across the empty and lifeless downs. The bagpipes, if they had been real at all, ceased.
Hurrying towards the flying contraption, Thomas Wallace thanked the highlander McMurray, swearing upon his gentlemanly, and Wallacely, honour to find him a new weapon once this battle was done.
His lust for battle was heartily stirred by the ferocious sounds of his highlanders' marching band; he felt the battle fever come upon him. He felt his ancestors whispering to him in the night wind as cold as a highland winter; he...
"By Jove! I do believe they are opening fire on us! Take cover!"
The crack of a rifle rang out from the farm building a hundred yards ahead of them; Wallace crouched behind a convenient shrubbery, muttering to himself about the ungentlemanliness of firing on one's foe without giving a fair warning. That was the reasoning behind the famed red jackets, as any fool knew. As the drummers and the pipers stopped playing to take cover, he popped his head over his makeshift parapet and could clearly make out before him a long stone barn with a smaller outhouse beside it. Between him and the buildings there were a few trees, bushes, a few small fields divided up with traditional stone walling. Behind the buildings there lay a massive and unexplainable grey cylinder, fully five hundred feet in length, that appeared to rise as if by some unearthly volition into the night air, towering nearly a hundred feet into the sky above them. Lights shone about its base, illuminating a few scurrying men as if worker ants attending to their queen. An ominous hum could be made out from where he watched.
"I say," let out the breathless Scot.
Post by: Darvi on September 05, 2011, 10:23:40 am
Post by: lawastooshort on September 05, 2011, 10:34:35 am
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
John Link is in Kent, a few minutes walk from where Thomas Wallace has just discovered the Germans and their flying machine get away vehicle. Shortly a car carrying the blueprints will arrive to meet the Germans. Your objective is to prevent the Germans flying away with the blueprints. The Germans' objective is to escape with the blueprints.
Post by: Firelordsky on September 05, 2011, 10:51:26 am
Post by: areyoua on September 05, 2011, 12:38:11 pm
What else can I do? Oh, wait.
Develop plan to shock world into peace somehow involving Archduke Ferdinand, the interconnecting web of alliances in Europe, and trenches to devastate the world into never fighting again after Germany is inevitably defeated in a war that will never be forgotten. That always works, right?
Perhaps something else...
Post by: lawastooshort on September 05, 2011, 12:41:28 pm
edit: but p.s. yeah, sorry about that. And the pacifism.
edited edit: in fact there's nothing for anyone but Wallace to do: I'll get on with it.
Post by: scriver on September 05, 2011, 03:53:18 pm
Post by: areyoua on September 05, 2011, 04:00:09 pm
That might not be what you're getting at, though, so I'll admit that I don't really know what you're referencing in your edits.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 05, 2011, 04:06:29 pm
Perhaps another time.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 05, 2011, 04:23:59 pm
Tell the Highlanders to give covering fire and CHARGE them!
The race was on.
Would his faithful companions reach Mayfever Farm and enter the fray before Thomas Wallace found himself in combat and outnumbered?
He gave the order to his squad of highlanders to cover his charge, knowing that it would be dishonourable to expect them to cross the hundred yards of nearly open ground between them and the enemy when he could do the job himself. He knew also that it would be cowardly to wait for reinforcement whilst the future of the British Empire hung in the balance! And his highlanders knew that any charge not properly supported is doomed to failure.
They struck up their fearsome music once again. The drums rang out; the bagpipes blazed; and the rifles roared as the line of six brave men stood up to meet the incoming German fire and send it back multiplied by their Scottish wrath and courage. Their music was true and their covering fire effective, keeping the Germans' heads down as much as was possible for their small number.
The brave Thomas Wallace drew his claymore to the glorious sound of his homeland, stepped over his protective shrubbery, and charged towards the enemy as if he were Thomas Burke himself [6].
He sprinted to the sound of rifle fire and shouting. He leapt across low walls to the sound of pipes and drum. He ran to the sound of the Germans' heinous flying device humming in the night. He charged across the fateful fields to all these sounds that were to him as the sound of music.
He ran so fast in fact that before the Germans had a chance to recover from the highlanders' covering fire and target him effectively he was upon them, claymore aloft, mere yards from the long low barn.
Gentlemanliness Increased Trying to Recreate the Light Brigade!
Simultaneously many things appeared to happen as time slowed in Wallace's battle fever. Two Germans burst from the door and rushed out to meet him as he heard no more than fifty yards behind him the distinctive and handsome Swedish accent of von Fersen urge his companions to make haste. The sound of a desperately driven automobile, its engine pushed to the very limits of modern technology, drew close and then died. A German lept out of the car, brandishing, inexplicably, a severed arm and a black leather briefcase, looking behind him in a rush as he did so. And as this German reached the small outhouse to the left of the barn, as the Germans approaching Wallace slammed shut the barn door and turned to him, another car screamed into view and slammed to a halt.
Out tumbled Wellington and Smith, grey-faced victims of Arthur Pembroke Jenkinson, the fastest driver in the British Empire.
Clarity Spoiler
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Geen on September 05, 2011, 05:37:41 pm
Shall we shoot the zeppelin? I'm assuming yes.
Draw my sword and a revolver. Prepare for battle. Begin shooting at the zeppelin.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on September 05, 2011, 07:37:13 pm
Post by: Firelordsky on September 05, 2011, 07:46:08 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 06, 2011, 03:12:03 am
I suppose a [6] is always possible though. Goodbye Dover!
Pick up one of the German weapons if possible, and cover Wallace, making sure not to shoot him.
I suppose a [1] is always possible!
Post by: scriver on September 06, 2011, 06:19:27 am
Post by: areyoua on September 06, 2011, 02:55:14 pm
Pretend to, or actually, prey to cover up the fact that I'm car sick. Then, run towards Wallace to assist him against the Germans, using my walking
Post by: lawastooshort on September 06, 2011, 03:57:10 pm
The Battle for Mayfever Farm
Continue CHARGING!!!
As the night reaches its darkest hours before the dawn, Wallace, covered by his highland marching band, is charging valiantly across the open ground to where his German foes lie in wait.
He sees two leave the safety of their stone barn to accost him – or perhaps offer him tea.
We shall never know, as he charges at the pair of pointy-helmeted German soldiers without further introduction, taken by the bagpipe fuelled battle fever [6]. He swipes diagonally downwards at the neck of the rightward man with his mighty claymore! The terrifying arc cleaves his hapless foe asunder, shattering the rifle that he brings helplessly upwards to block the blow. He swipes with such force that his fearsome sword passes right through his enemy's body, severing his kidney, and cleaves right into the next. He swipes with such force that the leftward German is sliced apart from rib to hip! He swipes with such force that his claymore is thrust into the frosted earth, wherein it is stuck! Wallace is disarmed! He is showered with blood! His foes are slain! The towering and frightful Scot hears gasps of repulsed astonishment coming from the barn's unshuttered windows.
Item Lost! Mighty Claymore!
Item Acquired! Blood Covered Evening Jacket (temporarily -3 to Gentlemanliness)
Gentlemanliness Increased! Thunderous and Solitary Charge!
Caddishness Increased! Exceedingly Bloodthirsty!
Pretend to, or actually, prey to cover up the fact that I'm car sick. Then, run towards Wallace to assist him against the Germans, using my walkingbatstick to block bullets lightsaber style. Also, move from cover to cover as a more feasible way of not getting shot.
As a German peers out of the doorway of the small outhouse that von Hildenbrand recently entered to enquire as to what all the sudden commotion is about, he sees our noble American friend briefly drop to his knees and pray [2]. If the German is impressed by this display of religious devotion, he is clearly not impressed enough to refrain from firing upon the praying man as soon as he rises to his feet, and he unloads his revolver upon von Hildebrand's pursuer.
Quicker than the German's eyes can see; quicker than one would suspect the human mind can react, Winston Smith bats the first four bullets out of the air with his walking
Skill Acquired! Walking
Pick up one of the German weapons if possible, and cover Wallace, making sure not to shoot him.
Descending from the same car in a similar daze to Smith, Wellington also aims to reinforce the Scottish advance. He looks about for a discarded German weapon [3] but no German has yet fallen, and he finds nothing of use. He looks upon Wallace, locked in mortal combat with the two German soldiers, and covers him with his gentlemanly comradeship and best wishes, hoping that this should provide protection enough.
Draw my sword and a revolver. Prepare for battle. Begin shooting at the zeppelin.
Some twenty yards away to the south McGeenyton is charging forwards towards the frontline when he draws his sword and unholsters his revolver [1]. He stumbles and trips as he draws his sword and manages to cut his hip on the draw. He incurs a light wound! He drops the revolver in astonishment! He frowns in mild irritation!
Item Lost! Revolver
Wound Acquired! Light Wound to Left Hip!
Item Acquired! Gashed Evening Jacket!
Item Acquired! A Slight Frown!
Kindly excuse myself to our German prisoner as I tie him up, using his own belt or suspenders and promise I'll come back and relieve him of this inconvenient situation once the bloody business at hand is resolved. Then leave him behind and make way closer to the farms, moving from cover to cover.
Thinking to follow McGeenyton, Von Fersen kindly excuses himself to his German prisoner, tying him up with his own belt and suspenders [5] and moves from cover to cover towards the farm buildings that even as we speak are being lit up by the fearful fire of war. Advancing forward with the fleetfooted tenacity of the Swedish Elk through the lurking nighttime shadows [6], he is upon the enemy before he even realises it himself! He finds himself a few yards away from Wallace, face to face with his own pair of German soldiers!
Skill Acquired! Fleetfooted Tenacity of the Swedish Elk (+1 to fast stealthy movement across difficult ground).
At the rear, a proud part-Scot, a born gentleman, a leader of men, John Link remains where a commander should, directing the covering fire of Wallace's marching band. He strikes up a profoundly detailed conversation with Highlander Private Mackenzie regarding the intricacies of the Perthshire bagpipe tradition and its influences on modern Scottish folk music and its role as a catalyst in the modern Scottish nationalist movement [6].
Skill Acquired! Knowledge of the Bagpipes! (+1 to all bagpipe related knowledge rolls).
Clarity Spoiler
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: areyoua on September 06, 2011, 04:09:51 pm
Jump out of cover, walking
Post by: Firelordsky on September 06, 2011, 05:04:38 pm
Post by: scriver on September 07, 2011, 12:18:46 pm
What kind of shotgun is it, anyway? I have basically no knowledge of weapons of this era, and I decided it was better safe than sorry and assumed it was a one-shot gun.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 07, 2011, 12:29:54 pm
Edit: whilst waiting for Geen to post I am writing the turn up, and will assume that you want to use both barrels and so shoot once at each German.
I can change this if you want though. I've just got half an hour spare so thought I'd get on with it.
Second Edit: no you totally can't change this, I've rolled, written and enjoyed both barrels. Sorry about that. I'll post the turn tomorrow, hopefully.
Post by: Darvi on September 07, 2011, 01:56:33 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on September 07, 2011, 02:54:44 pm
Post by: Geen on September 07, 2011, 07:36:00 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 08, 2011, 02:51:20 am
Battlefever at Mayfever Farm
Wow. Did not think that would work. [GM Aside] No, nor did I, but then a Gentleman has a 1 in [6] chance of achieving anything [/GM Aside]
Jump out of cover, walkingbatstick in hand, and say, "Bloody German, it is the will of god that I block your bullets, and it will be the will of god that you're skull be caved. So Surrender!" Hope the German speaks English. Give him a chance to respond. If he says no, continues to reload, or tries to fight back, then attack him.
Smith jumps out from behind the cover of the outhouse building, and fires his majestic speech at the reloading German [1], but he understands no English. He tries to reload his revolver faster as he sees Smith approach, and he hurriedly raises the gun as Smith raises his walking
Item Lost! Your hat!
Get into cover as i have no weapon and try to clean off the blood.
Thomas Wallace abandons his family heirloom Mighty Claymore and ducks into cover near the stone barn, squatting under the shadow of its several windows. He attempts to clean off some of the blood covering his suit, but meets with very little success as the spatters cover him entirely and he has no clean handkerchief to use [3].
Fire shotgun at my German oppositionists, then duck behind cover and reload.
Just a few yards to the east of Wallace von Fersen realises he is all but face to face with two startled German soldiers, both carrying standard army issue rifles with bayonets. He swings his shotgun round to shoot, but they beat him to the draw and both raise their rifles and fire. They are both crack shots, famed throughout their regiment for their sharpshooting! They aim straight [6]! They aim true [6]! But the Viking God of Miracles swoops down from his resting place on high, and by his amazing instincts von Fersen is thrust aside at the last minute by the smallest distance [6]. Von Fersen's pipe is shattered! Von Fersen jumps in astonishment! He inadvertantly dodges the second bullet!
The battle fever full upon him, the feisty Swedish noble hastily unloads the second barrel upon the similarly second German [1]. The gun explodes! There is a great deal of smoke!
When all the smoke finally clears from before von Fersen's burning face, he finds that where the second German once stood there now remains nothing but a pair of legs in black leather boots. With a slight feeling of ennui he also notices that his left eye appears to be severely injured, affecting his eyesight. If only he had some fine brandy. Or a pipe.
Item Lost! Finely crafted pipe
Item Lost! Two shotgun shells
Item Lost! Double barreled shotgun
Wound Acquired! Severely Injured Right Eye (-2 to aiming)
Search the slain Germans for a weapon, then follow Wallace regardless, readying my top hat. Especially in case they bring out something akin to a panzerfaust. In that case, fling the rocket into the air with the top hat.
Moving forwards from where he dismounted the car and up past Smith, Wellington searches the first fallen German for a weapon, sure that he had seem him firing a revolver mere seconds ago. Perhaps in too great and too ungentlemanly a hurry, he finds nothing of use [2]. He passes on steadily, across the gap between outhouse and barn, and comes up to Wallace and the horribly butchered pair on the ground whose blood the Scot is futilely attempting to clean from his suit. He again searches the slain Germans for a weapon, but manages to find nothing that is fit for him to brandish [3], so crouches in Observing Snow Leopard Stance and readies his top hat just as he hears movement from the nearest barn door.
A German bursts out, armed with a large and strange looking weapon that he carries in an ungainly manner upon his shoulder. He sees the Englishman crouching in the shadows 10 feet from him, and backs away a few feet before aiming the weapon. It resembles some kind of steam powered rocket.
The German fires! There is a loud hiss of steam in the frozen night air. With the reflexes of the feral badger, Wellington flings his top hat at the infernal contraption [6+1] and bats the projectile away! It flies at a right angle from its intended target, crashing through the barn door before exploding with the force of a half dozen vengeful and holy handgrenades. Much moaning and screaming comes from inside! The barn starts to creak and to shake; it is clearly on the point of collapse. There is a great deal of smoke!
Enraged and ashamed, the German flings down his steam powered projectile launcher and rushes straight at Wellington, entrenching tool at the ready.
Item Lost! Top hat
At this great and unexpected noise, three figures can be seen bursting from the back door of the outhouse just West of the exploding barn, although they are barely distinguishable through the smoke.
One of them is shouting at the handful of crew around the Escape Contraption in a frantic manner; he appears to be commanding them to work faster. It seems that within a minute they will be climbing aboard the Flying Device.
Sneak onto the Zep. Find a disguise.
A hundred yards behind this raging inferno, and now considerably enlightened on the subject of the Perthshire bagpipe tradition, John Link realises the time to make a decisive move is now. He moves up, sprinting with the stealthy guile of the Belgian Ox [6] using the cover of the various explosions to travel a mighty distance, over low walls, past the injured von Fersen, past the crumbling barn, past the burning battlefield and onto the Zeppelin - for it thus, the German Flying Escape Contraption! It is LZ2, the second of Count Ferdinand von Zeppelin's Airship Zeppelins! Link recalls having heard some idle talk about this contraption's predecessor LZ1 whilst dining recently at the Turf Club. This one is a large and mighty looking machine.
Link sneaks successfully on to the forward control platform [4], a large open wicker basket nearly 20 feet long and 10 feet into the air. Climbing the ladder, he sees that there is not yet anyone on board, but there are several crew members bustling about below.
He finds a passable disguise [4+1], the standard greatcoat of the Imperial German Navy worn by the airship's captain and a navy captain's hat. He pulls on the greatcoat; he pops the hat on his head at a jaunty angle like a true seaman; he is become Johannes von Link, Commander of the Luftshiff Zeppelin Zwei!
Skill Acquired! Stealth of the Belgian Ox! (+1 to stealthiness)
Pick up my revolver, call for a medic, and shoot the zeppelin.
Henry McGeenyton is lying prone on the ground south of the farm buildings when he barely notices the stealthy shadow of Link pass him on the way north. He reaches for his revolver, and picks it up with the ease of an expert [5]. He calls for a medic to attend to his light wounds, but there is none about and so none comes [3]. From a range of around 75 yards he opens fire on the enormous Zeppelin with his revolver, emptying the entire cylinder of rounds into the floating grey mass [5].
He can’t tell from where he lies, but one of the bullets penetrates the thick rubbery hide of the flying monster, but nothing happens aside from a light whooshing noise as of a very minor puncture. No effect is visible on the airship.
Item Acquired! Revolver
Clarity Spoiler
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Darvi on September 08, 2011, 05:37:36 am
Post by: Zako on September 08, 2011, 06:12:37 am
Wut.
Post by: Darvi on September 08, 2011, 06:13:49 am
Find the machine room.
Post by: Zako on September 08, 2011, 06:16:48 am
Post by: Darvi on September 08, 2011, 06:17:41 am
Post by: lawastooshort on September 08, 2011, 06:19:08 am
Oh wait I dumped the ox disguise didn't I.
It was just an expression anyway. The Belgian Ox is renowned for his fleet of footed stealthiness and you have acquired his skill. Sorry, I assumed everyone knew that, perhaps it is just Belgians.
re: the engine room - the controls are in your wicker basket, the engine is under the main body of the Zeppelin, connected to the propeller at the back. The rear wicker basket is for passengers and stuff (early Zeppelins weren't very luxurious).
Edit:
Oh Zako got there first.
However, the three crew members are in fact on the ground, just preparing it for takeoff.
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Another edit: oh well. A [1] or a [6] at mooing would have been sweet.
Post by: Darvi on September 08, 2011, 06:31:30 am
Post by: Firelordsky on September 08, 2011, 07:07:01 am
Post by: areyoua on September 08, 2011, 03:07:55 pm
If only, if only, right?
Chase after the Germans, get a rock to hit in their direction if there is one, or try to catch and attack them with my walking
Post by: Geen on September 08, 2011, 06:56:11 pm
Call for medical aid, and
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on September 08, 2011, 10:18:23 pm
Post by: scriver on September 09, 2011, 03:01:53 am
Also, later that night (or I guess the next?), over a good vintage of suitable gentlemanly booze, compose an epic poem and ode to those lost in the Service of the King. Eight verses each to the eye and the pipe, I think would be decent, I think. Because surely, such a fine eye and pipe I will never see again.
edit: Also, what kind of messed up luck is that? Six! Six! Six! Six! ONE! Also all the other sixes of yours. I tell you, the rest of you also have such grave unluck awaiting you if you continue rolling like that!
Still, completely awesome.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 09, 2011, 03:16:01 am
edit: Also, what kind of messed up luck is that? Six! Six! Six! Six! ONE! Also all the other sixes of yours. I tell you, the rest of you also have such grave unluck awaiting you if you continue rolling like that!
I know :(
I've all but rolled the turn and there is some grave unluck :(
I feel really bad (not about your eye, time and brandy might fix that), but I did say to myself if this is another [1] he is in serious trouble. Now, what is the worst that could happen...
edit: If I forget about your epic ode remind me and you can do it during the debrief, if you are still alive.
Oh - also, some of the [2]s, [3]s, and [4]s are a little dull so I tend to mark them a little less often.
Post by: scriver on September 09, 2011, 03:57:56 am
Post by: lawastooshort on September 09, 2011, 05:52:55 am
He Passes Out From The Pain.
Cartwheel over to my grounded top hat, put it on, then remark at the German's caddishness for using such a foul and unfair tactic.
As the fratricidal German raises his entrenching tool menacingly next to the smouldering barn, Wellington cartwheels gracefully past him, dodging the swinging blow [4]. Bewildered, the German turns round to face his foe, only to see Wellington pick up his hat and place it stylishly upon his noble head [3+1]. He admonishes his opponent for using such a foul and unfair tactic [6+1] and, to his surprise, the German replies.
“Terribly sorry old chap, I should have known better. Spent a year at Eton in my youth don’t you know. Father was a diplomat, God rest his soul. Please, let us fight a duel by way of an apology. Do you wish to choose your weapon?”
Gentlemanliness Increased! Saving an opponent from his own caddishness!
Find some cables. Or anything on the controls that are easily detachable, take some time to repair, and can't be spotted at first glance. Detach them.
Floating serenely above the battlefield on board the LZ1, Link searches around for an easily concealable method of sabotaging the airship [5]. He fumbles about under the steering wheel and finds what appears to be a wire connecting the steering wheel to the rudders at the back of the ship. Indeed, when he pulls the wire from underneath, the steering wheel turns a little. Experimentation complete, he discreetly rips it out [3]. That should take the blighters some time to put right, he thinks to himself with no small measure of contentment. Nothing awry is visible from where he stands in the wicker command post.
Call for medical aid, and shoot the rope connecting the zeppelin to the ground.
Nothing awry, that is, other than his companion McGeenyton firing upon the craft to which Link finds himself attached! The Englishman, still on the floor over 70 yards away, shoots his revolver at one of the two ropes connecting the airship to the earth, but the bullets whiz past under the massive craft with no effect [2]. Feeling and restraining a strong urge to use moderately vulgar language, McGeenyton calls out for some medical aid [3]. To his dismay, no medical professionals are present on the battlefield, and none come to his assistance. He wonders if he should just get up and address the problem with a stiff upper lip.
Chase after the Germans, get a rock to hit in their direction if there is one, or try to catch and attack them with my walkingbatstick if there are no rocks.
Back in the centre of the struggle and in the shadow of the colossal airship, Smith spots the German spy and his two chaperones fleeing from the outhouse as the neighbouring barn finishes exploding into smoke and dust. He searches about the ground to find a rock to hit in the direction of the fleeing trio [6], and happens to find a perfectly rounded half brick, shaped almost exactly like a sharpened
Imbued with the spirit of a great English cricketer, Smith tosses the half brick into the air, and a little before it touches the earth he uses his walking
Several yards furhter on, the half brick slices through the rearmost rope that was until seconds ago keeping the Zeppelin tied securely in place. With a near silent twang of a sound, the rope breaks clean in two.
The Zeppelin, now moored with only one rope, starts to shift about in the wind. The remaining rope creaks under the strain in the frosty cold night, barely holding the five hundred foot airship in place as it starts to struggle in the breeze.
Von Hildebrand and the Zeppelin captain, leaving behind their fallen companion, flee towards the captain’s airship and the spy’s escape. Von Hildebrand easily outpaces the portly officer and sees the last rope secure and taut connecting the Zeppelin to the ground, shining like a ropey beacon in the moonlight.
With contraband briefcase dangling from his left wrist, he makes an athletic leap as high as he can up the rope, and begins to shimmy his way up like some cunning Germanic circus performer, ignoring the increasingly strong movement of the dirigible. He pulls himself over the edge of the wicker basket just as he notices below him a sprinting gentleman tear towards the German flight engineers, apparently wielding some form of Scottish and lethal weapon.
He hauls himself to his feet, and comes face to face with Link. Von Hildebrand sees through his disguise immediately.
“I say. Who the ruddy heck are you sir?”
Run as fast as I can to the flying box and proceed to beat the crap out of the Germans with the bowling-ball-on-a-chain.
Underneath von Hildebrand, Link, and the Zeppelin’s protesting rope, the bloodthirsty Scottish fiend Wallace runs as fast as he can towards the three German flight engineers who were readying the craft [4], swirling the bowling-ball-on-a-chain about his head as he charges in a berserker frenzy. The Germans see him approach; they stop their preparatory tasks and draw their revolvers from their pockets, taking aim to shoot just as Wallace crashes uncontrollably into their midst like a tailored chain wielding tsunami.
He strikes first at the German on the right [6]! The bowling-ball-on-a-chain decapitates his victim entirely! The head goes flying away like a medieval golf ball, careening wildly into the back end of the Zeppelin, which now slowly starts turning clockwise, as if to describe a circle with the foremost basket, Mr John Link, and the German spy at its central point. The headless German is struck down!
Wallace, still twirling like a bowling dervish, smashes into the second German and connects fully with his chest [5], sending him flying back several dozen feet. He is in great pain! He is struck down! There is a blood spatter upon the ground!
As Wallace continues to turn like a deathly whirlpool of tartan inspired wrath, the third German engineer manages to hold his aim long enough at this spinning madman to fire off a shot, shooting the Scot in the leg. He is gravely wounded! He continues to spin! In his bloodcurdling rage he tries to subdue the offending German with his bowling-ball-on-a-chain, but as he turns to spin in his opponent's direction his leg gives way and he trips horribly, tumbling to the ground [1-1].
Alas, the bowling-ball-on-a-chain does not stop its rotational dance of death, and it impacts with frightful force upon the icy ground and is stuck within. Carried on by the awful momentum, Wallace ceases temporarily to be a Scot; he briefly becomes a Scot-on-a-chain, before being catapulted away and flung violently into the air [1].
Somersaulting gracefully through the night sky, he flies with considerable force into the remaining rope tethering the Zeppelin [1]. The force of the blow tears the rope from its mooring, and the Zeppelin starts to drift gently into the air, continuing its clockwise orbit, as Thomas Wallace falls limply to the ground.
He passes out from the pain!
Wound Acquired! Shattered Thigh! Severe Difficulty Standing!
Item Lost! Bowling-ball-on-a-chain!
Wound Acquired! Particularly Bad Whiplash! Unpleasant Headache!
Wound Acquired! Injured Spine! Difficulty Moving!
Wound Acquired! Broken Left Arm! Unable to Hold Objects!
Wound Acquired! Broken Right Arm! Unable to Hold More Objects!
Wound Acquired! Damaged Skull!
Wound Acquired! Bruised Brain!
Wound Acquired! Unconscious!
Wound Acquired! Struck Down!
Wound Acquired! Deceased!
Caddishness Increased! Grotesque Public Display of Emotion (subcategory: bloodcurdling rage)
Gentlemanliness Increased! Sacrifice for King and Country
Overcome pain and shock for the Glory of the Empire, then wield umbrella and charge one of the men untying the zeppelin. The rope position must be taken and held!
Not far away, von Fersen witnesses this horrible scene, and vows to overcome the pain and shock afflicting him in order to secure the airship for the Empire, hoping to reconnect the escaping rope. He succeeds admirably, feeling an incredible Imperial strength coursing through his veins [6]. He charges the German who shot Wallace, brandishing his umbrella with the ferocious calmness of a man used to the carnage of battle and the glory of victory. The German turns to face him, and he shoots at the instant von Fersen strikes with his deadly umbrella. The German pulls the trigger; the gun jams! Von Fersen attempts to run him through with his improvised weapon but despite his Imperially inspired strength he fails to wound his opponent, striking ineffectively [2+1].
As von Fersen and the German circle each other warily, von Fersen too busy to try to secure the dangling ropes, the captain of the Zeppelin, left behind by von Hildebrand, realises his airship is escaping him, and is running desperately after it. Catching up, he tries to jump up to the trailing rearmost mooring rope, but fails to get a handhold, and crashes to the floor.
He gets to his knees as he sees the still turning Zeppelin rise beyond reach with von Hildebrand and Link aboard, and shakes his fists in the air, howling in German.
“Damn you, you English Pig dogs! Damn your eyes! My ship! My ship! My beloved ship…”
Clarity Spoiler
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Darvi on September 09, 2011, 05:54:35 am
Post by: scriver on September 09, 2011, 06:23:21 am
Post by: Firelordsky on September 09, 2011, 06:53:01 am
Anyways, I'll put up my waiting list character in the afternoon.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 09, 2011, 07:13:52 am
Dear Mrs Wallace,
I am terribly sorry to inform you of your son’s tragic death in the service of the King.
He was an extraordinarily brave young man, noted among his peers for his excellent and heroic ability to lead charges against the enemy.
I hereby attempt, using the testimony of his closest colleagues, to recreate the events leading up to his horrific departure from this world.
It appears that he was in pursuit of an enemy of the realm who was intent on bringing great misfortune to the British Empire. Leading the charge with no thought of his own personal safety, he valiantly struck down two superiorly armed opponents to break the enemy’s line. Seeing the attendants to the enemy’s dastardly war machine preparing it for use, he attempted to engage them in personal combat in order to prevent the functioning of the aforementioned war machine.
Having lost his Mighty Claymore, he charged at the enemy equipped only with a bowling-ball-on-a-chain and his honour. He swung this first weapon about his head, and as the enemy attempted to shoot him down he slew first one and then a second. Unfortunately the enemy’s numbers were too great; he was shot in the leg sustaining a grievous wound, having completely failed to dodge the enemy bullet.
The bowling-ball-on-a-chain he swirled about his head, braining his enemies to the left and to the right, was of considerable mass. As Mr Wallace stumbled and fell after sustaining this leg wound, the bowling-ball-on-a-chain continued to turn, and slammed forcefully into the ground. It became stuck. Unfortunately he was still attached, and was propelled into the air on the other end of the bowling-ball-on-a-chain, whereupon the physical pain must have become too great, for his grip loosened, and he was flung off into the air.
At considerable height he struck the enemy war machine and fell, tumbling many feet to the ground
I know that it may not afford you a great deal of comfort in this moment of loss, but it has been recounted to me that your son’s brave, heroic, and extraordinarily unlucky death was both quick and painless. Mr Wallace was perhaps our most gentlemanly of gentlemen, and as such I shall be writing to both the Prime Minister and the King himself to recommend him for a posthumous Knighthood.
I can only express my deepest condolences from both me and Mr Wallace’s gentlemanly colleagues.
Yours sincerely,
Sir William Melville
Post by: Zako on September 09, 2011, 07:39:45 am
EDIT: And on that note, I finally get round to posting my character sheet!
Name: Charles Cavendish
Nationality: English of course, old chap!
Relation: Why surely you know of my brother, a famous boxing champion? His gentlemanly ways are spoken of throughout the country!
Skill: Practiced boxer (+1 to fisticuffs)
Trait: Stiff upper lip (Reduction to bodily damage)
Item: A Napkin.
Bio: A tall and muscled man of grand stature, Charles has a square jaw, dark brown hair, large meaty hands with calloused knuckles, a finely curled mustache of the proper style which is family tradition and is judged by many ladies to be somewhat ruggedly handsome. He wears a tailoured Saville Row suit, of course only the true gentlemen wear such suits, and a top hat when he is outside. His brother is the famous gentleman, Lawence Cavendish, a champion boxer who has held the title for 3 years running and tutored his younger brother to take the title later in life. After a boxing duel with a gang of caddish robbers who were troubling a pair of ladies, he was picked up by MIG for such gentlemanly conduct.
Post by: scriver on September 09, 2011, 08:20:09 am
Also, action, now that I'm back on my computer:
Oh, William, I hardly knew ye! Quite literally even, seeming as it was just a few hours ago we met. Nonetheless! Your demise shall be avenged! Fall upon the German with righteous fury with the umbrella, or if all else fails just attempt to wrestle him down.
Also, later, add a few verses to poem in honour of Wallace. He might not have been as faithful a companion as the pipe, but he did have his uses.
Post by: areyoua on September 09, 2011, 03:30:29 pm
Poor Wallace. Less foreign than I, but no less a man.
Look around, if there are no Germans other than the one from Etin, which I think there aren't, carry Wallace in a dignified fashion to a place more appropriate to a gentleman of his caliber. Then pick up my hat. If there are Germans, tell them they can't possibly imagine that getting themselves killed would be of any use now that the Zeppelin is in the air, and hope they surrender.
Post by: Firelordsky on September 09, 2011, 03:59:22 pm
Post by: Darvi on September 09, 2011, 04:07:26 pm
"Ich würde mal sagen dass es schlecht aussieht. Die Steuerung ist außer Gefecht gesetzt, es gibt also keine Möglichkeit um noch großartig irgendwo hin zu kommen.
Reich mir die Pläne rüber die du mit dir rumträgst. Ich hab eine Idee."
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on September 09, 2011, 05:28:23 pm
Post by: Geen on September 09, 2011, 09:25:41 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 10, 2011, 08:40:49 am
In the aftermath of Mr Thomas Wallace's sad death, the remaining gentlemen show no visisble emotional reaction, for they are gentlemen.
And yet - reaction there is! The fall of the noble Scot inspires his surviving fellow gentlemen to ever greater acts of gentlemanry, greater even than those that they have perpetrated thus far, the first of which is von Fersen's righteous and furious vengeance on the German whose wounding shot led to Wallace's premature demise.
Fall upon the German with righteous fury with the umbrella, or if all else fails just attempt to wrestle him down.
Also, later, add a few verses to poem in honour of Wallace. He might not have been as faithful a companion as the pipe, but he did have his uses.
As the German and the poetry-composing Swede circle each other against the backdrop of the smoking ruins of the barn, von Fersen temporarily lets slip his mask of cool control as the effects of the loss of an acquaintance, one half of his vision, and, dearest of all, his finest pipe accumulate and express themselves in one deadly umbrella thrust [5]. Taken unawares by this sudden and accurate fury, the German is run through! His spleen is bruised! He is struck down, and Wallace, in part, is avenged. Von Fersen brushes down his evening jacket to re-establish a minimum of decorum and redirects his mental and emotional energy to his memorial ode.
"Alas, poor Wallace," he begins to himself, before pausing for further inspiration. "Not exactly a pipe, but still with some utility; you helped to save your king; you death was not mere futility"
Von Fersen nods to himself, considering the remainder of his composition.
Poor Wallace. Less foreign than I, but no less a man.
Look around, if there are no Germans other than the one from Eton, which I think there aren't, carry Wallace in a dignified fashion to a place more appropriate to a gentleman of his caliber. Then pick up my hat. If there are Germans, tell them they can't possibly imagine that getting themselves killed would be of any use now that the Zeppelin is in the air, and hope they surrender.
There are two Germans left upon the field of battle - Wellington's duellist, and the despairing Zeppelin captain - a navy commander of thirty years who had dreamed since his earliest childhood of going down with his ship if ever he met defeat.
As Winston Smith approaches him, hoping that he can understand English well enough to be captured, the captain rises. He draws his sword, and offers it hilt forwards in surrender. He has nothing left to fight for; his ship is lost; his dreams shattered.
Shed a single tear for our beloved fallen comrade, and avenge him by killing the Germans.
But! As the captain draws his sword to surrender, out of nowhere there appears the until recently terribly wounded Henry McGeenyton, who, having seemingly recovered from his incapacitating light left hip wound, rushes belatedly to the centre of the battlefield.
Sword drawn and revolver unholstered, he charge the only German he sees: the surrendering Zeppelin commander. Shedding a single tear [5], he raises his sword to strike the commander of his fellow gentleman's slayer, and trips over some fallen rubble from the demolished barn [1]! He flies headlong into the dirt,and as he picks himself up he sees Winston Smith accept the German's sword in surrender.
McGeenyton stands up, simultaneously realising his error, cursing his apparently inferior footway that keeps bringing him crashing to the ground, and offering out his hand to the German.
"I say," he says. "Mr Henry McGeenyton at your service. I believe you are my colleague's prisoner? Good show old boy."
Ungentlemanly disaster is averted.
As a condition of his surrender, Smith obliges the captain to help the two gentlemen move Wallace's body in a dignified manner [5] to an appropriate resting place. The captain informs them of a small cart he had been using as a dining table in the outhouse an hour before - they take Wallace there, clear the cart, and lay the body upon it and cover it with a clean white sheet. As befits a gentleman, he is laid to temporary rest with honour and respect.
Prepare for a duel!
Whilst the other surviving earthbound German, his captain, formally surrenders, Gunther Stoph - for that is his name - is preparing for a duel with the noble Englishman William Wellington. They both agree that circumstances dictate that the duel should be fought immediately, before any officers of the law are attracted by the recent loud explosion of the barn and attempt to put a stop to their gentlemanly dispute.
"My good sir," Stoph enquires. "You may choose the weapon with which we fight. Do we duel to the death? To first strike? Or to first severe and indescribably unpleasant wound which allows us no longer to fight?"
Talk to the chap carrying the plans around. Prepare to engage in fisticuffs if he starts acting hostile.
"Ich würde mal sagen dass es schlecht aussieht. Die Steuerung ist außer Gefecht gesetzt, es gibt also keine Möglichkeit um noch großartig irgendwo hin zu kommen und deine Mutter ist ein Schwein!
Reich mir die Pläne rüber die du mit dir rumträgst. Ich hab eine Idee. Nicht wirklich, sie riecht nach faulendem Fisch!"
Floating far from serenely - indeed, they are vigourously buffeted by the rising wind - above these tremendous and moving mutual displays of gentlemanship, John Link is alone with von Hildebrand, the German spy - and the precious blueprints in the airship's control basket. He starts, in German, to try to persuade the spy to give him the plans but his language skills go heroically and incompetently awry in the heat of action [1]! Not in the least bit persuaded, in every bit enraged and insulted, the German draws his dagger and lunges forward. But the spy is so angry that, as he moves in on Link to avenge his mother's honour and Link sidesteps briskly out of harm's way, he loses balance in the rocking wicker basket.
Von Hildebrand slips; he tumbles forward; he regains his footing again as he falls against the walls of the basket.
And at that moment, a sudden gust of wind causes the Zeppelin to lurch horribly to one side, and von Hildebrand, with a cry, is thrown overboard.
Dusting his hands together, Link walks carefully over to where the German has just disappeared. Both hands on the parapet of the wicker control basket, he leans over, only to see the spy clinging desperately on to the basket with one hand, still clasping the briefcase in the other. Abandoning his faulty German, Link addresses him in English above the roar of the wind.
"I say old bean!" he calls out. "What on earth are you doing down there?"
Post by: Darvi on September 10, 2011, 09:02:13 am
Post by: lawastooshort on September 10, 2011, 09:07:47 am
What the fuck is up with the quote-manipulation?
A [1].
Post by: Darvi on September 10, 2011, 09:18:06 am
Post by: areyoua on September 10, 2011, 10:00:23 am
Offer to be Wellington's second, but first pick up my precious top hat. It's probably got a hole in it, though...
I've got a better idea...
I don't think trying to down the Zeppelin while Link is in it is that good of an idea.
Post by: scriver on September 10, 2011, 10:08:41 am
Still looks stupid though. Looks as if I suddenly developed a bad case of tourettes.[1]:s tend to do that with ya :P
Post by: Geen on September 10, 2011, 01:32:06 pm
Post by: areyoua on September 10, 2011, 02:32:28 pm
Post by: Darvi on September 10, 2011, 02:41:47 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 10, 2011, 02:46:48 pm
Do I get to keep the sword, I wonder. (1)
Offer to be Wellington's second, but first pick up my precious top hat. It's probably got a hole in it, though... (2)
I don't think trying to down the Zeppelin while Link is in it is that good of an idea. (3)
1 - Unless someone can be bothered to wiki-prove me otherwise, yes, I think you get to keep the fine sword.
2 - You might get a [6] and a perfectly healthy hat.
3 - It could just work.
ninjafied:
he doesn't know I'm on board.
No, I suppose he might not, and hurling explosive pocket watches at Zeppelins is a time-honoured way of bringing them down without too much collateral damage. You might get a [6].
Post by: Geen on September 10, 2011, 02:55:07 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 10, 2011, 02:58:07 pm
Something more... exploding... ;)
But then I would probably have had to send at least one waiting list related PM.
Post by: Geen on September 10, 2011, 06:10:03 pm
I'm smarter than that.
Post by: areyoua on September 11, 2011, 08:48:39 pm
3 - It could just work.
Oh well, I was kind of hoping for something else...
Something more... exploding... ;)
But then I would probably have had to send at least one waiting list related PM.
I know a hint when I see one, and I also know that the All-England Club hasn't gotten a mention yet.
Find another rock, and serve it sky high at the zeppelin, whilst hoping that I don't double fault (even though this is the first serve). Don't forget to say the score. Also, still pick up my top hat.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on September 11, 2011, 10:56:20 pm
Post by: Darvi on September 12, 2011, 05:05:52 am
Find a rope. Attach it to the basket if it isn't already, then climb it down with a "Lebwohl!". At the end of the rope, drop down the last few feet and roll to prevent damage.
Post by: scriver on September 12, 2011, 06:01:29 am
Anyway.
Do what I can to help Link down from the zeppelin.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 12, 2011, 10:13:23 am
Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but a gentleman’s dream! --
For the gentleman’s soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is but a gentleman’s dream! --
For the gentleman’s soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
In that case, give a speech honoring the heroic sacrifice of our noble deceased friend.
Seated upon a rock outside the small building wherein lies his erstwhile colleague Mr Thomas Wallace, Henry McGeenyton declaims an ode to the passing of the gentlemen spies’ deceased friend.
His noble voice rises clear into the night air as the sky begins to lighten in the east.
Life is real! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Duel to the death. With my top hat. Can't pick a better weapon than the other chap, can I?
“We shall duel to the death good sir.” Wellington answers Gunther Stoph after a slight pause. “And I shall fight with my top hat.”
An irritated scowl crosses the German’s face.
“Sir, you mock me. I will not fight with a top hat. I shall use one of my dueling pistols, and I should warn you, I am a fine shot. Now you have mocked me so, I shall show no mercy. Pray, do take the second gun so we can be finished with this nonsense. ”
Wellington takes the offered pistol from the finely engraved case. Under the watchful eye of the German Zeppelin commander, who offers to be a second to Stoph whilst they wait for an available gentleman for Wellington, the two offended parties load their pistols carefully, and walk a small distance from the battlefield.
They stand face to face, and shake hands.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act like gentlemen, that each to-morrow
Find us more gentlemanly than to-day.
Is our destined end or way;
But to act like gentlemen, that each to-morrow
Find us more gentlemanly than to-day.
Find a rope. Attach it to the basket if it isn't already, then climb it down with a "Lebwohl!". At the end of the rope, drop down the last few feet and roll to prevent damage.
Above the soon-to-be dueling pair there floats John Link, aloft in his wicker basket. He looks about for a rope somewhere on board, and after the briefest of searches he finds something that, at first glance, appears to be suitable. The clear declaiming voice of McGeenyton floats up to him, seemingly stronger than the wind itself.
Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though gentlemanly and brave,
Like muffled drums and bagpipes are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
And our hearts, though gentlemanly and brave,
Like muffled drums and bagpipes are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.
Link struggles in the wind-swung Zeppelin, but finally manages to attach the rope to the side. “Lebwohl!” he shouts, as he climbs down, swinging precariously in the stiff breeze, having apparently forgotten the German spy still, in a fashion, on board the dirigible.
Find another rock, and serve it sky high at the zeppelin, whilst hoping that I don't double fault (even though this is the first serve). Don't forget to say the score. Also, still pick up my top hat.
As Link nears halfway to the ground, arms tiring from climbing down nigh on a hundred feet, a small rock passes by him at a startling speed, the whoosh in his ears letting him know he has had a close escape. He continues his descent, and a split second later hears a bloodcurdling “SCHWEINHUND!” bellow down from above.
Less than a second later a briefcase falls past him, still grasped by what appears to be von Hildebrand’s arm.
“I say,” proclaims Smith, learning fast the ways of the English gentleman, as the briefcase falls at his feet, “Game, set and all that, what?”
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, and bravely, in the living Present!
Gentlemen below, and gentle Link o'erhead!
Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act, and bravely, in the living Present!
Gentlemen below, and gentle Link o'erhead!
Do what I can to help Link down from the zeppelin.
As McGeenyton carries on with his lamenting ode, von Fersen looks up in surprise when he sees the all important briefcase fall to the ground between him and Smith. He continues looking up in surprise when he sees Link dangling off a rope fifty feet in the air, trailing underneath the wind-driven dirigible. The end of the rope drifts past him where he stands, and he strolls, nay, he is nearly provoked to a mild sprint as he chases after it and holds it firm.
He pulls it taut as Link approaches the ground. Link feels the loss of slack and glances down, sees von Fersen, and gracefully slides the remaining length to the floor, landing with a nimble roll like the noble acrobat he is.
“Good morning sirs,” he addresses to von Fersen and Smith. “We appear to have possession of the troublesome briefcase. I think this calls for a cigar. I say, what on earth is Wellington up to with that Prussian?”
Lives of great gentlemen all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Gentlemanly footprints on the sands of time;
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Gentlemanly footprints on the sands of time;
The three gentlemen walk over to where Wellingon and Stoph stand face to face, waiting for a second so as to be able to start their duel. Smith offers to be that awaited second, and the pair walk a distance apart, both anxious for satisfaction to be gained. They turn to face each other, and as they do so, Wellington carefully places his dueling pistol on the ground.
He takes off his top hat, and prepares to wield it in his hand, and as he does so, the look on Stoph’s face passes from anger, to bewilderment, to astonishment.
“To the death?” he asks, again. “What the blazes?”
“To the death,” comes Wellington’s unchanging reply. “You may fire away; I’ve always preferred a good hat. Start the duel, Link; drop your napkin and give the sign man. Let’s be done with this.”
Stoph lowers his gun to shoot; Wellington pulls back his arm to throw; Link drops his white and ironed napkin to start.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to fight for King and country; to-morrow
Be more gentlemanly in every way.
Is our destined end or way;
But to fight for King and country; to-morrow
Be more gentlemanly in every way.
From the right of the field where Stoph stands there is a flash and a bang, a cloud of smoke rises slowly above the German’s head, and is swiftly sliced apart by a careering top hat. Both parties have missed, and missed impressively. Walking over to collect his top hat and straighten it out, Wellington clears his throat with some embarrassment and asks,
“I say, that was dreadfully poor. What are the chances? Shall we try again?”
The German takes the loaded pistol Wellington abandoned a minute or two ago, and they once again take position.
As the German’s pistol goes off, the smoke obscures his vision such that he never notices the top hat murderously flung toward his imposing forehead; being a true gentleman he would not have moved if he had.
He topples to the floor, hands clutching his head, the top hat protruding from the fatal wound.
Wellington strolls over nonchalantly, yet respectfully, and removes his top hat. Alas, it is no longer recognisable; it is a crumpled disc; it is a former top hat: a ruin of its past glory. Reminded by this distasteful sight Smith walks off to find his own hat.
Footprints, that perhaps another,
Not yet flung from bowling ball and chain,
A not yet broken, cruelly smashed brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
Not yet flung from bowling ball and chain,
A not yet broken, cruelly smashed brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.
A few feet from McGeenyton, Smith spies his hat and bends down to pick it up. He dusts it off; as he goes to place it upon his head he sees the single hole through the middle.
He raises it to the dawning sky to the east to look through the hole in thought and wonderment, and as he does he sees beyond his hat, silhouetted against the first rays of the sun, a man hanging on to the side of a Zeppelin, floating off across the sea.
“I say,” he says. “Von Hildebrand. Gosh.”
Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a stiff upper lip for any fate;
Still gentlemanly spying, and still pursuing,
Learning to eat fine caviar and pate.
Bugger, I meant pâté. Blast.
With a stiff upper lip for any fate;
Still gentlemanly spying, and still pursuing,
Learning to eat fine caviar and pate.
Bugger, I meant pâté. Blast.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 12, 2011, 10:16:21 am
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Darvi on September 12, 2011, 10:31:05 am
>Napkin: Drop.
Sod it.
Post by: scriver on September 12, 2011, 11:12:07 am
"Ah job bloody well done, say you not? No air ship, unfortunately, but I am certain this will be enough. Now, I would call for celebration and good spirits, but I believe we have some fare wells to say first."
Walk over to the house and pick up the pieces of my fallen
Post by: lawastooshort on September 12, 2011, 03:57:13 pm
10.14pm, Friday 18th January 1906, Oxford Street, London.
After having seen to Wallace's body the five remaining gentlemen spies had a long drive back to Oxford Street, where Sir William Melville had a fine restorative breakfast prepared for them and where, after a long nap in his luxurious bedrooms, the five gentlemen had congregated back in Melville's fine Georgian drawing room. It had undergone a few repairs since the night before, but still showed the signs of the desperate struggle that had taken place. They sat now about the long table that had been brought into the centre of the room to cover one of the bloodstains.
Melville, as is his wont, rises at the head of the table with a cigar in one hand and a glass of brandy in the other.
"Gentlemen. I hereby propose a toast." Murmurs of approval ripple around the room.
"To Mr Thomas Wallace. He fought for King and Country; he died of being too perfect a gentleman. Except the bloodthirstiness, of course. We shan't speak about that. He fought for his liege, and he fought for his comrades in nobleship; he died of overwhelming internal injuries, and he died of a fate inflicted by his own idiot hand."
"He died," and here Melville reaches an excitable crescendo, "he died because he dared. He dared to be the perfect gentleman, and in all he did he strove towards that great ideal. Well, since last night, at least. And he was a bit bloodthirsty perhaps. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I've been speaking to the prime minister, and we're going to put the fellow forward for a posthumous knighthood. It's the least I can do, and I'd do the same for everyone of you fine men. So raise your glasses again. To Sir Thomas Wallace!"
In the cosy drawing room with the roaring fire, glasses clink and cries of "To Sir Thomas Wallace!" bounce back and forth across the masterwork mahogany table. The cries are loud and joyous; many a cigar and glass of port has been finished off since the gentlemen arose in the late afternoon.
"Now," continues Melville, "back to business, as distasteful as the word is. The King himself is rather pleased at the efforts of last night; it seems that in the briefcase you brought me back Link were not just the blueprints but also the details of the Dreadnought's armour plating. If the Germans had got hold of that they could have wiped out the considerable advantage we hope to gain with her construction."
"I am most definitely going to have more work for you - indeed, I should wish that, should you wish to continue in this fine and gentlemanly line of work, that the five of you meet me for dinner, here, in exactly one week. I am very sure that I will need your efforts; I have received a telegram this afternoon that has slightly perturbed my calm. Until then, you are dismissed. Spend well your time sirs, knowing that a gentleman's life, if he is a true gentleman, can be extinguished in one moment - whether that one moment be a moment of inspired folly, or a moment of insipid fate. Good night sirs, and God bless."
Item Acquired! Wellington acquires two fine dueling pistols!
Item Acquired! Wellington acquires a ruined top hat!
Item Acquired! Von Fersen acquires remnants of a finely engraved pipe!
Item Acquired! Smith acquires a ruined top hat!
Item Acquired! Link acquires a briefcase!
Gentlemanliness Increased! Wellington fights a duel!
Gentlemanliness Increased! The Gentlemen save King and Country!
Skill Acquired! McGeenyton acquires Tedious Oratory! (+1 to chance of speeches taking so long the enemy is negatively affected! Increases chances of Death by Dull Conversation!)
Time Acquired! You have one week! What will you do?
Post by: Darvi on September 12, 2011, 03:59:51 pm
Post by: Firelordsky on September 12, 2011, 08:37:34 pm
Post by: Geen on September 12, 2011, 09:25:55 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on September 12, 2011, 09:32:06 pm
Post by: scriver on September 13, 2011, 05:05:44 am
- Compose said poem, and send it to suitably gentlemanly paper/journal for publication.
- Visit Wallace's funeral/memorial service
- Visit a doctor about my eye, and if nothing can be done, have a suitably gentlemanly eye-patch made, and inquire about other options.
- Visit London's finest pipe boutiques and repositories in search of a replacement for my old pipe. If no good enough pipe can be found, use spare pipe until further notice. Inter old pipe's remains on desk in my drawing room.
- Visit Link's tea party.
- Visit other people's parties and tell grand stories about my adventures.
- Go hunting with my most trusted old dog, so we'll at least do one more hunt together.
...I seem to be running out of week, so let's just stop here. ;)
Oh, and for the next assignment, can I bring my own rifle? And the umbrella, of course. Which seem to be a sword-umbrella, judging by my inventory sheet.
...I was not aware of that. I thought you forgot that part. But it's awesome!
Though I won't be carrying the gun myself at what I suppose will be another briefing, of course. So maybe not.
Post by: areyoua on September 13, 2011, 02:46:02 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 13, 2011, 03:34:38 pm
4.37pm, Thursday 24th January 1906, Mr John Link's fine London residence.
Return the briefcase to whomever it belongs to. Also, get those biscuits and have a tea party with the other mentlegen.
Having failed to locate the original owner of the retrieved briefcase [2], Mr John Link is instead hosting a tea party at his London residence with his new gentlemen acquaintances. The tea, served by an army of highly trained servants, is particularly good; but, in the nationwide biscuit shortage that has all of a sudden struck the country, Link has been unable to provide biscuits of sufficient quality [1]. They are, in fact, rather poor, and morale amongst the gentlemen is, accordingly, at a rather low ebb. Thoughts soon turn to other matters though.
Trait Acquired! Inferior Biscuit Acquistion! (-1 to acquiring biscuits)
Item Acquired! Dangerously Hard Biscuits!
Gentlemanliness Increased! Tea Party In Difficult (Biscuit-related) Circumstances!
Head to my residence and place my top hat inside a commemorative display case of sorts, before heading to the hat shop and purchasing the finest one I can. Afterwards, head to the mechanic and see if he can make a few... changes to the new one.
Amongst the discussions of favoured bowtie techniques and port vintages, the voice of William Wellington can be heard, recounting forlornly the substandard work done on the display case he had commissioned for his once-proud top hat [2]. The cheer does not in the slightest return to his dulcet tones when he explains that he has had difficulties obtaining a suitable replacement [1+1], but his hushed whisper draws in his audience as he describes the adjustments the Service’s mechanic has made to the previously inferior top hat that currently sits resting comfortable in the crook of his arm [6].
“Apparently,” he explains, “all one has to do is press in the maker’s badge inside” – and with that the circle of gentlemen lean in to take a closer peak – “and then the fragmentation device is armed! Remarkable, eh? Weighs the same as a normal top quality top hat, but they reckon it could take out a dozen men at a time! Explodes on impact, don’t you know.”
Item Acquired! Fragmentation Top Hat!
Ask around for any new gadgets from our loyal support team. And pay my respects to that poor Scotsman who I barely got to know.
“I say,” interjects Henry McGeenyton. “They do have some clever chappies in the mechanical division don’t they, what? They built me this double barreled cane gun for me [4], and out of respect for that dear fellow Wallace they gave it a tartan trim! Rather fetching don’t you think?”
Item Acquired! Double Barreled Walking Stick! With Tartan Trim!
Wallace's ghost comes to congratulate them on the successful mission.(What happened to my Black Watch?)
All of a sudden McGeenyton pauses for a seconds and then exclaims, as if struck by otherworldly [4] inspiration –
“I must say. I imagine that, were he here today, that poor Wallace would be sure to want to offer his congratulations, although I’m sure he wouldn’t be so ungentlemanly as to overplay his contributions, bloodcurdlingly heroic though they were. I wonder whatever happened to those brave soldiers accompanying us on the battlefield? I must be off; I shall telegram their commander to offer our thanks, gratitude, and recommendation of extra tea rations. I wonder if we shall ever fight side by side again?”
With that, McGeenyton leaves to find a butler to speak to about sending a telegram.
Gentlemanliness Increased! Gentlemanly Gratitude!
McGeenyton shakes hands with von Fersen as he leaves – the Swede has just arrived rather late, and is brandishing – rather excitably, it has to be said, but then we can forgive our continental friends such a display of emotion – a copy of Gentleman Hunter’s Weekly [4] in one hand, and his own hunting rifle in the other.
“I say chaps,” he begins, “I’m a published writer! A little vulgar, I know, but rather dashing, what? I’ve written an ode to my pipe over eight stanzas, with a little side reference to our dear Wallace. I’ve already had a letter from a lady admirer! All terribly exciting, eh? The distressing thing was that not only did I nearly miss his funeral [1], I nearly missed it because I couldn’t find my blasted rifle, and when I did find it, it accidentally went off in my bloody face and blew my eye clean off [1]. Needless to say I was a few minutes late for the funeral and my late entrance was met with considerable disapproval.”
“Luckily I’d had a rather magnificent day’s hunting the day before with my best dog [5], so having injured both my eyes severely with exploding guns wasn’t the inconvenience it might have been. And fortunately I know a bloody good surgeon on Harley Street and he fixed the right one right up, as you can see. It’s a wonder what a fine brandy can do for one, eh [5]. He said there was nothing to be done for the left eye though and plucked the rest of it right out! I say [2]. But then I did get this tremendous eye patch – particularly pleasing, I thought, it’s of especially masterful quality, 24 carat gold too with a magnificent engraving of my family crest upon it [6]. Goes well with my new pipe, don’t you think?”
Trait Acquired! Published Poet!
Trait Acquired! Dangerous Misfires! (+1 to chance of exploding guns causing injury)
Wound Acquired! Left Eye Blown Clean Off!
Wound Healed! Right Eye Healed Completely!
Item Acquired! Copy of Gentleman Hunter’s Weekly!
Item Acquired! Own Fine Hunting Rifle!
Item Acquired! Masterwork Gold Eye Patch! (+1 to Gentlemanliness when worn)
Item Acquired! Finely Crafted Pipe!
Caddishness Increased! Slightly Late For a Funeral!
At that moment, with “I says” and “Rathers” murmuring across the room, Winston Smith arrives [2].
Look for a new hat, pay respects to Wallace, go to Link's party and try to get an appointment with WG Grace to get some advice on my very violent cricketing tendencies.
"Awfully sorry old chaps. Been up in Gloucestershire training with W.G. Grace. I say, terrifically enlightening fellow, he's been working on my batting skills [6]"
"The W.G. Grace? My word!" exclaims Wellington, astounded. "I say, magnificent top hat," he adds, as a true connoisseur.
"Thanks awfully kind sir. Took me two days to find it - took the hatmaker a day just to measure my head correctly for a good fit [5]. Magnificent, as you say. Anyway, I had it done just in time for Wallace's wedding in fact, and his family were rather pleased, I have to say [6]. They gave me these, family heirloom, apparently - fancy a bit of the old bagpipes, gentlemen?"
Skill Acquired!
Item Acquired! Masterwork Top Hat! (+1 to Gentlemanliness when worn)
Item Acquired! Mysterious Ancient Bagpipes! (Mysterious)
Post by: Darvi on September 13, 2011, 03:35:20 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 13, 2011, 03:46:24 pm
On Friday the 25th January, in the year 1906, five fine gentlemen find themselves seated the library of Sir William Melville’s fine Oxford Street residence, having very recently luncheoned. It is approximately eleven minutes past the hour of one in the afternoon.
A butler enters, carrying, in one hand, the requested second bottle of port on a silver platter; in the other he carries what appears to be an umbrella.
“Excuse me von Fersen,” the butler starts, “I have a package the engineer has asked me to send up. It appears to be some form of umbrella-sword sir.”
He leaves as quietly as he entered, and von Fersen tests the umbrella-sword for weight and balance, before testing it again for comfort carried under his arm. It seems a perfect fit.
Item Acquired! Umbrella-Sword!
The gentlemen continue their discussion on the likely best runners for the year’s flat season when, another quarter of an hour later, the same butler comes back.
“Sir Melville will see you now,” says the butler, whose name might well be Jenkinson.
He leads them through to the now familiar drawing room, espionage hub of the British Empire.
Sir William Melville rises from behind his imposing desk as the gentlemen enter.
“I’ve got some bad news gentlemen; I’m going to have to send you to Switzerland. While we were all rather busy stopping those damnable Germans, a bloody Spaniard got away scot-free with some similar paperwork that was just as important. I can’t believe that idiot Pointington-Smythe-Jones as good as gave away the secrets of the King twice in one day, what. I might have to do something about him soon.”
Melville sits back down, musing for a second as he pours himself some brandy.
“I do say – help yourselves from the drinks cabinet. We’re meant to be on rather friendly terms with the Spanish, so he wasn’t suspected until it was too late and was never stopped at the border. Never bloody expected a Spanish indiscretion. I once met a Spaniard, did I ever tell you about that? It was partly because of him that I grew so fond of cheroots when I was younger. Always was a Cuban man at heart, but still, that’s what one’s youth is for, eh? A bit of experimentation?”
“Anyway, this Spaniard – not the one I met, I’ll tell you about him another time – he fled to Spain, and one of my agents picked him up in Madrid and followed him and his valise across the Pyrenees and through France to Geneva. The Swiss aren’t especially keen on all the spying going on at the moment, so when the Spaniard was… anonymously denounced, they arrested the bugger! Ha, the Spaniard wasn’t expecting an interrogation, that’s for sure. Or two years under lock and key. Problem is, we can’t find his key – the one to the left luggage locker where he left the valise with the paperwork. The Germans can’t either, but they’re not going to just give up, are they? No sirs. They were expecting to get it, and they still do.”
The spymaster rises again, and points to G, sitting until now unnoticed in the corner of the room in a comfortable chair.
“So this is where Mr… hurrumph, well, let’s just call him G, for the moment, yes… where Mr G comes in. G here has just arrived from Geneva, and apparently Count von Klinkerhoffen arrived two days ago. It’s not a coincidence, I know he’s up to no good – he’s in the Prussian intelligence don’t you know. Dined with him quite a few times in fact. Always best to keep up good relations. Bloody good shot he is, can down a grouse from about 500 feet. Fine dancer. Good rider. Well known about Mayfair too. Almost more bloody English than an Englishman, the swine. Probably doesn’t understand cricket though eh!”
“Anyway. I have reason to believe he is going to organise a break in to retrieve the blasted paperwork, there’s no other way he’s going to be able to get it for two years without the key. Gentlemen, I don’t profess to know if this is all about our fine ship, but those Germans are getting particularly frisky all ready this year. Something is afoot, and we’re damn well going to put an end to it.”
“Now. You’re going to have to be careful. The Swiss are getting quite finicky about this kind of thing, there’s just too much damn spying going on in their territory for their liking – it’s a meeting place for most of Germany and all of Europe, and they’re getting strict about it.”
“You’ll have to be discreet. I have to warn you – if you succeed in this task there’ll be very little thanks; if you fail, there’ll be even less help. Everyone around you will be foreign, you might not be able to get a decent cup of tea, and it mightn’t rain enough, but you must stop the Germans from retrieving that valise. It’s in left luggage locker 4a, Geneva Central train station. If you leave now you’ll be able to get the midday train to Dover and then get the night train to Geneva once you cross the Channel. I’ve had the butler telephone ahead to book you rooms at the Hotel Masson and your tickets will be waiting at the station. God’s speed, and all that.”
You have two hours to get to Waterloo Station. Any final preparations?
Post by: Darvi on September 13, 2011, 03:47:25 pm
And get that bow tie fixed.
Offer the new gentleman some cookies, but apologise for the bad quality.
Post by: Firelordsky on September 13, 2011, 03:55:41 pm
Post by: scriver on September 13, 2011, 04:05:36 pm
Anyway, send for my dictonaries and catch up on my knowledge of the local languages. Also do this during trip, if possible.
Post by: areyoua on September 13, 2011, 04:23:33 pm
Attempt to purchase an English-French dictionary on the way to Waterloo Station. Take one final cup of tea near Waterloo Station whilst waiting forlornly for the train that is to bring me away from easily accessible good tea.
Why must I sacrifice so much in the pursuit of gentlemanliness for Crown and Country?!
Post by: Geen on September 13, 2011, 05:06:03 pm
Post by: Hitty40 on September 13, 2011, 05:25:36 pm
Also grab a quick drink while there.
Post by: scriver on September 13, 2011, 05:59:16 pm
Addendum: Greet G as a proper gentleman should, and practice my German by speaking with him in his own language, besides getting up to date with Italian and French (which is what I meant by "local languages). I believe Elks would be a very interesting topic for him, seeming as he's German. His landsman seemed to have enjoyed it, at least.
Post by: Darvi on September 13, 2011, 06:42:07 pm
Post by: Hitty40 on September 13, 2011, 06:57:01 pm
Oh hey somebody joined?
I liked your old avatar better.
Post by: Darvi on September 13, 2011, 06:58:03 pm
Post by: Hitty40 on September 13, 2011, 06:59:30 pm
But I had to prove a point. (See signature)
Still. I liked your old avatar better.
Post by: Darvi on September 13, 2011, 06:59:56 pm
Or maybe another edited version thereof.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on September 13, 2011, 07:03:05 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 14, 2011, 03:01:42 am
The six magnificent gentlemen agree to meet at Waterloo Station two hours later in the tearooms adjacent to their platform.
Train in the usage of cookiekens.
And get that bow tie fixed.
Mr Link has spent his time training in the esoteric eastern art of cookie no Jutsu, and appears already quite knowledgeable [6] as he discusses it with von Fersen, who is doing his best to look up a few useful phrases in one of his pocket dictionaries. He also, for what seems to be the first time in a week, appears to be correctly attired, with an expertly knotted bowtie [5]. He has clearly been attended to by his butler.
Item Acquired! Expertly Knotted Bowtie!
Skill Acquired! A Basic Grounding in the Art of Cookie no Jutsu!
Anyway, send for my dictonaries and catch up on my knowledge of the local languages. Also do this during trip, if possible.
Von Fersen is, in the circumstances - given that the enthusiastic Link is telling him, at this very moment and in some detail, how the martial application of biscuits is documented to date back over three millennia on the Korean peninsula - doing very well learning several vital stock phrases [5], and seems to have his pronunciation perfected to such a degree that Smith, savouring a cup of tea next to him, simply cannot find it within his heart to inform the dear Swede that very little Dutch is spoken in Geneva. In any case, Dutch is the only dictionary that he could get sent to him in time, which seems a cruel stroke of misfortune [1].
Item Acquired! Swedish-Dutch Dictionary!
Attempt to purchase an English-French dictionary on the way to Waterloo Station. Take one final cup of tea near Waterloo Station whilst waiting forlornly for the train that is to bring me away from easily accessible good tea.
Taking in the exotic sounding syllables trotting fluently off the noble Swede's tongue, Mr Winston Smith is thoroughly enjoying what, he is fully aware, could be his last ever cup of tea; and, tea having acquired such entirely gentlemanly importance in his life, may as well indeed be his last, since fortune and fate have conspired to deprive him of this pleasure for at least several days [3]. He flicks absentmindedly through his new English-French dictionary[4], fingers lingering lovingly over the entry thé as he commits this most vital and, always, on the continent, most disappointing word to his memory.
He takes another blessed sip of his tea, and looks over his strangely and newly acquired bagpipes which, as he studies them, appear to his ears to make the faintest of sounds, as if a cat so tiny as to be invisible had fallen upon them whilst strangling itself in an unfortunate singing accident.
Item Acquired! French-English Dictionary!
Wait for the train normally, and have a cup of tea.
Wear my hat to the station.
Henry McGeenyton, looking up from his tea [3], sees Wellington arrive. His short walk to the station has passed without incident; he is wearing his new top hat [5].
Introduce myself with how much English I know, then walk to the train station with my fellow gentlemen, nary a word from me, unless asked a question.
Also grab a quick drink while there.
Wellington is accompanied by the gentlemen’s newest member ”G”, who is carrying his foreign rifle, one rumoured to pack quite a punch. He briefly introduces himself to the gentlemen over a cup of tea with the proficient English of a gentleman, and declines Link's kind and apologetic offer of an inferior quality biscuit. The other five gentlemen are particularly interested in the rifle.
Addendum: Greet G as a proper gentleman should, and practice my German by speaking with him in his own language, besides getting up to date with Italian and French (which is what I meant by "local languages). I believe Elks would be a very interesting topic for him, seeming as he's German. His landsman seemed to have enjoyed it, at least.
Testing out his German, which is really rather good [5], von Fersen enquires as to the rifle’s suitability for hunting – and hunting, in particular, the mighty Swedish Elk.
“Are you fond of the Elk?” von Fersen asks [6] “G”.
Being of the Germanic persuasion, of course, the fellow is, and his fondness is soon tested to the limit by von Fersen’s encyclopaedic knowledge of the Elk and its scat. Who, besides the Swedish, had ever known that it was once suggested that the Swedish Elk be used for a cavalry mount?
Trait Acquired! Knowledge of the Elk!
Trait Acquired! Germanic Fondness for the Elk!
The tea is drunk; the train arrives: the gentlemen board. They head to Dover.
The journey passes uneventfully; the gentlemen cross the Channel on seas considerably calmer than they were the week before and board the night train to Geneva in Calais. The fare in the dining carriage is more than acceptable; the drinks in particular pleasing to the palette and the conversation amongst the six men pleasing to the ear and the intellect. It is well into the early hours of the morning before they retire to their three Gentleman Class sleeping compartments.
...
3.13am, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Somewhere near Troyes, France
As the train heads south, passing through the home of champagne, the gentlemen are awoken by a violent commotion coming from not far down the corridor from their sleeping compartments.
Link, with his excellent German linguistic skills, awakes with a shout.
“My God!” he exclaims, waking von Fersen, who is sharing his cabin, “The Germans!”
Post by: Darvi on September 14, 2011, 04:47:49 am
Post by: lawastooshort on September 14, 2011, 04:57:35 am
Post by: scriver on September 14, 2011, 05:42:00 am
Arm myself with umbrella-sword and leave the cabin. If there is not Germans in the corridor (I guess you could call it that?), go into the other cabins and wake up fellow agents.
"Hurry, Mr Link, before the Germans locate us."
Post by: Darvi on September 14, 2011, 05:46:03 am
It was late when I typed it up. Changed it for you.Nooooooo!
Post by: lawastooshort on September 14, 2011, 06:24:42 am
It was late when I typed it up. Changed it for you.Nooooooo!
Er. Want it changed back?
Post by: Darvi on September 14, 2011, 06:25:45 am
However I cannot tell if that sentence right now was snarkastic or not.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 14, 2011, 06:35:23 am
Post by: Darvi on September 14, 2011, 06:43:26 am
Post by: lawastooshort on September 14, 2011, 06:47:52 am
a-nother genuine moment of pre-lunch confusion.
Anyway. Do you have an action?
Post by: Hitty40 on September 14, 2011, 08:06:39 am
Post by: areyoua on September 14, 2011, 02:50:54 pm
Blow on bagpipes to rouse any assistance that is still sleeping after the commotion, then grab my Walking
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on September 14, 2011, 03:21:17 pm
Post by: Darvi on September 14, 2011, 04:27:41 pm
In the face.
Post by: Geen on September 14, 2011, 05:04:45 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 15, 2011, 03:44:10 am
"What is this caddish behaviour, waking us up in the middle of the night? Such dishonour, interrupting our well needed gentlemen's slumber."
Arm myself with umbrella-sword and leave the cabin. If there is not Germans in the corridor (I guess you could call it that?), go into the other cabins and wake up fellow agents.
"Hurry, Mr Link, before the Germans locate us."
Von Fersen jumps out of bed in his night-robe and sleep-cap with a pipe in his mouth [5] in the northernmost cabin, thinking to warn his fellow gentlemen of the potential danger. He locates his umbrella-sword and tries to unlock the door and leave the cabin [1]. The doorknob falls off in his hand!
Item Acquired! Brass Doorknob!
Von Fersen turns round in confused despair.
"Hurry, Mr Link, before the Germans locate us." But Mr Link appears to have left the room. That man truly possesses the stealthiness of the Belgian Ox!
Blow on bagpipes to rouse any assistance that is still sleeping after the commotion, then grab my WalkingBatStick and prepare for battle.
Smith wakes up in the middle cabin with Link's cry of alarm coming from next door, and his first thought is to blow on his bagpipes as hard as he can, but he obviously hasn't quite mastered the technique, and barely a strangled cat's whisper comes out [2]. Sighing a resigned sigh, he grabs his walking
Wake up to the sound of the noise, grab my rifle, check if it's loaded, load if needed, andraise helltake cover.
In the same cabin “G” wakes up correctly attired upon hearing a great commotion outside his door, grabs his loaded rifle and readies himself for action taking cover in the doorway of the en-suite bathroom [4].
Let the Germans proceed while sitting down. Then, calmly stand and ask what the ruckus was about.
In the southernmost cabin he is sharing with McGeenyton, Wellington calmly sits up in bed, puts on and adjusts his top hat, and waits.
Prepare my cane gun, tell them to put their hands up.
With a polite knock and a less polite thrust of the door, Germans burst into Wellington and McGeenyton’s sleeping cabin! McGeenyton fumbles about with his double barrelled cane gun [1+1]. He manages to get it ready as they enter and avoid any accidents, but is too flustered to threaten the cads.
An officious looking German gentleman with an eye patch ushers two men into the cabin before him and then demands, in English:
“Aha! You are the English
Unflustered, unlike his perhaps less debonair but no less gentlemanly companion McGeenyton who is clearly too offended by this display to retain his calm, Wellington nonchalantly stands up from his bed and asks, in a commanding and British voice,
“What the bloody hell is the meaning of this intrusion? This kind of noise at around 3.13 in the morning is entirely unacceptable! I demand an apology! [1+1]”
The colour of the German’s face deepens to a dark red as his voice becomes high pitched with anger. His voice pierces the air throughout the entire train wagon.
“An apology? Never! Arrest these men!”
The two henchmen on either side of him rush forward to subdue Wellington and McGeenyton as, unseen in the corridor behind, two of the half dozen or so noisy Germans accompanying the German gentleman fall to the ground, clasping their throats as a biscuit flies past in the night [6].
Sneak outside. Offer the Germans some cookies.
In the face.
Having, in a stroke of good fortune, managed to exit the cabin before von Fersen locked himself in, Mr Link is standing at the end of the corridor, facing down the group of Germans armed with a hidden biscuit.
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Darvi on September 15, 2011, 06:35:04 am
If they attack me against any common sense, force feed them with pastry.
Post by: scriver on September 15, 2011, 06:52:44 am
Also, what's this about fully clothed? I imagined him fighting Germans in his night-robe and sleep-cap. With a pipe in his mouth.
Attempt to break door open with bodily force. I'll have to remember to leave a note of apology for the broken furniture later, and leave informations as to where they can get in touch with me for reimbursement.
Also I just realised we forgot about our German prisoner who I left tied up in the ditch. Dammit, I promised myself I wouldn't do that. Alas, poor von Deutschenmann! He never got to receive that Elk curio I promised him.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 15, 2011, 07:02:21 am
1 This bad luck is getting tiresome. On the other side, I guess I should be happy the doorknob didn't explode in my face ;)
2 Also, what's this about fully clothed? I imagined him fighting Germans in his night-robe and sleep-cap. With a pipe in his mouth.
3 Also I just realised we forgot about our German prisoner who I left tied up in the ditch. Dammit, I promised myself I wouldn't do that. Alas, poor von Deutschenmann! He never got to receive that Elk curio I promised him.
1 - Ooh, don't give me ideas. Edwardian furniture is prone to bouts of explosion. Hmm.
2 - Fixed that.
3 - Ah, damn. I forgot too. I'm sure he'll be ok, we can go look for him on your return from Switzerland.
Post by: scriver on September 15, 2011, 07:43:25 am
So, what you're saying is I've acquired a door knob grenade? ;D1 This bad luck is getting tiresome. On the other side, I guess I should be happy the doorknob didn't explode in my face ;)
1 - Ooh, don't give me ideas. Edwardian furniture is prone to bouts of explosion. Hmm.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 15, 2011, 07:53:03 am
Post by: areyoua on September 15, 2011, 02:56:56 pm
Peek out the door for nasty Germans on the other side, then run out and cave in some skulls (or shins if I really have the cricketing bug). Pay attention if they're just standing there, though, and don't fight them if they've surrendered.
Post by: Geen on September 15, 2011, 06:40:52 pm
Post by: Darvi on September 15, 2011, 06:41:54 pm
Seriously.
Not helping.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on September 15, 2011, 06:46:41 pm
"There is an explosive device inside here with which I can arm in a split-second and blast you and your men to smithereens. If you don't stop at this moment, heed my warning, and listen to my dear friend, your life is forfeit."
Post by: areyoua on September 15, 2011, 08:00:34 pm
Post by: Hitty40 on September 15, 2011, 08:21:21 pm
"What is going on? Can you not see we are sleeping while riding this train?"
Post by: lawastooshort on September 16, 2011, 02:29:58 am
Guys wou are ruining my attempts at diplomacy.
If they attack me against any common sense, force feed them with pastry.
You're assuming their common sense roll succeeds!
Post by: lawastooshort on September 16, 2011, 03:29:13 am
"Guten TagFreundliche Grüße die Herren. Machen Sie auch einen Mitternachtsspaziergang?"
If they attack me against any common sense, force feed them with pastry.
As the Germans turn to face Link he just about has time to address them in a polite fashion [1+1] before they realise he is in fact a deadly menace! Three of them advance down the corridor to avenge their fallen countrymen.
Just in time before they reach him Link hurls first one deadly biscuit [6] and then another [6], piercing the first German’s skull and shattering the second’s pancreas! They fall to the ground, struck down! The second biscuit passes through [6] the henchman’s pancreas and out the other side, wounding [4] the third German in the shin! He falls to the ground clutching his lower leg!
Skill Acquired! Advancing Steadily in Cookie no Jutsu!
Attempt to break door open with bodily force. I'll have to remember to leave a note of apology for the broken furniture later, and leave informations as to where they can get in touch with me for reimbursement.
Behind Link, von Fersen tries to shoulder barge his way through the door in his night-robe [3]. But the French, inferior though their door-furniture may be, clearly make high quality doors – he can’t quite break it down! It certainly looks damaged now though.
Peek out the door for nasty Germans on the other side, then run out and cave in some skulls (or shins if I really have the cricketing bug). Pay attention if they're just standing there, though, and don't fight them if they've surrendered.
Smith slowly opens the door and peeks his head round just as three Germans fall to the ground in front of him. One of them is merely wounded and two more are heading in his direction - the American steps out of his sleeping cabin and confronts the foremost standing henchman.
"Excuse me," he politely begins, before cracking the German on the pate. But the German quickly raises his umbrella to block the blow! He strikes back, and Smith barely dodges back away from the deadly umbrella tip, and unfortunately trips over the German lying on the floor behind him clutching his shin. Smith's appears to have moderately dazed himself, but the prone German is knocked clean out!
Conceal my rifle around the corner of the door, walk out the door and confront the Germans in native tongue.
As Smith stumbles over backwards, “G” walks out of the door in front him and addresses the German pair who are still in the corridor [3+1].
"What is going on? Can you not see we are sleeping while riding this train?"
They are flummoxed for a moment and turn to look at each other questioningly. Then, in a moment of certitude, they decide not to apologise, but to attack! They advance menacingly on “G” but don’t quite get time to strike at him, having been so confused.
Draw my hat.
Inside the final cabin the two Germans ordered to arrest Wellington and McGeenyton are stopped dead in their tracks as Wellington draws his hat.
"There is an explosive device inside here with which I can arm in a split-second and blast you and your men to smithereens. If you don't stop at this moment, heed my warning, and listen to my dear friend, your life is forfeit."
His brutal threat is effective [5]! In a way – the eyepatched von Gruber shouts, in his high pitched voice,
“He is doing das bluffing! Men, get them! You English
And with a long evil laugh he dashes suddenly out of the Englishmen’s sleeping cabin, leaving his two men behind.
Fire a bullet into each of the germans.
Back inside the cabin, McGeenyton decides to resist arrest and raises his double barreled walking stick to fire. In the enclosed space an enormous explosion resounds first once [5] and then twice [2]. As the smoke clears the German who was so recently intent on arresting the unfortunate Wellington is dead upon the floor, his spine clearly severed! He is struck down!
McGeenyton’s second shot was not so true – the surviving henchman leaps at the Englishman as a great hole appears in the wall behind him. He strikes at McGeenyton who fails to block the blow and takes the German truncheon full in the face! His cheek is bruised! He stumbles back, lightly dazed!
Wound Acquired! Severely bruised cheek!
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Darvi on September 16, 2011, 06:36:52 am
Pursue the fugitive commander.
Post by: scriver on September 16, 2011, 07:22:02 am
To the point, though. Obviously I'm not supposed go through the door. I guess there's nothing left but
Here's to a success, guys. Gotta do something that can go hilariously bad to break this bad roll thing I've got going on, I wager ;)
Post by: Hitty40 on September 16, 2011, 08:05:02 am
Post by: Darvi on September 16, 2011, 08:07:37 am
Post by: lawastooshort on September 16, 2011, 08:30:33 am
Hey, you forgot to roll my trait in for my turn. (+1 to rolls related to talking to Germans)
Hmm - I did add it in when determining the result, I remember as it was only this morning, I must have not typed it in as I was in a bit of a rush (that is to say in between meetings at work...).
Sorry about that.
It would have probably been more effective if John Darvi Link hadn't got into the action first, but violent and bloody combat had started - it was an ineffective success, hence them not striking you in the face with an umbrella due to their confusion.
(double check the draft write-up edit: yes, since they were mostly in combat by then, it has basically stopped them hitting you and given you the initiative against them. i.e. they were too hostile to be turned neutral-er, and I missed the +1 when typing. I've added it.)
Post by: Hitty40 on September 16, 2011, 01:34:51 pm
Post by: Darvi on September 16, 2011, 01:40:39 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 16, 2011, 01:42:23 pm
Edit: or yeah, like Darvi says, if you prefer ;)
Post by: Hitty40 on September 16, 2011, 01:47:21 pm
And again in native tounge:
"Now now, no need for this child's play. Can't we settle this over some tea and stories of the Elk?"
If they refuse, a good warning to shot to the German we are aiming at's leg may convince them.
Post by: areyoua on September 16, 2011, 02:58:19 pm
Post by: Hitty40 on September 16, 2011, 05:16:11 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 16, 2011, 05:32:13 pm
Removed because of stupidity.
Sir, please don't let that stop you, if it was an action.
Post by: Hitty40 on September 16, 2011, 06:21:52 pm
Removed because of stupidity.
Sir, please don't let that stop you, if it was an action.
Already put my action in, I was about to say something idiotic.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on September 16, 2011, 08:56:42 pm
Post by: Geen on September 16, 2011, 09:06:25 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 17, 2011, 08:30:11 am
oh wait I know - I climb out the window and onto the roof, and try to make it to one of those intersections between train-bodies! Use sword-umbrella as a balance-keeping staff.
Not keen on damaging the private property of the train door any further, von Fersen turns and leans against it, pausing for inspiration. Aha! He spots the window with night time France rushing past, and concludes that the only sensible option is to exit the sleeping cabin via the aforementioned blasted thing. He crosses the cabin and slides it upwards [4].
The cold air hits von Fersen like a god of the north as he sticks his head out the open window. Without checking to see if there are any approaching tunnels or other dangers, he
He ducks in time [5] and finds himself crawling forwards on hands and knees in the freezing dark on a train hurtling across deepest France!
Gentlemanliness Increased! Espionage Pro!
Quickly aim my Mondragon rifle at one of the Germans.
And again in native tounge:
"Now now, no need for this child's play. Can't we settle this over some tea and stories of the Elk?"
If they refuse, a good warning to shot to the German we are aiming at's leg may convince them.
Get up, hopefully with grace after my dazing, and stand behind "G" with walkingbatstick in hand in a menacing fashion. If they insist ontaking Polandattacking,wait until Pearl Harbor,remember the time perioddo as Americans do and join in the battle at a crucial time.
Backed up by a Winston Smith who has gracefully and gentlemanly risen to his feet [5], "G" quickly ducks back behind his cabin door to retrieve his rifle and, aiming it squarely at the lead German, asks them again what is going on - surely this could be resolved over some tea? They look doubtful, but then the brave German lands the killer blow.
"And stories of the Elk?" [4+1+1 (Aided) +1 (Elk bonus)]
Pursue the fugitive commander.
The German pair lay down their umbrellas and shake hands with "G" and Smith, and small talk convivially and naturally develops between the four men as they decide to head off to wake up the butler in the tea wagon. A more gentlemanly scene would never have been seen, if it wasn't for the impatient John Link trying desperately to pursue the Germans' commander, escaping further along down the corridor [2]. Alas, by the time the tea-seeking foursome depart and Link can pass them, von Gruber has scarpered and slammed shut the wagon door at the end of the corridor, having just enough time to turn and bolt it closed.
Tear the german off of Geen, scold him for his outrageous behavior, and run after the head German.
The eyepatch-brandishing Germanic fiend cannot escape all of our gentlemen spies however! William Wellington, one of two renowned duellists in the sleeping cabin von Gruber has just heroically fled, tears the surviving henchman off his companion McGeenyton [3], hastily offers a disparaging remark on the appropriateness of his behaviour [3], and tears out of the cabin in a manner akin to that of the hunted hare!
Forcing open the door separating the two train wagons with his top hat, Wellington is in hot pursuit of the fiendish and impolite von Gruber - in such a rush in fact [6] that the door swings shut after him with a force that dazes the closely following Link when it smacks him on his noble brow!
Draw my sword and challenge this German scum to a duel.
In the room where Wellington has left a solitary and unfortunate German with McGeenyton, this latter gentleman speaks [4].
"Care for a duel, kind sir?"
It is an offer the German cannot refuse, for he is an honourable man.
As the challengee, the German has the right to choose the place and the weapons for the fight; this is why, two minutes later, McGeenyton finds himself clambering up the outside of a train wagon in the dead of the cold French night holding a rapier, as he and the German get to their positions atop the speeding train to fight a duel.
Von Gruber slams shut the door behind him at the opposite end of the wagon to where McGeenyton and his henchman are just about to exit for more honourable purposes than mere fleeing and hurriedly traverses the next wagon. Wellington is in hot pursuit, and the dazed Link mere seconds behind, as von Gruber leaves this second wagon, opens the far door in great haste, and surveys the situation for the briefest of moments.
He leaps onto the intersection between this carriage and the next and instinctively ducks from the whooshing sound the train makes as it enters a short tunnel. Everything goes black but for the reflected lights of the train corridors whizzing past in the night and then all of a sudden the air turns fresher again and the train is out under the night sky. The German checks the door window behind to see that Wellington is not too close, and then jumps to reach the train roof and haul himself up. He clambers to his feet, and comes face to face with von Fersen.
“En garde!”
Having crawled across the sleeping wagon and leapt across the looming gap between the two train carriages, the Swede is ready for him as he stands. Behind von Gruber a great looming shape drifts across the half moon in the distance.
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: areyoua on September 17, 2011, 08:42:50 am
Only now do I notice,
Hope they speak English.
Post by: Darvi on September 17, 2011, 08:57:35 am
Post by: scriver on September 17, 2011, 09:44:37 am
All in attempted German.
Become confused at the continental Europeans' mentions of elk as there are no real elk in Europe, only rather large moose called as such. Realize what they mean, and regale them with stories of the similar, but superior real elk from America.What you call "moose" is called elk in Europe. And, by rule of kindergarten law, our elk is the real elk because we had the word first :P
also: Holy shit my bad luck receded! But just because I said that I'll probably roll a 1 next and get hit in the back by another tunnel. Most likely causing it to promptly explode.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 17, 2011, 09:50:00 am
Post by: scriver on September 17, 2011, 10:15:19 am
Post by: lawastooshort on September 17, 2011, 11:48:26 am
Post by: Darvi on September 17, 2011, 11:53:37 am
Or any other combination of rolls really.
No wait [6][6][6] would mean that the hordes of hell would invade the Earth. Actually, they are already here.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on September 17, 2011, 12:28:58 pm
Post by: Darvi on September 17, 2011, 12:30:38 pm
Apologize to link?
What for?
Post by: lawastooshort on September 17, 2011, 12:34:58 pm
Post by: Darvi on September 17, 2011, 12:35:36 pm
OUCH FUCKING HELL THAT HURTS.
Post by: Geen on September 17, 2011, 01:25:13 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 17, 2011, 01:34:35 pm
Fight some then get down, as at this point there is always a tunnel or something like that.
To the death? Or disablement? Or etc?
Post by: Hitty40 on September 17, 2011, 01:56:29 pm
Post by: Darvi on September 17, 2011, 01:57:18 pm
I'd say just pinned. Killing is ungentlemanly. [/hypocrite]Fight some then get down, as at this point there is always a tunnel or something like that.
To the death? Or disablement? Or etc?
Post by: scriver on September 17, 2011, 02:13:52 pm
Where is my rifle located?In your hands, I'd wager :P
Post by: Hitty40 on September 17, 2011, 02:14:32 pm
Where is my rifle located?In your hands, I'd wager :P
While drinking tea? Blasphemy!
Post by: lawastooshort on September 17, 2011, 03:24:19 pm
Where is my rifle located?In your hands, I'd wager :P
While drinking tea? Blasphemy!
Either in your cabin or in your evening jacket / dressing gown pocket, your choice. But no, probably not in your hands, perish the thought.
Post by: Hitty40 on September 18, 2011, 08:06:53 am
Post by: Geen on September 18, 2011, 02:58:27 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 18, 2011, 04:11:19 pm
Chapter Two, Part Five
Become confused at the continental Europeans' mentions of elk as there are no real elk in Europe, only rather large moose called as such. Realize what they mean, and regale them with stories of the similar, but superior real elk from America.
Sitting in the exclusive tea wagon with "G" and the two other Germans, Smith listens to their enthusiastic conversation about the regal elk with some consternation and considerable confusion. He decides to interject, convinced that these Europeans have committed an incredible error, and hoping to illuminate for them the unfortunate path upon which they have erred [2-1 Fallible Pedantry penalty -1 Wikipedia penalty].
"I say," he begins, "ah, hold on a second. Bother."
The Germans look on in astonishment.
Trait Gained! Not a Zoologist! (-1 to Zoology rolls)
Kindly excuse myself from our tea drinking party, walk out of carrige 1, and begin chase.
Somewhat embarrassed by Smith's lack of knowledge in the field of Elk appreciation, "G" finishes his tea, makes his excuses, and rises to leave. He strolls gentlemanneryly towards the exclusive tea wagon's door and pushes it purposefully hard to open it [1]. It opens with considerable force and swings back in his face! It renders him unconscious! "G" falls to the floor with a thud, and Smith's horrendous faux pas is quietly and quickly forgotten.
Keep going.
Apologize to link before peeking over the roof edge to watch.
Link recovers manfully from his dazing brush with the door and carries on down the next carriage's corridor [5]. He catches up with Wellington, who turns to him to apologise for the unfortunate accident, before getting a good position in which to watch the unfolding confrontation on the carriage's roof [4]. Link climbs up for a good view beside him.
Point sword at Gruber and compliment his eyepatch. Offer him a chance to surrender, while holding pipe, rather than have us do ungentlemanly amounts of injury upon him. Mention that I would under normal circumstances challenge him to a duel on the train roof, though unfortunately it seems Wellington and another German has already prepared himself for one such fight and it would be horribly rude of me to cheapen their bravado by imitating them. Of course, were von Gruben to insist, I wouldn't be able to deny him the honour.
All in attempted German.
On top of the southernmost train carriage, von Fersen and von Gruber are face to face. The Swede compliments the German's eyepatch, developing, as he is, a connoisseur's appreciation of the finer art of eyepatchery. The German snorts a non-committal reply, whereupon von Fersen asks for his surrender [3+1 pipe bonus]
"Surrender? Never! What is the English
Von Fersen can hardly refuse.
The air itself is audibly (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/AudibleSharpness) sliced as the Swede draws his British Government engineered Umbrella-Sword; with an evil laugh von Gruber reaches into his evening jacket and retrieves a large and powerful looking revolver.
"Ahahahahaha! You thought you would stop me that easily! Ahahahahaha! We will be passing under my Zeppelin in mere minutes - I have only to kill you and I will be free!"
He turns to look over his shoulder and as he does so von Fersen realises the train is rushing due south to a point where it should, in a few minutes, pass under the spot where a presumably German airship is floating above the rails.
"You fiendish cad," he remarks. "This, sir, is not on." The German turns back to face him, and cocks his gun.
"Ahahahahah," he begins, "you Englishers always fall for this trick! Ahahahahah! You and your silly gentlemanlylike ways!"
Gentlemanliness Increased! Fighting a duel!
Fight some then get down, as at this point there is always a tunnel or something like that.
A carriage further to the north, McGeenyton is facing the apologetic German armed with a rapier. The freezing wind rushes past them as both men advance to within striking distance, only too aware that room for manoeuvre is limited on the cold, unsteady carriage roof; there'll be no dramatic circling this night.
The German strikes first; wanting to sidestep to avoid the blow McGeenyton nearly slips and loses his balance, falling slightly back. As the German rains down a second strike, McGeenyton manages neatly to parry the blow with his blade forcefully enough to push the German back a short distance. He steadies himself.
The Englishman moves forwards and aims a blow at the German; the blow is a feeble one! His adversary catches the rapier with his own; steel slides down steel and with a flick of the German's wrist McGeenyton is disarmed! The sword goes flying off into the night sky.
As McGeenyton backs away and the German advances, the Englishman's mind is suddenly filled with visions. Despite his not having been there, his mind is flooded with memories of Corunna; with flashes from Quatre Bras; tales of heroism from the Crimea; legends and myths from the misty beginnings of time in the rain-sodden mountains. His spirit is taken over with explosions of images he has never seen or imagined, from places far away, and as the German advances upon him and strikes his rapier towards his heart, in a fit of tartan wrath the Englishman captures the blade between his two bare hands and in a single fluid movement turns the rapier and thrusts it full into the German's heart.
The German falls; McGeenyton, seemingly exhausted, collapses to his knees. His hand fumbles about in his evening jacket pockets, searching blindly for his hip flask of fine vintage brandy.
"I say, " he says, as he stumbles forwards upon the carriage roof. "How very strange."
Gentlemanliness Increased! Fighting another duel!
Gentlemanliness Increased! Winning another duel!
Some fifty feet further south, von Gruber is still laughing at his impending and cunning victory.
"Foolish, foolish Englisher! Ahaha! I hope you have written a last vill and testament! Ahahah!"
He raises his revolver to aim, he prepares his finger to squeeze, at which point a surprised and bewildered expression crosses his venally featured face. The revolver falls to his side; his gaze drops to the floor; his hands come up to his chest and, specifically, the thrown Umbrella-Sword protruding from it.
"Swedisher, schweinhund," corrects von Fersen, as the German topples over.
Gentlemanliness Increased! Winning a duel!
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: areyoua on September 18, 2011, 04:30:22 pm
Help "G" up, wait for the Gentlemen on the roof to remember von Gruber's mentioning of A BOMB IN THE TRAIN and for them to tell me about that...
Post by: scriver on September 18, 2011, 04:45:02 pm
Post by: areyoua on September 18, 2011, 04:50:33 pm
Chapter Two, Part Three
“He is doing das bluffing! Men, get them! You EnglishpigdogsEnglishers, you may stop me, but you vill not stop the bomb on the train! You will not get to Geneva alive! Ahahahah!”
I'll admit that he could also be bluffing, though.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on September 18, 2011, 04:51:06 pm
Post by: Firelordsky on September 18, 2011, 08:08:39 pm
Post by: Hitty40 on September 18, 2011, 09:20:07 pm
"Well, that was...painful. Now, if you excuse me, I must go see what I can do about this bump on my head..."
But instead ignore it like a gentleman and start up the chase with me and my trusty rifle.
Also, open the door normally instead of wildly.
Post by: Geen on September 18, 2011, 10:02:50 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 19, 2011, 02:18:06 am
My, my. What amazing luck on the roof mixed with some quite awful performances inside.
Well, before skilfully recovering, McGeenyton had quite a severely bad couple of rolls to get disarmed, I have to say. But yes, the tea wagon was not exactly a field of shining glory.
Offer to board the airship and attempt to subdue the crew.
swing through the window into the train
The train certainly seems to be bringing the inner
and start up the chase with me and my trusty rifle.
The chase after what? Zeppelin, bomb, or corpses? Just want to clarify.
Edit: also, just waiting for Darvi and scriver. I might be able to get another turn done today.
Post by: Darvi on September 19, 2011, 04:59:39 am
In the meanwhile, where'd Gruber go? Find that out.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 19, 2011, 05:37:08 am
In the meanwhile, where'd Gruber go? Find that out.
August scriver von Fersen threw an umbrella-sword through his chest.
Post by: Darvi on September 19, 2011, 05:42:15 am
Post by: lawastooshort on September 19, 2011, 05:49:52 am
Post by: Yoink on September 19, 2011, 05:56:59 am
Who cares! Loot the Bodiiiiies!
...Wait. That would be ungentlemanly. Dang. Anyhow, I'll go back to watching this now. :P
Post by: scriver on September 19, 2011, 08:26:53 am
Retrieve umblade and Gruber's revolver, then excuse my behavior and search the Preussian ungentleman for any documents or other information. Then prepare for joining Wellington in the pursuit of the zeppelin. Surely, since there was more than one German, they must have made precations for more people escaping the train than just von Gruber.
"Time to write another exciting chapter of our memoires, don't you think, eh? Surely the women of London will swoon at the retelling of this adventure."
Post by: lawastooshort on September 19, 2011, 04:21:52 pm
Help "G" up, wait for the Gentlemen on the roof to remember von Gruber's mentioning of A BOMB IN THE TRAIN and for them to tell me about that...
Back in the exclusive tea wagon, Smith helps the now conscious but dazed “G” to his feet [3], wondering if he had indeed overheard von Gruber mention some threat of a bomb during his failed assault on Wellington and McGeenyton’s sleeping quarters. For the life of him he can’t quite recall. He sits back down and takes another sip of tea, taking pleasure in the small corner of England recreated in his fine china teacup.
After Smith helps me up...
"Well, that was...painful. Now, if you excuse me, I must go see what I can do about this bump on my head..."
But instead ignore it like a gentleman and start up the chase with me and my trusty rifle.
Also, open the door normally instead of wildly.
With slightly blurred vision and a pounding head, ”G” lets Smith help him to his feet, and calmly begins again on his heroic pursuit. Alas, the door to the tea wagon seems to have jammed, unless it is his faulty and blurred perception that is causing the trouble, for he is unable to open it [2]. Stoically refraining from expressing his growing frustration with the blasted thing, he resolves to calmly and gentlemanly call for a butler.
“I say. Another pot of tea please, old chap?”
He sits back down, confident that his mishap with the door has probably caused Smith’s embarrassing zoological faux pas to be forgotten. The conversation turns, once again, to the magnificence of the Elk, and the malodorous qualities of its droppings.
Accept apology, say that it wasn't needed as he did it by accident while defending the crown.
In the meanwhile, where'd Gruber go? Find that out.
"No no, dear chap, terribly sorry, but I believe it was I that was at fault for impeding your defence of the crown. Let us forget the matter."
Link successfully rushes through the door, and climbs far enough up the outside of the wagon to peek his head over, and see von Fersen in the process of removing his umbrella-sword from von Gruber's chest.
"Aha. I see. One deduces that ah, well, yes. Very well. Good show."
Link searches his pockets for his cigarette holder as he contemplates having a cigarette.
Take a sip of my brandy, and swing through the window into the train, and search for the bomb.
Just as Link's head pops over the edge of the wagon and looks around, he may or may not have seen McGeenyton rising from his apparent slumber. The distinguished gentleman takes a sip of brandy from his ornate hipflask [6] and bounds to his feet in a flash of reinvigorated energy.
Miraculously quickly grasping the severity of the situation, he places one hand on the edge of the speeding train and swings over the side, feet first. He crashes through the window of an unoccupied sleeping cabin, shattering glass everywhere, and careering straight into a heavy black and audibly ticking package. He strikes the package with his feet and with such force that it blasts open the locked door on the opposite side of the sleeping cabin, smashes the carriage window on the other side of the corridor, and disappears into the night sky in a hail of glass [6+1 brandy bonus].
"I say," says McGeenyton, as he spies, from his position on the floor, that the cabin is empty. "Rather fortunate that there were no ladyfolk slumbering in this cabin, what? One would have been mortified."
As he rises to his feet and dusts off his jacket, he hears a distant but powerful explosion in the French countryside behind him.
"Ah. One appears to have found that fiendish German's damnable explosive device and disposed of it. I wonder where the tea cabin is?"
He looks about for a small bell with which to signal for a butler.
"Dreadfully sorry for the surprise, old chap, but sometimes one simply have to do cad upon cad to get through life, and I would think you had it coming after such a foul betrayal of proper duelling code and conduct!"
Retrieve umblade and Gruber's revolver, then excuse my behavior and search the Preussian ungentleman for any documents or other information. Then prepare for joining Wellington in the pursuit of the zeppelin. Surely, since there was more than one German, they must have made precations for more people escaping the train than just von Gruber.
Slightly further south, atop the speeding steam train, von Fersen pulls his umbrella-sword out of von Gruber's chest, takes the powerful looking revolver out of his hand, and searches his evening jacket's pockets for any documents or other clue, after excusing his impoliteness. Despite the buffeting motion of the train, he manages to successfully pick up the two weapons, but he finds nothing of interest in the dead man's clothing. He turns to Wellington, who is just clambering up beside him.
"Time to write another exciting chapter of our memoires, don't you think, eh? Surely the women of London will swoon at the retelling of this adventure."
Item Acquired! Magnum Revolver!
Offer to board the airship and attempt to subdue the crew.
"Why not dear boy," replies the stylishly attired Englishman. "We might as well give it a damned good go, what?"
Side by side, Wellington and von Fersen rush down the length of the train's roof as the Zeppelin approaches and strives to position itself above the train, beginning to shine a powerful beam of light at a spot slightly further along the train's length. It seems to be signalling, expecting the men to need picking up at this time and place, and a crew member aboard is clearly trying to train the light steadily on the roof of the carriage around a hundred yards ahead. Out of the glare of the light one can just about discern the figure of a man throwing out a long rope ladder.
With his Elkishly assured movement, von Fersen takes the lead, carrying his umbrella sword in one hand and sprinting surefootedly along the carriage roof, before leaping confidently from the one carriage to the next [3+1]; behind him Wellington barely makes the jump and stumbles, landing on all fours on the next roof [3]. The train storms on in the night and von Fersen takes another chasm-traversing leap [4+1] with Wellington [3] lagging some 25 yards behind him when he reaches the dangling rope ladder.
With the rope ladder swinging uncertainly in the air before him, our young and noble Swedishman steadies himself for a fleeting moment before taking the plunge: he sticks out his free hand and firmly grabs the ladder. He starts climbing up to the looming Zeppelin [5]. Halfway up he notices a change in the tautness of the ladder - he looks down to see Wellington starting his ascent [5]. He glances upwards to see a head poke its way over the parapet of the huge wicker basket hanging under the Zeppelin from wherein there shines the enormous lamp which lights the roof of the train speeding along below them. A German voice calls out in the onrushing wind.
"Did you get the Englishers? Were are the rest of you? There were problems?"
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Darvi on September 19, 2011, 04:24:47 pm
Then decide to investigate the zeppelin that appeared over the train for no reason
Also, if I heard the guy's question: "Jawohl, sie sind alle ausser Gefecht gesetzt!"
Post by: Geen on September 19, 2011, 04:54:10 pm
HELL YEAH! A 6 and a 7!
Post by: scriver on September 19, 2011, 05:56:25 pm
Post by: areyoua on September 19, 2011, 06:20:00 pm
Excuse myself from the Germans discussing Elk to prevent self from making even more mistakes, and tap the door four times with my walking
Post by: Hitty40 on September 19, 2011, 06:20:56 pm
Post by: Darvi on September 19, 2011, 06:22:40 pm
"Excuse me gentlemen, I have a door to kill. Good day."
Post by: Hitty40 on September 19, 2011, 06:24:43 pm
Sure.
"Excuse me gentlemen, I have a door to kill. Good day."
Fixed.
Post by: areyoua on September 19, 2011, 06:25:56 pm
Post by: Hitty40 on September 19, 2011, 06:26:18 pm
Does that work? I'm pretty sure that a door with holes in it is still pretty hard to get through.
Door hinges and a knob later...
Post by: Darvi on September 19, 2011, 06:32:09 pm
Post by: areyoua on September 19, 2011, 06:34:49 pm
Post by: Darvi on September 19, 2011, 06:37:57 pm
That and your wife dies of liver failure.
Post by: scriver on September 19, 2011, 06:43:09 pm
...Don't roll a one, is all I'm saying ;)
Post by: Hitty40 on September 19, 2011, 07:26:39 pm
It would appear you have forgotten about the alleged explosiveness of the Victorian (isn't it Edwardian anyway?) doorknob, my friend.
...Don't roll a one, is all I'm saying ;)
I do believe my +1 to damage skill will come into play.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 20, 2011, 02:26:54 am
Also, what happens if you roll a [1] whilst holding a gun in a closed environment?
Von Fersen probably loses another eye, that's what. And that gun's pretty much a machine gun, eh. Eyepatches all round.
It would appear you have forgotten about the alleged explosiveness of the Victorian (isn't it Edwardian anyway?) doorknob, my friend.
...Don't roll a one, is all I'm saying ;)
I do believe my +1 to damage skill will come into play.
It is Edwardian, yes, although I suppose the doorknobs could be vintage (or even just five years old). The +1 damage roll bonus would come into play, so a [6] would be a [7], but a [1]'s a [1] (and an equally interesting question is what happens when you shoot a train and roll a [7]?).
Ricochet->Headshot of course.
That and your wife dies of liver failure.
Does "G" have a wife? Probably important to know before I roll the turn (that and clarification as to what you are doing, or confirmation that you do indeed intend to unload a clip into the poor door. I was going to say poor defenceless door, but that's not really true is it, it's already winning on points. Oh, and Wellington's turn is also needed).
Edit: I knew there was something else.
Well, the reason I didn't do anything about the bomb was that von Gruber probably didn't yell loud enough for me to hear him about his bomb. More on topic, I wonder if I should just keep drinking tea...
No, I know you didn't (probably) hear, and I am glad of the good roleplaying, and that's why I wrote up the "wondering to himself" bit. If you had reacted to it, something bad would have probably happened.
re: drinking tea - I can't at the moment think of many terribly bad things that could happen as a result of drinking tea, so I guess it would be a safe and gentlemanly option. I am now thinking of catastrophic tea-related [1] results though.
Post by: scriver on September 20, 2011, 04:55:08 am
It is Edwardian, yes, although I suppose the doorknobs could be vintage (or even just five years old). The +1 damage roll bonus would come into play, so a [6] would be a [7], but a [1]'s a [1] (and an equally interesting question is what happens when you shoot a train and roll a [7]?).The train falls over and dies, he gets to pose on the cover of Gentleman Hunter's Weekly? In that one feet on the prey stance, of course, and surrounded by his
Anyway, I'm just happy I got my English Eras straight.
Quote
re: drinking tea - I can't at the moment think of many terribly bad things that could happen as a result of drinking tea, so I guess it would be a safe and gentlemanly option. I am now thinking of catastrophic tea-related [1] results though.Can't Hold His Tea (-1 to Bladder)?
Post by: lawastooshort on September 20, 2011, 05:05:02 am
It is Edwardian, yes, although I suppose the doorknobs could be vintage (or even just five years old). The +1 damage roll bonus would come into play, so a [6] would be a [7], but a [1]'s a [1] (and an equally interesting question is what happens when you shoot a train and roll a [7]?).The train falls over and dies, he gets to pose on the cover of Gentleman Hunter's Weekly? In that one feet on the prey stance, of course, and surrounded by hisNative guidesgrumpy French farmers.
You'd frame that cover and put it over your mantlepiece at home. My word. It would be catastrophic though, player-list-wise.
Quote
Anyway, I'm just happy I got my English Eras straight.
You wouldn't believe how close I was to googling to find out what an eras was.
Quote
Quotere: drinking tea - I can't at the moment think of many terribly bad things that could happen as a result of drinking tea, so I guess it would be a safe and gentlemanly option. I am now thinking of catastrophic tea-related [1] results though.Can't Hold His Tea (-1 to Bladder)?
God. That would be horrible, and would probably lead to the first actual loss of Gentlemanliness points. Hmmm...
Post by: Darvi on September 20, 2011, 06:34:01 am
Does "G" have a wife? Probably important to know before I roll the turn (that and clarification as to what you are doing, or confirmation that you do indeed intend to unload a clip into the poor door.He will have one when (and until) he rolls a one.
Post by: Hitty40 on September 20, 2011, 08:07:59 am
Post by: lawastooshort on September 20, 2011, 09:23:55 am
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on September 21, 2011, 08:58:20 am
Post by: lawastooshort on September 21, 2011, 09:16:42 am
I'll get the turn done.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 21, 2011, 09:29:54 am
Decide toquitnever start smoking.
Then decide to investigate the zeppelin that appeared over the train for no reason
Also, if I heard the guy's question: "Jawohl, sie sind alle ausser Gefecht gesetzt!"
Finishing his contemplation in the wilderness between carriages two and three, Link has a profound intimation that smoking could be harmful to his health, and vows not to commence [2]. Inserting a cigarette into his holder, he deftly lights one that he takes from his slim silver case and strolls down the carriage, thinking that he should investigate the enormous Zeppelin looming over the train and now illuminating it.
As he exits the far end of carriage four, smoke trailing behind him, he faintly hears a German voice cry out in the night [4] and decides to exercise his skills in cunning subterfuge.
"Jawohl, sie sind alle ausser Gefecht gesetzt!"
As a distinct taste of porridge comes to his mind, he throws his cigarette away, but can’t seem to help himself immediately reach for another.
Excuse myself from the Germans discussing Elk to prevent self from making even more mistakes, and tap the door four times with my walkingbatstick, once in each corner, and have it magically open. If that doesn't work, which it might, you never know, ask the Germans assistance in knocking it down.
Back in the tea room, Smith feels that perhaps there are more important things in the course of espionage than having one’s third cup of tea in quick succession, and determines that the time for action has arrived, just as “G” gets up purposefully grasping his trusty rifle. To the amazement of the gathered Germans, and to the disappointment of the slightly slower “G” in particular, Smith takes his walking
It opens [5+1].
Beat the door with the stock of my rifle.
As he follows Smith out of the tea wagon, turning to look quizzically at the opened door and, in his mind’s eye, vigorously shake his rifle butt at it in disgust, “G” sees Henry McGeenyton rush past into the room that “G” and Smith have just left.
Search for tea, and any more bombs. But tea first.
McGeenyton sits down at a table in a comfortable armchair, nods politely to the two Germans, and signals for a butler to come over with some tea. As he sips in his remarkably refined way [4], his thoughts turn to the question of bombs, and, in particular, whether there might not be any more on board the train somewhere. It wouldn’t do to rush one’s tea, however, so he appreciatively finishes the cup before deciding to get to his feet and return to action. A true master of espionage, he thinks to himself, plans sufficiently well to ensure that ungentlemanly rushing about is rarely required. He considers requesting a second cup.
Leave the shouting back to Wellington, seeming as he is the more convincing gentlemen (or Link if he can be hear) unt keep up der geklimbing opp die laddern.
Back in the air above the train, as von Fersen looks back up the rope he hears the Germanicly disguised voice of his comrade Mr Link float up into the air past him [5].
"Jawohl, sie sind alle ausser Gefecht gesetzt!"
“Ah, sehr gut! Haben wir einige recht gute Tea brauen! und Biscuits! Come on up!“
The reply is shouted down by the man peering over the basket’s parapet, and as he finishes he withdraws back over, keen to get sheltered from the wind. Von Fersen hears indistinguishable conversation continue in the wicker basket, muted by the breeze and the noise of the two great machines in the night.
He carries on climbing up the rope ladder, until he reaches the basket, and clambers gracefully over the sides [3+1]. Three men turn to face him; the pilot, shoulders hunched in the effort of keeping the course steady, doesn’t turn from his vast mariner’s wheel at the fore of the basket.
Stay quiet looking... German?
As von Fersen is about to extend his hand in a polite greeting, Wellington silently climbs up over the side and joins him in the basket.
The Germans look visibly surprised at seeing such an obviously English gentleman board their Zeppelin [2].
Post by: Darvi on September 21, 2011, 09:33:21 am
Then go where that voice actually came from.
Post by: scriver on September 21, 2011, 09:57:18 am
edit:
Point umbrella at one Prussian and the revolver at another.
"Ah, gentlemen, let me introduce myself - I am August von Fersen, and this is my friend and colleague, mr Wellington. A pleasure to meet you. Now, I do believe I recall a promise of Tea and Biscuits?"
Post by: areyoua on September 21, 2011, 03:01:48 pm
Go back to my quarters and blow on the bagpipes. Again.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on September 21, 2011, 03:52:19 pm
Post by: Geen on September 21, 2011, 04:54:17 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 22, 2011, 03:38:30 pm
Post by: Hitty40 on September 22, 2011, 06:39:27 pm
Follow Smith.
Post by: scriver on September 22, 2011, 07:09:21 pm
Post by: areyoua on September 22, 2011, 08:01:35 pm
What we interrogate them about anyway? They're probably just low-level help with little understanding of the big picture. Then again we can do anything a sixth of the time.
1Otherwise as in not "my friend" just wanting to be clear.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 23, 2011, 03:15:47 am
Find out that I have, in fact, no other cigarettes or any other tobacco-based objects on my person. Crave porridge. Then go where that voice actually came from.
Searching with increased desperation about his evening jacket, Mr John Link is in the unfortunate position of wanting a cigarette, but having no actual cigarettes or similar smoking products on his person [4]. For an inexplicable reason he starts to crave porridge [4]; he dismisses this as some kind of addiction-related side effect, and heads off to the end of the train to chase down the airborne German voice [6]. With the speed of a Northern Irish lynx he climbs on to the roof of the train and sprints along as fast as he can, just managing to jump towards the rope ladder as the Zeppelin starts to drift away to the East and away from the train.
He grabs hold and starts to ascend [4].
Search around, and have another cup of tea.
Back in the tea carriage, McGeenyton decides to get up and search around, but finds his search confined to this very same carriage when the door leading back to his sleeping wagon appears to be jammed [2-1 Slamming penalty]. He finds little but for the two Germans left in the carriage with him, who are still enjoying a pot of tea and further conversation about the magnificent Elk and seem to appreciate it very little when the Englishman attempts to search on and under their armchairs. He returns to his seat and asks the butler for another cup of tea [4]. In due course the tea arrives, and the Englishman finds it remarkably good. Indeed, if there is anything like a good cup of tea, McGeenyton muses, it is surely a second good cup of tea. His tea-based reverie is suddenly interrupted by the unexpected sound of bagpipes blaring from the neighbouring carriage.
Go back to my quarters and blow on the bagpipes. Again.
The unexpected sound is, of course, Winston Smith, blowing upon the bagpipes that he has every reason to believe have some mysterious quality about them, having been informed so at no less an occasion than the funeral of their previous owner. They do certainly seem easy to blow out a good tune on, as without very much practice, or indeed musical ability at all, Smith seems able to give a rather stirring rendition of Hose of Argyle for several minutes until a butler knocks on the door [5].
The butler points out that it is rather unseemly, at this kind of hour, to be producing such a noise, and would sir mind reducing the volume just the slightest amount, out of respect for our other guests? Apart from that nothing else of great import seems to happen. Perhaps a different air would have been more appropriate.
Follow Smith.
“G” seems rather disappointed at this turn of events, enjoying as he was what is a rare treat for a gentleman of his Germanic persuasion. For “G” has followed Smith out of the tea wagon at considerable speed, all but slamming the door shut behind him [6], whether to take his chance at escaping before finding himself locked in again, or to avoid being left alone in the tea wagon with two of his potentially quite curious countrymen.
Encouraging Smith to press on in his artistic endeavours, “G” requests that he try a performance of Flowers of the Forest. Smith sets out once again on his musical course, but, even with an enthusiastic audience, finds it a tricky melody to master [2+1 Enthusiastic Audience bonus], and it comes out quite wrong, and with no effects beyond leaving him out of breath and “G” a little musically dissatisfied. Perhaps it’s just not the right moment, Smith wonders. After all, one can never be sure with this kind of thing.
Twirl my hat around with my finger.
High up in the airship that even as we speak is beginning the journey back to Germany with a dangling gentleman in tow, Mr Wellington twirls his hat around with his finger in an unspeakably English and menacing way [5].
Point umbrella at one Prussian and the revolver at another.
"Ah, gentlemen, let me introduce myself - I am August von Fersen, and this is my friend and colleague, Mr Wellington. A pleasure to meet you. Now, I do believe I recall a promise of Tea and Biscuits?"
Von Fersen’s polite introduction is not well received [1+1 Menacing Hat Twirling bonus], despite its gentlemanliness. The three non-piloting Germans attack!
However, the gentleman spies are ready for this treachery. As one German draws a sword, von Fersen blasts him with his fiendishly outsized revolver, knocking him backwards but leaving him otherwise unscathed, unlike the now holed wicker basket [2+1]. Another fishes a revolver out of his pocket and is just about to aim at the Swede when Wellington suddenly leaps in, top hat bearing hand outstretched, and slices off his arm [5+1]! It falls to the floor as the German clutches the stump with his good hand.
The third German advances on von Fersen, who swings wildly with his umbrella-sword and misses [2]. The German, sabre drawn from its scabbard, aims a mighty overhead blow at the Swede, who parries with his umbrella-sword and throws the unweighted fiend overboard [6]. He plummets to the ground a hundred feet below! He is struck down!
The blasted over German gets to his feet as the pilot ties the wheel in place, and turns round with a shotgun in his hands.
“Surrender!” he shouts out over the din of the train below and the engines above, “This is my ship and I will accept no trespassing! Surrender or die!”
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: scriver on September 23, 2011, 04:07:57 am
Post by: areyoua on September 23, 2011, 02:54:13 pm
Not much else to do...
Post by: Darvi on September 23, 2011, 03:24:07 pm
Get up and climb into the blimp. Then see how things work out for me.
Post by: Geen on September 23, 2011, 04:45:09 pm
Screw that, more tea and more interrogation.
Post by: scriver on September 24, 2011, 11:30:09 am
"Why I'll be - trespassers?! We were invited up here, lured by the promise of tea and biscuits before we were summarily ambushed and attacked! Such gruesome manners! You, sirs, are nothing but common goons in a gentleman's dressing! I'll never yield to the likes of you! En garde!"
Fire gun at pilot at "en", then dodge to the side.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on September 24, 2011, 10:30:54 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 26, 2011, 09:34:35 am
Post by: scriver on September 26, 2011, 10:29:22 am
Post by: Hitty40 on September 26, 2011, 05:18:26 pm
What time is it?
Do I smell strange and ungentlemanly?
Post by: lawastooshort on September 27, 2011, 12:34:40 am
Post by: lawastooshort on September 28, 2011, 01:07:51 am
Post by: lawastooshort on September 28, 2011, 04:40:00 am
Hold a short but indignant speech to divert their attention from me re-cocking the revolver.
Fire gun at pilot at "en", then dodge to the side.
Aboard the Zeppelin, there is no end in sight to the missing tea and biscuits scandal in which the German crew members have found themselves embroiled. Von Fersen is outraged, and prepares his revolver.
"Why I'll be - trespassers?! We were invited up here, lured by the promise of tea and biscuits before we were summarily ambushed and attacked! Such gruesome manners! You, sirs, are nothing but common goons in a gentleman's dressing! I'll never yield to the likes of you! En… "
His captivating and tremendous speech [5+1] leaves the shotgun armed pilot spellbound; he looks on helplessly as the one-armed crew member feels rightfully ashamed and prepares tea and biscuits for their guests. Neither notices the Swede preparing his revolver to fire again, and neither notices as von Fersen raises the gun, aiming at the pilot.
Both, however, notice the deafening explosion as the damnable German contraption in von Fersen’s hand misfires [1+1].
“…Garde. Bother. Not another one. Blast.”
Von Fersen is relieved to note that he still possesses all of his body parts, as well as an apparently fully functioning revolver. He is not, though, as relieved as the German Kapitan-Pilot, who raises his shotgun at the Swede.
Should the German make a move against Von Fersen, inform him of my explosive top hat.
“I say,” says Wellington [2+1], standing beside von Fersen. “I should like to remark that I hold, here in my very hand, one of the finest top hats in Christendom. Engineered by the finest minds the British Empire has produced, it is capable of blowing you and your precious Zeppelin to kingdom come. If you do not put down that gun, I shall set it orf.”
The German does not look entirely convinced that even an Englishman would care to attempt to board his dirigible armed with but a top hat. He lowers the shotgun slightly to adjust his monocle and peer forward to examine the hat; and then decides to raise it again.
“I suggest you put up your hands and keep them there, my good sirs. I care not for your foppish top hat. This is my ship, and my shotgun. Moltmann!” he says, glancing towards the one-armed crew member, “Stop preparing that bloody tea! If I so much as see another biscuit I’ll bloody well throw them over the side and you with them!”
Get up and climb into the blimp. Then see how things work out for me.
At this moment, Mr Link reaches the top of the rope ladder, and climbs aboard the wicker basket, much to the captain’s consternation. In fact, Link appears in such as stealthy and surprising manner [6] that the captain reacts wildly, blasting both barrels of his shotgun in Link’s direction.
But alas for the German! Link jumps onto the floor of the basket in the split-second before the Kapitan-Pilot pulls the trigger; the basket sways. The German loses his balance, and both barrels blow an enormous hole in the floor of the basket! The tremendous recoil sends the pilot careering backwards, and all of a sudden he smashes against the wall of the wicker basket, flips over, and goes flying to his death hundreds of feet below. He is struck down!
“Aha. It would seem that the Kapitan did not want to hang about for tea and biscuits, eh what?”
The Zeppelin continues to drift towards the East.
Sleep, but with purpose! What purpose? Um... to be refreshed?Back on the train, seeing how a selection of their gentlemanly companions have deserted their more prosaic company for the thrills of airship theft, Smith, McGeenyton and "G"? settle down for a brief period of relaxation before the breath taking Swiss border surges into view.
Smith, the American, embodying the ever practical and purposeful confidence of his young country, decides to purposefully nap [5]. He is awoken sometime later as the train pulls into Geneva Central Station, fully refreshed.
Refreshment Acquired! +1 bonus to a single roll of your choice in the next day.
Screw that, more tea and more interrogation.
In the next carriage along, the exclusive and much used of late tea wagon, McGeenyton requests another tea, thinking he might interrogate the Germans who have been left behind on the train by their merciless comrades. Sitting down at the Germans’ table, menacingly and without introduction, McGeenyton picks up his tea to take a gentlemanly sip [1]. He swallows a mouthful of tea leaves! He retches in disgust! His faith in the infallibility of the English Butler and his Tea-Preparing Methods is shaken! He is insufficiently refreshed!
The forsaken Englishman staggers to his feet, vision blurred and mind reeling. Arms outstretched, he attempts to find his way to the tea wagon door so as to be able to retire to his sleeping wagon and experience this deep personal crisis in private. The door is jammed!
Traumatic Tea Experience! -1 penalty to rolls until midday.
“G”, meanwhile, disappointed at the discontinuation of Smith’s musical experiment, seeks solace in the form of tobacco. He nimbly fits a fine cigarette into his cigarette holder, equally nimbly lights it, and sits back, and relaxes [3]. It is a mildly satisfying experience, but not so much as he had hoped, so he decides that the best course of action would, of course, be to have a nap. It is, after all, the early hours of the morning, and a busy day ahead is most likely.
Dawn, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Geneva Central Station, Geneva
After some considerable time spent struggling with the tea wagon door, McGeenyton realises that it is day, and that the train has pulled into Geneva Central Station. The three gentlemen who were still travelling by train descend from their Gentleman Class Sleeping Cabins, or, indeed, from the tea wagon, and a station hand carries their luggage. Having first to pass through Swiss customs, the gallant threesome are directed past a waiting line and directly into the office of the Chief Customs Officer. He asks each man the same questions, and they remember Sir Melville’s warning about the Swiss fondness for spies.
“Are you here on business? Or pleasure? Do you have anything to declare?”
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Darvi on September 28, 2011, 04:42:47 am
See if I can somehow find something of interest on this blimp.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 28, 2011, 04:57:10 am
Alas, rushing can be a man's downfall - quite literally in this case.
See if I can somehow find something of interest on this blimp.
I couldn't think of a better farewell (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/BondOneLiner). If you can come up with one I'll be happy to edit it in...
Post by: Hitty40 on September 28, 2011, 07:59:35 am
Post by: scriver on September 28, 2011, 08:45:10 am
Quote
Both, however, notice the deafening explosion as the damnable German contraption in von Fersen’s hand misfires.Why does this keep happening?! ;D
Post by: scriver on September 28, 2011, 10:39:39 am
Do we get bonuses to our trying to learn zeppelin-flying rolls if we all attempt to do it at the same time?
By the way, I'm very surprised my sneak attack did not result in caddishpoints or at least gentlepoint loss. Even if it didn't hit him.
Post by: lawastooshort on September 28, 2011, 11:07:40 am
1 Do we get bonuses to our trying to learn zeppelin-flying rolls if we all attempt to do it at the same time?
2 By the way, I'm very surprised my sneak attack did not result in caddishpoints or at least gentlepoint loss. Even if it didn't hit him.
1 - I'm not sure. I'll think about it ;)
2 - Well, I thought about that, but it was a very gentlemanly and spy-ly speech, and he was pointing a shotgun at you, so you didn't have a great deal of choice, really. Also, tea was offered, kind of. Maybe next time.
3 - Which reminds me I haven't really had the chance to give out many gentlemanliness points, or various traits or etc. for some time, so I will be looking for opportunities to do so.
Post by: areyoua on September 28, 2011, 05:22:13 pm
Post by: Geen on September 29, 2011, 09:45:22 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on September 30, 2011, 04:59:48 am
Crud. Chat with ze Germans.
Which Germans? You managed to escape in the end because the train arrived at Geneva and the stationmaster would have boarded the train and opened any jammed doors. A Customs officer is currently questioning you.
Once you clarify and DBZ posts an action I can post a turn.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on September 30, 2011, 11:28:16 pm
Post by: Geen on October 01, 2011, 07:52:04 pm
Post by: areyoua on October 02, 2011, 07:31:36 am
Ah. In that case, try to shake off my bad tea affect.
Getting questioned by customs isn't really a good time to stand around trying to get tea leaves out of your throat. Although, it might be a good idea, it surely isn't befitting an English spy.
Post by: lawastooshort on October 02, 2011, 12:41:15 pm
Ah. In that case, try to shake off my bad tea affect.
Getting questioned by customs isn't really a good time to stand around trying to get tea leaves out of your throat. Although, it might be a good idea, it surely isn't befitting an English spy.
Indeed. Unfortunate, really, as I am writing the turn!
Oooh - mini edit: I don't have time to finish it! Mini-reprieve.
Later edit @ Geen:
No, I think, given the severity of the situation, I'll hold off till tomorrow morning before I write the turn - I don't want something bad to happen because you may have misunderstood what's going on, however much it would have amused me.
Although I admit trying to shake it off would be a reasonable idea.
Post by: Geen on October 02, 2011, 07:06:07 pm
Sorry. In that case, explain that we are englishmen on a vacation to Switzerland, therefore technically telling the truth.
Post by: lawastooshort on October 03, 2011, 04:55:16 am
Alas, rushing can be a man's downfall - quite literally in this case.
See if I can somehow find something of interest on this blimp.
Ignoring the plight of the drifting Zeppelin and trusting his fellow spies to take care of the situation, Mr Link searches about the dirigible, taking care not to fall through the hole blasted through the floor of the principal wicker basket [5].
He finds a rather Prussian looking picnic hamper, inside of which is a dusty bottle of 1811 comet vintage brandy, Chateau de Bayard, no less, and a finely inlaid case of masterwork cigars. At the very bottom, carefully wrapped, is a small stack of what appear to be excellent biscuits.
Item Acquired! Comet Vintage Brandy!
Item Acquired! Masterwork Cigars!
Item Acquired! Excellent Biscuits!
Thank God for not taking another piece of my body from me and take care of German's arm as best I can ("I heard if you apply it correctly and spit on it, it'll grow right back"). Then, attempt to understand how the zeppelin works (and most importantly, how to pilot it) over an intellect-stimulating cup of tea.
Whilst Link rummages about in the corners of the airship’s main basket, von Fersen offers a prayer of thanks to God for leaving him, after this latest close proximity explosion, unharmed [5]. It feels, to his keen Swedish ears, a heartfelt, sincere, and effective prayer, and he feels the warmth of God upon him. A true gentleman, he immediately turns his attention back to the poor German whose arm was removed by Wellington’s top hat of fury, encouraging the wounded man to spit on it and thrust it with firmness in the right place [5+1 prayer bonus]; to the amazement of all present the arm appears to stick in place, and, indeed, function as fully as one’s arm could be expected to.
In thanks, the German brews von Fersen a cup of tea which, alas, is rather mediocre [3]. The poor Swede fails to feel his intellectual faculties much improved, and more out of a sense of need rather than of inspiration he decides to start trying to understand the workings of the Zeppelin. Unfortunately it is a rather complex machine, and although it soon becomes apparent that the large ship’s wheel must have something to do with the matter, it also soon becomes apparent that August von Fersen, noble young Swede, does not know exactly what. He takes a pensive puff on his ever-present finely crafted pipe.
Gentlemanliness Increased! Caring for one’s less fortunate acquaintances!
Skill Acquired! You have gained a modicum of knowledge in the area of medicine!
Await tea time.
As von Fersen puffs pensively, Wellington, disdaining the abuse of tobacco for intellectual stimulation, realises that what is becoming an Englishman in need of inspiration is the act of waiting for someone to serve him tea.
He waits.
After several minutes, the German seems to have sufficiently recovered from his wounds to have regained his senses - he remembers that, in fact, not long ago he was meant to be offering tea to all of the fine gentlemen who were about to board his airship, not just the Swedish kind! With all the enthusiasm of a man who humbly knows that he is remiss, the now two-armed German brews Wellington an excellent cup of tea [6] - so excellent, indeed, that, all of a sudden, whilst drinking it, the Englishman is struck by the divine bolt of just that inspiration he needed! He realises how to pilot an airship! He rises abruptly to his feet, spilling some of his tea on his shoe!
"By Jove!"
Skill Acquired! Airship Pilotage!
In Geneva, the gentlemen respond to the fierce questioning of the Swiss Customs Officer. “G” has his wits about him, and chips in first.
"Aye, I am here to see the sights of great Switzerland and maybe do a little hunting."
The Officer looks delighted [6].
“Aha! Then you must come with me this afternoon, and I will introduce you to my wife! She and I often take walks in the surrounding countryside in the afternoons to admire the beauty of the magnificent sights of our homeland and then to blast them to smithereens! How enlightening for the soul; how tremendous for the eyes to sit upon a secluded bench near a lake and take in the rarefied air! How pleasant for the body to hike for an hour or two and then to take refreshment in a mountain inn with a cold lager and plate of mountain potatoes! How thrilling for the ears and the arms to fire a mighty rifle at an unsuspecting animal, as long as it is not the mighty Elk! Yes sir, I must insist that you meet me at lunch time, we shall see my wife and we shall scour the wonderful lands that lie about! I shall let you have some of my exploding hunting ammunition to try out! And even to take with you for self-defence purposes! Of course, your passion for hunting would explain your carrying of an automatic rifle into my country land; worry not, for many of us have these. It is very normal here.”
He hastily scribbles his name and address on a card, which he passes to the German.
“Adolphe Constanz, at your service sir. Please, meet me here for lunch, and I shall have much to show you.”
He turns to Smith and addresses the same question to the kindly and brave American.
"I have come to store some... items in one of your magnificent banks. Also, I've come to see some of those stunning mountains. I'm sure Colorado could take a tip or two. Any suggestions?"
“Ach! Items… items… Splendid! Here in the banks of Switzerland we love the items! This shall be no problem at all. If I may be so bold, I would heartily recommend the bank Schreiber et Schreiber und Schreiber & Co., it is my uncle’s, but it has a faultless reputation nevertheless. He would be most pleased to hold your items! Now, I have not seen this… Colorado of which you speak, but if you would like suggestions to make it more stunning, might I put forward the idea of having more of the mighty Elk? Or even benches upon which one can view the mighty Elk? Although, also, 'ere in sometimes French-speaking Switzerland, we also like the, how you say, the marmotte. Perhaps Colorado needs the marmotte? Or benches upon which to view the mighty marmotte? Also, cowbells?”
He waves Smith through after a cursory glance through his papers [5], and signals for McGeenyton to approach.
In that case, explain that we are Englishmen on a vacation to Switzerland, therefore technically telling the truth.
“Harrumph splutter gah! I, sir, am an Englishman coming to visit your wonderful country on holiday harrumph cough porridge! I also have the intention of carrying out some hunting with my revolver. Och.”
The Customs Officer replies in the loud voice one often reserves for talking to foreigners, or those who seem in some way intellectually deficient [2-1 distressing tea penalty+1 calmness bonus+1 undefined bonus].
“You sir, are a very strange man. Normally I should arrest a man such as you, entering into my peaceful nation so heavily armed, but I greatly admire the attractively patterned trim on your walking stick, so I shall let you pass. My wife is very fond of that kind of thing. However, I cannot permit you to keep your extensive armament, and would request that you hand in your duelling swords and your revolver. We do not approve of duelling here in the canton of Geneva, but you may regain your swords and revolver once you have applied for a hunting permit. Permits are required for hunting with revolvers, I am afraid. It has long been the case here amongst the Swiss.”
Item lost! Duelling swords.
Item lost! Revolver.
Caddishness Increased! Switzerland believes one to be intellectually deficient!
Once McGeenyton surrenders his weapons, the three gentleman spies pass through Customs and into the central walkway of the station, where they are approached by what looks like a rather low ranking gentleman. He wears a bowler hat, and is not perfectly shaven. Smith, that expert on English Gentlemannery, notices he has a slight crease in his lower left trouser leg.
“I say,” he says, “Are you the English gentlemen? I have been asked to escort you to your hotel. I was expecting rather more of you.”
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: scriver on October 03, 2011, 11:31:25 am
Keep drinking tea and discuss politics with the German, trying to convince him to become a double agent and contact of ours in the German intelligence organisation.
ConstanzHm...
Post by: Hitty40 on October 03, 2011, 01:28:18 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on October 03, 2011, 01:40:15 pm
My rifle is still with me, correct?Yes.
Post by: Hitty40 on October 03, 2011, 01:51:00 pm
"They...got caught up in some other buisiness."
Post by: areyoua on October 03, 2011, 03:21:13 pm
Observe the man discreetly to confirm my suspicions, but otherwise act as though he were a real Englishman.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on October 03, 2011, 07:46:04 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on October 04, 2011, 02:41:56 am
My rifle is still with me, correct?Yes.
In general, I am keeping your character sheets up to date - including your inventories. If an item is in your inventory, you can assume that either you have it with you, or it is at a place of your choosing and convenience.
Edit: missed an r. Also - I have acronymed a few items in the last turn. I might continue, if I like it.
Further Edit: also, just waiting for Geen to post and Darvi to reappear and then I will get the next turn done, although I imagine it will now be tomorrow morning.
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: lawastooshort on October 05, 2011, 02:22:24 am
Link will probably perform some kind of meditation on the subject of martial arts, whereas McGeenyton will probably follow the other two gentlemen whilst trying to erase the distressing memory of ruined tea from his blighted mind, unless anyone has any better suggestions.
Remember: you are still trying to prevent the Germans from breaking into the station (Left luggage locker 4a, if I recall) to acquire a despatch case, the contents of which will help them build a German superweapon to rival the British superweapon that is HMS Dreadnought. Also - it is terribly rude to refuse an offer of lunch.
Post by: Geen on October 05, 2011, 04:51:56 pm
DAMN YOU RNG GOD! DAMN YOU TO RNGHELL!
Post by: lawastooshort on October 06, 2011, 04:29:16 am
9.12am, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Geneva
Examine my surroundings, thank the Switz man for his compliment, and see if I can get a cup of tea. EDIT: And attempt to shake off that bad taste.
Examining his surroundings, McGeenyton reaches the conclusion that he is a train station. It appears to be Geneva Central Station, which is a satisfactory state of affairs, since that is where he is supposed to be. After shaking the hand of the what appears to be a rather low ranking gentleman and introducing himself, he realises he has not yet thanked the Swiss Chief Customs Officer for his delightful compliment, and he returns to offer his thanks. In passing, he enquires as to the possibility of tea, but the increasingly irritated Mr Constanz informs him that he has none. McGeenyton is rather disappointed, for he has an awful taste lingering in his mouth that he quite simply cannot abide, and which is proving rather distracting. He rejoins the other two gentlemen and the what appears to be a rather low ranking gentleman and heads out of the station.
… … … … … …
In the centre of Geneva, the three gentleman spies are being led to their hotel by what appears to be a rather low ranking gentleman with a slight crease in his lower left trouser leg. He has no tea, and is wondering what happened to the other expected gentlemen.
To the person that is talking to us:
"They...got caught up in some other business."
“Oh, I see. Most unfortunate. Well, I planned for six of you, if you all made it, so I should think that the three of you won’t pose too much of a problem to cater for but I shan’t change the plans just in case. After all, they might turn up at an inopportune moment to spoil things. Anyway, I haven’t introduced myself. I’ve been instructed to request that you call me “K”. Let us get on our way. There will be tea at the hotel.”
A crease?! That man cannot be a self-respecting Englishman.
Observe the man discreetly to confirm my suspicions, but otherwise act as though he were a real Englishman.
“”K”?” Smith thinks to himself. “Not a particularly English letter. Hmm.”
He rather obviously attempts to discreetly observe the man, suspicious as he clearly is, but he only succeeds in alerting “K” to his impolite observation [1].
“I say!” “K” declares. “Is something very much the matter?”
He all but doubles his pace and walks on purposefully.
Caddishness Increased! Rather obviously and impolitely suspicious!
“K” leads on, heading out from the centre of Geneva to the eastern quarter of the city.
“Not long now,” says “K”. “The hotel’s just up ahead.”
Gradually the bustling sound of Geneva seems to fade; the grand town houses lining the sides of the avenues and esplanades have disappeared. The gentlemen are in a quiet back alley between two large, for Geneva, apartment buildings, whose dirty glass windows overlook them, curtains drawn as if to hide the sins of poverty inside. Rusting ladders and stairwells adorn the outsides of the small-bricked buildings and the air trapped between the two of them is thick and stale like an unwashed dog.
Just as “G” is about to remark on the unsalubriousness of the unlikely environs in which they find themselves, from behind the three brave spies suddenly comes the squeal of tires skidding to a stop: they turn to see the street behind them cut off by a motor car blocking the way they came. As one they turn back to “K” to enquire just what the devil is going on my good man, but they only turn in time to see the supposed low ranking gentleman sprinting away from them towards the other end of the street where a second motor car screams to a halt. Looking first this way and then that at the armed thugs who descend from the cars, they realise that it would appear that they are trapped! What is more, they clearly are not at the Hotel Masson! They have been led astray!
The collective indignation of the three gentlemen is quickly brought to a premature end when several shots ring out; although they harmlessly fly above the gentlemen’s heads, it is clear what sort of business is intended by these newcomers.
The collective indignation of the three gentlemen? Why, no! McGeenyton’s indignation is brought to a premature end when he suddenly notices that the awful and traumatic tea experience of this morning has expired [5-1], passing both from his mouth and from his mind! He feels a tremendous sense of liberation and joy! Or would, were he not a gentleman. Instead, he satisfies himself with a slight feeling of being pleased at this turn of events.
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
… … … … … …
Drive the airship to the border, whilst having additional tea.
Some miles away and considerably higher than our endangered trio, Mr William Wellington is wrestling with the wheel of his newly acquired German dirigible.
“I say,” he proclaims loudly to the wind, “One rather fancies another cup of tea, if such an outrageous although I hope thoroughly understandable desire could be realised in our current situation?”
The two-armed German brews and serves another cup of tea for his English captor; it is particularly good.
Refreshed in body and mind, Wellington pilots the airship [5+1 particularly good tea bonus] with particular smoothness and skill, and, more importantly, a good sense of direction, and makes good time.
Keep drinking tea and discuss politics with the German, trying to convince him to become a double agent and contact of ours in the German intelligence organisation.
Once the German returns from serving Wellington his cup of tea, he sits down to brew another for his Swedish doctor, von Fersen. Alas! There appears to be no water left [2], and he humbly apologises that, unfortunately, there is no more tea to be served. The kindly Swede, a pleasant fellow if ever one was, consoles him, and, using the opportunity of politely changing the subject, talks to him of politics.
“My good sir! You must see that this is the fault of the government! In other, less Germanic countries, such a tea-shortage inducing shortage of water would never occur! Yes, the Kaiser, although he may seem particularly wise, has as little real appreciation for tea as he has real appreciation for the mighty Elk – and I have it on very good authority that your good Kaiser Wilhelm II despises the mighty Elk! He is perverting the good course of the great nation of Germany, set on turning it into an indolent nation of Elk-haters!”
On hearing these dreadful words, the German’s face turns an ashen shade of yellow. Uttering only two words, he rises to his feet, despair writ large in his face as he realises to what kind of a man and nation he has been devoting his life and service.
“Mein Gott!”
With that, he throws himself overboard, and plummets to his death [1+1 skill bonus-1 lack of tea penalty].
Although von Fersen stands aghast at this unpleasant turn of events, Wellington, concentrating on directing the airship, does not even notice – and nor, in fact, does Link, who appears to be deep in meditation. In his mind’s eye he sees biscuits; they fly through the air, piercing the bodies of what are clearly, but mysteriously, identified as his foes. They fly; and they return to his hand, from whence they came. He throws them again, and again they fly, slaying the enemies of the British Empire, and, describing a vast orbit about the field of battle, returning speedily to where they were thrown. He catches several in his hand with the agile pluck of a Yorkshire Hen; but alas! one pierces his sternum!
Skill Acquired! Cookie no jutsu Multi Boomerang Throw Technique!
Link is disturbed from his fruitful reverie [5+1] by a call from the wheel.
“Geneva ho! All hands on deck!”
The three gentlemen have crossed into Switzerland.
Post by: lawastooshort on October 06, 2011, 04:23:44 pm
Post by: scriver on October 06, 2011, 04:55:42 pm
Post by: Geen on October 06, 2011, 07:42:29 pm
Post by: Hitty40 on October 07, 2011, 01:27:22 pm
Post by: areyoua on October 07, 2011, 03:35:55 pm
Use walking
Post by: lawastooshort on October 07, 2011, 06:49:46 pm
Ah, yes. I'm not entirely sure of how we should proceed. To the station? Land on the hotel roof? What do you think??
Landing a Zeppelin on a hotel roof would be quite an entrance.
Time to be refreshed! Does it only effect one roll, or the entire turn?
One roll. Unless I then roll a [6] for the "lasting an extra roll" roll.
Post by: Geen on October 08, 2011, 05:08:52 pm
Post by: scriver on October 09, 2011, 07:39:03 am
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on October 09, 2011, 12:45:01 pm
Position zeppelin over hotel roof, release ladder, and politely climb down, tipping my hat towards anyone confused at the roof.
"G'day sirs."
Post by: lawastooshort on October 09, 2011, 02:09:05 pm
Post by: scriver on October 09, 2011, 03:21:33 pm
(here's to a 6! :P)
Post by: lawastooshort on October 10, 2011, 04:14:46 am
Post by: lawastooshort on October 10, 2011, 08:04:21 am
Fire one round at "K" in the chest, and proceed to fire another 2 rounds at the thugs.
Standing proudly like a gentleman in the middle of the street, “G” takes aim at the fleeing scoundrel “K”, unleashing a round into his back [3+1]. Unfortunately the shot is not quite true, and it hits the running man’s left arm, lightly wounding him and sending him sprawling to the ground. He is knocked unconscious! “G” squeezes the trigger to fire another two rounds at the thugs taking cover behind the car; one misses, flying wildly over the men [2+1], prompting one relieved feeling cad to stand up to take aim at “G” just as he fires the second round. “G” expertly adjusts his shot to take on this new target popping up: the shot flies straight and true right into the thug’s head [6+1]! He is struck down! There is mess!
Use walkingbatstick to block bullets on the way to cover (and be refreshed here if it's only for one roll) , find a stone, and play attack cricket-style with it. Target the car to the East.
Furious at the mess, the three remaining thugs rise to their feet and fire their revolvers as one, unleashing round after round at Winston Smith, who has dashed in front of “G”, both to save his life and to find some cover.
Amidst a hail of a dozen or more deadly projectiles, Smith deflects every bullet with his walking
Searching about the floor near the doorway in which he is taking cover, Smith finds a small stone [2+1 lasting refreshment bonus]. He uses his walking
Skill Improved! You have gained a little more expertise in the art of walking
throw the explosive pocketwatch at the thugs.
McGeenyton, seeing the situation clearly under control to the east, decides to resolve the issue of the thugs and automobile to the western end of the street, and takes his pocketwatch out of the pocket of his waistcoat. Checking the time one last time, he hurls it in the direction of the car, where it lands in the front seat [4]. Enough time passes for the hiding thugs to realise what has just happened, and to shake their heads at the eccentric Englishman launching timepieces at them; and then the explosive pocketwatch explodes. A flash of flame flies into the air; a miniature shock wave shoots out in a circle, and milliseconds later the car follows suit, jumping into the air several feet before falling back down with a crash.
As the car burns, the single thug lying on the floor beside it comes to, only to see the horrific sight of his three mangled and erstwhile companions. He takes aim at McGeenyton, but is clearly in too bad a state to be an effective thug [3-1]. He passes out from the pain!
Item Lost! Explosive pocketwatch.
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
… … … … … …
Less than a mile away, five hundred feet of hulking Zeppelin drift slowly but surely across the city of Geneva, blocking out the sun for the astounded populace in the streets below. They are to bear witness to one of the first great feats of aerial maneuvering; their grandchildren shall hear of the day when a monstrous airship glided between the city’s spires, floated down the grand avenues, and halted before the most luxurious hotel in the country.
I guess wait politely until Wellington decides where to take the zeppelin, admire the view of the city.
Von Fersen is doing his best to admire the view of the pleasant lakeside city and the surrounding countryside [3]; he waits politely until he can descend. When a mastercraftsman is at work, it is best not to interfere with his concentration, he remarks sagely to himself.
Position zeppelin over hotel roof, release ladder, and politely climb down, tipping my hat towards anyone confused at the roof.
"G'day sirs."
And, in the business of crafting a fine descent in a stolen dirigible, it would seem that there is no master more masterful than Mr William Wellington, the proud Englishman. Spotting the famous Hotel Masson, hotel for the aristocratic visitor to Geneva for decades, Wellington navigates his airship along the avenue below, deftly turning the wheel in his wicker basket to come to a halt above the hotel roof [4]. He calls down to one of the porters standing agape at the front door, and requests that he hold the ladder steady as he releases it and watches it unfurl to the ground.
As he politely climbs down, tipping his hat to several onlookers [6], he tethers the Zeppelin to an adjacent chimney stack for safe keeping, before continuing on his way. He gets off the ladder in front of the bemused porter holding it steady – he has clearly never seen such a thing, and can barely comprehend the eccentric ways of this most gentlemanly and English of gentlemen. Word of this incredible event will surely spread throughout the city’s polite salons like wildfire! Wellington tips the porter and walks into the hotel.
“I say. I have a room reserved. The name’s Wellington. William Wellington.”
Gentlemanliness Increased! Eccentric and spectacular entrance!
Behind him, rather less gentlemannerly and less sure on his feet, follow von Fersen [2], and Mr Link [4], in their turn climbing down, tipping the porter, and introducing themselves at the hotel’s desk.
Gentlemanliness Increased! Eccentric entrance!
Gentlemanliness Increased! Eccentric entrance!
As Wellington and von Fersen are shown to their rooms to refresh themselves and decide how to go about the rest of their mission, Link excuses himself.
Link attempts to infiltrate and overtake the Genevian criminal underworld!
“I say. One is just off to try to infiltrate the local criminal underworld. I have an inkling that certain contacts could prove useful in the continued pursuit of our objectives…”
… … … … … …
Sometime later that morning, a character that none but the closest observer would recognise as the disguised gentleman spy John Link, enters a seedy and disreputable café on the eastern outskirts of Geneva. He is, indeed, the spitting image of some form of dishonourable cad! Sidling up to the café owner, he introduces himself in perfect German.
“I say. I mean bonjour. My name is Johannes Linkschmitt. I have… some information that may be of interest to… certain people. Some information that could be exceedingly valuable.”
… … … … … …
And so it came to pass that John Link, gentleman spy, within hours of his airborne arrival in Geneva, was sitting drinking tea with Bombastus Muller, self-proclaimed leader of the Genevian underworld. On either side of Muller sit his two deputies dressed in black; on either side of Link sit his two newly acquired Swiss bodyguards, armed with halberds and rapiers.
“So, Mr Linkschmitt. You have things you want to discuss?”
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: areyoua on October 10, 2011, 02:54:31 pm
Post by: Darvi on October 10, 2011, 04:22:47 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on October 10, 2011, 04:29:40 pm
I approve of that action.
Given Scriver has got you a meeting with the Crimelord of Geneva (I didn't see that one coming), what do you now want to do?
Post by: Darvi on October 10, 2011, 04:34:34 pm
Post by: Darvi on October 11, 2011, 09:29:56 am
Post by: scriver on October 11, 2011, 09:37:54 am
Post by: lawastooshort on October 11, 2011, 03:50:24 pm
Although "G" has an invitation to lunch that it would be rude to miss, the gentlemen currently exploding an ambush should be with you shortly.
Post by: Geen on October 11, 2011, 05:33:44 pm
Post by: scriver on October 11, 2011, 06:24:24 pm
Have a look around the Mason for G.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on October 11, 2011, 06:53:27 pm
Post by: Yoink on October 12, 2011, 02:24:11 am
Post by: lawastooshort on October 12, 2011, 02:49:48 am
I am shortly going to start another RTD, I think, probably before my second one has completely finished. I would like to reassure you that my gentleman spies are my first concern: I will do my utmost not to let this descend into farce or nonsense, and I will keep it going as long as there is interest, or Chapter Five of Book One is finished, or I leave the country next May, whereupon I foresee limited internet access and writing time for a while. Whichever. I am aware that, at times, at least to me, this feels a little lacking in direction: there is one, it is just sometimes difficult to maintain it when you are split up (this isn't meant to discourage you from splitting up, I am pleased for you to do whatever you feel a gentleman and a spy might). I feel bad whenever I don't present each of you with the occasion for doing something meaningful with your turn.
Post by: Hitty40 on October 12, 2011, 01:50:58 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on October 12, 2011, 03:32:39 pm
Take cover and try to find a weapon.
Attempting to take cover behind a small brick [2], McGeenyton searches about his person for a weapon of some sort. He realises he has misplaced [1] his tartan trimmed double barreled walking stick!
As he watches in dismay, he notices the hitherto unconscious thug near the ruined car begin to stir.
Item Misplaced! Double Barreled Walking Stick With Tartan Trim.
Take cover behind something.
Not many feet away from McGeenyton, "G", saved from a flurry of bullets by Smith's majestic walking
Item Acquired! Damaged trouser leg!
Demand Surrender,bluffsuggest that McGeenyton may have another explosive chronometer. If no surrender, thencharge them,, elegantly walk towards them, walkingcricket bat in handbatstick in hand, and forcefully request their unconsciousness.
“I say!” begins Smith, “I demand your surrender! My colleague here will not hesitate to explode you a second time!”
“I don’t believe you!” comes the insolent reply [2], “We shall shoot you down like dogs!”
Moderately put out by this show of unreasonable impoliteness, Smith strolls over to the two suppressed thugs cowering behind the car before they have a chance to react.
“In that case,” continues Smith, “Though you may find this request unconscionable, I demand your unconsciousness. Have at you, you thugs!”
Man of action and manful strength that he is, Smith elegantly rounds the bullet-riddled vehicle and, as the first thug rises to meet him and protest as his latest demand, brings his walking
“I say,” he says, “That won’t do! I asked you to fall unconscious, not to attack one with a hidden blade! I shall teach you a thing or two about basic decency, and I hope not to have to repeat myself. Take this!”
As he speaks, the thug lunges towards Smith, arm outstretched and dagger firmly clasped. Smith neatly sidesteps, before smacking the man about the face with the handle end of his walking
As the short and brutal combat ends and the caddish ambush is thwarted, the gentle clip clop of approaching horses’ hooves can be heard. Turning towards the source of the sound, the gentlemen witness the arrival of the Swiss police. The man who is clearly their Captain dismounts and approaches. "G" and McGeenyton pick themselves off the floor a little sheepishly; Smith arranges his jacket.
“Je dis!” he begins, “I apologise on behalf of the city of Geneva! You appear to have been waylaid by the most miserable of muggers, and I thank you for detaining them. Hmm. This one here appears to have been particularly detained. Constable Theroux! Fetch the dead-wagon please! Sergeant Jenkins! Get your men to tidy up this mess and cuff these insolent thugs.”
He turns back to the gentleman spies.
“Friends, gentlemen, milords, I am ashamed on behalf of my city. We have had a great deal of troubling incidents lately, and I am doing my best to enforce law and order. If it would please you, I would be honoured to escort you safely to your hotel.”
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
… … … … … …
Have a look around the Masson for G.
Meanwhile, back at the Hotel Masson, von Fersen looks around the hotel for his German companion, worried at not having seen him since leaving the train in the wee hours of the morning. He wanders about the corridors until he thinks he walks past a door from whence comes the German’s voice! He knocks and opens [1]; he sees a lady who has not yet entirely finished preparing her hair! She gasps!
The unfortunate Swede blushes! He stammers an apology! He casts his eyes down to the floor!
Caddishness Increased! Embarrassed a lady in an inappropriate state of undress!
Head to the hotel lobby, looking as generically gentlemanly as I can possibly be as to avoid notice. Wait for one of my companions to come by.
Far from this disgraceful scene, William Wellington is standing about in the hotel lobby, looking like a smartly dressed gentleman, resplendent in his top hat [4]. He is only noticed by a passing butler, who offers him a morning brandy and cigar. Where are his companions? He begins to wonder as to their safety, but understands that they are capable and experienced men. It is unlikely they are in great danger.
… … … … … …
Makes plans with Müller for getting into that locker. Insider sources state that its contents are very valuable for the local authorities... and that might prove valuable for both of us too.
“So…,” continues Müller, taking another puff on his cigar, “these… locker contents could be very valuable to the right people, eh? Well. I’m no friend of the Germans, they have been far too active recently, even their criminal gangs try to invade my territory. I would be happy to help you, Mister… “Linkschmitt”. Now, my people have been quite active lately – you see, we are engaged in a little, shall we say, disagreement with another Genevian gentleman who would also like to smuggle tob- er, that is to say, sell various goods at market. So I’m not sure that I can offer to break into Geneva Central Station for you. No Sir.
Müller leans forward a little, lowering his voice [5].
“But I have a few contacts. I could certainly make sure that your activities there are not troubled by over-enthusiastic constables, for example – I could even arrange for that to be the case this very evening. I could even ask Riggenbach here to accompany you: he is the finest… locksmith in Switzerland. I am sure that a clean break in would help you make a clean getaway, and that is in both of our interests.”
He takes a final puff and puts down his cigar in the vulgarly ornate ashtray beside him.
“Now, to business. If I could facilitate this interesting adventure, what do you propose to offer me in return? I am fond of biscuits, but that would not be entirely enough.”
Post by: areyoua on October 12, 2011, 03:52:01 pm
To the hotel at last! On the way, look outside the carriage for any suspicious Germans.
Post by: Geen on October 12, 2011, 08:38:22 pm
Post by: Powder Miner on October 12, 2011, 09:48:17 pm
Post by: scriver on October 13, 2011, 06:57:56 am
Ah. Then I...I have no idea what I was thinking with this action.
Have a look around the Mason for G.
I'm confused.
Excuse myself most heartfelt to the lady through the door, then go find out if the establishment has any form of restaurant where one can enjoy a well deserve breakfast.
Post by: lawastooshort on October 13, 2011, 07:01:45 am
Ah. Then I...I have no idea what I was thinking with this action.
Have a look around the Mason for G.
I'm confused.
I so nearly asked you to confirm, as well. Oh well, no harm done, apart from the shame.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on October 13, 2011, 04:52:11 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on October 13, 2011, 04:57:20 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on October 14, 2011, 03:12:14 am
Specifically, what to reply to Muller:
Quote
“Now, to business. If I could facilitate this interesting adventure, what do you propose to offer me in return? I am fond of biscuits, but that would not be entirely enough.”[/quote
Post by: Hitty40 on October 16, 2011, 03:57:21 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on October 17, 2011, 04:31:27 am
Chapter Two, Part Fourteen
Grab my walking gun and head out.
Accepting the Captain’s kind offer of an escort to the hotel, McGeenyton finishes readjusting his attire, attaining some semblance of uncreased civility, and picks his treasured tartan trimmed walking gun back up off the floor where he had so recently mislaid it [4]. He lights his pipe whilst waiting for his companions to ready themselves before travelling with them to the Hotel Masson.
"Mind if I ask what kind of troubles, captain?"
As McGeenyton smokes, "G" uses his natural charm to see if there is anything in the recent local disturbances that could be used to the spies' advantage [6].
“Troubles… well… I probably should not tell a foreign visitor, but I do not mind telling a gentleman. We have been suffering much activity from foreign spies, mostly Germanic foreign spies – probably linked to their mysterious workshop on Lake Constance. I have been trying to get my own spies in there for several months, but with no success. But as well! We have had a few scuffles between rival gangs… which have been quite disturbing to the local populace to say the least. There have even been fiends armed with exploding bullets and the latest rifles fighting in certain streets! I have had to order my constables to leave well alone when they come across these dastardly thugs, for their own sake. It is a sad affair.”
The Captain pauses to light a cigarette, and appears to think.
“Say! You gentlemen seem to have dealt quite handily with these ruffians! Perhaps you would be able to deal quite handily with one of these criminal gangs! I know their hideout, but alas, without enough proof to call in the army, there is little that I can do within the realms of the law, such is their strength… If you would be interested in a little adventure – and handsomely reimbursed it would be – perhaps you could come to speak with me? Anyway, come! Let us not keep you waiting any further!”
At this, the three gentlemen board the waiting carriage, and they wind their way slowly through the streets of Geneva.
To the hotel at last! On the way, look outside the carriage for any suspicious Germans.
That fine and popular specimen of a gentleman, Smith, as gentlemanly as any Englishman, as fearsome a fighter and as knowledgeable and skilled in cricket, sits down in the carriage and ensures his tie is straight. As the valiant spies head to the hotel to rendezvous with their colleagues he peers suspiciously out of the carriage, but fails to spot any Germans [2].
… … … … … …
Excuse myself most heartfelt to the lady through the door, then go find out if the establishment has any form of restaurant where one can enjoy a well deserve breakfast.
Shutting the door immediately, back in the hotel, von Fersen takes out his pipe and utters his most heartfelt apology [5+1 oratory bonus], whereupon the door opens back up. In the doorway stands a beautiful and gentleladylike lady.
“I say,” she surprisingly says, “One is feeling rather forgiving today, especially when the forgivee concerned is apparently a rather charming and handsome fellow. My sisters are late this morning; perhaps you would do me the honour of accompanying me to breakfast? Lady Caroline Agathe Ehrenstrahl Beaulieu de Meulemeester at your service.”
She offers a dainty and begloved hand.
Meet up with my party
As the rest of the gentleman spies arrive back at the hotel and congregate in the lobby, fresh from their unintended tour of Geneva’s favourite ambush sites, Wellington comes over to meet them [4].
“What ho!” he perkishly and slightly impatiently begins. “Now. We have work to do sirs. What shall we do about this blasted locker, eh what? First order of business is Link. He’s off somewhere, up to no good no doubt. Second, von Fersen. That bloody Swede is off gallivanting with the heiress to the Ehrenstrahl Beaulieu de Meulemeester fortune in the breakfast room. Likely to become the richest woman in the whole of the Swedo-Belgian Principality, don’t you know, and a damned fine looker to boot. We can’t begrudge him that, so I shan’t. Third, the Germans. Blast them.”
… … … … … …
Quote
Mr John Link
“Offer you in return? Well. I have some particularly excellent biscuits… and I could also offer the thanks of His Majesty’s Government? Not to mention of His Majesty Himself? I am sure that is something which could… come in handy one day?”
Mr Link sits back, feeling that he has played a particularly well timed trump card [5].
“Aha!” says Bombastus Müller, “I did suspect that there must be something more to one of your wit and charm than first met the eye. The thanks of the British Government, eh? And of His Majesty Himself? And… excellent biscuits? I think we have a deal, Mr… Linkschmitt? I shall arrange for the Geneva Police to be… some other place this evening, if you would like. And Riggenbach here shall meet you there. Now, about these biscuits?”
Post by: scriver on October 17, 2011, 06:16:34 am
Action coming up.
...At least she is not Russian. Russian women have like +5 to Spying. I learnt that from television, so it has to be true.
edit: Also, if Darvi shows up for our RP session tomorrow night I promise to kick his arse over here. I believe he does have problem with his connection or maybe just connecting, though. He said something about it in the Happy thread.
action!edit!: Well, it would hardly be gentlemanlish of me to refuse, even though she is a German spy-collaborator (she's obviously from the Dutch side of Belgium, and as we all know Dutch means German) who's going to poison my breakfast.
Gentlemanly kiss her hand, properly introduce myself and accompany the gentlelady to the dining area. Inquire about her reasons for being in Geneva. If she asks the same, tell her I am a published writer who has come to Switzerland for inspiration, and that I just have arrived in my friend's airship. Otherwise be as charming as possible.
It's too bad Belgians don't share the same passion for elks as Germans. ;)
Post by: Geen on October 17, 2011, 07:11:30 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on October 17, 2011, 09:15:08 pm
Post by: areyoua on October 18, 2011, 04:01:48 pm
Head to Geneva Central Station on a cab and scout out the area. Look for a time when the guards aren't paying attention, a time when security is most lax, or a way to easily break in undetected.
Post by: lawastooshort on October 18, 2011, 04:09:28 pm
Oh, dear. Have we forgotten what we're supposed to be doing?
Yes...
I'm considering for the next two deaths not to activate the waitlist in order to keep the number of players to four so it is easier to keep on track and updated. (Apologies to the waitlisters.) I'm finding it so much easier to move along my other 4 person RtD, and with more momentum comes more writing enjoyment and ease etc. (the etc. including remembering what the mission was...).
Anyway, if one of hitty40 or darvi post, I will try to update tomorrow.
Post by: Hitty40 on October 18, 2011, 07:09:56 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on October 19, 2011, 12:45:38 am
edited update: I'm working on the turn but am just stuck on a couple of things. I'll get there.
Post by: Hitty40 on October 19, 2011, 01:27:52 pm
Excuse myself for lunch with Adolphe.(The Geneva Train Station Officer)
Post by: lawastooshort on October 21, 2011, 10:06:54 am
3.32pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Geneva
Excuse myself for lunch with Adolphe.(The Geneva Train Station Officer)
As Wellington mentions the locker and their mission, ”G” realises all of a sudden that he has an impending lunch to attend. He rushes off!
Mrs Constanz cooks a wonderful lunch, which fills “G” full of the force necessary for a good few hours’ hunting in the surrounding countryside hiking about with the marvelous Swiss couple. Adolphe himself shows him some of the exploding rifle rounds he has been developing, and lets him try them out. He slays a goat!
It is, in fact, such a wonderful shot, that Adolphe feels moved to make a gift of the exploding ammunition, admiring as he does “G”’s tremendous skill and, it goes without saying, his appreciation of the Elk [5]. “G” makes his way back to the hotel towards mid-afternoon teatime.
Item Acquired! Goat carcass!
Item Acquired! Three magazines of exploding ammunition!
Set out to acquire a snack.
As “G” sets out from the hotel, Wellington sets out to seek a snack, knowing as he does that a light meal is so often considered to be a prerequisite for successful espionage. Alas! He searches from brunchtime to lunchtime, and reaches nearly mid-afternoon teatime without success! He feels rather hungry, and sits down upon a bench to adjust his top hat [2].
Gentlemanly kiss her hand, properly introduce myself and accompany the gentlelady to the dining area. Inquire about her reasons for being in Geneva. If she asks the same, tell her I am a published writer who has come to Switzerland for inspiration, and that I just have arrived in my friend's airship. Otherwise be as charming as possible.
Von Fersen properly introduces himself to the gentlelady, and they go to break their fast in the dining area. She is, apparently, just touring the country with her three sisters, as part of their general education, and whilst she is quite impressed with von Fersen’s being a published writer, she confesses to not having read his works, and apologises profusely. She does, however, find von Fersen remarkably charming, and the gentlecouple pass an agreeable couple of hours in each other’s company. Alas! Her sisters return, and she must leave to meet them: when she does she is full of kindly words about the charming and handsome Swede and the four sisters soon set the hotel’s gentleladies a-chatter with talk of the gentleman who is also a published writer [5+1 trait bonus]. Before von Fersen knows it, it is mid-afternoon teatime!
Gentlemanliness Increased! Swooning ladies!
Bow to the gentlewoman, be on the lookout for any German bastards attempting to harm her.
As his friend and comrade von Fersen descends into the dining area with the beautiful Lady Caroline Agathe Ehrenstrahl Beaulieu de Meulemeester at his side, McGeenyton bows like a gentleman, and whispers in von Fersen’s ear that he vows to protect them from any German bastards while they breakfast. There are none about in the breakfast room that he notices, however [3]. He continues to stand guard until he debriefs with von Fersen later in the day.
Head to Geneva Central Station on a cab and scout out the area. Look for a time when the guards aren't paying attention, a time when security is most lax, or a way to easily break in undetected.
Only one of our gentlemen seems not to be fixated with food and its acquisition: Winston Smith, who, bravely remembering his service to His Majesty the King more Englishly than any Englishman, requests that a butler order him a cab to the station. He reaches it and discretely observes with all his ex-police detective’s intuition for much of the middle part of the day.
It would seem that, aside from the police presence outside the main entrance, the actual number of guards inside the station is fairly limited; and although the left luggage area itself seems to be permanently staffed by at least two porters, the rest of the guardsmen appear to be relieved every hour, whereupon there is a five minute drop in the rigorousness of the guardsmen’s application of their duty. Since the Swiss are notoriously unfond of tea, this is a rather strange thing to account for, Smith muses to himself. He walks on, and notices that the rear of the left luggage area adjoins an external wall of the station, and looks rather flimsy.
Towards the end of his observation, Smith keenly feels the presence of another observing pair of eyes; indeed, he soon spots someone suspiciously similar to a German, although in a top hat, walking about in the main hall of the station, looking about with great curiosity [5].
Quote
Mr John Link
Only one gentleman is not fixated on food? No! For Mr Link is feeling sleepy, not hungry. Suddenly realising that he has not adequately rested for some time, John Link Esq. retires to his bedroom to take a nap as soon as he has informed his fellow gentlemen that Geneva Central Station will, in all likelihood, be free of police officers this very night. His nap goes exceptionally well [5].
Spoiler: GM’s note spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Geen on October 21, 2011, 04:47:01 pm
Post by: areyoua on October 24, 2011, 02:49:56 pm
Best do something while I wait for the evening.
Post by: lawastooshort on October 25, 2011, 03:52:12 am
Should I lock it and leave it?
Post by: Yoink on October 25, 2011, 04:21:21 am
Post by: Hitty40 on October 25, 2011, 01:24:08 pm
Get a cup of tea.
Post by: areyoua on October 25, 2011, 02:53:13 pm
Not while I'm around.
Get a cup of tea.
This, I think, is kind of the point he's trying to make... Getting a cup of tea doesn't really fit what we're trying to do.
Post by: Firelordsky on October 25, 2011, 04:11:11 pm
Post by: scriver on October 25, 2011, 04:12:45 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on October 25, 2011, 04:37:38 pm
I'm all for continuing if we think we can get this thing going again.
I could fast-forward the day to the inevitable Geneva Central Station located night-time showdown between gentleman spies, Germans, and Swiss forces of order and see how it goes from there?
Perhaps a violent action scene will reinvigorate things. I could also drop Darvi back to the waitlist, and be stricter on how long I am prepared to wait before auto-ing.
Post by: Geen on October 25, 2011, 05:18:14 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on October 26, 2011, 07:38:44 am
3.49pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Geneva Central Station
Smith, we might recall, has spotted a suspicious looking German lurking about in Geneva Central Station whilst staking it out. He casually walks up to him and puts his detective training into action.
“I say old chap, what are you doing here?! I haven't seen you for simply ages! How delightful! What are you looking for, by the way?”
“I am just er looking for mein left luggage! I hope to recuperate it this eve... I'm sorry, I don't remember your name?”
“Winston Smith, at your service Sir.” Smith extends his hand, and as the German puts his forwards to meet it, smacks his walking
Some two hundred yards away Smith is leaving the station and heading back towards the hotel post haste, his internal monologue beavering away. This evening eh... Strewth! I must inform my companions. Speed and decisive action will be of the essence!... I wonder what kind of sandwiches will be served with afternoon tea?
4.06pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Inside Smith's Mind, Hotel Masson, Geneva
Damn and blast! Bloody cucumber again!
10.21pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Geneva Central Station
A freezing wind blows off the lake into the city, and the first suggestion of snow is starting to fall from the overcast sky above onto the small group of gentlemen huddled together around the warmth of August von Fersen's finely crafted pipe. Geneva Central Station lies across the street from them, and they eagerly discuss their plans in low voices.
“I say we should get some bloody tea, what?”
“Don't be a bloody fool: we've got to get in there before those blasted Germans do. No offence meant. They're coming tonight, I'm sure of it. And then we could get some tea, and some decent bloody sandwiches. I'm fed up with cucumber, that's three bloody days straight. Now, how should we get in?”
“Or, afterwards, we could offer that gentlewoman tea and biscuits?”
“At this hour?! How bloody dare you sir! She spoke to me first in any case.”
“Sirs! At least one of you is more English than I am, and it shames me to have to give gentlemanship lessons to any of you. Now. Again. Let us make haste: if they have a means of getting in which doesn't involve the front door, then those ruddy Germans may already be inside. We must get going!”
Spoiler: GM's spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: scriver on October 26, 2011, 09:53:25 am
...Sorry, I cold come up with nothing else than "waltz in through front door" ;)
Post by: Hitty40 on October 26, 2011, 01:47:57 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on October 26, 2011, 01:49:00 pm
Post by: Hitty40 on October 26, 2011, 01:53:49 pm
Yes. Large windows about 1 metre above the ground. About one every 3 metres.
What can we see inside? Considering it's dark, I doubt we might not see anything unless lights are on.
Post by: lawastooshort on October 26, 2011, 02:09:11 pm
However, Smith has earlier observed that there are occasional guard patrols of two guards at a time who slack off towards the hour mark.
There should be no police about (unless given reason, such as explosions) thanks to Link's police bribing.
Post by: areyoua on October 26, 2011, 03:01:45 pm
The gentlemanly way is to barge in the front door at the turn of the hour, and demand of the two porters that they allow us access to the luggage locker. Hopefully, the Germans aren't already there.
The American Way rightfully requires the use of plenty of explosives, namely, "G"'s explosive ammunition, to comprehensively evaporate the wall of the left luggage area, thus giving us the advantage over any Germans who may or may not be there, but also giving us the everlasting enmity of the Swiss Police. We then
Obviously, I support the latter!
Post by: Powder Miner on October 26, 2011, 03:52:48 pm
That gave me that mental image, so I had to expose you to it too.
Post by: Geen on October 26, 2011, 06:10:36 pm
Post by: scriver on October 27, 2011, 02:41:48 am
I'm all for it, though. I also have a potentially volatile doorknob grenade in my inventory, but I think I'll save it for later. Also, it probably only explodes on a 6.
...or a 1.
Post by: Hitty40 on October 27, 2011, 07:11:30 am
Post by: lawastooshort on October 27, 2011, 07:33:15 am
10.24pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Opposite Geneva Central Station
A cold wind blows off the lake into the city, and the first of many flakes of snow are starting to fall from the heavy sky above onto the huddled gentlemen grouped together around the warmth of von Fersen's ever-present pipe. They stand opposite Geneva Central Station, and they eagerly hatch their cunning plan in conspirational whispers.
After two or three minutes of fruitless discussion about tea and sandwiches, Winston Smith holds forth.
“I see two ways of getting in: the gentlemanly way, and the American Way.
The gentlemanly way is to knock politely at the front door at the turn of the hour, and demand of the two porters that they allow us access to the luggage locker. Hopefully, the Germans aren't already there. I must confess that I do not have full confidence in this plan. It seems to me to lack a certain je ne sais quoi, as you Brits like to say.
The American Way rightfully requires the use of plenty of explosives, namely, "G"'s explosive ammunition that he brought back this afternoon, to comprehensively evaporate the wall of the left luggage area, thus giving us the advantage over any Germans who may or may not be there, but also, perhaps and unfortunately, giving us the everlasting enmity of the Swiss Police. We shall then elegantly stroll back to the airship and make away with the contents. On both a personal and a professional level, this is the plan in which I have the most faith. Now, all those in favour say aye.”
A chorus of “ayes” echoes quietly in the deserted street; only one lone voice dissents.
“I say,” says “G”, “That doesn't seem terribly polite to me. Are you sure we can't just knock?”
Gentlemanliness Increased! Insistence on the Gentlemanly Way!
10.27pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, A side road next to Geneva Central Station
Three gentlemen stand well back from another in the dimly lit side street next to Geneva Central Station, as this fourth gentleman kneels and holds his rifle to his shoulder, aiming at the wall mere feet away. Mr Winston Smith holds his walking
The kneeling fourth man is known to them only as “G”: it is he who is aiming the considerable quantity of explosives at the wall directly before the intrepid spies. He looks up at Smith; his glance moves from the American, to the Swede, to the Englishman.
“Ready?”
The three other gentlemen nod.
“And you're sure we can't just knock? Or use the doorbell? We could telegram to announce our arrival beforehand?”
The other three gentlemen shake their heads. “G” looks back down to his rifle muttering something to himself about perhaps writing a letter or maybe sending the butler.
He switches his rifle to fully automatic, and holds down the trigger. Everything before him disappears in a flash of smoke, dust and fire [5].
10.28pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, A side road next to Geneva Central Station
“G” ejects the empty magazine. “I say, chaps. That seems to have done the trick! Let's go before the blasted forces of law und order arrive.”
The left luggage area lies naked before them! As “G” signals the all clear, Winston Smith strolls in, walking
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: areyoua on October 27, 2011, 07:51:44 am
Sprint through the luggage area while on the lookout for 4a to the door on the other side, and remembering to keep my walking
Post by: Hitty40 on October 27, 2011, 08:05:02 am
Post by: scriver on October 27, 2011, 08:19:13 am
Move up towards door, while aiming my rifle at it in case Germans burst through!
Post by: Geen on October 27, 2011, 07:16:10 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on October 27, 2011, 07:49:40 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on November 01, 2011, 06:02:08 am
10.29pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Left Luggage Area, Geneva Central Station
“Right then, to work!” exclaims Winston Smith as he speeds up to a sprint through the Left Luggage Area, walking
Behind him follow the rest of the gentlemen: first comes von Fersen who moves up steadily whilst aiming his trusty rifle at the door, in case Germans burst through! At a more leisurely pace comes “G”, who pauses to reload his rifle, thoughtfully taking care not to use any more explosive ammunition in such a confined space. McGeenyton follows, looking disapprovingly at such caution whilst wondering about the availability of tea should a fearsome firefight occur. There doesn’t appear to be a tea urn or a butler in the vicinity! William Wellington skulks tactically at the back, mind clearly still on his afternoon failure to eat a decent snack: a foreboding portent of doom? Or merely an inconvenience swiftly rectified? Alas! We shall never know the conclusion of his mental meanderings, for suddenly the door in front of the gentlemen bursts open! Germans appear!
“Ach! Der Inglander Schweindogs!” they cry as the leap comparatively unprepared into the Left Luggage Area.
One badly dressed young man charges straight at Smith with some foreign form of walking stick! He manages to get through just before his unfortunate comrade behind: von Fersen raises his rifle and blows [5] him away! He is struck down hard in the face! Two more Germans clamber over their fallen companion, but “G” opens fire! He peppers them with bullets to the chest [5, 3, 3]: one has his spleen punctured! The other’s liver is broken! They are struck down!
Behind the carnage lurk yet more fiendish foreign spies, and a fifth German enters the room just as McGeenyton stops his search for a tea urn. He raises his tartan trimmed double barreled walking stick and blasts off [4] his arm! He fires the second barrel: he bruises [4] the German’s head! He too is struck down!
But there are at least another half dozen spies in the office behind the bursted open door, and undaunted by the massacre unfolding before their eyes they stream into the room, getting in between Smith and the other four gentlemen: for Smith is locked in
Smith attempts to strike first! He swings his walking
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: scriver on November 01, 2011, 06:38:53 am
Drop the gun to the floor, then draw the umbrella-sword and engage the Germans! Try to circle around them until I get to Smith's unconscious body, so he can be more easily defended from the rude German Swine-Hounds.
Post by: areyoua on November 01, 2011, 04:49:17 pm
Engage in self-reflection whilst trying to regain consciousness.
Post by: Hitty40 on November 01, 2011, 05:14:35 pm
Post by: Geen on November 01, 2011, 06:28:12 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on November 03, 2011, 03:59:46 am
10.30pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Left Luggage Area, Geneva Central Station
As Smith lies unconscious on the floor, the other gentlemen redouble their efforts and rush into action to save their comrade.
“G” attempts to engage the German standing above Smith in conversation: he fails! He instead decides to engage him in mortal combat! He shoulders his way through the line of German spies coming between him and Smith, and strikes the impudent fellow in the face with the butt of his rifle! His face is smashed in! He is violently struck down! It is quite an unpleasant scene!
Behind “G”, von Fersen drops his gun to the floor and pushes past the Germans’ flank, drawing his umbrella-sword as he strolls. He breaches their lines and stands before Smith’s defenseless body, standing guard against the oncoming horde: one of the enemy spies comes at him, but the valiant von Fersen is far too quick! He thrusts forwards with his umbrella-sword! He misses and stumbles! The German removes his helmet and tries to smack him about the face: He also misses and stumbles! He spiked helmet falls to the ground and shatters! One of his comrades behind him advances to engage his murderous yet noble countryman “G” and draws a revolver, but he only manages to blow a small hole in the wall behind!
“G” and von Fersen now stand near the open doorway, defending the unfortunate Smith from two incompetent German spies, but four more villainous thugs face McGeenyton and the strangely passive Mr Wellington. McGeenyton engages them with his walking gunstick, wielding it as a vicious and tastefully tartan-trimmed quarterstaff. He strikes one in the chest, and knocks him back; the Englishman strikes another on the head, and smashes his brain! His skull is bruised! His brain is severed! He is horrifically struck down! His companion seeks to gain revenge upon the mighty English warrior, and attempts to kick him hard in the groin! McGeenyton blocks with his tartan-trimmed double-barreled quarterstaff! The German’s foot is bruised!
Next to McGeenyton the other two Germans push forward to engage Mr Wellington: he parries their blows with his top hat and knocks one to the ground, but he is uninjured and quick to jump to his feet – unlike the American Smith, who, apparently comfortable on the floor, groans a little and rolls over, trying to cuddle von Fersen’s nearby foot. He doesn’t even manage much in the way of self-reflection! Blast!
Spoiler: Rolls Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Powder Miner on November 03, 2011, 05:26:08 pm
Post by: Hitty40 on November 03, 2011, 05:31:16 pm
Post by: areyoua on November 03, 2011, 05:34:51 pm
Post by: Powder Miner on November 03, 2011, 05:52:21 pm
Nationality: Argentine.
Relation: Although he comes form a wealthy family (A.K.A. how he got to England), he's mostly a self-made gentleman.
Skill: He is very knowledgeable in mathematics, having been well educated and taken a liking to it. +1 to things involving numerical mathematics.
Trait: Scholarly. (Not sure if I choose the trait +1, but it's +1 in learning scholarly things).
Item: Advanced Mathematics Book (Printed in Spanish). (Not asking for a bonus here, I just thought it'd stick well to his scholarly personality, in fact he's learned all of it but keeps it as a souvenir of Argentina, and since he's learned all of it, it shouldn't give a bonus.)
Bio: Born and raised in Argentine under a wealthy family, Juan Daniel was in his childhood a very curious boy. This led naturally to him being very interested in the ways of gentlemen and in school as he grew up. He found that he loved math and was especially good at it- and although this led to him being unpopular in primary and secondary schools, he found him served him very much well when he went to a prestigious college, taking all the numerical mathematics classes he could get to, attracted by his fondness to the subject. He ended up in a group of gentlemanly young men, and he learned truly the way of gentlemen (which also suited him). However, his opportunities in Argentina, when he got out of college, shrunk due to a pass of bad luck. So he decided to use the English he learned in secondary school and college and set off for England, taking only necessities and his college mathematics book as a souvenir. Looking for jobs, his exceptional skill in mathematics, his scholasticism, intelligence, and his gentle-manliness were noted, and he has now passed training in the gentleman spy corps. He's initiating as a spy.
(Hey, I have a great excuse for waiting list time! Training!)
Post by: lawastooshort on November 03, 2011, 05:54:14 pm
Proceed to protect Smith in any way possible without the use of gunfire unless all of our companions are out of harm's way.
Heheh! Excellent use of caution sir! I'll try and get another update done tomorrow! If the actions are posted.
PS Powder Miner I'll add you.
Post by: Powder Miner on November 03, 2011, 09:28:56 pm
Post by: scriver on November 04, 2011, 05:32:23 am
Von Fersen rolled a [1] but his umbrella-sword at least survived [4]
It wouldn't have exploded, would it..? :D
Post by: lawastooshort on November 04, 2011, 06:24:37 am
It wouldn't have exploded, would it..? :D
You really shouldn't give me ideas ;)
Post by: Geen on November 05, 2011, 01:55:08 pm
Offer the German a chance to surrender and some tea. If he refuses, kill him with cane-fu.
Post by: lawastooshort on November 05, 2011, 04:44:17 pm
Chapter Two, Part Twenty
10.31pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Left Luggage Area, Geneva Central Station
As if a Viking of old defending Stamford Bridge against the avenging Saxon horde, von Fersen stands before Smith’s unconscious form keeping the onrushing Germans at bay. He regains his footing and swiftly opens his umbrella in the dehelmeted German’s face, but, unfortunately, to no effect. Mildly irritated, the valiant Swede thrusts the umbrellablade at the poor fellow’s throat! The German knocks the blow aside, throwing von Fersen to the floor! He seems to know some form of esoteric foreign martial art!
The affronted German then turns his attention to the German gentleman “G”, and boxes him about the face. He lands a blow on his chin! “G” is also knocked to the floor!
Seeing the German next to the man who knocked him down about to raise his revolver to shoot again, “G” fears for the safety of his unconscious companion, and, vowing to protect Smith in any way possible, rolls over onto his defenceless body to do so! The German unloads his revolver at the space “G” just left, peppering the floor with bullets: “G” has heroically saved both his and Smith’s lives! Invigorated with the strength of manly heroism, “G” leaps back to his feet, and smashes the German in the face with his rifle butt. The German blocks with his hands! The two men grapple together, desperately trying to wrestle the gun from the other.
The German wins! He snatches “G”’s precious rifle and smacks “G” to the ground: he aims it at his chest!
“Hände hoch!”
This loud shout and, undoubtedly, the prior impact of the fully grown “G” all but leaping onto his back, wakes Smith from his relaxing nap: he rises bewilderedly to his feet, and strolls off to search for his walking
Smith takes a moment to inspect his walking
“Blast!”
Thanks to Smith, there is now but one German left fighting Mr Wellington, who, having just jumped back to his feet, advances once more to engage the Englishman with his fists. He lands a blow to Wellington’s chest; he strikes at his face. Wellington takes the blow to his chest like a man and parries the strike to his face like a master of Top Hat Fu, nearly knocking the German off balance, though neither man gains the upper hand.
Next to Wellington, McGeenyton offers his German foe the chance to surrender, and to drink some tea. Although he's not terribly keen on surrender as an idea at this particular moment, he does take up the offer of a cup of tea; McGeenyton and the German wander out of the left luggage area through the blasted breach in the station wall, and McGeenyton attempts to summon a butler with a light tinkle of his bell.
“I say,” says McGeenyton, “I dare say it won't take a minute. Some gentlemen I know have noticed a marked decrease in the performance of butlers over the last few years, but mine's a marvelous chap. Now, I suppose one should find a table and chairs before he gets here, what?”
… … … … … ...
As the melee seems to reach the beginnings of an unfortunate end, with two gentleman spies seemingly captured on the floor and another politely engaged in the consumption of tea - although one should also point out, to the spies' advantage, there is an angry Smith on the rampage absentmindedly felling the Hun left and right - the door through which the Germans recently burst bursts open a second time. An imposing and well dressed man strolls through, wearing a black top hat and holding an elaborately decorated cane. He is flanked by two further Germans: when he turns to look Smith recognises one of them as the shifty looking fellow he saw earlier at the station.
“Stop!” the newcomer shouts, in a naturally commanding voice. The Germans all turn to look.
“Stop! Stop this nonsense! Gentlemen,” he says, turning to the group of gentleman spies and their German foes, “This is a disgraceful scene! Surely we can settle this like gentlemen? Surely this disagreement can be settled like the men of noble birth that we are? Surely one of you would be prepared to fight me in an honourable duel to decide who makes off with the dispatch case that you surely desire as much as I? What do you say? Who amongst you is man enough to fight me one on one? You may choose any weapon you wish, I am not afraid!”
Spoiler: Rolls Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: areyoua on November 05, 2011, 04:58:58 pm
Pray that he is honorable.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on November 05, 2011, 05:30:33 pm
Post by: scriver on November 05, 2011, 05:36:21 pm
If he himself should become the lucky one, von Fersen chooses guns, as he is the most familiar with them
Post by: Hitty40 on November 05, 2011, 05:37:05 pm
Post by: areyoua on November 05, 2011, 05:44:07 pm
Taking out his pipe, von Fersen addresses his comrades. "No doubt we all wish to take up this challenge to our honour, as gentlemen should. I thusly suggest, we draw sticks to decide who the honourable chap should be, what?"
If he himself should become the lucky one, von Fersen chooses guns, as he is the most familiar with them
"All right von Ferson, I shall relent. Luck surely is the best way to deal with this, then."
If lucky, I shall fight with my walking
Post by: lawastooshort on November 05, 2011, 05:45:57 pm
I'm confused. Was the stick under the foot of the German who had my rifle?
No (and sorry for the confusion). The walking
The German who had your rifle still has your rifle, and is aiming it at you and von Fersen, although obviously he will probably give it back now there is a duel to be fought.
I will randomise between any gentlemen wishing to fight in a duel, and will assume it is to the death unless you state otherwise (fighting till first blood was more common it has to be said).
Post by: Geen on November 07, 2011, 06:08:00 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on November 08, 2011, 09:13:45 am
10.32pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Left Luggage Area, Geneva Central Station
Drink tea like a boss. And discuss the latest monocle fashion.
Whilst his companions prepare themselves for a quick duel, McGeenyton discusses the latest in monocle fashion with his new-found German acquaintance, who happens to have a copy of Das Monocle Wearer in his breast pocket, being an avid monoculist himself. Although the conversation in rather engrossing, the blasted tea takes so long to arrive it’s served cold [1]! The scandalised German rises from his chair!
“Sir! I bid you goodnight. I wouldn’t dare to serve such tea even to my mother-in-law!”
Caddishness Increased! Serving Cold Tea!
Ready my top hat just in case anyone gets hurt.
Meanwhile, back inside the train station, Mr Wellington looks on as von Fersen and Smith discuss who will have the honour of fighting the German spy von Hubelgliffer. Taking out his pipe, von Fersen addresses his comrades, and in particular the keen American Smith, who has already stepped forward.
"No doubt we all wish to take up this challenge to our honour, as gentlemen should. I thusly suggest that we draw sticks to decide who the honourable chap should be, what?"
"All right von Fersen,” agrees Smith, “Although terribly keen to honourably bash in the fellow’s head I shall relent. Luck surely is the best way to deal with this. Mr Wellington, do you have some sticks?”
Mr Wellington has some sticks! He proceeds to hold them in his fist, and the Swede and the American both draw one out.
[Stick drawing: von Fersen vs Smith: 3 vs 5! Smith wins!]
Smith’s stick is the longest! He shall have the honour of fighting for His Majesty the King!
“Good show, what! I shall fight with my walking
… … … … … …
10.35pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Left Luggage Area, Geneva Central Station
In the crumbling ruins of the blasted left luggage area of Geneva Central Station, the American gentleman Winston Smith stands a distance of ten feet away from the leading German spy Jan-Hupel von Hubelgliffer. The pair are encircled by further gentlemen, and more than half a dozen Germans, all eagerly watching and waiting to see the fates of two nations decided by the outcome of the duel that is about to start: it has been agreed that the winner shall walk away with the dispatch case for which both spies have crossed the continent.
Von Fersen has agreed to start them off, and as he shoots a round into the ceiling the pair advance one upon the other. Smith is wielding his deadly walking
Once they close to within striking distance, von Hubelgliffer suddenly lunges forth to hit out at Smith’s face: Smith raises his walking
Gentlemanliness Increased! Victor in a duel!
As he lies groaning to death on the floor, von Hubelgliffer mumbles loudly to one of the lieutenants who rush to his side.
“Did you get it? Did they get away? You must betray my honour and attack! Stop at nothing to let Ulrich escape! Get him to the Zeppelin!”
Smith has knelt to assess his unfortunate foe’s injuries, and hears these treacherous words; he looks up: he sees a German flee out of the left luggage area! He is carrying a dispatch case! The duel was merely a ruse! The seven remaining Germans attack!
“For the Kaiser!!”
Spoiler: Rolls Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Hitty40 on November 08, 2011, 02:24:19 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on November 08, 2011, 03:07:32 pm
Post by: areyoua on November 08, 2011, 03:47:13 pm
Tell the caddish Germans to surrender or do dishonor to their nation. Then cave in some heads if they disagree.
I advise McGeenyton to start moving against Ulrich and not try to help us. The mission comes first!
Post by: lawastooshort on November 08, 2011, 04:06:23 pm
Post by: Hitty40 on November 08, 2011, 05:03:01 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on November 08, 2011, 05:05:39 pm
Also, if I recall, two had revolvers. From what you can see a further two have canes and two have swords (the two lieutenants). General easy to conceal stuff.
Post by: Geen on November 08, 2011, 11:25:01 pm
Post by: scriver on November 09, 2011, 12:51:23 am
Hook curved umbladella handle (Because what kind of gentleman would leave his weapon unsheated during someone elses duel?) around closest German's ankle and sweep him of his feet, then puncture his belly while he's on the ground.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on November 09, 2011, 01:08:52 am
Post by: lawastooshort on November 09, 2011, 05:46:11 am
Post by: scriver on November 09, 2011, 05:49:16 am
Also I do hope nothing explodes.
Post by: Hitty40 on November 09, 2011, 08:54:44 am
Post by: lawastooshort on November 09, 2011, 09:21:20 am
10.35pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Just outside the Left Luggage Area, Geneva Central Station
Apologize, and chastise the butler for being so late with the tea. Offer him my copy of Das Monocle Wearer. If he does anything brash, be appalled and challenge him to a cane-duel.
“Blast it Jenkins! The ruddy tea was cold! What kept you?!” McGeenyton turns back to his offended guest, “Terribly sorry old chap. Perhaps you’d care for my own personal copy of Das Monocle Wearer as a token of my shame and good will?”
The German accepts [6]! He calls over two of his comrades to sit down with him to read the latest copy and to discuss monocles! The German forces in the station are severely weakened!
10.35pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Inside the Left Luggage Area, Geneva Central Station
Tell the caddish Germans to surrender or do dishonor to their nation. Then cave in some heads if they disagree.
Back inside the station the silly Germans believe they can beat the gentlemen in close quarters combat despite only having a nearly two to one numerical advantage.
"You dastardly bastards! The gall of you!" cries von Fersen, about to spring into action before Smith restrains him.
“Hold on,” suggests the American, “The fight is terribly uneven, I imagine we could force them to surrender. Caddish Germans!” – and here Smith turns to the enemy – “surrender or forfeit your nation’s doubtful honour! Or we shall cave in your heads!”
“Nein! We cannot go against our commander von Hubelgliffer’s dying wish! Victory or death!”
The Germans charge as one!
As they close in, Smith calls out.
“McGeenyton! I say! Be a good fellow and try and chase down that German chap, will you? Kindly leave us to our brutal deaths, King and Country comes first and all that, what!”
Alas: McGeenyton is deep in conversation and cannot hear Smith; although he has successful diverted a portion of the enemy troops! He is debating the art of monocle wearing with fully three German spies! He is more than holding is own!
10.36pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Inside the Left Luggage Area, Geneva Central Station
As the Germans rush in, Smith engages the first to reach the encircled gentlemen: he tries to cave in his head, but slips [1] in a fit of outrage! He falls onto the floor! The German attacking him has no honour, and tries to assault the stricken man with his foot: Smith rolls to avoid his blow!
Hook curved umbladella handle around closest German's ankle and sweep him off his feet, then puncture his belly while he's on the ground.
Beside Smith von Fersen is more than ready, and hooks the handle of his umbladella around this same vile German’s ankle [1], but the ankle is extremely sturdy! Von Fersen loses his balance! He too tumbles to the ground! He is appalled!
“Bother!”
Toss top-hat in such a fashion as to make it knock the fleeing german down and then return as would a boomerang.
Behind the falling Swede and American, Mr Wellington kneels to a sharp-shooting position and tosses his top hat towards the fleeing German Ulrich [3+1]: the German inadvertently dodges the blow as he runs! The top hat swiftly returns to Wellington’s disappointed hand, expertly caught.
In the centre of the left luggage area only Wellington and “G” now remain upright, faced with an oncoming horde of five German thugs, one of whom is trying to strike poor Smith with his foot. Two more rush at Wellington; one recognises the fierce aura of a top hat fu maestro, and stops in fear to pull a revolver from his waistcoat inner pocket! He aims a shot at the Englishman: it pierces his throwing hand! The second German descends upon the wounded spy, striking at his unprotected head with a cane. The cane shatters on Wellington’s fine English forehead! The broken end flies off into the German’s eye!
Wound Acquired! Bullet hole in throwing hand!
The two other Germans unfairly gang up on “G” too: and again one of them stops to shoot, weary of the gentleman’s powerful rifle. He hits “G” in the upper left arm! It is merely a flesh wound! The surprisingly stoic European shrugs it off! The second lieutenant who wasn’t interested in McGeenyton’s monocle seminar draws his sword and engages “G”, who neatly sidesteps out of the way.
Kick the closest German back and unload my rifle on him.
“G” kicks the lieutenant back [3], earning himself enough time to bring his rifle up and fire it from the hip on full automatic. The German spy officer is shot to pieces! His chest is pierced! His liver is smashed! His kidneys are shot out! He is struck down. “G” struggles to control the mighty weapon as it shoots out shell after shell: he directs it at the man who shot him in the arm! Bullets race across his face! His brain is crushed! He falls to the ground: he is struck down!
“G” ejects the empty magazine; it chinks to the ground [6+1].
Spoiler: Rolls Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: scriver on November 09, 2011, 09:43:40 am
...The King must be so ashamed of us. Well, except for our German. He's doing all right. :D
Pull out that damnable Dutch dictionary and throw it onto the groin-kicker's head. It is time to finally put that thing to use.
Post by: Yoink on November 09, 2011, 10:56:13 am
Pull out that damnable Dutch dictionary and throw it onto the groin-kicker's head. It is time to finally put that thing to use.This is just too good not to work. Just imagine how much fun foreign holidays would be if this was how you dealt with language barriers! :D
Post by: scriver on November 09, 2011, 11:08:00 am
Pull out that damnable Dutch dictionary and throw it onto the groin-kicker's head. It is time to finally put that thing to use.This is just too good not to work. Just imagine how much fun foreign holidays would be if this was how you dealt with language barriers! :D
My hovercraft is full of eels.
Addendum to original action: Also throw a couple of well-placed insults in Dutch; if necessary consult dictionary before throwing it to make sure grammar and affront is correct.
Post by: areyoua on November 09, 2011, 03:48:18 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on November 09, 2011, 03:54:27 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on November 09, 2011, 04:10:31 pm
Post by: Geen on November 09, 2011, 06:21:34 pm
Post by: Hitty40 on November 09, 2011, 08:15:37 pm
Post by: scriver on November 09, 2011, 10:10:07 pm
Well, also a third one that is dying.
Also Geenyton why don't you notice the one running away and capture him otherwise he'll reach the zeppelin and we'll have go after them in our own and have a zeppelin-chase through the Swiss Alps and... Wait,nevermind, that would be awesome ;D
Post by: lawastooshort on November 10, 2011, 03:48:34 am
From what I'm counting, 3 are with McGeenyton, and two have been struck down by me, leaving just 2 spies, yes?
Scriver is correct.
Friday edit:
As promised, I am going to get a turn done today. Sorry Hitty40, but it's that or wait till Monday at the earliest.
Later edit:
Also, I have a bit of a cold/tiredness problem and don't think the turn's very good today, sorry about that.
Post by: lawastooshort on November 11, 2011, 06:46:49 am
10.37pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Just outside the Left Luggage Area, Geneva Central Station
Excuse myself, for I must assist my wounded friends. Order the butler to get them more tea.
Outside the station, McGeenyton hears the sounds of violent combat ring out from inside the Left Luggage Area, and hurriedly excuses himself. As he runs towards the muffled vulgarity of gentlemanly acceptance of pain, he tinkles his butler bell furiously to order some more tea to keep the Germans distracted. Unfortunately the butler does not arrive immediately [2], but McGeenyton’s excusing of himself is so impeccably polite [5] that the Germans feel compelled to rest awhile, and don’t pursue him into the station.
10.37pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Inside the Left Luggage Area, Geneva Central Station
Spin around on my back, hopefully tripping (or simply confusing) the nasty German and get back on my feet.
Back inside the station, Smith swivels on his back, confusing the nasty German [3] before jumping to his feet [5], ready to more violently confront the scoundrel, no doubt.
Pull out that damnable Dutch dictionary and throw it onto the groin-kicker's head. It is time to finally put that thing to use.
Addendum to original action: Also throw a couple of well-placed insults in Dutch; if necessary consult dictionary before throwing it to make sure grammar and affront is correct.
“Damn your sturdy bratwurst-built German leg!” shouts von Fersen, prone on the floor. He pulls out his Dutch dictionary and hurriedly consults it, searching for the pages he had highlighted as containing the more amusing and crude words.
“Je moeder rook van vlierbessen!” cries the young Swede, flicking calmly through the pages.
“Ik laat een scheet in jouw algemene richting!” he shouts again, as he aims the weighty tome at the German groin-kicker’s head.
The Dutch dictionary connects with the German’s head with a mighty thud. He is knocked to the floor! He lies unconscious!
“Take that, je zoon van een hamster!” triumphantly shouts von Fersen, lying comfortably next to the fallen German.
Parry with my other hand and kick a german in the face.
The German who wounded Mr Wellington takes aim to shoot once more, fearful of closing with the top hat wielder: his aim is straight and true! Yet Wellington parries the bullet with his healthy hand, and rushes up to the cowardly Hun. He kicks him in the face! The German blocks, but Wellington’s foot passes straight through the poor chap’s arm. It is sliced off! It skewers the German’s head! It penetrates his brain! He is struck down!
Next to Wellington “G” angrily confronts the German with a cane jutting out of his eye. He bleeds to death! He is struck down!
10.38pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Inside the Left Luggage Area, Geneva Central Station
McGeenyton arrives amongst his companions.
“I say chaps. Anything I can do?”
Spoiler: Rolls Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Hitty40 on November 11, 2011, 08:11:16 am
Post by: scriver on November 11, 2011, 09:37:33 am
Rip the last page from the dictionary, then write a formal but true-hearted letter of apology to the German, then hurry after the Ulrich Zeppeliner! (bringing the dictionary, of course.)
Post by: areyoua on November 11, 2011, 04:07:22 pm
Post by: scriver on November 11, 2011, 04:37:02 pm
Post by: areyoua on November 11, 2011, 04:39:36 pm
Take Scriver's Doorknob and chase after Ulrich!
*crosses fingers for explosiveness*
*crosses fingers again for proper timing*
Post by: lawastooshort on November 11, 2011, 04:55:53 pm
Oh dear god, that could go so badly. Of course I'll take it!
Take Scriver's Doorknob and chase after Ulrich!
Do you mean to arm the Doorknob and bat it at Ulrich once he is in view? This turn (or just to chase him this turn?)? Or not yet?
(just to clarify)
Post by: areyoua on November 11, 2011, 04:59:37 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on November 11, 2011, 05:04:16 pm
Post by: Geen on November 12, 2011, 08:59:21 pm
Never mind, all dead. Use them to make the zeppelin one surrender.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on November 13, 2011, 12:34:41 am
Post by: lawastooshort on November 14, 2011, 10:26:16 am
10.38pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Just outside the Left Luggage Area, Geneva Central Station
“I say chaps. Anything I can do?” asks McGeenyton, arriving as the battle finishes, “Would you like some tea?”
Rip the last page from the dictionary, then write a formal but true-hearted letter of apology to the German, then hurry after the Ulrich Zeppeliner! (bringing the dictionary, of course.)
"Good gracious!" exclaims von Fersen, ignoring the Englishman for the minute and distressed to see the poor German so upset by his finely crafted Dutch insults. He kneels down to tear a page from the dictionary, and sits down on a nearby stool to write a formal yet sincere letter of apology to the unfortunate man. It’s so exquisite [6] that he orders his butler to make a copy before leaving the note in the German’s breast pocket – it might come in useful one day, if only to be published in the correspondence that all real poets should one day publish.
Gentlemanliness Increased! Extremely Gentlemanly Letter!
Item Acquired! Exquisitely Crafted Letter of Apology!
"Are you all mad? The man with the briefcase is getting away! Initiate pursuit!"
“G” rushes after the German with the dispatch case, crying at his fellow spies to stop gentlemanning about and follow him: the task at hand is urgent! He sprints away, desperate to put a stop to the foul caddishry of his countrymen. But alas! He fails to correctly tighten his shoelaces before initiating pursuit! He falls to his face! He cuts his chin! Ulrich the German escapes from view [1]!
Wound Acquired! Cut Chin!
Gentlemanliness Temporarily Decreased! Rather Hideous Cut!
Take Scriver's Doorknob and chase after Ulrich!
Seeing the urgent fall of his companion, Von Fersen realises the importance of the mission, and prepares himself mentally to undergo the disgrace of walking faster than a brisk stroll in public. But suddenly he is saved from this ignominy! He sees Smith preparing his walking
“I say Smith old chap, can I offer you a (possibly explosive) doorknob?”
The mission is too urgent for polite conversation! Smith tips his hat, accepting the artifact hereby known as Scriver’s Doorknob and sets off in brutally fast pursuit of the escaping German spy. It is a vulgar and inelegant [1] particularly brisk stroll!
Item Acquired! Scriver’s Doorknob!
Caddishness Increased! Vulgar and Inelegant Speed of Strolling in Public!
Use them to make the zeppelin one surrender.
Idling along in a more civilised manner after Smith, von Fersen and McGeenyton chase down the dispatch case and make good time, soon reaching the end of the main street in front of the station. The three spies catch sight of the German just as he turns a corner at the end of the avenue. He starts climbing the rope ladder to board his waiting Zeppelin!
McGeenyton shouts out after him to try to convince him to surrender, but the distance is too great [3]!
… … … … … …
Tend to my wounded arm...
Back in the ruins of the Left Luggage Area of Geneva Central Station with “G”, Mr Wellington tends to his wounded, bullet-holed, indeed, hand. He reaches into his evening jacket and pulls a small hip flask of brandy from within. He takes a mouthful. All is well [5]!
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Geen on November 14, 2011, 03:24:40 pm
Post by: areyoua on November 14, 2011, 07:05:49 pm
Its what the German deserves.
Post by: scriver on November 15, 2011, 10:55:15 am
Also areyoua, please don't roll a 1 ;)
I also also just realised your nick is "are you a".
Post by: Geen on November 15, 2011, 06:37:35 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on November 15, 2011, 11:56:32 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on November 16, 2011, 04:13:35 am
Did you remember to count that perk about speeches earlier in my roll?
I remembered it but didn't count it because you needed a [6] due to the distance. It was a good couple of hundred yards, which is beyond Long Range for speech making.
Post by: lawastooshort on November 16, 2011, 07:41:28 am
10.40pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Geneva, Avenue de la Mairie
I say! This really won’t do old chap! You know that case belongs to His Majesty!
Aim gun at First German Ulrich, but give Smith time to concentrate on his batting before firing so the blast don't cause him to miss, of course!
Watching the German climb the rope ladder into the basket of his get-away Zeppelin, von Fersen expertly aims his gun at the escaping spy, and holds fire to give Smith time to bat the cad to smithereens [5].
“Come on Smith, your turn at the crease old boy!”
Cricket bat the doorknob at the German! Then demand surrender.
You may as well just surrender and give it to us now! It really is causing us quite a bother you know! Quite an inconvenience! You should be ashamed!
Right on cue, Smith takes Scriver’s Doorknob from his jacket pocket, and tosses it into the air. He smacks it with the centre of his walking
He pops his head over the parapet of his basket to see what is causing this unruly disturbance, and he sees the approaching projectile. He catches the doorknob [5]! It explodes in his hand! His face is pierced! His eyes are bruised! His hand is shorn off! It flies away! A small piece of exploding doorknob shrapnel slices gently through the skin of the Zeppelin, which starts to drift softly to the ground away from the watching gentlemen [5+1 Time to Concentrate bonus+1 Weaponised Cricket bonus].
Item Lost! Scriver's Doorknob!
Slice the rope ladder with my top hat!
It’s just the right thing to do! Come on man, listen to your common sense! Listen to your sense of honour! Are we not brothers in gentlemanship? Care you not for the welfare of the Elk?
As McGeenyton continues his speech, his voice becoming louder and louder to overcome the increasing distance and the ceaseless interruptions, Mr Wellington bends to one knee next to him, removing his top hat and aiming it at the rope ladder wafting about beneath the out of control dirigible, which slowly drifts further away over the gilded round dome of Geneva’s town hall.
He launches his fragmentation top hat with great speed! It flies straight and true into the space where the rope ladder was a few seconds ago! It hits the sinking airship!
The top hat goes off! The Zeppelin ignites! A terrifying ball of flame explodes over central Geneva, nearly five hundred yards across!
The burning wreckage of the Zeppelin collapses on the town hall. A dozen small fires start to burn [1].
Item Lost! Fragmentation top hat!
… … … … … …
Come on old boy, just hand it over! Give us the case and everything will be as it was bef-oh. I say. Blast.
Make a louder speech.
Blown over a hundred yards away by the explosion, the one-handed Ulrich suddenly flops to the floor at the feet of the speechifying Henry McGeenyton, who has kept up his demand for surrender. Ulrich is holding the dispatch case. He’s been horrifically wounded by the impact with the ground and the force of the explosion, but miraculously still seems to be breathing [6].
“Anyway, where was I?” continues the Englishman, shouting as politely as he can at the bleeding German. “A damned inconvenience, what! Bloody surrender and we’ll ensure safe passage to a neutral country or something. You’ll be well treated! It’s the right thing to do if you ever want to see Munich again you know! The beer! The lovely frauleins! The sausages! I’ll even knock you up a nice cup of tea! Well, I’ll ask the butler to see to it, in any case. Not entirely sure how one goes about making tea, myself. Quite sure it involves heating water, but then I’m not entirely sure how one goes about that. Not a fan of manual labour myself, you see. Ruins the complexion. Uncreases the trouser. Hey! I say! Will you bloody listen to me you impolite bounder! Ope- oh. Blast.”
Ulrich has been struck down! [6+1 Tedious Oratory bonus].
The sirens of the forces of order begin to wail in the orange light of burning central Geneva.
The mission has been a success!
Spoiler: Clarity Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: scriver on November 16, 2011, 09:05:35 am
I suggest we grab suitcase and escape under the cover of night, laying low at the hotel to avoid Swiss authorities while we make reparations to Wellingtons airship and then fly back to England in it. What do the rest of you think?
Post by: lawastooshort on November 17, 2011, 10:01:26 am
Post by: areyoua on November 17, 2011, 04:07:41 pm
We do need to take our leave of Geneva, though, or at least avoid detection by the police. To that effect, I suggest that we all try to avoid detection and leave Geneva for the nearest city that has a working train station. Preferably someplace in France, seeing as Geneva is right next to it. Also preferably, find a cab to take us there as walking such a length seems distasteful.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on November 17, 2011, 06:58:05 pm
Sob a bit for my hat and propose that we casually hide in the nearest apparel store.
Post by: Geen on November 17, 2011, 11:04:34 pm
Post by: scriver on November 18, 2011, 03:43:08 am
Well, I personally believe that it would take too much time to repair the zeppelin
I meant the one we landed on the hotel with earlier, not the one we just destroyed, in case you got them mixed up. But yeah, maybe you're right. Wellington will have to have the English Ambassador mail it to him later, then ;)
I shall take the suitcase, as I obtained it nonviolently, and therefore deserve the honor of doing so. Offer our newfound friend tea, and head to the zeppelin.
Forgive me, old boy, but I am very confused - what new friend? And which zeppelin are you refering to?
Post by: lawastooshort on November 18, 2011, 03:55:44 am
I shall take the suitcase, as I obtained it nonviolently, and therefore deserve the honor of doing so. Offer our newfound friend tea, and head to the zeppelin.
Forgive me, old boy, but I am very confused - what new friend? And which zeppelin are you refering to?
I assumed he meant the dead German that he just talked to death at his feet. And probably the Zeppelin parked at the hotel.
Umm... okay. I meant to slice the ladder, not to destroy the thing...
And well, yes, if you throw an explosive top hat at anything and get a [1]...
edit: perhaps I won't do the turn today as I'm not 100% clear what you want to do ;)
Post by: Geen on November 19, 2011, 12:43:27 am
Post by: lawastooshort on November 22, 2011, 07:05:23 am
10.41pm, Saturday 26th January, 1906, Geneva, Avenue de la Mairie
“Are you all right dear boy?” asks Smith of Mr Wellington, as this latter wipes a tear away from the corner of his eye, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so emotional.”
“My bloody hat! My blasted bloody hat, that bloody blasted German!”
“I say, steady on old bean,” interjects von Fersen, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard such vulgarity from you before.”
“You’re right. No point crying over spilt hats, what. Let’s get a bloody move on and get out of this blasted country. I suggest we start by casually hiding in that blasted top hat shop while someone summons a bloody cab, by Jove.”
“Ah – good. They might have robbed you of your hat, but they haven’t robbed you of your good sense, I can see,” says Smith, “It would be distasteful to do any more walking, one has to say. Now, how about you casually hide in the shop whilst I summon a cab, eh?
“How about,” interrupts McGeenyton, “How about I pick this bloody dispatch case up? Didn’t we come all the way to bloody Switzerland for it? Bloody hell Wellington, I seem to have caught a bad case of vulgaritis profanus from you. Blast. Oh, by the way, mein herr, how about a cup of tea?”
“Prof what?” asks von Fersen.
… … … … … …
Having narrowly escaped having to submit to the hideous ordeal of a Zeppelin chase through the Swiss Alps, our intrepid Gentleman Spies hail a cab amongst the smouldering ruins of central Geneva and head for the French border...
… … … … … …
GM ANNOUNCEMENT
I’m sorry chaps, I’m going to have to put this in suspended animation for an undecided length of time. I think enthusiasm amongst us all has been falling as this chapter splutters to a messy end, and although my enthusiasm for continuing has been somewhat improved by thinking about what I had planned for the next chapters (fighting steam-punk Viking mercenaries, devising the downfall of an incompetent gentleman through shame or violence, protecting the King himself from horse-drawn Zeppelin attack and more, including Knighthood for the more Gentlemanly amongst you), the enthusiasm alone can’t help my main current problem:
I injured my wrist and typing too much hurts. Blast.
The delay in this update is kind of due to both reasons, but, I will admit, mostly due to just not being able to get it out. If I give it a bit of a rest I will be able to concentrate on my other RTD without too much typing and then either a) I might come back to this with renewed vigour; b) I might think of something else awesome to do; or c) I might not come back to this at all, I guess. If a), I will PM you, if you'd like.
I’ve enjoyed writing for you so far, thanks very much.
Post by: Powder Miner on November 22, 2011, 06:29:21 pm
Hope you get better.
Post by: Hitty40 on November 22, 2011, 06:32:03 pm
Post by: Geen on November 22, 2011, 06:37:15 pm
Post by: scriver on November 23, 2011, 06:57:31 am
Post by: Powder Miner on December 10, 2011, 12:13:28 am
Post by: lawastooshort on December 10, 2011, 03:13:17 am
By your updating other RTDs, I'd be guessing your wrist ha shealed. Any hanc of a revival for this exquisite RTD?
I'm updating RolyGrail pretty much against doctor's orders, who's also suggested that I shouldn't play ANY games over the Christmas break from work, to give my hands/wrist a proper chance to rest.
I will try to revive this in the first week of January, I hope.
Edit: Well - shall we aim for the third week instead?
Yes! I was waiting for a special extra, but will fit them in later if I can.
Incidentally, there are a couple of rule changes posted in the first post.
INCIDENTALLY - Does anyone have any better Agent names?
Post by: lawastooshort on January 23, 2012, 08:03:25 am
HM Military Intelligence: Gentlemen’s Division
Status: Top Secret
Status: Top Secret
Personnel File
Agent Identifier: Agent Cricket
Name: Mr Winston Smith, Esq.
Photo:
(http://tnypic.net/c9cb2.png)
Notes: Despite being an American, Smith appears to be a fine specimen of a gentleman, and knowledgeable in the art of gentlemannery. He has a reputation amongst his colleagues for calmness under fire, although he has been known to display a brutality that we have sadly come to expect from our fellow Anglophone agents. Has improved since contact with gentlemen, however.
Reputed to be a skilled cricket all-rounder. No known blemishes on record, excepting aforementioned penchant for brutal violence. This is not yet considered to be a handicap.
Vital Statistics:
Spoiler: Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Post by: scriver on January 23, 2012, 06:33:39 pm
Looking forward.
Post by: Powder Miner on January 23, 2012, 06:44:17 pm
Post by: scriver on January 23, 2012, 07:09:06 pm
Post by: Powder Miner on January 23, 2012, 07:56:27 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on January 24, 2012, 04:25:38 am
HM Military Intelligence: Gentlemen’s Division
Status: Extremely Bloody Secret
Status: Extremely Bloody Secret
Personnel File
Agent Identifier: Agent Bootie
Name: Mr William Wellington, Esq.
Photo:
(http://tnypic.net/7b9b2.png)
Notes: Although Wellington is known to have worked, he appears to be a particularly fine specimen of gentleman, knowledgeable in the art of top hat wearing and fine appearances. It is unconfirmed that he has dispatched several enemies of the King using said top hat.
Seems particularly charming, even for a gentleman. No known blemishes on record, although it should be noted he is apparently responsible for the Great Fire of Geneva, Winter 1906.
Vital Statistics:
Spoiler: William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Post by: lawastooshort on January 24, 2012, 10:04:55 am
HM Military Intelligence: Gentlemen’s Division
Status: Top Secret
Status: Top Secret
Personnel File
Agent Identifier: Agent Monocle
Name: Mr Henry McGeenyton, Esq.
Photo:
(http://tnypic.net/28778.png)
Notes: McGeenyton is from a fine line of gentlemen and his allegiance to King and country can therefore not be doubted. His fondness for tea is also noted, which further suggests his unwavering loyalty.
Colleagues report he is rather skilled at monocle wearing. Keen duelist. No known blemishes on record.
Vital Statistics:
Spoiler: Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Post by: lawastooshort on January 25, 2012, 04:35:59 am
HM Military Intelligence: Gentlemen’s Division
Status: Particularly Secret
Status: Particularly Secret
Personnel File
Agent Identifier: Agent Hurdy
Name: Sir August von Fersen (proposed, CB)
Photo:
(http://tnypic.net/17c0c.png)
Notes: Despite the difficulties we have with his nigh unpronounceable foreign name, Agent Hurdy is an exceptional example of both spy and gentleman, a fond aficionado of both guns and hunting. Talented with a pipe.
He has lost an eye in the service of the King – indeed, he seems rather accident prone, which seems to be due to the enthusiasm of youth. His family is of notably fine Swedish stock. However, it is noted that he is a published poet and therefore, regardless of CB’s high opinion of this agent, it is suggested he be kept under careful observation.
Vital Statistics:
Spoiler: Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Post by: lawastooshort on January 25, 2012, 05:12:06 am
3.07pm, Monday 9th, April, 1906.
An exceptionally well crafted drawing room, London.
As Sir William Melville ushers the four gentlemen through the solid oak door, gesturing for them to sit down before the vast finely crafted mahogany desk that dominates the room, a gust of warmth rises to meet them. The room is extremely warm, heated by a roaring log fire beside the desk.
The keen mind of William Wellington remembers the rumours that the occupant of this exceptionally well crafted drawing room is quite unwell, battling on in his duty despite the most disagreeable of situations, as rightly befits such a fine gentleman.
What does not rise to meet them, however, is the imposing form of Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman himself, who continues reading and shuffling through a small set of papers, occasionally letting out an appreciative grunt, sometimes a derisive snort.
After a few more minutes of this, he looks up.
“Pfah! Those bloody Germans, eh! Bloody good show chaps.”
He gets up without a trace of the ponderousness his health might suggest, making his way to the gentlemen’s side of the desk, hand outstretched.
“Campbell-Bannerman. Absolutely bloody delighted to meet you. Melville’s been keeping me up to date about your Hun-foiling exploits,” he says, pointing towards the paperwork he’s just been shifting through. “Now, I should have liked this to have been entirely a meeting for pleasure, but something unfortunate has cropped up, so I’m afraid the pleasure part will have to be curtailed, and the business part embarked upon post-haste.”
Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman returns to his seat, and flicks through a couple of documents before picking one up in particular.
“Now, I’m sorry this has to be directed at one and only one of you, but since His Majesty had a word last year I’m apparently only meant to do this based on some sort of system of merit, and that system of merit is based on how much of a gentleman you are. It’s worked for the Empire for hundreds of bloody years, so I don’t see much of a reason to change it now, eh? Right, now,” he says, looking towards von Fersen, “I presume you are our Swedish friend? Von…” and here Sir Henry looks briefly at his nearby butler, showing him the file, “How do you pronounce this, Jenkins? Von Ferrr? Fur? Von Furdygurdy?”
“Von Fersen, Sir Henry.”
“Right. Yes. I see. Von Furdygurdy. Easy once you know how, eh! Now, according to these reports Melville’s been sending me, you’re a rather bloody good gentleman spy. You’ll have to see His Majesty to get all the right paperwork done, but from now on you’re a bloody Sir. I’m bestowing a knighthood upon you, as they say. Bloody well done! Now, who’s for brandy?”
Title Acquired: Sir August von Fersen!
Post by: lawastooshort on January 25, 2012, 05:56:08 am
An exceptionally well crafted drawing room, Downing Street, London.
“… and of course, that wouldn’t bloody do at all, would it! Obviously, I told the poor fellow that I thought as much, whereupon he aimed a blow towards my mid-riff, so I thrust the assegai through his bloody chest! He wasn’t best pleased about that, but it’s not like he left me a great deal of choice, what? Strangely enough though, I came across him again in Marienbad later that year, and…"
The fascinating tales of Sir Henry are interrupted when a butler opens the door, signaling for Sir William Melville to enter.
“Prime Minister, awfully sorry to interrupt your brandy and cigar, but we really must get down to business. Mrs Blythington-Smythe really is quite distressed, not to mention General Houndercraft. This really is now a matter of utmost national importance. Jenkins,” Melville adds, addressing the nearby butler, “Fetch a brandy for me, would you?”
… … … … … …
"Well. Forgive me, Prime Minister, when I repeat various things that I'm sure you're more than aware of." Sir William Melville turns back to the four gentleman spies sipping brandy before him. He seems quite clearly worked up about the situation. "Right. Obviously what I'm about to tell you is in the strictest of secrecy and all that. You may or may not have heard of Professor Blythington-Smythe: I suppose it depends on how much one keeps up to date with journals of scientific weaponeering."
"Anyway, the good Professor is reckoned to be England's foremost expert in experimental weaponry – we've had a fair few jobs for the man ourselves, in fact. Last month he went to Norway, to visit his friend and former colleague Professor Birkeland, formerly of the Universites of Oslo, Cambridge, and Sorbonne, and, co-incidentally, also a leading expert on experimental weaponry. Magnetic-powered weaponry, apparently, although I can't say I know much about that kind of thing. Developed a revolver one can use for hunting whales, I heard. Fascinating chap. Tremendous moustache."
Melville notices a disapproving and bushy eyebrow arch upwards on Sir Campbell-Bannerman's forehead, not to mention a few quizzical looks from the assembled gentlemen.
"Yes. Of course. Right. To cut a long story short, Blythington-Smythe never bloody arrived, and we've reason to believe he's been kidnapped. We're worried that his captors will try and force him to work for them, and God knows what he could come up with if his eccentric brain was working on the side of evil..."
"Your airship to Hammerfest will leave tomorrow morning. That's where he was supposed to meet with Birkeland, so that's where you can try to pick up the trail. Now, if there's anything you need to attend to, now's the time."
Post by: areyoua on January 25, 2012, 09:14:27 am
To the Tailor! Purchase a coat, and try to remember to wear clothes to future portraits :P
Post by: scriver on January 25, 2012, 12:14:54 pm
Post by: Geen on January 25, 2012, 06:16:51 pm
Glad to see this finally back. :)
Post by: lawastooshort on January 27, 2012, 01:44:24 pm
Chapter Three
Dawn, Tuesday 9th April, 1906.
Quay 2, Airship-port 2073L, Gravesend.
“So, you see Smith, if you press the alarm button here, the grappling hook shoots out on a terribly thin wire. But one that can take over 2000 Newtons! Ingenious, what?! Oh look, here's young von Fersen. Hello, von Fersen!”
“I say! Hello McGeenyton! Hello Smith! Smashing coat Smith, what?!”
“Thanks... I er... I got it on Barnaby Street last night. That's a um... pretty impressive collection of dictionaries you got there von Fersen...”
“Oh, no, it's just one dictionary – rather comprehensive, you see. Thought it might be a good idea. Is Wellington already on board? Should we go?”
Item Acquired! McGeenyton: Grappling Hook Wristwatch!
Item Acquired! Smith: Smashing Coat (extra warm)!
Item Acquired! Von Fersen: Twenty-four volume bound special edition Forster's Norwegian-Swedish Dictionary!
... ... ... ... ... ...
11.42pm, Tuesday 10th, April, 1906.
An enormous airship, somewhere above the North Sea.
“ALERT. ALERT. ALERT. ALERT.”
Halfway through the gentleman spies’ flight to Norway the airship’s warning siren sounds, blasting them out of the early stages of their sleep. The first officer’s voice sounds over the rudimentary tube-based PA system.
“Bandits sighted at three o’clock. Repeat. Bandits sighted at three o’clock. All hands on deck!”
The gentleman struggle to their feet in the swaying cabin, peering out of the tiny thick glass windows at the choppy black waters nearly invisible beneath them. The dim lights of an approaching airship appear through the gloom on the starboard side.
“ALERT. ALERT. ALERT. ALERT.”
The first officer’s voice sounds again, now ever so slightly faster and higher pitched.
“Bandits sighted at nine o’clock. Repeat. Bandits sighted at nine o’clock. All hands prepare to repel enemy boarding action!”
The gentlemen’s eyes, as they rush out of their cabins into the adjacent corridor, swing to the port side of the craft, and just have time to make out the shadowy form of a second airship as it approaches dangerously close to the British craft, and they just about have time to brace for impact as the two enormous balloons smash slowly but inexorably into each other. His Majesty’s airship is pushed off course towards the continent!
The two doors of the German airship’s cabin lower, and a wooden ladder is pushed out of each, aimed towards the matching twin exterior doors of the ship carrying the spies.
German air-marines start lumbering precariously across the ladders! The English air-guardsmen appear to be preoccupied with the starboard enemy!
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Post by: areyoua on January 27, 2012, 04:06:40 pm
Stop these phony marines! Open the nearest entrance and smash at the ladders with my walking
Post by: scriver on January 27, 2012, 04:44:24 pm
Draw revolver and umblade and cover him as he breaks the bridge.
Woo and it begins for real at long awaited last, ky fellows! Just watch for the time travelling Viking clockwork pirates.
Post by: Geen on January 27, 2012, 06:08:51 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on January 27, 2012, 08:33:24 pm
In other words, extend my top-hat throwing prowess to dinner plates as well.
Post by: scriver on January 27, 2012, 08:45:36 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on January 30, 2012, 06:59:38 am
Önsdåg, 11 April, 19Ø6
Någonstans i Skandinavien.
It wås one of those dark nights of the soul, as Saint John would have put it, ånd one of those dark nights of April, as I would have put it, where one is rather glåd for the warmth and company afforded either by å deluxe bound set twenty four volume Norwegian-Swedish dictionary, or by a beautiful woman with whom one has shared a few absinthes and who might very well be interested in sharing something else: the redoubtable haven of Love, perchance. Alas, last night I was on an airship in the middle of the North Sea, and women, of pleasing countenance or otherwise, were in short supply; and so, somewhere towards the end of the evening, I retired to my cåbin with a large glass of brandy, and opened the letter A in an attempt to combat my seething insomnia. I was set hard and fast 'pon the honourable path of Learning, and nought would sway me.
And so it was that I was awoken with a great cry of alarm not long after I had opened the aforementioned tome of knowledge, which flew across the cabin as I jumped to my feet in a fit of steely determination.
"ALARM!" sang the great airship, cruising through the deathly still night.
"ÅNGESTKÄNSLA!" could, indeed, have echoed the very same craft, had I not fallen asleep before reaching the end of the section describing those magnificent and valiant Swedish words beginning with "Aa", thereby depriving myself of being reminded of this glorious word.
"Blast!" came a second echo, from your very own Swedish narrator. "What the bloody devil is this?"
... .... ... ... ... ...
So saying, I rushed forth from my well equipped, at least in dictionarial terms, sea-crossing cabin, grabbing my umbrella-blade and drawing my revolver. I fully intended to seek out the source of this disturbance, and to confront it, forcefully. Suddenly, the noble craft which was thus far conveying us faithfully to the last known whereabouts of the missing Professor seemed as if to receive a vast and stunning blow on her side, and she seemed as if to swing precariously in the blackness.
As I rushed down the narrow corridor I saw my American colleague – worry not, for despite these harsh words, Smith is a fine man – gesticulate with considerable fierceness by one of the doors. He was waving his walking stick furiously in one hand as he tried to open the door, muttering something about an outrage. I was several seconds into deliberating the politeness or otherwise of attempting to reason with or even restrain the fellow when he stopped his stick-waving long enough to point in the direction of the source of this outrage. Finally, I understood.
'Twas the bloody Hun, dear reader!
... ... ... ... ... ...
Yes.
As my companions Wellington and McGeenyton rushed from their cabins to their station by the second door, I realised that nigh on a company of German air-sea-soldier types were tottering perilously towards us upon a pair of ladders.
They outnumbered us several to one, and they clearly intended to board and capture our ship! My first thought, naturally, was to call out and offer them tea. Alas, the blast-proof windows of the airship prevented them from hearing me. The obvious solution was to help Smith open the door which was still, sadly, resisting him.
"Bloody good idea, Mr Smith! Allow me the honour of offering my aid!"
You can understand my surprise, therefore, when, upon finally wresting control of the door and becoming able properly to invite the Germans in for tea, I beheld Smith before me raise his walking stick and start dashing the ladder to smithereens! More than one poor German fell screaming to his death.
I was reminded that, in fact, we were in the ghastly business of trying to repel these blasted invaders when a hail of bullets flew towards Smith and I, pinging off the stanchions either side of the door.
"Cover me, von Fersen!" called out Smith, calling on my not-long uttered promise to aid him. I propped open the door with one hand, so he could continue his dashing of the ladder, and with the other hand I drew my revolver up and blasted away at the bloody Germans but ten yards away from us.
Several of my targets fell out of the sky the way a pigeon might were I to blast it from the air with my trusty shotgun; within seconds they were replaced by another group of German marines, who lined up on the side of the enemy airship to provide covering fire for their crossing comrades. Their appearance seemed to stoke something ancient and vengeful in Smith’s noble soul, and the rage upon his face thickened. Alas, for this is where things took a turn for the worse.
Wednesday, 11th April, 1906
Dear diary,
I have a slight confession to make, and I fear I am perhaps most uncharitable. Now, should, for example, a poll be taken, the subject of which being, “Is Mr Wellington a splendid fellow and a first class example of an English gentleman?” I should most certainly be amongst the first to raise my hand and solemnly pronounce “aye”.
But! Should a poll be proposed, the subject of which might be, for example, “Is it correct and proper to throw the finest china into the gaping maws of the cold black sea when Mr McGeenyton might like to dine correctly tomorrow, without using the secondary – and non-matching – set of dinner plates?” then I should most certainly be the very first to jump to my feet and proclaim the very profound wrongness of this suggestion.
Thus I found myself, last night, berating the good Mr Wellington. If there is no means with which to defeat one’s enemy at range without ruining tomorrow’s dinner, then war is not something of which I wish to be a part.
I was, in fact, so irritated at the prospect of using the non-matching china to eat on that I blasted both barrels of my shotgun towards the Germans, whereupon their confounded airship started losing altitude.
Alas, for this is where things took a turn for the worse.
Gentleman’s log. Wednesday, 11th April, 1906
Well. That was bloody strange, what.
First, I was asleep before the roaring log fire of my cabin, having finished off a bottle (or two, I’m not sure) of fine de Bordeaux. Next, I awoke with a start and found myself dashing off to the port side of the airship where some blasted Germans were trying to gain access. Von Fersen strolled past me, loudly offering the Germans tea, before helping Mr Smith open one of the access doors. Mr Smith then clearly felt that leaning out of the door and waving his walking stick was an appropriate form of welcome.
As an Englishman I knew otherwise.
I rushed off to the galley and scooped up much of the available fine china, the dinner plates in particular, and then rushed back to my door. I struggled briefly with the door, then thrust it wide open, only to come face to face with a German! Naturally, I aimed a dinner plate at his rather surprised looking face, whereupon the expression changed from one of surprise to one of terror. The poor fellow was falling to his icy death, you see.
However, I wasn’t going to let this mishap change my pre-determined course of action.
I continued to fling plates towards the advancing enemy with great speed and ferocity, as befits an Englishman in a time of war. Unfortunately, my otherwise esteemed colleague Mr McGeenyton seemed to take offence at my plateflinging – he is, it has to be noted, a stickler for decorum, and I may have been doing it incorrectly. In his rage he shot at the nearby German airship with his tartan-trimmed shotstick: the airship nearly immediately began to lose height.
Of course, this impeded Mr Smith in his waving his walking stick, and as he crouched forward the better to express his welcome – although, given the burning rage that his face seemed to express, I could be mistaken in this interpretation of his acts – the poor chap fell from the English airship, floating gracefully through the air until he landed on one of the ladders protruding from the German airship.
Even from afar, the expression of burning rage upon his noble face was now clear for all to see.
The brave American climbed the ladder, until he himself, much like the Germans had intended to do to us, boarded the enemy.
Touché, eh.
As the enemy craft sank further and further towards the sea, our own craft descended also, so as not to lose our colleague Smith. Thus it was that we could hear what came to pass upon this accursed zeppelin. There were many shots and indistinct cries of terror and anger, and observers could make out the words “outrage” and “bloody marines, you bloody imposting bloody”. I particularly enjoyed Smith’s bon mot about the Germans being like a bunch of ducks, which initially perplexed me, until I realised that, like a duck, the Germans too were heading for the water. Rather witty, I thought.
All that could otherwise be made out were muffled cries of terror, the crunching sound of stick against bone, and the ping of bullets being swatted out of the air and ricocheting around the rickety old zeppelin.
Barely a minute later Mr Smith’s head popped out of one of the side doors on the zeppelin and shouted towards us – “Ahoy! I say! Any chance of a rescue? I seem to have fallen into a zeppelin. Blast.”
Alas, for this is where things took a turn for the worse.
Wednesday, Scandinavia somewhere, Europe, 1906
A bloody outrage.
I have barely recovered from my frothing anger at seeing the Germans shamelessly attempt to copy our brave, valiant, and above all historical marines, and now I have to repress my frustration at, instead of being in the glorious city of Hammerfest rescuing the good Professor, being stuck on a bloody rock somewhere.
Blast.
It seems that, in rescuing me from the sinking zeppelin into which I unintentionally fell, the British airship got entangled. In the confusion it too began to sink, but the pilot managed to pull off a rather daring emergency landing on a rock.
In the distance to the East I can see what von Fersen has lovingly told me is called a “fjord”. To the North I can see the telltale sign of an approaching steamship. To the South there seems to be a brightly colored sailboat coming towards us. Directly to the West there are the remains of our airship, which takes up the greater part of our small rock.
Time is of the essence. We must figure out how to rescue Professor Blythington-Smythe!
Blast and damn. I wonder if I have time to plant a flag.
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: scriver on January 30, 2012, 08:26:32 am
...
...
...You have no idea what you wrote do you.
Also I am disappointed the American did not place us in "Scandinavia somewhere, Europe" :P
Stop stumbling around aimlessly and gather your senses! The steamship is obviously German, the simple, down to earth Norwegians would never have the capacity to build or operate such equipment (why, it takes eleven of them just to change a light bulb!), so it follows that the sailing ship must be that of friendly, loyal and obedient Norwegians. God bless them!
"To the south, my comrades! Let us greet my former subservients! They will bring us good drinks and herring!"
Post by: lawastooshort on January 30, 2012, 08:28:31 am
...You have no idea what you wrote do you.
If you mean overall - a little.
If you mean in Swedish - none at all.
Post by: scriver on January 30, 2012, 08:31:52 am
Post by: Geen on January 30, 2012, 09:12:20 pm
Post by: areyoua on January 30, 2012, 10:37:58 pm
Apologize for my anger, and search for some rocks on the rocky island. I have a feeling that we shall have need of them. Also, take time to practice George Washington-esque standing-in-boat-technique (http://www.britishbattles.com/images/trenton/washington-delaware-l.jpg). Surely we'll have to board one of the ships.
Post by: lawastooshort on January 31, 2012, 02:41:50 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on January 31, 2012, 06:39:09 pm
Post by: Flying Dice on January 31, 2012, 09:55:21 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on February 01, 2012, 04:15:22 am
“I say. Terribly sorry chaps,” says Smith. “I seem rather to have let my rage get the better of me, and now here we are stranded on a rock. Blast.”
“No no, old bean,” answers Sir August von Fersen. “It’s quite understandable in the face of such brazen provocation. Those Germans are a cunning foe! However, it is time to act. We must stop stumbling around aimlessly and gather our senses! That steamship is obviously German: the simple, down to earth Norwegians would never have the capacity to build or operate such equipment (why, it takes eleven of them just to change a light bulb!), so it follows that the sailing ship must be that of friendly, loyal and obedient Norwegians. God bless them! I propose, therefore, that we signal for their attention. I say, that’s a rather striking pose Smith! Reminds me of someone.”
"To the south, my comrades! Let us greet my former subservients! They will bring us good drinks and herring!"
[2] Stumbling around aimlessly to the north of the small rocky island, von Fersen tries desperately to attract the attention of the Viking longboat to the south. Fortunately there is a small rocky island between them and him, and they don’t seem to notice the noble young Swede! There will be no herring today!
Search for survivors, offer them tea. Also, search for tea.
[4] Meanwhile, McGeenyton seems to have found a small tin of loose tea: the obvious thing to do would be to find someone to whom he can offer it. He searches high and low, although mostly low, along the flat and rocky coastline, looking for survivors from last night’s air-disaster. He waves his arms in the air, and attempts to use his monocle as a signaling aid. [1] The fierce beam of focused sunlight attracts the attention of a passing Viking longboat to the south! Suddenly the drums of war sound, and the cries of ferocious Vikings drift towards the stranded gentlemen!
Item Acquired! Tin of loose tea leaves.
Flatten some rocks for use as throwing discs.
[4] The sound of war stirs something in Mr Wellington’s soul: he remembers Agincourt; he remembers Waterloo; he remembers Hernani; he gathers a great quantity of rocks from about him, and bashes them one ‘ponst the other until he has forged, in the white heat of his iron will, a vast and magnificent collection of worked stones fit for the most lauded ancient diskophoros. He adjusts his top hat in a rather immoderate display of self-contentment.
Item Acquired! Throwing discs.
Apologize for my anger, and search for some rocks on the rocky island. I have a feeling that we shall have need of them. Also, take time to practice George Washington-esque standing-in-boat-technique (http://www.britishbattles.com/images/trenton/washington-delaware-l.jpg). Surely we'll have to board one of the ships.
Hearing the approaching din of a terrifying Viking raid, Mr Smith reaches the conclusion that now would be an apposite time to cease his noble imitation of Mr George Washington, Esq. [4], and to search for some rocks. Who knows, he muses, perhaps we might have need of some?
Alas! [1] The rocky island yields no rocks! Where, muses Smith, once more, as he falls down a deep and dark hole, have, he continues, bouncing off a rather sharp stone, all the rocks, he concludes, as he comes to a halt amidst a particularly pointy rock, go-arrrrrghh!
“I say. Terribly sorry chaps,” shouts Smith. “I appear to have fallen down a rather deep hole!”
Wounds Acquired! Broken Rib! Heavy Bleeding!
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
)Post by: scriver on February 01, 2012, 12:08:44 pm
"Why", shouts von Fersen up to the others, "I think we might want to explore this little cave Smith were so kind as to find for us, seeming as the Norwegians might not be as friendly after all. Rank that revolutionary spirit! We should have put them in place before it became a bother. Now look! Viking anarchists at our doorstep! Why I never!"
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on February 01, 2012, 02:32:21 pm
Post by: Geen on February 01, 2012, 03:47:37 pm
Post by: Powder Miner on February 01, 2012, 04:19:21 pm
Offer the vikings tea.*slow clap*
Post by: areyoua on February 01, 2012, 05:20:46 pm
Try to stop the bleeding with my smashing coat, and get up the rope of noble von Ferson. They might not have seenme fall, though, so try to blow on bagpipes while waiting.
Post by: lawastooshort on February 02, 2012, 05:17:07 pm
Quickly build a makeshift (rope?) ladder out of the wreckage debris and climb down to Smith, using my modicum of knowledge to tend his wounds.
"Why", shouts von Fersen up to the others, "I think we might want to explore this little cave Smith was so kind as to find for us, seeming as the Norwegians might not be as friendly after all. Rank that revolutionary spirit! We should have put them in place before it became a bother. Now look! Viking anarchists at our doorstep! Why I never!"
After quickly building a makeshift rope ladder out of the debris scattering the island, von Fersen realises the urgency of the situation. A fellow gentleman is bleeding heavily! It looks for all the world as if he is about to sacrifice his smashing coat! No! Good gosh! He appears to be about to tear his finest suit into so many fine woolen bandages! Von Fersen dives head first into Smith’s rocky hole, desperate to avert this sartorial catastrophe.
Wound Acquired! Light Bleeding!
Try to stop the bleeding with my smashing coat, and get up the rope of noble von Fersen. They might not have seen me fall, though, so try to blow on bagpipes while waiting.
Aware that, in the dim light of a North Sea dawn, his companions may not have seen his unfortunate accident, Mr Smith looks about his person for something to signal for their attention. Of course! Mysterious bagpipes! Alas, for his ribs ache mightily, and he is unable to blow hard enough to produce sufficient sound to be heard over the approaching din of Viking war drums.
And so Smith – a man of action if ever there was one – decides to shrug off his musical disappointment and act! He tears off all his clothes and wraps them tightly around his face to stop the bleeding. The bleeding stops! Everything goes dark!
Suddenly something jumps onto him from above. A snake! A long, two-bodied snake with strange wooden arms; yet Smith is a wounded man: he cannot fight such a beast! He flees desperately but manfully into the darkness, tripping on a blasted rock as he narrowly escapes the very jaws of death itself.
Narrowly escapes? No! For Smith can hear the heavy footsteps and heavier breathing of the approaching snake-fiend, and scrabbles backwards in blind terror. He draws his walking
“I saw, steady on old chap,” remarks von Fersen. “I just want to take a look at you, that was a rather nasty fall you know.”
Von Fersen manages to massage Smith’s broken rib back into place!
Ready a disc and wait for diplomacy.
Patrolling the perimeter of the strategic rocky pit whilst von Fersen descends to aid his stricken colleague, Mr Wellington prepares for the approach of the Viking’s diplomatic delegation. It is important that we exaggerate the strength of our position! he correctly surmises, I shall ready my projectiles and give a manly display of stre-arrrrghhhhhh!
“Oh. I say.” Wellington tips his hat in the direction of first one gentleman and then the other. ”Morning Smith. Von Fersen. Ah. I seem to be experiencing a mild pain in my arm. Blast.”
Wound Acquired! Fractured Left Arm!!
Offer the vikings tea.
As the Viking longboat rushes forth towards the rocky island, the intrepid Henry McGeenyton strides forth upon the stony beach to meet them. Drums beat; oars heave; a sail firmly flaps: the longboat storms through the frothy edge of the angry sea and a dozen Viking warriors leap from either side of the majestic ship into the ankle-deep spume.
Blonde braids dangling and swinging furiously beneath their steel skullcaps as they charge forward, every angry Viking is carrying a shield and gripping an axe till their knuckles whiten. Several of them have commendably impressive moustaches; but nearly all have unkempt beards. The rage of the beserker feels closer with every glance into one of their eyes. They storm ceaselessly up the beach towards McGeenyton.
“Tea, gentlemen?”
“Øh, I såy! That’s a bløødy good idea, what! Wåit. Tea?”
... ... ... ... ... ...
A short interval of time passes; the brewed pot moves from one brave warrior to the next, spilling its precious liquid into each delicate china cup it meets. Biscuits, from somewhere, are produced. A pair of Vikings are sent back to the longboat to fetch a table and some armchairs, the better to appreciate the fine aroma of McGeenyton's finely brewed tea. A relaxed atmosphere descends upon the party. McGeenyton leans back in his armchair, a connoisseur of fine tea-based moments. His eyes begin to close. His mind begins to drift.
Suddenly he is awoken, hard! His eyelids burst apart! He is encircled by more than twenty Vikings!
They seem to be quite sweaty. Some of them seem to be shaking. They appear to be getting anxious and irritable! They... They appear to have become tea-fiends!
“Yøn tea! We require more! You vill come with us to our homelænd, and brew the tea for åll of us! Come along! Into our boat!”
The Viking horde draw their axes. They look menacingly towards McGeenyton!
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: Geen on February 02, 2012, 06:01:08 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on February 02, 2012, 07:25:39 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on February 03, 2012, 01:43:22 am
Do I have my rocks with me?Yes.
Post by: scriver on February 03, 2012, 02:19:36 am
Now you'll just have to poison their tea. And also hope you don't get raped. Unless you want us wounded types to try a HEROIC RESCUE! For England! For Lindisfarne!
Post by: Yoink on February 03, 2012, 02:39:27 am
It's historically based! It cannot fail! :P
Post by: scriver on February 03, 2012, 09:26:17 am
Watching from the cave opening (his own bleeding and Mr Wellington's fractured arm would obviously have been looked over while they wre drinking tea) how his comrade's luck turn for the worse, von Fersen decides to take action! At last his ancient Norse mythology and culture studies at Uppsala University will come in handy.
"Halt! Not so fast! You haw sat at our table and drunk our tea, and are as such bound by the laws of Sacred Hospitality! Odin's wrath be upon you, nidingar! For this insult I challenge your leader to holmgång and trial by combat!"
Post by: lawastooshort on February 03, 2012, 09:58:45 am
Post by: Yoink on February 03, 2012, 10:39:51 am
Post by: scriver on February 03, 2012, 11:06:40 am
Post by: areyoua on February 03, 2012, 03:56:07 pm
This Scandinavian diplomacy is beyond me. Where I come from, Norwegians tend their Midwestern farms and only raid rabbit holes.
Post by: lawastooshort on February 05, 2012, 09:35:56 am
scriver - anything particular to say about your duel? Weapon choice? Tactics? Until the death / first hit / first severe wound? As GM I probably favour "until first severe wound" in any case.
You know, when you get someone dangerously addicted to tea they are unlikely to abide by traditional rules of polite society and hospitality.
Post by: scriver on February 05, 2012, 02:10:21 pm
Also since with rifle would be completely unfair it has to be with sword or other melee weapon, don't it? Without armour, of course, like true vikings.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on February 05, 2012, 04:01:48 pm
Post by: Geen on February 05, 2012, 05:26:02 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on February 06, 2012, 12:45:59 pm
Watching from the cave opening (his own bleeding and Mr Wellington's fractured arm would obviously have been looked over while they were drinking tea) how his comrade's luck turn for the worse, von Fersen decides to take action! At last his ancient Norse mythology and culture studies at Uppsala University will come in handy.
After quickly looking over his own and Mr Wellington’s – before his own, of course – wounds with what seems to quickly be approaching a mild level of expertise, the aghast von Fersen manages to clamber out of the gentlemen’s pit from whence he has overheard the shocking behaviour of the roaming Viking horde. Even a man of his younger and dissolute generation – and here von Fersen seems to hear the voice of his father echoing about somewhere in his mind – should know that it is beyond the bounds of acceptability to kidnap one who has so generously offered tea!
Amidst the many wreckages of human life wrought by addiction to excessively strong tea that von Fersen has witnessed, nothing has come close to such a disgrace. He decides to take action – for the good of McGeenyton as well as for the honour of the collective Scandinavian nations! He speaks with all the authority he can muster.
"Halt! Not so fast! You have sat at our table and drunk our tea, and are as such bound by the laws of Sacred Hospitality! Odin's wrath be upon you, nidingar! For this insult I challenge your leader to holmgång and trial by combat!"
A particularly tall and blonde Viking speaks up, and the circle of bearded men surrounding McGeenyton turn as one to look upon the intruder.
“We er… we don’t have a leåder. We’re an autønomous collective. An anårcho-syndicalist commune, if you will. Sørry old chap.”
Take off head covering, put on my smashing coat to cover up my immodesty, and look for some clothing to replace the suit I used to have. Watch for anyone clearly marked out as a medic to practice their trade.
Meanwhile, Mr Smith, for all intents and purposes, is nude, which he has not been for some time. He begins to blush! He begins to stammer! He calls on all his mental fortitude, and, within his mind, pictures the sanctity of the changing rooms of Little Hampton County Cricket Club. There, a man can be a man! There, a sportsman can walk about as God intended, unburdened by clothing and shame! There, amidst the smell of boxes and groinal musk, where the ring of leather upon willow bursts nearby like the sound of grapeshot shattering the ranks of the advancing foreign enemy, there, there a man may be naked and not be ashamed! When a man has just hit a ball for six and the comradeship of a long day at the crease still hangs warmly in a fellow’s heart there are no blushes at exposing oneself proudly to the world!
Imagining all this and more, Smith quickly releases his head from the confines of his smashing coat and wraps himself safely away inside it. He follows von Fersen out of the rather deep hole and, assuming the brave Swede has the situation in hand, strolls over to the wreckage of the British airship.
After a few minutes of nonchalant searching, he finds a rather agreeable looking suit. The trousers appear to have been recently pressed!
Items Acquired! A New Suit! Decency!
Do nothing, let my companions do as they wish.
Mr McGeenyton, aware, or not, of the great peril in which he finds himself and misinterpreting the very slight notions of Taoism that he has somehow acquired, realises that the safest course of action is inaction.
The Vikings encircling him with their angry axes briefly turn around and then, just when the poor Englishman begins to fear that his mind will be dulled by their awful conversation – which appears to revolve around a discussion of the plight of the working classes – turn back to him.
One of the larger Vikings passes his axe to a comrade.
He picks up Mr McGeenyton!
The Vikings start running towards their longboat!
I guess provide long-range disc bombardment in case the Vikings default on their hospitality obligations.
After the gentle von Fersen tends to his arm a little, Mr Wellington follows his colleagues out of the hole that so nearly claimed his life. He sees the crowd of Vikings fleeing towards their waiting longboat! Mr McGeenyton seems to have gone!
Possessor, as we have already seen, of a rather sharp mind, the splendid Englishman puts two and two together: the Vikings are carrying McGeenyton away!
They are kidnapping his friend and acquaintance!
They are ignoring the protocols of hospitality!
Wellington does as any Englishman might, in such a situation. He becomes – though in a rather stoic manner - first irritated, and then enraged. He reaches into his pockets. With each hand he pulls out a flattened disc of rock. He flings them forth towards the offending and caddish brutes!
From his right hand a spinning disc of justice flies: it strikes a Viking’s neck, tearing the skin and severing the spine! He is struck down!
From his left hand flies another stone of retribution: it hits a Viking’s arm, bruising the muscle and tearing the tendon! It passes right through! It catches Mr McGeenyton fully in the left lower leg! It tears the skin! It bruises the muscle! It fractures the bone!
Wounds Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: Light Bleeding! Fractured Left Lower Leg!
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: areyoua on February 06, 2012, 05:21:31 pm
Post by: Geen on February 06, 2012, 06:05:43 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on February 06, 2012, 09:17:00 pm
Post by: scriver on February 07, 2012, 11:22:28 am
Filled with purpose and determination in light of this threat to his nursing Moder Svea, eradicate these useless kanaljer, with revolver, and rifle, and umblade, or dictionary if it is what it takes!
Post by: lawastooshort on February 07, 2012, 05:12:57 pm
Slice the longboat's mast!
Seeing the horrifying effect his deadly discs have on human flesh, Mr Wellington decides to cut off the escape route of the fleeing villainous Vikings by trying the discs out on wooden boat. He reaches into his trouser pocket for another stone discus. He rubs it against his crotch in the manner of a legendary cricketer. He leans back as he takes aim. He swings! He releases! His highly polished projectile shoots through the air towards the longboat’s mast!
A resounding splosh carries back to Wellington’s disappointed ears.
Call for the crew of the airship to assist us in saving Wellington while looking for a rock to put through their ship with my walkingbatstick, hopefully putting a hole in it and disabling, because a comrade in trouble is more important than a way off the island. Especially when the way off is beached.
Mr Smith, close to the wreckage of the airship, notices that von Fersen has not entirely managed to find a solution to the imminent kidnapping of Mr McGeenyton; he also notices the great number of Vikings who seem to be rather keen on implementing this aforementioned kidnapping. He lets out a great cry! He calls for assistance!
“I say! Come on chaps! It would be terribly kind of you if one could have some assistance?”
From over the horizon fully half a dozen riflemen swarm, until recently proud defenders of the downed British airship. They look armed to the teeth! They are armed to the teeth!
Having solved one aspect of the problem and rather turned the tables on the now dangerously underpowered Viking horde, he decides to solve the more pressing one: he intends to make the Vikings’ escape with McGeenyton impossible!
He searches about the rocky beach: for what? One can only guess at the inner workings of such a mind!
He paces once! He paces twice! He crouches down. He stands back up!
Mr Smith cradles a sharp looking rock lovingly in his hands!
Spinning the rock into the air, the fearless American swings his walking
It flies straight! It flies true! It… Oh. Gosh. Blast!
Wound Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: Heavy Bleeding!
The running Vikings are scattered; several limbs appear to fly through the air – in a motion very similar to an arc, the experienced observer might note; more than one body seems to hit the ground! The rock impacts forcefully upon the Viking ship! The longboat is dislodged! It starts to float on the water’s edge!
"Bloody hell! If you get me back to my companions, I'll teach you to make tea if you LET ME BLOODY GO!”
Not one to plea for something as trifling as his own life when the fate of the British Empire hangs in the balance, Mr McGeenyton instead decides that gentle reasoning is surely the path to take. As the burly Viking carries him off towards the Viking longboat and a lifetime of enforced tea-brewing, he feels that it would be perfectly understandable should he object to his current predicament.
"Bloody hell! If you get me back to my companions, I'll teach you to make tea if you LET ME BLOODY G-ARGH! I say! Bloody well stop that!”
Alas! A rather sharp looking rock appears out of nowhere! Three of the Vikings are struck down dead, their internal organs severed and torn. Many arteries appear to have been opened! At least another pair of Vikings are struck! One loses an arm! Another loses a leg! A tendon flies across McGeenyton’s field of vision!
The rather sharp looking rock hits McGeenyton in the face before flying off in the direction of the longboat.
The burly Viking carrying the brave Englishman realises that his autonomous band have picked the wrong fight. He unceremoniously dumps McGeenyton upon the floor! He flees!
Filled with purpose and determination in light of this threat to his nursing Moder Svea, eradicate these useless kanaljer, with revolver, and rifle, and umblade, or dictionary if it is what it takes!
Briefly speechless before the brazen effrontery of these uncouth duel-refusing Norwegians, Sir August von Fersen storms into action!
"GASP! I knew it! Anarchists! Communists! Bolsjeviks on our very door step! Rude ones at that! For King and Country, I must do my duty as a gentleman and loyalist royalist of any measure must do, and rid my fair North of your very presence!"
The knighted Swede kneels some fifty feet from the fleeing Vikings, and rustles about in his cavernous jacket pockets.
He reaches in; he pulls out the letter A!
In a flash, a leather bound deluxe volume of Norwegian-Swedish dictionary flies through the air! A red mist explodes: a Viking falls to the floor! His head rolls down the stony beach!
Von Fersen leaps up; he rushes forward three paces; he stoops to pull out the letter B!
Like a deathly bat a second leather bound deluxe volume bursts through the morning sky: a Norwegian Viking's spleen explodes! A neighbouring Viking faints before the grisly sight!
Quickly approaching the remaining ten raiders, von Fersen shuffles forward and once more drops to his murderous knee; he fumbles about his finely crafted silk lined dinner jacket; the letter C shatters the dawn light! Three unfortunate Vikings are spliced in twain! Several square feet of stony beach are painted red!
As von Fersen jumps to his feet and bellows his terrifying warcry, the fatal fourth letter of the alphabet screams through the morning air, howling like a banshee vomiting a flurry of phonemes. A Norwegian leg flies to the left! A liver spins off to the right! A false right rib smashes into a nearby rock! Another two blood-soaked corpses drop to the floor!
"Kanaljerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!"
Von Fersen decides enough is enough; he draws his revolver, blasting away as he closes with the last four standing Viking marauders, strolling with the speed of one furiously wronged. With a deafening thunderclap a hole appears in one: he is propelled backwards a dozen feet before crumpling to the ground! The blood-crazed Swede throws the gun to the floor as he draws his umbrella, flicking out the blade and catching one of the three remaining enemy by surprise as he charges up to the impolite bounders. A sharp edge flickers! An artery opens! A hand rises to a violently butchered throat! A body falls!
But two Vikings remain! One raises his axe above his head; the axe swings viciously down! Von Fersen sidesteps – there is a flash of umbrella, a spray of gore, a bruising of fat, a tearing of skin! The umbrella moves forth. The umbrella moves back! A lung is impaled upon it! The Viking vomits!
The burliest Viking of them all gnaws his shield. His hair is blonde; his eyes are blue: his axe-pommel is speeding rudely towards von Fersen's noble nose!
Von Fersen ducks! Von Fersen sways! Von Fersen drops his umbrella and uses the finest, noblest, most manly weapon known to human civilisation: his hand forms a fist! His fist forms a blur! Von Fersen punches the warlord in the side of the head!
The severed part flies off in an arc!
... ... ... ... ... ...
Von Fersen pauses to take a puff on his pipe. About him lay strewn more than a dozen bloodstreaked corpses. Politeness has triumphed! He notices a speck of dust on his left cuff. He flicks it away in disgust.
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: scriver on February 07, 2012, 05:17:50 pm
Quote
Politeness has triumphed!
Down with the anarchist rabble rousers! Three Huzzah for Politeness!
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on February 07, 2012, 06:15:18 pm
Post by: Geen on February 07, 2012, 07:57:43 pm
Post by: areyoua on February 07, 2012, 09:15:21 pm
What am I saying, you can't be better than the best!
No, no, focus... Dispel these thoughts of tea (and of a bunch of gore brought to you today by the letter "D")
Save the runaway boat! Rally the crew again and try to get in and row back to shore and the remaining men on the island. Do properly mourn the ruining of another suit (this time by salt water) if and when we get the boat back.
Post by: scriver on February 08, 2012, 05:32:19 am
Give all gentlemen in need of it some modicum of medical attention.
Post by: lawastooshort on February 08, 2012, 03:53:06 pm
Celebrate with tea.
[3] William Wellington shows his experience in all matters espionage and class; he rings his butler bell and requests some tea! He pulls up a nearby chair and sits down to drink. It is only mildly satisfying.
Weakly request a cup of tea and some medical attention.
“Tea! I must… I… weak… feel… Oh! Darcy!”
[1] Mr McGeenyton passes out from the pain! He falls awkwardly! He shatters his pelvis on a nearby rock!
Wound Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: Fractured Pelvis!
Give all gentlemen in need of it some modicum of medical attention.
[2-2] Von Fersen dusts off his jacket sleeve, only to see his esteemed colleague Mr McGeenyton fall to the floor as if struck by a flying cannonball. Rushing over to give assistance, however, he can’t identify anything that seems to be the problem! He pokes around a bit but realises his hands might get smeared in the increasing amount of blood that seems to be covering Mr McGeenyton’s head. Rather than straining his grey matter any further, von Fersen decides to relax with Mr Wellington, and asks the butler to pour another cup.
Wounds Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: Further Light Bleeding!
Save the runaway boat! Rally the crew again and try to get in and row back to shore and the remaining men on the island. Do properly mourn the ruining of another suit (this time by salt water) if and when we get the boat back.
“I say! The blasted boat is getting away!”
With a cry, Mr Winston Smith strips off his smashing coat, runs to the water's edge whilst vigorously tearing off his suit, and dives headlong into the waves! He powers manfully through the water, his majestic shoulders glistening in the springtime Nordic sea. One arms pierces the slate-grey surface, propelling him forwards; then it rises again as the other arm follows suit. His whole body rumbles with noble effort as he -
“Oh God. What have I done?!”
[1-1] With a flash of clarity, Smith realises that he is entirely nude once more! He begins to turn red! All over! The shame begins to burn! His muscles begin to cease! Just as Mr Smith turns back towards his beloved suit, with a sense of longing and regret that is building to match his feeling of shame and repulsion, the rising tide mounts the beach. The suit disappears under the waves! The suit is covered in the foamy spume! It is beyond ruined! Mr Smith himself is covered in the foamy spume!
A ghastlier sight has seldom been seen!
Trait Gained! Prone to Rather Uncomfortable Sartorial Malfunction!
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: Geen on February 08, 2012, 04:39:50 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on February 08, 2012, 04:52:30 pm
Post by: areyoua on February 08, 2012, 05:13:25 pm
Make a makeshift suit out of the spume whilst looking for yet another suit.
Post by: scriver on February 09, 2012, 01:06:28 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on February 10, 2012, 08:06:04 am
Shout loudly and vulgarly!
“HELP ME DAMMIT!” shouts the wounded Mr McGeenyton. “I'LL GIVE YOU SOME BLOODY HOT TEA UP YOUR ARSE IF YOU DON'T!” he adds, oblivious to the suffering his coarseness is causing.
[6] A pair of butlers suddenly appear over the horizon, sprinting as fast as dignity permits towards the stricken Englishman. Without a word they kneel in unison, lift Mr McGeenyton upon their shoulders, and stride purposefully towards Mr Wellington’s small table! As Sir August von Fersen politely pours a cup, the two butlers lower McGeenyton carefully to a chair.
”Very good Sir. Will there be anything else Sir? I presume you are aware you are bleeding heavily from the head Sir?”
Item Acquired! The Devoted Service of a Pair of English Butlers! (five turns remaining)
Caddishness Increased! Loudness, Vulgarity and Crudeness!
Umm, eloquently respond to Geenyton's requests.
“Umm, what’s that my dear fellow? I say, did you hear about that Marcus Aurelius chap? Terrible scandal, what.”
[2] Lost in his own hideous train of thought, Mr William Wellington completely ignores his bleeding companion! Suddenly his ear starts to bleed!
Wound Acquired! Light Bleeding!
McGeenyton seem to be in dire need of tea, help him to some.
”Here you go, old boy. Have a cup of tea. Finest Assam, apparently. Rather good.”
[5] Rather alarmed at his colleague McGeenyton, who has already made quite an unpleasant scene and now appears to be on the verge of collapsing head first onto the makeshift tearoom table and soiling the tablecloth with his inconsiderate and profuse bleeding, von Fersen pours and offers a cup of tea. As the unfortunate chap sits back and takes a long hard sip [3], he can feel the restorative powers of the noble liquid course through his body like the touch of a modern day messiah!
“Oh, I say”, he says. “My leg feels rather better than it did! Gosh, I quite fancy myself able to stand!” he adds, before testing his hypothesis.
“Hmm. Not quite,” he concludes, after extensive experimentation. “Jenkins?” he shouts, directing a request to one of his butlers, “Would you mind awfully carrying me a little further? I’ll er… I’ll get a replacement suit for you both once we get to the mainland and the bleeding ceases. Terribly kind of you.”
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: A Promise to Acquire Two New Suits! (twenty turns remaining)
Wound Acquired! Sir von Fersen: Light Bleeding!
Make a makeshift suit out of the spume whilst looking for yet another suit.
“Oh blast. A(nother) suit, A(nother) suit, my kingdom for a suit!” paraphrases the despairing Smith, cold and soaking by the waterline. He has seen such loss this day that he feels an awkward lump rise at the back of his throat!
[5] Scrabbling about in the spume for several minutes, Mr Smith suddenly rises to his feet in hope. He is entirely covered from head to toe in spume! His nakedness is concealed! He feels civilised enough to wander about without fainting in shame, and makes his way back to the airship wreckage. Before long he finds another abandoned suitcase, which he cracks open with a sharp blow from his walking
After muttering a quick prayer of thanks, Mr Smith dresses himself! He is once more ready for battle!
“Onwards, gentlemen!”
Item Acquired! Decency!
Wound Acquired! Mr Smith: Light Bleeding!
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: Geen on February 10, 2012, 05:38:59 pm
Post by: scriver on February 10, 2012, 05:46:26 pm
Post by: areyoua on February 10, 2012, 06:09:37 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on February 10, 2012, 09:00:01 pm
(I'm a tad confused. Where are we again?)
Post by: lawastooshort on February 13, 2012, 09:53:25 am
As the beautiful Scandinavian sunlight bursts through the rising morning mist – or is it fog? – a scene of terrifying confusion reigns on the rocky and bloodied beach upon which our four brave gentlemen find themselves stranded. All persons present appear to be bleeding from the ear, having narrowly escaped a hideous loss of inner ear health related balance; merely one day into their exceedingly important mission ribs and limbs have all been broken or fractured and, worse, several suits have been irreparably damaged. The fate of the Empire hangs in the balance, its would-be saviours seemingly beached like so many incompetent but well-dressed whales. Decisiveness of thought and boldness of action is required!
Ask the butlers to pour a little bit of the tea into my ear to heal it.
(http://tnypic.net/7b9b2.png)
“I say!” says, boldly, Mr William Wellington. “What the deuce is going on? Jenkins!” he adds, decisively, “Pour a cup of that tea down my blasted ear, will you? Can’t bloody hear a thing with all that bloody blood bloody well bleeding out of it. Bloody disgrace is what it is.”
Wellington leans slightly over to one side as a nearby butler takes the teapot from the gentlemen’s makeshift tea table, expertly crafts a fine cup of tea, and uses his standard issue butler ear-funnel to pour it directly into Wellington’s ear.
As the scalding hot liquid stops flowing out of Wellington’s ear cavity, he realises he feels a great deal better! The tea appears to have cauterised the wound! The blood flow has ceased!
Mr Wellington thanks the butler with a dismissive wave of the hand and gets up for a quick stroll. He quickly decides against such rash folly and asks for another cup of tea to be served.
He is about to recommence his ghastly musings on the subject of Roman emperors when he suddenly recalls the task at hand.
“I say,” he exclaims, “Where the devil are we?” [4]
”Please attend to my wounds, butlers. Thank you for helping me, I'll nominate you fine chaps for the butler of the year award! Would you like some tea?”
(http://tnypic.net/28778.png)
“We’re on this God-forsaken island awaiting some kind of ship-based rescue or swim-based escape whilst watching me bleed to death, that’s where the bloody devil we are!” cries Wellington’s compatriot Henry McGeenyton unreasonably. “Bloody hell Smythe, it would be terribly kind of you if you could attend to my wounds, you know. I'll nominate you fine chaps for the butler of the year award! Would you like some tea?”
“Yes sir, thank you sir,” replies the blood-stained Smythe, helping himself to a cup of tea, “Now, what was that you mentioned about wounds, sir?”
The tea is of such excellent quality Smythe seems to have forgotten his duty! McGeenyton bleeds silently in polite despair. ‘Tis the English way. [2]
Find out where the steam ship went.
(http://tnypic.net/17c0c.png)
Sir August von Fersen, for one, however, has not forgotten his duty! He has been sent to save the kidnapped Professor Blythington-Smythe, thereby saving the British Empire!
Alas! He is stuck on a rocky island, several miles from the lovely Scandinavian coast! If only there were a passing steamship that might lead them from one to the other.
Blast. [3]
Join Wellington for some of that restorative tea.
(http://tnypic.net/c9cb2.png)
As von Fersen peers about into the distance, Smith decides, having just got dressed, that it is time for his morning cup of tea. Perhaps, he thinks to himself, it will have a restorative effect after the exertions of the night?
He takes a seat; he takes a sip!
The majestic and diuretic power of correctly prepared Assam burns through his magnificent and so often naked body!
Smith brusquely thrusts back his chair. He nobly rises to his feet! He stretches his arms towards the heavens like the first man to roam the earth!
He feels a blistering strength! He feels a miraculous sense of health and well being! He feels a fusing of bones within his chest! He even feels a warm glow of radiance about his handsome jaw line! [6]
State Acquired! Mr Smith: Tea-powered Super Manliness! (ten turns remaining)
(http://tnypic.net/c9cb2.png)
Suddenly a loud horn interrupts this most English and beautiful scene. The passing steamship has returned!
“I say, Smith,” speculates von Fersen. “Your intimidating yet undeniably attractive manliness must have brought yon steamship hither!”
As the steamship approaches and lowers a rowboat to come to shore, the eagle eyed von Fersen lets out a small gasp of joy.
“I say! The ship is unfurling the Swedish flag! We are saved!”
… … … … … …
Some time later that day, the steamship SS Aurelius arrives in Norway, and pulls up alongside the dock at Hammerfest. Thanking the ship’s captain profusely with a firm shake of the hand and a kind word or two pronounced loudly, clearly and several times, the four gentlemen wander down the gangway into the village. ‘Twas here the last known destination of Professor Blythington-Smythe!
… … … … … …
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: The Devoted Service of a Pair of English Butlers! (four turns remaining)
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: A Promise to Acquire Two New Suits! (nineteen turns remaining)
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: scriver on February 13, 2012, 11:51:38 am
Post by: areyoua on February 13, 2012, 03:51:34 pm
Follow von Ferson, dabbing manly at my ear along the way to stop the bleeding.
And, as one should always do when eating in a foreign place,
Let von Ferson order first, then order what he ordered.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on February 13, 2012, 05:55:50 pm
Post by: Geen on February 13, 2012, 09:28:47 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on February 15, 2012, 09:10:05 am
As the sun begins its gentle descent towards its night time abode, the delighted von Fersen walks with a light foot and a lighter heart, overjoyed to be so near to his splendid homeland.
“Yon inn!” he exclaims, “Surely the grandest quaint inn in this fair village! Professor Blythington-Smythe must surely have stopped, or intended to stop here. We should inspect the premises! And also seek some lunch, one is feeling rather famished, one has to say. Onwards, my valiant comrades!”
Head to the general store and purchase a bundle of candles and a sheet of paper. Then collect some twigs from a tree and use those to prop up a sign, dotted with candles at the edges, asking if anyone has seen Germans come by recently.
(http://tnypic.net/7b9b2.png)
Bravely ignoring the burning pangs of hunger through the liberal application of his iron English Will, Mr Wellington realises that four of the keenest minds available to His Majesty's government will probably be rather intimating to a simple innkeeper: he decides instead to follow a simpler approach.
He heads to the local store, and purchases many candles and some paper and, using some twigs fallen like so many flakes of dainty snow from a nearby tree, fashions a beautiful sign illuminated with candles and inscribed with
And indeed many are attracted! Scores of simple Norwegian villagers flock to see the amazing new-fangled technology on display in their cherished but sadly old-fashioned village square! Dozens crowd round to warm their hands on the mass of stupefying flame, and many of them fall prey to Wellington’s dazzling charm.
“I say!” he asks, more than once. “Have you seen any of those dastardly Germans about?”
By Jove! They have! [5]
“A few weeks agø,” comes the most intelligible reply, from a passing woodsman, “there was a suspicious looking Germån in town. I saw him on a Tuesdäy near the cemetery, talking to many Vikings. And I såw him on a Wednesday, with a large herd of Elk, sømewhere east of the town. And I saw him on a Thursdåy, talking to many Vikings by the døcks. And the last time I såw him, I saw him on a Friday, heading to the nørth east, on a pony. A small pøny.”
Ask for medical attention from the butlers.
(http://tnypic.net/28778.png)
Wellington’s fellow spy, Henry McGeenyton, has had enough of fighting off the shackles of this all too frail human form. He is bleeding! His every attempt at seeking aid thus far thwarted, he decides a direct order to the butlers who claim to serve him is called for whilst there is no tea to distract them from their duty.
“Jenkins! Smythe? I’ve just noticed,” he lies nonchalantly, “that I appear to be bleeding profusely. I don’t mean to be a bore, but do you think you could attend to it? I only mention it as I’m a little concerned for my suit, it’s going to be a terrible bother to clean later. I don’t suppose you have some kind of medical knowledge?”
Smythe’s face turns noticeably dark at the implied insult before he regains his composure and recalls his vocation in life.
“Why sir, I’m a trained butler! I have a considerable quantity of medical knowledge! As any man doth knowe, the English butler is at the forefront of medical development! Here, pray take a seat…”
Within minutes McGeenyton is stripped to his underwear in the village square, all his ailments attended to. He feels nearly as good as new! [5]
Suggest that we find the village's local Quaint Inn, whereupin we should see if he had a room where we could find clues about his doings here. And possibly have some lunch afterwards.
(http://tnypic.net/17c0c.png)
Two of his colleagues otherwise engaged, von Fersen heads onwards into the depths of the village inn, accompanied by Mr Smith. As he enters, several bearded Norwegians stop drinking their ale and turn to look over the newcomers.
Von Fersen suddenly feels very Swedish.
“My good man!” he begins nevertheless, addressing the innkeeper who stands behind the bar, polishing a tankard. “I was hoping I could order some lunch? And some ale for me and my companion.”
“I say,” interrupts the lightly bleeding Smith, “Could I have some lunch as well?” he adds, before turning to von Fersen. “Don’t they have any tea?” he whispers, with a perturbed look.
“I imagine so,” replies von Fersen. “They’re Norwegians, Smith, not savages. However, I rather think it would be best to fit in first, in a friendly fashion, the better to question the fellow. Besides, ale is rather English, it should suffice. I say,” he says, as the innkeeper pulls, “I don’t suppose you had an Englishman stay here recently? A rather distinguished looking chap, good moustache. Covered in tweed.”
“Ah! The good prøfessor! Yes, we did, just a few weeks ago – he was meant to be on his way to meet å friend, he said. I’ve been a little worried about him, he was a lovely chap, very polite. He liked to hike øut in the mornings to view the fjords – he was terribly keen on parrots, you see – and one mørning he never came back. But alas, we have no police force here, and our sheriff also recently disappeared in a terrible äccident. There are rumours of Vikings roåming the hills to the east once more, and of the Elks getting restless! There has even been a passing Germän. ‘Tis a bad time indeed.”
“Aha!” exclaims von Fersen, “My companion and I have been sent by His Majesty the King of England himself to seek out the good professor! Would it be possible to inspect his room before we eat?” [5]
Follow von Fersen, dabbing manly at my ear along the way to stop the bleeding.
Let von Fersen order first, then order what he ordered.
(http://tnypic.net/c9cb2.png)
Mr Smith follows his fellow gentleman von Fersen into the quaint local inn, dabbing uselessly at his ear as he goes, from whence flows a manly trickle of crimson blood. Although a passing fair Norwegian lady swoons upon seeing the stupendous American, his ear continues to lightly bleed. [3]
Smith is wise in the ways of the world and knows how to deal with foreigners in this particular type of scenario. He lets his foreign friend deal with them in his stead!
Upon entering the inn he lets von Fersen speak, interrupting only to also ask for lunch and whisper his lack of comprehension of the strange land in which he finds himself.
… … … … … …
After some quite informative questioning, Smith and the Swede are led to one of the rooms on the first floor.
“Here,” explains the innkeeper, “Slept the good professør! I have kept his room as it was, yearning for his return. We tend nøt to have a great deal of business at this time of the year, even if we did have quite a few merchänts recently. And that accursed German!”
Smith and von Fersen look about the room. It is clear that Professor Blythington-Smythe intended to return. Most of his belongings are still as he must have left them. On his bedside table is a small map of the area. Various local fjords are circled. All but one, to the north, is crossed through.
… … … … … …
After this quick inspection of the room, Smith and von Fersen descend.
Lunch arrives!
The buxom serving lady places a great deal of platters before the handsome young Swede: plate upon plate of Elk steak, smoked salmon, fermented trout, mountains of meatballs and oceans of cod. Much mead and dark ruby ale is brought forth!
Finally, Mr Smith is also served. His bread looks very nutritious!
… … … … … …
Later that afternoon, as the gentlemen regroup in the village square, they share their findings.
A German was last seen heading to the north east! There are rumours of Vikings roaming the hills to the east! The sheriff has gone missing! The professor was apparently last heading north! The Elks are getting restless!
… … … … … …
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: The Devoted Service of a Pair of English Butlers! (three turns remaining)
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: A Promise to Acquire Two New Suits! (eighteen turns remaining)
State Acquired! Mr Smith: Tea-powered Super Manliness! (nine turns remaining)
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: scriver on February 15, 2012, 11:09:25 am
Or possibly to try and track the German up north-east.
Post by: areyoua on February 15, 2012, 03:54:15 pm
Join von Ferson and the guide to the north, manly encouraging my platelets to work in my ear for once. Suggest that Wellington and McGeenyton follow the German.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on February 15, 2012, 04:13:19 pm
Post by: Geen on February 16, 2012, 10:50:23 pm
Umm... I'm still wounded.
Search for a clothing store to buy a trio of new suits.
Post by: lawastooshort on February 17, 2012, 03:01:30 am
Edit:
Re: vacation (or "holiday", as your character would say), erm - I'll probably go a bit slower now anyway, since I accidentally started a second rtd. I'll try to do a turn today but then won't be able to over the weekend.
For Wellington's safety I might let you do the suit purchasing action and then go with him, unless he explicitly wants to go into the wilderness alone / you don't want McGeenyton to go with him. We'll jointly NPC you till you get back. Nothing silly though ;)
Post by: lawastooshort on February 17, 2012, 05:03:19 pm
(http://tnypic.net/7b9b2.png)
"Aha! To the north-east then!" cries Welllington, thoroughly thrilled by the idea of the hunt, "I have scores to settle with the Germans, and if the safety of Professor Blythington-Smythe is at stake, we have not a minute to lose! By golly, McGeenyton, why so glum?" he adds, as, indeed, a particularly glum looking Mr McGeenyton mopes into view.
(http://tnypic.net/28778.png)
"It's my word, you see," explains this latter fellow. "I gave my word to find some fine replacement suits for these two splendid butlers – you see, I rather thoughtlessly bled all over theirs..." and here a look of mild despair crosses the faces of both normally stoic Englishmen, "and it seems to me the only thing I can do to save a little honour. But this blasted foreign town doesn't even have a tailor's boutique! The only thing they bloody sell are Elken loin-clothes, and just the thought of one is enough to make one blush rather hard. Blast this blasted bloody place."
"Ah. I see. You seem to be rather severely afflicted," sympathises Wellington. "But I have a cure! Come, let us hunt the Hun! He has gone this way!"
... ... ... ... ... ...
The two gentlemen make good time as they head out into the wilderness to the north-east of Hammerfest, their four eyes scanning the ground dutifully in a futile attempt to pick up the trail of the elusive but apparently oft-spotted German. As the sun begins to set, the pair find themselves a good six or seven miles outside of the accursed tailorless town.
In a flash, five Vikings appear from behind a conifer a dozen yards away!
They draw their axes!
... ... ... ... ... ...
(http://tnypic.net/17c0c.png)
“I say! I'm feeling rather pleasantly full, I have to say! Splendid!”
Von Fersen staggers out of the village tavern, happy to be gorged full of God's own Scandinavian specialities.
“Now, how about we have a pootle about to see what the devil the good professor was up to in this fjord, eh? Let's not bloody walk though, what. Let's see if we can find a blasted Elk. Only bloody form of public transport they have in Norway. Considerably behind us Swedes in... well, anything modern, really, I suppose. They do breed a good Elk though,” he concludes, wistfully.
(http://tnypic.net/c9cb2.png)
“We should probably get a guide, too,” suggests Smith. “I don't know quite what a fjord is, but it sounds pretty blasted foreign to me. I imagine one could punch me in the nose and I'd walk straight past the damned thing. Ah! I say! This chap looks just the ticket!”
A man who is clearly dressed as a guide walks past the blessed pair of noble anglophile spies!
The two smashing fellows engage him in their service!
The chap has two Elk available for the journey: after tipping the man generously, the gentlemen struggle aboard. A passing philistine might have described the scene as undignified – but a gentleman knows that mounting anything after such a considerable meal is serious business. And serious is nothing if not dignified!
The brave pair gently kick the sides of their beasts: the small column of representatives of His Majesty move out in search of the endangered professor. Smith suddenly realises his ear seems to have stopped dribbling blood over his shoulder. His spirit rises even further, if indeed it is possible for the spirit of a brave and dutiful American heading out into the wilderness upon his trusty steed to ascend any higher.
… … … … … ...
After two hours or so of rather indolently paced travel, the guide signals for the gentlemen to stop.
"It's the Elks!" he explains. "Jørdi," and here he gently pats the mane of his own Elk, "Jørdi keeps trying to veer off course to the north-eåst! He seems exceptionally nervous. I don't like when my Elk feels nervøus. It is not so far now. I propose that we send the poør beasts back, and procede on foot."
… … … … … …
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: The Devoted Service of a Pair of English Butlers! (two turns remaining)
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: A Promise to Acquire Two New Suits! (seventeen turns remaining)
State Acquired! Mr Smith: Tea-powered Super Manliness! (eight turns remaining)
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: scriver on February 17, 2012, 05:49:58 pm
McGeenyton: Attempt to take over the Trøndelagan criminal underworld.
Post by: lawastooshort on February 17, 2012, 06:03:59 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on February 17, 2012, 08:10:35 pm
Decapitate all five at once from a distance.
Post by: areyoua on February 17, 2012, 10:15:17 pm
To the north on foot! Surely it can't be much harder than riding on these horned horses. Remember to head Northeast if the fjord thing doesn't work out.
This isn't the part where we have to turn the wagon into a raft and "fjord" the river, right?
Post by: Geen on February 17, 2012, 11:09:50 pm
Offer to give them tea if they leave us alone.
Post by: lawastooshort on February 23, 2012, 08:36:32 am
Decapitate all five at once from a distance.
(http://tnypic.net/7b9b2.png)
"I knew it!” shouts Wellington, hopefully not quite loud enough to be heard by his comrade von Fersen some considerable distance away, “The blasted Nordics cannot be trusted! Here, have at thee, scoundrels!" he adds, as he reaches into his pocket to fetch out one of his many polished stone gentlemannerangs.
Mr Wellington straightens his back and assumes his favoured Dignified Monarch of the Swans throwing position, adopted from his cherished top hat fu. He lets fly a deadly disc!
The disc flies straight towards the miniature Viking horde – but one Viking ducks! Another one dives! The third Viking is less fortunate, and his ghastly skull is pierced in two by the flying stone!
Alas! The spin on the disc is not quite as perfect as Mr Wellington may have liked, and the gentlemannerang fails to complete its return journey. The other two Vikings have a lucky escape!
The two ducking and diving Vikings pick themselves up, and the four survivors start strolling forcefully towards the English pair!
Their knuckles are visibly white as they tighten their grip on their axes!
Offer to give them tea if they leave us alone.
(http://tnypic.net/28778.png)
“Stop!” cries Henry McGeenyton with an authoritative air. “We are reasonable men! Have a civilised cup of tea with us and I give my word that we shall leave you in peace and good health! Here, Jenkins, brew us a fresh pot, if you wouldn’t mind. I have a feeling these blasted Vikings have a rather strong yearning for a decent cup of tea. Perfectly understandable, eh what?”
The small group of Vikings stop their inexorable stroll towards the gentlemen! They look towards each other! They look towards Jenkins!
“Oøh,” says one, “I do quite fancy a nice cuppä. Been råther a long time, I must say.”
The other three start muttering in agreement. Suddenly one breaks off the discussion to point towards his slain comrade lying smashed apart in the snow.
“And, you know, it’s what pøor Arnbjørn would håve wanted.”
“Right. It’s decided then,” concludes a third Viking. “Bløødy good show, what?”
The Vikings sheath their axes! They draw their finest china cups!
The first one advances towards Mr Wellington.
“Good åfternoon!” he says, extending a hand, “Hagbart Gudmondsson at yøur service. Got any biscuits?”
… … … … … …
Unless Smith has any objections, proceed north at foot at a gentlemanly leisurely pace, lest we tire ourselves out. Surely the guide brought snowshoes or skis though?
(http://tnypic.net/17c0c.png)
“Hmm,” wonders von Fersen aloud, “Mightn’t you have some snowshoes, faithful guide? Or skis, perhaps? I should have though that one would always bring a spare on such a journey?”
“Well, yøu see,” begins the guide, “My Elk are usually so reliåble! I should have thought though, I suppose. They häve been rather skittish recen-“
Skis?! How bizarre is this. I see no downhills here! Scandinavians and their Cross-country skiing. I say.
To the north on foot! Surely it can't be much harder than riding on these horned horses. Remember to head Northeast if the fjord thing doesn't work out.
This isn't the part where we have to turn the wagon into a raft and "fjord" the river, right?
(http://tnypic.net/c9cb2.png)
“Skis?!” interrupts the stupefied Mr Smith, suddenly catching up with von Fersen, “Skis?! Round here? I can’t see any blasted downhills! You don’t expect me to push, do you? That kind of exertion isn’t for a gentleman! No! Perish the though. We are the leaders of men! At the forefront of the battle lines in both war and in the daily struggle for dignity! We must save our strength for the deadly combats that may lay ahead! I say. Anyway, walking through this can’t be much harder than riding on these horned horses. Work of the devil, I say. You shouldn’t see horns on a horse! You should see gentlemen! And cowboys and natives, where I’m from. Blast.”
“Horned horses! Why, these blessed beasts are the noble Elk! If you weren’t such a reputable gentleman, my dear fellow, I’d be rather mortally offended. Oh well, in the absence of Elk, snowshoes or the manly cross country ski, I suppose on foot we shall have to go. Come on, Smith! Let’s plod bravely on!”
… … … … … …
And plod manfully on the two gentlemen do! For fully ten minutes, at which point von Fersen is struck by a sudden thought.
“Hmm,” he thinks, in a thoughtful tone, “Now, if there is one thing I know about, other than women, of course… hmm. Well, if there are two things I know about – well, I suppose there’s women and gambling in fact. And smoking. And generally being rather dashing, if I’m being modest and want to keep the list short. Hrpmph. Well. Anyway, if there’s – “
“Come on man, out with it!” exclaims Smith.
“No, you see, I was just musing. You see, I’m reasonably knowledgeable about the Elk, you know. My father has nearly a hundred thousand on our estate. Now. The townsfolk reported that they were rather restless – which is typically because they’re quite concerned about something. And you see, I’ve seen little round here to suggest that logging is quite a problem, which is what Elks normally worry about, so one has to assume that the Elks have been worried about being kidnapped.”
Von Fersen takes several more thoughtful steps, pensively puffing on his lovely pipe.
“And you see,” he continues, in a sudden burst of reasoning, “No loyal Scandinavian would kidnap an Elk! So it’s reasonable to assume that some other dastardly force is behind all this, and if one says ‘dastardly force’, well – “
“The Germans!” interjects Smith. “By God!”
“Quite,” finishes von Fersen, as a distant rumble commences somewhere off to the gentlemen’s right. “The Germans are somehow weaponising the Elk against us! ‘Tis the only reasonable conclusion to reach, and – oh, by golly, Smith, what the devil is that rumbling? You can’t surely be hungry again already?”
“No, no,” says Smith, cupping his hand to his ear, “My bread was positively delightful, it’s not me. It seems to be coming from the north east. Oh my – I’ve heard that sound before back home! Von Fersen dear boy! Draw your weapons! Hold your heads! Brace your… er… selves! Get into cover! It’s a stampede!”
“Oh Good Lord,” blasphemes von Fersen. “An Elk stampede!"
… … … … … …
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: The Devoted Service of a Pair of English Butlers! (one turns remaining)
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: A Promise to Acquire Two New Suits! (sixteen turns remaining)
State Acquired! Mr Smith: Tea-powered Super Manliness! (seven turns remaining)
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on February 23, 2012, 02:06:33 pm
Post by: areyoua on February 23, 2012, 03:54:13 pm
All stampedes surely act alike, and as a true cowboy knows, the only way out is to make a fiendishly enormous quantity of sound to drive them off. So... blow on the bagpipes, and prey. Encourage von Ferson to fire some shots in the air and come up with a better plan.
Post by: scriver on February 24, 2012, 09:39:31 am
Do whatever the guide does! Surely a experienced and knowledgeable aboriginal individual like him knows how to handle this. Otherwise, wait until the stampede reaches you and mount the biggest male, asserting my dominance over him, and riding him away from the snowslide.
And no, not in that way. Seriously, you have a very dirty mind :P
Post by: Geen on February 25, 2012, 12:56:58 am
Make tea for our Nordic friends.
Post by: lawastooshort on February 28, 2012, 05:19:00 am
Make tea for our Nordic friends.
(http://tnypic.net/28778.png)
Seeing the kindly Vikings agree to a nice civilised cup of tea, Mr McGeenyton lays out a table and dings his butler bell to summon some boiling water and the various requisite materials that come together in the noble pursuit of tea making.
Whilst Mr Wellington and the Viking threesome engage in some friendly chit chat about hunting and the lamentable quality of axes nowadays, McGeenyton is hard at work brewing the tea. His brows are knit with concentration as he watches Smythe, his butler, lay out the cups and pour out the luxurious and refined liquid after carefully measuring the length of time the tea is allowed to brew. Smythe is about to add the milk when suddenly a commotion breaks out!
Mr Wellington and the Vikings clearly disagree about the use of langets on the hafts of traditionally styled battle axes!
Apologize dearly, placing the blame on myself, and then acquire tea.
(http://tnypic.net/7b9b2.png)
As his friend and countryman Mr McGeenyton prepares tea for their unexpected guests, Mr Wellington takes it upon himself to see to the important task of keeping said guests occupied and, indeed, entertained, by displaying his considerable range of topics of polite conversation.
He asks them politely about their preferred methods of hunting, before regaling them with some of the more interesting tales from his own personal experience, including the time he stalked a notorious giraffe for forty days in Rhodesia, and then moves on to the touchy subject of modern axes, and whether it is, or not, a desirable thing to reinforce the hafts with langets. It would appear to be a somewhat raging controversy, and tempers rise.
“Pøor Arnbjørn, he was terribly pro-länget, wasn’t he, eh?” remembers one.
“Um.”
“Oh, gøsh, yes,” concurs another. “Such a terrible shame äbout the poor fellow.”
“I say?”
“Whatever åre we going to tell his mother?”
“I said, I say! Look, I’m terribly bloody sorry, what, but I thought you blighters were going to bloody well axe me and my fellow Englishman in the face! You keep bringing up the subject of your poor bloody Arnbjørn when I’ve been trying to blasted apologise but you keep bloody well going on about your bloody langets, and I just don’t bloody well care! I don’t care about axes! I’m a bloody gentleman and I use a bloody sword if I want to be so crude as to use a blasted weapon! A sword or a bloody top hat! Now, look, here comes Mr McGeenyton. Drink your bloody tea and be gone with you!”
The three Vikings’ faces turn grey with horror. Mr Wellington has forgotten the cardinal rule of polite conversation with a Viking!
“You don’t care about axes?!” exclaims the left-most Viking as he draws his and throws his cup to the snowy ground. “You don’t bloody well care about bloody axes? What the devil is the meaning of this?! I’ll have your guts for garters and your hat for a… blast. For a hat! This is a bloody disgrace! Come on chaps,” he concludes, turning to his comrades, “Let’s cut these blasted Englishmen down to size, eh what?! Let’s show them just how interesting axes can be! In their faces!”
The other two Vikings also throw their fine china cups to the floor in disgust and draw their weapons. They intend to show these Englishmen just how interesting axes can be!
All stampedes surely act alike, and as a true cowboy knows, the only way out is to make a fiendishly enormous quantity of sound to drive them off. So... blow on the bagpipes, and pray. Encourage von Ferson to fire some shots in the air and come up with a better plan.
(http://tnypic.net/c9cb2.png)
“Blast! A blasted stampede! Von Fersen! You’re an expert in the Elk! Do you have a plan?”
Do whatever the guide does! Surely a experienced and knowledgeable aboriginal individual like him knows how to handle this. Otherwise, wait until the stampede reaches you and mount the biggest male, asserting my dominance over him, and riding him away from the snowslide.
(http://tnypic.net/17c0c.png)
“Erm. I say. I uh… I think it would be wisest to follow the example of our guide! Look, yonder he flees, into the tallest tree! Blast, I don’t think we’ll be able to make it. I don’t see how we could run that fast and keep any shred of dignity, my dear fellow. We need a better plan. Hmm. Let’s think for a minute.”
“Right-o,” says Smith. “Well, where I come from, the soundest technique for countering a stampede…”
“… so you see, the Elk, well, despite appearances, it’s a very pack-oriented animal…”
“…is to produce an enormous and ungodly din, thereby scaring the leading animals of the herd…”
“…and the way to control a herd of the noble beast is, then, like a pack of hunting dogs…”
“… and thus diverting the flow of animals away from one and, if one is on the plains, away from one’s wagon and loved ones.”
“… to vigorously mount the beast, thus asserting one’s dominance over the fiendish yet noble creature, and taking its place as the alpha male, so to speak, of the pack. Then it should be a simple question of leading the entire herd in a less dangerous direction, you see, Smith.”
“So, what I propose, von Fersen, is to make as much noise as possible, you with your rifle and I with my splendid set of bagpipes. I knew they’d come in handy.”
“Oh, blimey, Smith. How the devil do you expect to be able to mount a feisty Elk whilst playing your bagpipes?” asks, incredulously, von Fersen, running towards the largest Elk he can see. “You need two hands free to mount such a splendid and noble beast as this!”
Smith keeps blowing as hard as he can, cheeks puffed out and red with exertion.
“Oh, rather!” exclaims von Fersen, as the large Elk lowers its antlers and charges him to the floor. “I say!” he continues as he is buffeted from one large Elk to another. “I’m not terribly convinced,” he shouts, “That this particular Elk has accepted my assertion of dominance! Oh blast!” he finishes, as he scrambles to his feet only to be impaled severely in his left arm. “This chap doesn’t seem to have been persuaded either!”
Wound Acquired! von Fersen: Broken Left Arm!, Heavy Arm Bleeding!
Smith blows with all his might, powerless to rescue von Fersen, but still hoping against hope to turn the tide of ferocious Elk,
“Oh, hang about, Smith. I rather fancy that the Elk are changing course! I do declare! My brave attempts at asserting dominance have so impressed the Elk that they are running away! Aha! Have at thee, yon cowardly Elk!”
Smith for a second lowers his bagpipes, as, indeed, it seems that the thousand-strong herd of Elk are changing direction! He appears to have saved the day! Suddenly he points in a particularly calm manner before shouting out to von Fersen.
“I say, von Fersen! I’m no expert in snow, but should it be moving quite so rapidly downhill towards us like that?”
Von Fersen turns and looks. The stampede appears to have caused a damn avalanche! A considerable quantity of snow seems to be coming their way!
… … … … … …
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: A Promise to Acquire Two New Suits! (fifteen turns remaining)
State Acquired! Mr Smith: Tea-powered Super Manliness! (six turns remaining)
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on February 28, 2012, 06:10:59 pm
Attempt to introduce the vikings to the superiority and versatility of halberd use in a variety of situations.
Post by: areyoua on February 28, 2012, 07:19:33 pm
Manly stand resolute against the storm. Behind a tree. And prepare to dig myself out of an unholy amount of snow.
Post by: Geen on February 28, 2012, 09:57:35 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on March 01, 2012, 08:51:00 am
Post by: scriver on March 01, 2012, 11:53:10 am
Post by: lawastooshort on March 02, 2012, 09:41:46 am
Draw my cane, and send my butlers forth upon these barbarians.
(http://tnypic.net/28778.png)
...Drawing his cane, Mr McGeenyton calls for his butlers, intent upon sending them forth upon these barbarians. His tinkles his little butler bell as hard as he can - but they have left! Blast. As a wave of bemusement crosses his stern yet slightly bumbling English features, the leftmost Viking charges at him like a fiend possessed.
Slightly slow to raise his double barreled cane, McGeenyton watches in horror as the Viking and his axe rush towards him and as the axe crashes down. ...Suddenly he realises he is being assaulted, and steps to the side! He raises his gun. He pulls the trigger! He shoots the Viking with his walking stick... and fractures his guts!
McGeenyton pulls the trigger to unleash the second barrel: ...the Viking’s left arm is severed!
The Viking rolls about in the bloody snow, trying to reattach his arm. The poor fellow appears quite incapacitated!
Gentlemanliness Increased! Having the presence of mind to call for one’s butlers!
Attempt to introduce the vikings to the superiority and versatility of halberd use in a variety of situations.
(http://tnypic.net/7b9b2.png)
With the other two Vikings advancing angrily upon him, the chief axe-insulter, Wellington tries to start up a conversation about the superiority of the halberd!
...The Vikings are enraged! They consider writing a well-worded and thoughtful complaint to their MP, before realising that politeness be damned! We are Vikings!
In his fearsome anger, however, one Viking stumbles in his charge, ...and the second is feeling too indignant to effectively strike Mr Wellington! Mr Wellington ducks his puny blow, delivers a stunning thrust to the Viking’s axe arm with his trusty top hat, and snaps it in two! Graciously helping his fallen stumbling opponent to his feet, the daring Englishman then smacks him across the face with a good solid slap, ...but his hand gets caught in the Viking’s beard!
Too close to efficiently wield his axe, the Viking knees Mr Wellington in the groin! ...The pain is quite tremendous!
Wound Acquired: Mr William Wellington: Fractured Testicle!
Manly stand resolute against the storm. Behind a tree. And prepare to dig myself out of an unholy amount of snow.
(http://tnypic.net/c9cb2.png)
“Gosh. I say. No, Mr Smith, that snow should not be moving towards us in such a fashion. Blast! From what I know about avalanches, I should say that this is a blasted avalanche! Take cover!”
...Smith quickly jumps behind a nearby tree as the horrifying wall of snow advances, but he doesn’t quite get there in time! He tries to stand there as manfully as possible!
Quickly build an utopia around me, Smith, and the tree. Get the Guide to help if he is still around.
(http://tnypic.net/17c0c.png)
Spying a solid looking tree and his comrade Smith trying to interact with the aforementioned tree in a manner reminiscent of seeking some form of protection, von Fersen rushes over to the tree and starts digging a delightful utopian shelter!
Alas! Von Fersen digs too hard! ...As the soil underneath it vanishes, the tree collapses, falling on von Fersen and crushing his leg and scratching Mr Smith’s face!
Wound Acquired: Sir August von Fersen: Broken Left Leg!
Wound Acquired: Mr Winston Smith: Scratched Face!
With a mighty whoosh a thousand tons of snow storm past, lightly covering Mr Smith and Sir von Fersen.
Gosh!
… … … … … …
In the white wasteland of post-avalanche somewhere-Norwegian, a pair of muffled voices can just about be heard under a large quantity of snow.
“Blast those bloody Germans, eh what?”
“Quite, my dear von Fersen. Blast and bloody blast. Drat, even.”
“Mr Smith! I say! There’s no call for that kind of language!”
“No. You’re quite right. Sorry. I say, von Fersen?”
“Yes, Mr Smith?”
“I’m rather bloody cold, you know.”
“Yes. Cup of tea?”
“Why not? Biscuit?”
“Ooh, go on then. I am feeling a little peckish. Thanks awfully, old chap. Now, about this snow…”
… … … … … …
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: A Promise to Acquire Two New Suits! (fourteen turns remaining)
State Acquired! Mr Smith: Tea-powered Super Manliness! (five turns remaining)
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: scriver on March 02, 2012, 12:04:25 pm
Try to dig a tunnel out with use of my trusty dictionaries, then see to the broken limbs.
Post by: areyoua on March 02, 2012, 03:45:01 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on March 02, 2012, 06:25:55 pm
Shave the viking's beard off with my top hat, or if not, a throwing disc.
Afterward, maintain that I never did this, and the viking brought it upon himself.
Post by: Geen on March 03, 2012, 11:50:12 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on March 05, 2012, 07:05:37 am
Offer the incapacitated fellow tea.
(http://tnypic.net/28778.png)
“I say!” says Mr McGeenyton to the bleeding Viking crawling away from him towards a severed arm lying a few feet away on the snow. “Could I possibly interest you in a cup of tea? I have some rather good Assam, you know. Tea of kings, what!”
“Ffnnffåaghh!!”
“Jolly good show old boy. Sugar? ‘Fraid I don’t happen to have any, but it’s always polite to ask, eh? Now, if only we had a couple of folding chairs we could watch our mutual acquaintances fight it out for the honour of o-ooh, by God. Did you see that? Golly. How terribly unfortunate.”
Shave the viking's beard off with my top hat, or if not, a throwing disc.
Afterward, maintain that I never did this, and the viking brought it upon himself.
(http://tnypic.net/7b9b2.png)
Coiled in moderately severe pain, Mr Wellington feels slightly enraged! And who could blame him? No right thinking man wishes to be fractured in the groin! And no right thinking man should stand for such a thing! Carefully reaching for his hat whilst remaining in his pain-minimising crouch, Wellington suddenly bursts into action like a praying mantis, swishing his hat through the air with the speed of a Japanese swordsman!
“Aäch! My beard!” cries the groin-bothering Viking. “How can I live with such dishønour! How shall I be åble to reproduce?! Arrrrcghghh! I can never face my compatriots again!”
And with that, the Viking flees directly to the west!
“Terribly sorry old chap,” concludes Wellington. “You did rather bring it upon yourself though, I think you’ll agree, eh what?”
Wellington’s countryman McGeenyton strolls over.
“I say old bean. That was rather unpleasant, don’t you think? You could have at least finished off the poor blighter, eh? Still, one has to admit he did rather bring it upon himself. Not particularly agreeable or gentlemanly to direct such as fearsome blow at one’s family inheritance, what?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about my dear boy. I didn’t touch the fellow. Now, what the devil were we doing before these dastardly Vikings ambushed us?”
Try to dig a tunnel out with use of my trusty dictionaries, then see to the broken limbs.
(http://tnypic.net/17c0c.png)
Meanwhile, quite some distance away and under a considerable quantity of uninvited snow, Sir August von Fersen is busy rootling about in his personal belongings.
“Aha! I can probably fashion some form of snow-spade with one of these sturdy volumes!” he exclaims, getting a firm grip on the volumes “C” and “F” of his luxury dictionary set. “No gentleman should ever travel without one! Gosh!”
Von Fersen starts tunneling through the snow with his thick leather bound dictionary.
He seems to make little to no headway! He begins to perspire from the effort, despite being semi-frozen stiff!
Deciding he’d rather die than sweat from sheer vulgar physical labour, von Fersen decides to stop and sit down to await the end.
“Well,” he reasons, “I suppose I could read through the rest of the next volume to dull the pain, eh? Blast.”
Start digging upwards with my walkingbatstick, and reminisce about sunny California to steel myself against the cold.
(http://tnypic.net/c9cb2.png)
Suddenly the snow all about von Fersen melts in a torrent of slush and water as first the walking
In a cloud of steam and leaving behind a slightly damp warm puddle, Mr Smith bursts to the surface, one hand pointing upwards and directing his trusty walking
The two men are saved, and have foiled the dastardly assaults of this terrible foreign land!
“Right. Blast. I’m a little wet. Now, where on earth were we heading before this blasted avalanche struck us without so much as a warning or polite introduction? Bloody snow. I’ve a rather strong temptation to give it a rather large piece of my mind. Wouldn’t be so rude as to bloody well do that back in yon green and pleasant England, what? By Jove. By the way von Fersen, have you noticed that your arm seems to be dripping with blood?”
”I had, Mr Smith, yes. Terribly kind of you to point it out though, my mind was on other things and I clean forgot. ‘Tis, after all, but a scratch, when compared to the grievous wounds the dastardly Germans wish to inflict on the honourable British Empire, eh? Perhaps I in my turn can offer you a service. Have you noticed you appear to be rather terribly nude?”
… … … … … …
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: A Promise to Acquire Two New Suits! (thirteen turns remaining)
State Acquired! Mr Smith: Tea-powered Super Manliness! (four turns remaining)
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: areyoua on March 05, 2012, 04:52:51 pm
Put on my smashing coat and look for some more clothes. Again. Then proceed in the direction the stampede came from. Surely, there will be some Germans who will be kind enough to provide me a suit if I can't find one in the wilds of Norway.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on March 05, 2012, 11:05:26 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on March 08, 2012, 03:10:56 am
Post by: scriver on March 08, 2012, 11:23:21 am
Take some time and see to the wounds before we continue (possibly using the dictionary paper as makeshift bandage), and take a couple of strengthening puffs from the pipe.
"Thanks for getting us out of there, old boy. Can I offer you a puff or two to keep up your warmth and spirits?
Post by: lawastooshort on March 09, 2012, 07:39:01 am
Onward, to chase the Prussians!
(http://tnypic.net/7b9b2.png)
”Onward, my friends and countrymen, eh what!” exclaims Mr Wellington. ”Huzzah!”
Wellington starts strolling determinedly towards the north east in pursuit of the perfidious Prussians, presumed capturers of the precious Professor Bythington-Smythe. Making remarkably good time, he suddenly halts, kneels down, and puts his top hat to the ground, and his ear to his top hat.
He appears to be listening intently.
”I say! Something appears to be coming our way! Take cover, Mr McGeenyton! Take cover!”
With just enough time to take cover, Mr Wellington watches in astonishment as a herd of ravenous Elk start rushing by where the two gentlemen were a brief moment ago strolling. Taken by a flash of inspiration, as the tail end of the herd gallop past the brave gent jumps out, leaping onto the neck of a mighty Elk and wrestling him to the ground, where he subdues him with a few sharp blows of the top hat.
”That’ll show him who’s in charge!” he shouts. ”Climb aboard, McGeenyton! We’re taking the Elk express to Prussian-town! You know, I’m quite an expert at Elk pilotage, have no fear!”
Quote
”Hurrumph!”
(http://tnypic.net/28778.png)
Mr McGeenyton, looking moderately convinced – almost as if he doesn’t have much of a choice and some strange higher mystical being is taking over control of his body – quickly scrambles onto the back of the Elk behind Mr Wellington.
”Lead the way, honourable friend! Lead the way! For England and Freedom! Well, gentlemanly freedom, anyway, eh what. Blast. For England and Glory! Charrrge!”
Mr Wellington kicks his heels against the mighty beast’s flanks, and he gallops off into the spreading darkness. The Elk seems to instinctively follow the trail of its fellow Elk, who zoom off eastwards towards the low range of mountains that encircle the town of Hammerfest. Eventually, total darkness envelopes the savage looking countryside, but the noble Elk keeps galloping onwards through the chilly air and the glistening snow crunching underfoot. A short while passes, with the Elk speeding on with little encouragement needed from his gentlemanly passengers, and soon enough he catches up with his Elky companions, and skids to a halt at the foot of an imposing mountainside.
Thousands of Elk mill about, almost as if talking amongst themselves, gnawing on the tufts of frozen grass that push resolutely through the cold and trampled ground before the mountainside. Enormous stone doors are carved into its vertical cliff-face.
Take some time and see to the wounds before we continue (possibly using the dictionary paper as makeshift bandage), and take a couple of strengthening puffs from the pipe.
(http://tnypic.net/17c0c.png)
"Thanks for getting us out of there, old boy. Can I offer you a puff or two to keep up your warmth and spirits?”
Whilst Mr Smith searches about upon the snowy ground for some clothing, von Fersen starts tearing some pages out of the useless ‘Z’ volume of his dictionary set, licking them in as noble a fashion as is possible given the circumstances, before then proceeding to roll his blood soaked sleeve up to his shoulder. Using, where necessary, a few more dabs of spit, the enterprising young Swede forms a solid bandage over both sides of his severe Elk impalement wound!
”Ah,” he says, as he sits back and takes a refreshing puff or two on his pipe. ”That certainly feels a lot better. I was beginning to feel moderately faint. Arrrrhghgh!! Oh bloody blast! I’m on fire!”
A sudden gust of wind has thrown the embers of his pipe all over his new arm bandage! It rapidly dries out and sets alight!
Put on my smashing coat and look for some more clothes. Again. Then proceed in the direction the stampede came from. Surely, there will be some Germans who will be kind enough to provide me a suit if I can't find one in the wilds of Norway.
(http://tnypic.net/c9cb2.png)
Digging his only slightly damp clothes out from the large pile of snow under which they flew in his supermanly enthusiasm for escape from the avalanche, Mr Smith quickly gets dressed and prepares to head in the direction of the Elk stampede. Following a clear Elk trail he gets a hundred yards to the east when he hears a sudden cry behind him. Sir August von Fersen appears to be alight!
… … … … … …
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: A Promise to Acquire Two New Suits! (twelve turns remaining)
State Acquired! Mr Smith: Tea-powered Super Manliness! (three turns remaining)
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: areyoua on March 09, 2012, 07:07:39 pm
Throw some snow on the fire to stop it and once again try to proceed along the elk trail.
Post by: Geen on March 09, 2012, 07:29:17 pm
Look around for suits, I shall keep my promise to those fine butlers.
Post by: scriver on March 09, 2012, 08:01:57 pm
:D
At least nothing blew up this time.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on March 11, 2012, 05:31:38 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on March 12, 2012, 07:54:00 am
Look around for suits, I shall keep my promise to those fine butlers.
(http://tnypic.net/28778.png)
Looking about amongst the enormous herd of Elk for some suits, Mr Henry McGeenyton soon becomes quite dispirited. There is nary a suit in sight!
There are, however, thousands of Elk, and Mr McGeenyton’s incessant searching soon sets their teeth on edge. Ignoring the warning signs of waving tails and snorting nostrils, McGeenyton searches hither and looks thither, bumbling along and disturbing many an Elk wishing only for to be left uninterrupted on this pleasant Wednesday evening whilst they chew thankfully on some of the lovely frozen grass that is such a speciality of the Norwegian steppe.
“Sorry!” cries out the Englishman, as he bumps the behind of another unfortunate victim. “Excuse me! Sorry about that!” he continues, as he bounces aimlessly from one Elk to the next. “Terribly sorry, old girl!”
...Alas! This seems to be the final straw that broke the Elk's kindly façade!
“I’m a man!” one of the Elks seems to trumpet in McGeenyton’s face.
“I say,” says the Englishman, “Steady on, old bean!”
“I’m thirty seven!” the Elk seems to reply with a mournful hoot, “I’m not old!”
“Oh, rather!” protests McGeenyton, “Ouch! Blimey! Hey! Stop that!”
“Moooooooooo!” the Elk seems to bleat, in a rather aggressive tone, “Moooooooooooo!”
“Help!” asks McGeenyton, “Help! I say! Oh! Golly!”
“Mooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
“Oh stop th- Leave me al- Oh, good Lord.”
“Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
“Arrg! Oh blast.”
“Mooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
As suddenly as he started, the Elk stops and leaves Mr McGeenyton alone, running off to join his many friends. Bewildered and afraid, McGeenyton stands naked but for a top hat amidst a river of stampeding Elk!
Wound Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: Heavy Head Bleeding!
Item Lost! Mr McGeenyton: Suit.
Lie down in snow. Then repeat last action, though only sickle the pipe without lighting it this time.
(http://tnypic.net/17c0c.png)
Lying down in the snow with all the haste afforded a gentleman by the overriding necessity to keep one’s dignity, Sir August von Fersen stretches out his legs and gets comfortable. Suddenly a great quantity of snow covers the fellow!
“I say, Mr Smith,” says von Fersen, “That’s terribly thoughtful of you! Thanks awfully, old chap!”
...The fire on the Swede’s arm is extinguished!
“Righty-ho. Time for a comfortable chomp on the old pipe then, eh what. Worry not, Mr Smith, I haven’t the intention of actually lighting the blighter this time, ho ho! Hey, wait for me! I say!”
With all the haste and so on and so forth and dignity and such like, von Fersen leaps to his feet as well as his tree-crushed leg permits. He hobbles after Mr Smith!
Throw some snow on the fire to stop it and once again try to proceed along the elk trail.
(http://tnypic.net/c9cb2.png)
With his mighty manly hands, Mr Winston Smith shovels a good square yard of delightfully cold snow onto his companion’s burning arm whilst this latter chap lies down. With such carefully coordinated teamwork, the fire is quickly put out.
“Eureka!” shouts Mr Smith, “Now, let us head east to find where these maddened Elk were headed. Come, von Fersen, we have no time to lose. Those Elk were surely heading in the same direction as our friends, and they may be in grievous danger! We must get to the bottom of all this!”
...Running with amazing manly power, Mr Smith makes excellent time, but suddenly realises he is leaving his broken-legged companion behind. He runs back to the limping Swede, and hefts him onto his back, before turning once more and sprinting off in the direction of the Elk trail. Several minutes later the two brave agents of the King find themselves before a rising mountain cliff-face, behind a herd of many thousand Elk. The Elk seem to be stampeding!
Suddenly there is an enormous explosion at the head of the herd! A vast cloud of dust and debris sprays into the air!
Somehow convince the elk to charge against the door, sacrificing themselves for the greater good of England!
(http://tnypic.net/7b9b2.png)
“Help!” Wellington hears a voice cry, “Help! I say! Oh! Golly!”
It’s his gentlemanly companion Mr McGeenyton! He appears to be in quite some distress!
“Mooooooooooooooooooooooo!” hears Wellington, before one last faintly heard call for aid rings out. “Oh stop th- Leave me al- Oh, good Lord.”
“My word!” exclaims Wellington, “What a magnificent idea! If ever there was a time for harnessing the power of the mighty Elk it must be now!”
Leaving Mr McGeenyton to his fate, Mr Wellington climbs atop a nearby rock and addresses the great horde of Elk.
“I say!” he starts, “Friends! Scandinavians! Elk-folk! Lend me your ears! I come but to open these blasted doors, not to search for suits and thus disturb your rest! The evil Prussians may come after you, so bury not the good Englishmen under a torrent of Elken blows! So let it be thus: direct your Elken rage against these vast and noble stone doors, for they alone stand between you and freedom!”
“Hear hear!” a few Elks seem to murmur. Wellington continues.
“These doors alone stand between you and fresh grass! You did love fresh grass once! And not without cause! ‘Tis better than this frozen rubbish that the Germans force upon you! Yes! ‘Tis all their fault! They love you not! They have not the Englishman’s natural appreciation for your noble beauty! I beg of thee, crush yon door of evil, for the greater good of England!”
“Bloody well said, what!” a few more Elks seem to moo, “Bloody good show. For England! For the King!”
...Suddenly the whole herd of thousands of Elk takes up the rallying call, and moos in unison!
“Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
“For England!” they seem to hoot!
The Elk circle briefly; they take a short run up; they charge directly at the giant stone doors blocking the Englishman’s path into the underground hideout.
“Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
The doors tumble under the terrific force of the mighty Elk! There is a deafening explosion of sound as the giant doors fall to the ground! A great pile of debris and dust shoots into the air and showers the now re-assembled gentlemen as hundreds upon hundreds of noble beasts rush past into the Viking stronghold!
The way is open!
… … … … … …
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: A Promise to Acquire Two New Suits! (eleven turns remaining)
State Acquired! Mr Smith: Tea-powered Super Manliness! (two turns remaining)
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: scriver on March 12, 2012, 08:03:14 am
Swoon and cling to Smith's neck.
Post by: areyoua on March 12, 2012, 04:03:56 pm
Try not to suffocate from von Ferson's grip on my neck and put him down, offering him an arm to help him forwards as befits a true gentleman, and proceed into the Viking stronghold.
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on March 13, 2012, 05:57:31 pm
Post by: Geen on March 14, 2012, 08:05:09 pm
Attempt to find something to clothe myself with, apologize for this embarrassment.
I'll be gone thursday-saturday, be warned.
Post by: lawastooshort on March 19, 2012, 11:44:14 am
Proceed into the base, thanking the elk-folk dearly.
(http://tnypic.net/7b9b2.png)
“Terribly kind of you, old chaps,” says Mr Wellington to the few remaining Elk outside. “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
“Oh no,” the foremost Elk seems to moo in reply. “Thank you for freeing us from the yoke of the awful Germans! We have spent the whole spring so far greatly unnerved by the constant to-ing and fro-ing, and it has upset the lady Elk! So, one and all, great and small, the Elk-folk thank you for your rousing speech! Here,” the Elk moos, “Climb on my back and do me the honour of riding me into battle!”
“I say!” replies Wellington. “Tally ho!”
“Mooooooooooooo!”
...Wellington jumps aboard the great Elk’s back, two hands firmly planted on his magnificent horns as the Elk rears on his two hind legs and charges straight into the enemy stronghold!
Item Acquired! Great Horned Elk Mount!
Suddenly the screaming Mr Smith rushes past!
Swoon and cling to Smith's neck.
(http://tnypic.net/17c0c.png)
...Meanwhile, back outside, von Fersen cries in alarm as he loses consciousness, clinging manfully to Smith’s neck.
"Oh dear!"
Suddenly he awakes with a jolt! Mr Smith is nowhere to be seen!
Try not to suffocate from von Fersen's grip on my neck and put him down, offering him an arm to help him forwards as befits a true gentleman, and proceed into the Viking stronghold.
(http://tnypic.net/c9cb2.png)
Frightfully concerned for the well-being of the wilting Swede upon his neck, Mr Smith strides manfully on for several paces before ...throwing von Fersen violently to the ground like a master of judo, shattering his stomach and fracturing his guts on a nearby rock!
Wound Acquired! Sir August von Fersen: Fractured Guts!
“First Aid!” cries the American, “We must have some First Aid This man has had an accident! We must find a doctor!”
Mr Smith runs screaming into the enemy base to search for some First Aid, striding with such manly purpose that he overtakes the Elk-riding Mr Wellington and charges straight down the main corridor. Suddenly he hears a strange clicking kind of sound, and even more suddenly his manly stride is interrupted by his face hitting a metal bar! Some form of cage based trap has fallen down around him! He is trapped! He is caged!
“Aha!” he hears suddenly. “Ein intruder! Alert! Achtung! Where are the Viking mercenaries! What are all these Elk doing in here?! Bring out the Viking sharp stick squad! Vite! Er I mean schnell!”
Attempt to find something to clothe myself with, apologize for this embarrassment.
(http://tnypic.net/28778.png)
“A fine tailor!” Mr McGeenyton hears Smith cry out, “I spy a fine tailor! This man needs a suit! We must find a tailor!”
“I say!” exclaims McGeenyton in desperation. “I say! A tailor?!”
...The naked Englishman rushes forward into the enemy base with his top hat bobbing proudly in the breeze, charging between the few remaining Elk lingering outside, sprinting after the by-now-caged American and the Elk-mounted Englishman, dashing past the crumpled Swede on the rocky floor, before then jumping through the window of the first fine tailor’s boutique he comes across in the main entrance-way of the enemy fortress.
Spotting what looks to be some form of particularly modern style gentleman’s suit, Mr McGeenyton mounts the ladder to climb inside. As he sits down on the Interiorly Integrated Gentleman’s Chair, a glass bowler hat suddenly seems to swing down shut on the top of the suit!
“Arg!” cries McGeenyton. “I hate these blasted barbarian bowler hats! Get me out of here! Help! My sense of sartorial decency is being gravely assaulted! Help! Oh blast. I’m trapped! I say, chaps! Can anyone get me out of this strange metallic suit? It’s rather uncomfortably tight around the crotch area, and I can’t stand the cut of this ridiculous glass hat, and I don’t like the thickness of the pinstr- ooh, I say. I’ve never worn a suit before with so many knobs and dials and levers inside it. Golly. I wonder what this one does?”
Item Acquired! Henry McGeenyton: Robospider Steam Suit!
… … … … … …
Suddenly a piercing yet soulfully manful cry rings out. Mr Smith sounds a little distressed!
“I say? Chaps? Sorry to be a nuisance but these blasted Vikings keep poking me with sticks, and they’re rather sharp. Would you mind awfully rescuing me for a bit?”
Mr Wellington looks ahead, vision blurring from the tremendous speed with which his war-elk is carrying him forth, and sets his eyes on the problem. Some thirty yards ahead in the gloom of the tunnel, Mr Smith appears to be in a cage! Surrounded by Vikings! Who are poking him with sticks!
Wound Acquired! Mr Winston Smith: Badly Bleeding Leg!
August von Fersen, left lying outside the fortress entrance, is nowhere to be seen, and Mr McGeenyton was last seen dashing past Mr Wellington and through the door of an enemy storeroom!
“Blast!” blasts Wellington, “It looks like there’s only me left! Tally ho, Mr Smith! I’m coming!”
Suddenly the wall next to Mr Wellington explodes in a shower of dust and bricks! A metallic looking robospider suit in tasteful light grey pinstripes bursts through!
“Hang about!” thinks Mr Wellington. “Those light grey pinstripes are actually rather too thick for my liking! Good Lord! What a monstrosity!”
… … … … … …
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: A Promise to Acquire Two New Suits! (ten turns remaining)
State Acquired! Mr Smith: Tea-powered Super Manliness! (one turn remaining)
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: areyoua on March 19, 2012, 03:44:36 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on March 19, 2012, 05:00:57 pm
Attempt to throw my top hat in such a fashion as to cause it to begin to fly in a circle upon hitting the first viking, then curve to maim each viking in the circle.
Post by: Geen on March 20, 2012, 07:48:38 pm
Apply liberal violence upon some viking buttocks.
Post by: scriver on March 21, 2012, 09:01:38 am
Post by: lawastooshort on March 24, 2012, 04:17:00 pm
Attempt to throw my top hat in such a fashion as to cause it to begin to fly in a circle upon hitting the first viking, then curve to maim each viking in the circle.
(http://tnypic.net/7b9b2.png)
“Tally ho!” cries Mr Wellington, aboard his war-Elk. “Up and at 'em, boy, let's impale the buggers on your magnificent horns! No! Wait! I have a better idea. We shall perform a ride-by hatting! Charge!”
Gripping Mr Kensington-Smythe's – for this is the name of the war-Elk in question – horns with one hand, Mr Wellington removes his top hat with the other as the fearsome pair gallop past the gathering Viking mercenaries in the tunnel. Wellington straightens his back and aims with a terrifying warcry, ...before getting the wrist action all wrong, and flinging his revered top hat to the floor!
“Blast.” he curses. “Well, that'll show 'em, eh? Nothing much more intimidating than not even deigning to strike one's enemy, eh what?”
Suddenly his mini monologue is interrupted as a nearby Viking leaps up and ...wrestles him to the floor, grabbing him in a headlock and smashing his face upon the ground! Mr Wellington starts bleeding profusely, and looks up just in time to see the damnable Viking pull out a blade, and aim it towards the stricken Englishman's spleen!
Wound Acquired! Mr Wellington: Heavy Face Bleeding!
“Äaaaaaaaaaaaaargggrh!” he suddenly hears. “Äaaaaarhghghlkllkkj!”
Mr Wellington looks up at the accursed Viking, carved in twain by the force of Mr Kensington-Smythe's deadly sharp antlers! He gets to his feet and dusts off his jacket, giving the heroic war-Elk a discrete nod of thanks.
Stand in the center of the cage and try to parry the sticks of the Vikings with my walkingbatstick with such force as to jam the other end into the Vikings.
(http://tnypic.net/c9cb2.png)
Mr Smith is left alone in the cage as the Vikings poke him with their sharp sticks, and looks on with quiet desperation as he sees Mr Wellington charge by and effect an entirely useless rescue! He withstands the understandable urge to give in to self-pity and miserablism, and straightens his back and thrusts out his chin in a defiance almost reminiscent of a great Englishman!
...He parries first one Viking sharp stick, and then another, smashing it into two pieces which both fly back out of the cage, impaling themselves in the eyes of the vicious Vikings! Two of the Vikings drop dead on the spot!
The three remaining Viking stick-men appear to become somewhat enraged at the grisly fate of their fellows, and poke their sticks with renewed ferocity! But alas! (for them!) Mr Winston Smith is a dab hand with the old walking
The poor chap stuck to the end of the sharp stick that Mr Smith has trapped takes one look at his slain comrades, drops his sharp stick, and turns to flee!
Inspired by Smith's heroic Super Manliness, crawl into cover and see to those damned wounds already!
(http://tnypic.net/17c0c.png)
Sir August von Fersen is rather alarmed by the violence of the ongoing mortal combat in the vicinity of the cage-trap, and rightly deduces that he would fare better in battle were he to see to some of his awful injuries. He crawls into the cover of a door, and starts ripping up the shirt of a nearby fallen Viking with which to bandage himself up.
...His failure is not total! He manages to make a makeshift form of protective gut-patch, and he begins to feel a little better!
Apply liberal violence upon some viking buttocks.
(http://tnypic.net/28778.png)
Von Fersen looks up from his doctoring just in time to hear the strange sounds of Mr McGeenyton's steam-powered robospider-suit hiss into action, wriggling itself free from the rubble of the destroyed wall and pounding menacingly towards the few remaining non-sharp stick Vikings that surround Mr Smith's cage.
One foolhardy type raises his monstrous axe and rushes towards the Englishman – perhaps wanting to make a comment on the width of the pinstripes! ...But McGeenyton refuses to even entertain the idea of listening to his fashion counsel, and swats him off the ground like a steam-powered flyswatter! The Viking screams as he flies off into the nearest wall, broken and bloodied and, indeed, quite struck down!
His Viking friends decide that enough is enough, and flee headfirst down the corridor from whence the vengeful gentlemen did appear, leaving naught but an imposing looking German Colonel between the gentlemen and further progress!
“So!” begins the German. “You have defeated my first platoon of hired thugs, eh! Vell! I bet you cannot defeat your sense of honour and not do me the pleasure of fighting in a duel? Eh?”
Baron von Honkerkliffen challenges you to a duel!
… … … … … …
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: A Promise to Acquire Two New Suits! (nine turns remaining)
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: areyoua on March 25, 2012, 08:00:22 pm
Alas, for I feel less manly...
Post by: Firelordsky on March 25, 2012, 08:52:44 pm
Post by: Geen on March 26, 2012, 09:47:07 pm
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on April 01, 2012, 06:22:00 pm
Post by: scriver on April 06, 2012, 03:29:56 pm
((Sorry for being an arse and not replying again. I will be better!))
Post by: lawastooshort on April 06, 2012, 03:34:39 pm
I just need a little inspiration to get it over the finishing line... I should apologise as well for the delay, but I have been very busy and tired this last fortnight and only able to write occasionally when I get a burst of inspiration.
Post by: scriver on April 06, 2012, 04:01:50 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on April 16, 2012, 08:51:22 am
The ghost of Thomas Wallace places all his knowledge of the dueling arts into Mr. Geenyton to prepare him for the upcoming duel. Also, make the Bagpipes play some Epic Scottish Battle Music.
Rip some pages out of the French-English dictionary to stop the bleeding and call for some help out of this cage.
(http://tnypic.net/c9cb2.png)
“Help! I say – I’m in a bloody cage, don’t you know! Oh, blast, one appears to be bleeding quite profusely from one’s leg. Bother.”
...Rather than ruin yet another suit with his somewhat callous propensity for bleeding on the work of innocent tailors, Mr Smith wisely decides that mere freedom is not all that it might be cracked up to be. He snuffles about his evening jacket pockets and pulls out his finally useful French-English dictionary. Frenziedly tearing the poor volume to shreds, he applies it with some manly spit, sticking it furiously about his leg until the blood is soaked up, and his leg entirely immobilised! He very slightly resembles some kind of Egyptian mummy!
Suddenly, stowed somewhere about his person, his bagpipes start playing some epic Scottish battle music of their own accord!
Leaping with terror at this strange and sudden development, the startled Mr Smith flees at top speed from the bloodcurdling sound, only to trip upon his mummified leg and smash his head open on a nearby metal bar!
Wound Acquired: Mr Smith: Smashed Open Head!
Retrieve hat, attempt last action.
(http://tnypic.net/7b9b2.png)
Spying his poor top hat in its undignified position upon the ground, Mr Wellington resolves to retrieve it and finally slay everyone present via the medium of tophatterang-fu! He ceases his jacket-dusting-off and dashes into a particularly handsome forward roll, coming to his knees just before his top hat which he then slams back into its rightful place on his noble head. Staying in a crouch, Mr Wellington looks about! He looks left! He looks right! He spies no foe bar the evil-looking Baron von Honkerkliffen, but remains intent on circulating his top hat in the most violent manner possible, hoping to explode the heads of as many Vikings as can be caught!
...With a twitch of his wrist Wellington flings out his top hat, splicing apart Baron von Honkerkliffen’s left eye, tearing off his nearby ear, and sending him flying to the floor in a stumbling heap!
Wound Acquired: Baron von Honkerkliffen: Spliced Open Left Eye!
Wound Acquired: Baron von Honkerkliffen: Torn Off Ear!
Wellington stands aghast at this hideous breach of dueling protocol, but watches with great satisfaction as his tophatterang returns at great speed. It flies in a great arc about the rocky cavern, shearing the flesh off Sir August von Fersen’s left arm as it passes the first gentleman before heading towards the astonished Mr McGeenyton!
Wound Acquired: Sir von Fersen: Sheared Open Left Arm!
He is rooted to the spot as the top hat comes towards him and smashes him directly in the face, heavily bruising his mouth through his robosuit!
Wound Acquired: Mr McGeenyton: Heavily Bruised Mouth!
Wellington dodges to the ground as the top hat swings round for a final run, narrowly missing the Englishman and careering dangerously fast towards the temporarily severely disabled Mr Smith: at the last second it veers to the side, and slices through the entire side of steel cage! The cage collapses to the floor on one side: Mr Smith is freed!
Caddishness Increased! Mr Wellington: Breached Dueling Protocol!
Quote from: me
”Gosh!”
(http://tnypic.net/17c0c.png)
”Gosh and blast! Oh no, wait – I have an idea!”
While resting my wounds, focus intensively on lending all my strength to my comrades through the supernatural, brotherly bond all Agents in the Service of the King are connected by!
...Overcome with mild joy at the sight of his freed comrade, von Fersen realises that decisive action is required if the evil threat is to be defeated. He crawls into a corner, and focuses intensively on helping his comrades through some kind of supernatural means! His face quickly takes on an expression of extreme constipation as he strains his mental faculties to near breaking point!
Accept challenge. Enter Fisticuffs mode.
(http://tnypic.net/28778.png)
”I… I’m terribly sorry, old chap. I don’t know how I can possibly excuse my companion’s atrocious behaviour – would you care for a duel? It’s the very least I can do.”
”Mein Gott! It is inexcusable! Not only do you English types slice off my ear under the pretence of preparing to duel, you then do me the dishonour of challenging me to a duel whilst I await your duel! I tell you vot, mein friend: I see your duel, and I raise you a duel! Ha! I vill duel you twice at once! En garde! I warn you: I fight to the death, and I am an expert at this kind of thing!”
”Oh, blast.”
Mildly blinded by rage as well as his eye being spliced apart, Baron von Honkerkliffen is nevertheless rather speedier than the slowed-by-shame McGeenyton! He gets in the first blow with his rapier, and ...strikes a vicious stab towards thin air!
Suddenly, McGeenyton realises he doesn’t appear to possess a suitable dueling weapon, and will have to fight with whatever he has to hand! Luckily, he immediately remembers he’s in a robotic spider suit, and swipes with one of his eight legs towards the prancing Prussian, ...who avoids the blow with a cunning duck. With a smart roll to his right to take advantage of his duck, Baron von Honkerkliffen thrusts upwards with his rapier towards McGeenyton’s armoured groin, ...striking viciously and puncturing McGeenyton’s guts!
Wound Acquired: Mr McGeenyton: Punctured Guts
The angered Englishman recoils in horror: ‘twas a close run thing! He clambers ahead in a ball of steam and metallic spider legs towards the brave baron, and swipes two arms forwards to clasp him in a spiderbotic wrestling hold, ...and calls upon all his suddenly increased dueling knowledge to begin crushing the air out of the German infidel!
Baron von Honkerkliffen attempts to struggle free, ...but cannot!
Mr McGeenyton squeezes and squeezes, and the German turns purple! He attempts the only thing any sane man would do, ...and pokes the Englishman in the eye with his rapier, bruising the eye, but missing the brain!
Wound Acquired: Mr McGeenyton: Bruised Eye!
McGeenyton bleeds heavily within his suit of robospidersteel, but can’t quite manage to squeeze the baron to death, so casually attempts to rip off one of his arms: ...alas! the robospider suit malfunctions, and he rips off the spidersuit’s arm!
Robospider Suit Malfunction Bonus Acquired: Mr McGeenyton: Arms remaining: 7.
The German wriggles free with his last but one breath, and hacks through the resulting hole with his rapier, ...breaking the arm and tearing the flesh! With a sudden burst of supernatural energy, ...McGeenyton picks up the severed spidersuit arm, and thrusts it at Baron von Honkerkliffen. It penetrates his spleen! It shatters his heart! It punctures his lung! It pokes out his spine! It ruins his suit!
Baron von Honkerkliffen is struck down!
Wound Acquired: Mr McGeenyton: Broken Arm!
Gentlemanliness Increased: Mr McGeenyton: Duelist Extraordinaire!
… … … … … …
Beyond the corpse of the baron lay the depths of the Viking fortress, and, specifically, a junction of dank dark corridors heading off in various directions. From left to right the junctions appear to have signs written in Viking under the more easily decipherable numbers 1, 2, 3 and 4.
… … … … … …
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: A Promise to Acquire Two New Suits! (eight turns remaining)
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: Spinal_Taper on April 16, 2012, 07:08:01 pm
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Post by: Geen on April 16, 2012, 07:55:15 pm
See if this thing can do any medical shit. If not, attempt to self-diagnose. At least put my guts back inside my stomach.
You guys mind helping?
Post by: areyoua on April 17, 2012, 05:26:11 pm
Wear smashing coat as turban to stop bleeding and still be able to see. Then go help McGeenyton get his guts back in his stomach.
Post by: scriver on April 23, 2012, 07:05:08 am
Post by: Geen on May 06, 2012, 11:58:10 am
Post by: _DivideByZero_ on May 06, 2012, 08:07:41 pm
Post by: lawastooshort on May 08, 2012, 10:01:17 am
Spoiler: Possible New Mechanic Acquired: All Gentlemen (click to show/hide)
Wear smashing coat as turban to stop bleeding and still be able to see. Then go help McGeenyton get his guts back in his stomach.
(http://tnypic.net/c9cb2.png)
Standing at the junction of dank dark corridors, the four gentlemen regroup. The ground is slick with blood and the air thick with the smell of mould and reindeer droppings; the dimly torch-lit corridors head off in various directions, their destinations marked only by signs written in Viking under the more easily decipherable numbers 1, 2, 3 and 4. Behind them lies nothing but freedom, safety, and the wreckage of noble duelling.
Mr Smith is bleeding moderately from the forehead – but fear not! The brave American has a smashing coat, and in-depth knowledge of the artistry involved in the application of turbans! ...Whilst somehow remaining clothed for once, the good chap removes his smashing coat and wraps it about his head, stopping the bleeding and, in the process, pulling off a passable impression of a Russian.
He walks over to Mr McGeenyton and his steam-powered robospider suit.
See if this thing can do any medical shit. If not, attempt to self-diagnose. At least put my guts back inside my stomach.
(http://tnypic.net/28778.png)
“Blaft!” shouts Mr McGeenyton, through his bruised mouth. “Blaft and boffer, my damnable guts are falling out!” he accurately diagnoses as Mr Smith approaches. “I fay, could you possibly give me a hand replacing my guts? They appear to have fallen out.”
“I say, McGeenyton. Terribly careless of you, what?”
“I know. I er… I seem to be bleeding a little, too. And I’m not quite sure how, but some blighter’s broken my ruddy arm.”
As McGeenyton starts fumbling about with his guts using his seven remaining mechanical spido-arms, Mr Smith leans in low to examine the grisly damage.
“Let’s see what we can do… I say! Did you know there appears to be some kind of button on the outside of your suit? With some kind of green cross symbol on it? Why don’t we try pressing that? Can’t do any harm, eh what?”
Mr Smith lunges forward, pressing the pharmaceutical symbol on the outside of McGeenyton’s suit as he does so!
...A tremendous whirring commences from deep within the metallic confines of the monstrous robosuit, and suddenly Mr McGeenyton’s vision is hindered by a burst of brilliant white bandages shot endlessly into the cockpit area. They wrap themselves around the Englishman’s head, stifling the bleeding and mildly obscuring his vision! His gut-fumbling is interrupted as the spidersuit takes control of itself, scuttling over to where its severed eighth arm lies alone and battered, picking it up, and thrusting it through the bleeding exposed gut-wound!
A searing burst of heat shoots through the severed arm, and Mr Smith recoils in horror as dribbles of molten steel drip out of McGeenyton’s exposed intestines! McGeenyton winces in slight discomfort as the liquid metal runs up his guts and down his pants, quickly solidifying and forming an impenetrable armoured barrier around his guts and groin!
Seconds before the mildly inconvenienced McGeenyton passes out from the pain, a loud pssshhh! is heard, and medicinal brandy is hosed into the internal areas of the suit. Meeting the white hot metal around McGeenyton’s groin, it instantly vaporises, and just as instantly is absorbed into the slightly corpulent gentleman’s slightly corpulent guts.
Feeling rather revived, McGeenyton looks down amongst the rolls of bandages in his glass bowl of a cockpit. It appears to be filling with medicinal brandy!
Deciding not to drown, he gulps it down as fast as he can!
Item Acquired: McGeenyton: Groin of Steel
State Acquired: McGeenyton: Rather Drunk
Attempt to persuade Vikings to show some hospitality to my injured friends.
(http://tnypic.net/7b9b2.png)
Mr William Wellington is a man of great compassion; his mind is filled with concern at the fate of his injured companions.
“What,” he realises, in a flash, “Is needed, in this situation, is a Viking. There are none about, so I shall set off on a search for some. But I shall be careful. One never can tell with Vikings. Aha! There’s one! Remarkably well dressed though, one has to say. Only got one eye, the poor chap. Oh well, I’m sure if I speak loudly and clearly he’ll get the gist.”
...Having spotted an approaching Scandinavian, Wellington approaches von Fersen, for it is he, and wonders aloud whether he might not be possibly interested in providing some kind of medical assistance, or, at the very least, tea-based hospitality for the Englishman’s wounded friends, who, it must be pointed out, include von Fersen himself.
“… and MAYBE SOME TEA PLEASE MY GOOD SIR,” the valiant Englishman concludes. The slow pace and loud voice appears to have done the trick!
Alas! Sir August von Fersen appears lost in a world of elves and ponies, skitting and dancing, and he merely stares at Mr Wellington with a slight look of mild bemusement wandering across his handsome features!
Rejoin the others?
(http://tnypic.net/17c0c.png)
...August von Fersen, the noble young Swede, is keen to rejoin his companions. Leaping like a skittish pony, he leaves them and dashes off to hide behind a nearby stone pillar out of sight, and crouches down with his hands over his eyes.
It seems… by Jove, yes! He’s counting to himself! Suddenly he jumps to his feet and strolls the short distance from the pillar back to his fellow gentlemen. He looks particularly pleased with himself. What the blazes is this fellow Wellington blathering on about? The poor chap seems to have lost his mind. Von Fersen’s father was once forced into speaking with a commoner – and he recalls the anecdote as if it had been recounted yesterday, for his father’s pained grimace is still etched deep in his memory – and advised that the best solution for talking to those of simple minds and even simpler education is to talk slowly and loudly.
“NO THANK YOU WELLINGTON MY DEAR FELLOW. I’M NOT SURE WE HAVE A BUTLER AVAILABLE AT PRESENT, BUT IT’S TERRIBLY KIND OF YOU EH WHAT.”
”WHAT?”
”I… OH, NEVER MIND OLD CHAP. I’D BE DELIGHTED.”
… … … … … …
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: A Promise to Acquire Two New Suits! (seven turns remaining)
Current Gentlemen
Spoiler: areyoua; Winston Smith (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: _DivideByZero_; William Wellington (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Geen; Henry McGeenyton (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: scriver; Sir August von Fersen (click to show/hide)
Spoiler: Notes (click to show/hide)
Post by: Geen on May 08, 2012, 12:48:00 pm
See if I can loot a pair of suits off all these dead chaps.
Post by: areyoua on May 08, 2012, 05:47:07 pm
Advise my compatriots to each take a path, I personally will take path 2, talking with a Russian accent to throw off any dastardly villains.
I like the Gentlemanlyness Boost idea as it's always amusing to see massive failures.
Post by: lawastooshort on May 15, 2012, 02:17:44 am
Edit: Well, I guess half the players and the GM at least partly losing interest is a good reason to lock this. Terribly sorry chaps, it was my first RtD and I enjoyed running it up to this point.