London Fog IC

[Mordae]

The tuxedoed valet is short, squat, and balding, but otherwise every inch a proper Englishman. Responding politely to your knock on the door, which is entirely black save the brass knocker and handle--as well as the number "10"--he bows as you present your invitation. "Greetings. The Prime Minister is expecting you and will see you in the Green Room. Follow me, if you please." Shutting the door behind you just in time to block out the rattling clatter of a steam carriage thundering over the cobblestones, he leads you along the myriad corridors and staircases that snake through the building. Number 10 is actually three residences in one, numbers 11 and 12 having been subsumed into the working seat of his Majesty's government some years ago, but the patchwork of architecture is melded seamlessly with the gilt of ages. Portraits of the great men of the empire look down on you as you proceed, not up the grand stair, but to a side passage that leads to the prime minister's personal chambers.

The Green Room would be brilliantly lit by sunlight flooding in from the north-facing windows, were it not a typically dreary spring morning in 1892. Fog has rolled in off the Thames, and when combined with the thick pall of wood and coal smoke the net effect is almost to render the 10 o'clock hour as dim as dawn. The roaring blaze in the marble fireplace on the south wall, and the brilliant golden glow of electric candles in the chandelier, more than offset the grim exterior. Atop a plush oriental rug, the gift of the governor-general of Hong Kong, teak and mahogany chairs and divans sit clustered before the fireplace, a quiet invitation for guests to draw near the fire for maximum warmth, away from the drafty windows.

In the very center of the chairs is a low table, which bears three objects of potential importance: a silver tray bearing a decanter of claret and a half-dozen crystal goblets; a wooden cigar chest bearing a gilded seal and the words "Havana Extra"; and a curious metal cube some six inches on a side, surmounted by a thick glass disk some eight inches in diameter and set on edge.

[ImNotTrevor]

The Gentleman clacked his pocket watch shut. The back glowed lightly as he did so. A bit of Geometry kept it precisely on time. A surprisingly simple sigil, once you trimmed the fat a little.

He stepped inside without a comment. Remaining relatively quiet was one of his policies.

He examined the room closely, looking to glean even the smallest details that may give him some impression of what to expect.

[roll0]


Once he decided that he was done taking his cursory look at the room, he drew his long coat close around himself and stood facing the door, and close to the window. He didn't trust this invitation, even if it DID come from the Prime Minister. He wanted to make sure that he had an immediate escape route when he needed it. His well polished, white, and utterly featureless white mask reflected the light from the burning fireplace. If he were at home, he would stand closer. As it stood, getting comfortable was dangerous.

He stood so still that those who had never been in this room before may assume that he was a mannequin. It wouldn't be the first time. He never really tried to look that way, it just happened.

The Gentleman held his cane at his side and waited patiently. He was good at waiting.

[Mordae]

The room is a fairly standard formal English drawing room. There are doors flanking the fireplace, as well as another on the opposite wall from where he entered, which lead to other chambers in the suite. The few pieces of art decorating the walls show fox hunts and balloon races; the current Prime Minister, in his younger days, was known as something of an adventurous spirit.

Examining the articles on the table, he finds there are a number of small fingerprints on the otherwise smooth metal surface of the cube and glass dish. Also, there is a small pinhole in the front of the box; that is, the side facing away from the fireplace and toward the cluster of chairs and divans.

[Erasmas]

Marshall plodded along after the valet, annoyed that he had even been called back here. But, the Prime Minister was arguably the most powerful man in England, and a direct summons was not something that you just ignored. This had bloody well be damned important... he thought to himself as they made their way down the thoroughfare of the grand house. The hunter shook his head at the enormous waste of space and arrogant opulence draped over every nook and cranny. As he passed nearer the Green Room, Marshall passed beneath the instantly-recognizable leer of his grandfather's eyes depicted on a canvas from the wall, causing the man to turn his face away... perhaps in disgust, perhaps in shame.

Entering the room with an audible huff, he looked about and took in his surroundings. But his was a pragmatic look. While he had never been in this particular room before, he had been in many like it in his youth. The decor held no appeal to him, aside from the warm fire burning cheerily in the fireplace. He spied the masked man standing near the window, causing him to miss a step on his way over to the blaze. Regarding him for a moment with a sideways glance, Marshall reached up and stroked his closely-cropped beard. That was when he noticed the cigar box on the table between them. Helping himself, he pulled one of the rolled delicacies from its resting place and produced a matchstick from one of his vest pockets.

The hunter strolled the rest of the way over to the fireplace and struck the match along the mantle, lighting the cigar with small flame as he spoke around it.

"I don't suppose that you're the Prime Minister, then?", he said sarcastically to the man with the white mask. "Am I keeping you from the ball?"

[ImNotTrevor]

The Gentleman looked at the man entering the room without inclining his head.

The man seemed visibly disgusted by the opulence of the room, and had displayed no small amount of disgust at one of the paintings. Upon inspection, the two shared some similarity.

Probably a father or grandfather, since it was a painting and not one of those new photographs that most of the wealthy spent money on these days.

Speaking of which the man seemed rather wealthy himself. Interesting that he would be offput by the surrounds. Definitely some bad blood between his ancestors and himself.

The Gentleman, despite the obvious joke, remained still and quiet.

After a moment, he spoke up.
"Bad blood with the family?"

His voice carried as if he was wearing no mask over his mouth at all. However, it sounded distorted and strange.

"You reacted to the painting on the wall. And you bear a strong familial resemblance. You certainly didn't react with pride. You appear to be wealthy and yet disgusted by opulence. A simple man with simple pleasures and drives. Brazen with words to the point of being openly contemptuous, not to mention behavior that some would consider rude given these circumstances. I'm assuming that this isn't a rare mood and is part of your personality. You come from money and resent the expectations of the wealthy classes, instead opting for a more rebellious life course."

The Gentleman inclined his head towards the man at last. "Am I wrong?"

[Erasmas]

At first, Marshall's jaw tensed visibly as he stared back at the man. Then, he drew in deeply from the cigar, fully igniting the orange cherry at its end, and breathed out a plume of thick white smoke towards the ornately-tiled ceiling. Removing the smoking implement, he smiled widely and crossed over towards the only other individual in the Green Room.

"You're as right as you are bizarre, good sir.", he said with a chuckle. The hunter placed the cigar back into the corner of his mouth and extended his hand, "Marshall Hawthorne. So, tell me... since we are playing a game of astute observations... why the mask? Bad blood with the law?"

The last question he added in the same tone as the masked man's first had been.

[ImNotTrevor]

"They call me The Gentleman." He shook the man's hand firmly, but as briefly as possible."As for the mask, it is because I have a lot of bad blood with a lot of bad people."

The Gentleman did not move from his place and tightened his grip on his cane ever-so-slightly. He wasn't sure about this fellow just yet. So for now, he would remain cautious.

[LuckyStrike]

The Englishness of it all assaults Chase's senses. The damp air, the grey city. 'The stiff natured natives of this blasted island sure know to pull a sour face.' He thinks as he is let in the building. 'But wait.. That smells like a Cuban. Good god it's phenomenal.'
Happy to find that the smell of the tobacco is coming from the direction he is being led Chase enters the room with a smile.

'Gentlemen'. He says as he sees the two men in the room. The accent clearly Southern America.
His gaze is drawn towards the cigar and he as he spies the table he walks straight over pouring himself a stiff drink and helping himself to a cigar.
He nods at Marshall and smiles while he lights it.
'Chase Redstone.' He declared as he offers Marshall and the Gentleman a handshake.

[Erasmas]

"Hmm...", was all that Marshall uttered at the masked man's explanation. Almost immediately, another man entered the room and announced himself. A foreigner. South American, from the sound of it, the hunter silently mused. He shook the man's hand vehemently and in a decidedly non-English firmness; the man had the look of the wilds about him, and Marshall decided that he could take it. There was a lot that you could tell about a man from his handshake, Marshall had found in his travels. Too soft and you'd find that the man was too timid and frail when push came to shove. Too hard and you had a monster on your hands, someone who was prone to violence. Too lengthy, and the man was likely to be too dependent on others and in needing of encouragement all too often. Too short... as was the case with the first fellow... and it indicated an issue with intimacy and trust.

"Marshall Hawthorne.", he reciprocated. Marshall then took a long drag from the cigar again, releasing the captive smoke like a locomotive after a moment. "Have you come from abroad for this summons as well?"

[ImNotTrevor]

The Gentleman had to admit he was feeling crowded. He glanced at the door, an imperceptible action since his mask had no eyeholes. A pair of Geometry sigils allowed him to see outward without others seeing in. A third near his mouth distorted his voice.

"I am the Gentleman." He said in introduction. In response to the question, the Gentleman looked at the man and thought for a moment.


My roll commands aren't working and I'm too dumb to figure out why. I'm just gonna roll myself...

I got an 8. 4, 2, 1, 1.

[Mordae]

The one called Marshall does have an earthy scent to himself, something from out of the country, but Nathaniel can't quite place it.

The unmistakeable drawl coming from the one called Chase places him from the rural south of America--either Mississippi or Alabama, Nathaniel isn't sure which. He is certain that it's not a more genteel locale such as New Orleans.

[LuckyStrike]

Blissfully unaware of the level of scrutiny he is subjected to in the room Chase finishes his handshake, which could be described as 'enthusiastic', and gives the Gentleman a friendly nod in response to his introduction.

'A couple of borders, between me and this Cuban.' He says, answering Marshalls question.

He looks back at The Gentleman and while trying not to stare he obviously wants to ask some questions but whether because he feels it would be rude or because he just has too many questions and can't pick which one to ask first remains unclear.

An awkward silence sets off.

[Machinekng]

Randall strutted into the room. He was late, but not too late, he hoped. It wasn't his all his fault. He had been in another meeting for very early this morning, and unlike this one, that meeting had involved something important. Business. He might be an Englishman, but no Prime Minister was going to make a businessman be his dog. He had probably even helped finance the Minister's party's campaign. Of course, he had also probably financed the opposition as well, but it was somewhat difficult to determine who you were bribing in this day in age.

Hello good sirs. I am Randall Smith, proprietor of Fabius & Smith. You'd probably know the company from our lines of packaged meat, as well our pharmaceutical division. If any of you have ever consumed said products, I would first like to say that I am deeply sorry, but business is business.

And speaking of business, I'd have to ask what sort of business has us called in. The letter failed to clarify in great detail, and while I, like anyone else, would take pleasure in the Minister's company, I have my own company to attend to as well.

[zabbarot]

Petar arrived exactly on time. After all, the Prime Minister was meeting with him on his terms as far as he understood it. Which left him a bit perplexed as to why there were so many people present in the room. "Ah... Good morning gentlemen. I'll need a moment to prepare my presentation, so please bear with me." His accent was thick, notably Hungarian, but easily understandable. In a single fluid motion he removed and hung his suit jacket gently on the rack by the door. Then he raised his briefcase with both hands, and with a flicking motion caused it to extend legs forming a sort of small table. He opened it and began preparing some sort of strange device.

[Erasmas]

"And I get the distinct feeling that it is your company that you enjoy the best. Is that correct, Mr. Smith?", Marshall jabbed lightly at the stuffy businessman. The hound he had brought in with him, however, looked friendly enough. The hunter crouched down and held his hand out for the beast to sniff as he himself took another drag on the cigar, allowing himself to make enough eye contact to let the dog know that he was not afraid of it, but careful not to stare it down in a show of dominance either.

When the Hungarian entered and began setting up his display, Marshall returned to his feet and looked about in slight disbelief. The man calls me in from Africa, this ones from the South Americas, and this one from Eastern Europe. What the devil does all of this have to do with?!... he questions internally. Stepping closer to the man who had just arrived, Marshall put his freehand into his vest pocket, fiddling with the watch that lived there. The cool brass relief of the casing giving something for his idle hands to concentrate on while he puzzled out the unfolding of this night's event.

"I apologize for my lack of discretion, but I imagined the Prime Minister to be a bit more... well... English, not to put too fine a point on it."

[zabbarot]

The Hungarian set everything back down and turned around confused. "You... You aren't the minister?" He stood still a moment then returned to his work. "At least I have time to set this up before he arrives then." He spoke over his shoulder without looking back at them. "I am Petar Branko Murat PhD. Inventor, Physicist, and more recently Fugitive of the great nation of Prussia. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?"

[Erasmas]

"'Fugitive' you say?", Marshall let out a boom of a laugh, slapping his knee with the flat of his other hand. He closed the remainder of the distance between himself and Petar and, drawing his right from his vest pocket, now extended it.

"I don't believe that I've ever met a man who was so forthcoming with such a fact. Marshall Hawthorne, Petar... pleased to make the acquaintance of an outlawed inventor of the Prussian Empire."

[zabbarot]

Petar raised an eyebrow and turned briefly to accept the handshake before returning to his work. "A fugitive of Prussia is a friend of the crown I'd like to think. Though I should point out that my crimes were only in breaking a contract, and even that only for ethical reasons." The machine he was working on was beginning to take shape. It was something like a motor with a large copper coil and an array of mirrors focused on a glass orb full of some misty substance.

[LuckyStrike]

Chase uses the temporary distraction to pockets some extra cigars. This was shaping up to be an interesting job. The assembled people were peculiar enough and the prospect of this being a well paid gig became higher by the minute.

Ofcourse high pay usually equals high risk, so it would be a shame to let the opportunity pass and not pour himself some more of that fine brandy.

[Erasmas]

"I care very little for politics, Mr. Murat. Even less so than I care to be kept waiting.", Marshall said the last word loudly, to the room at large, possibly in hopes that whomever had gathered them here might hear.

[zabbarot]

"Doctor Murat, please. And I share your distaste for politics. Sadly they do not reciprocate, or I would be home finishing my work. The machine was complete now, but t gave no hint as to its use or purpose.

[Mordae]

Suddenly, the metal cube on the coffee table began to emit a faint hum, and the glass disk above it took on a faint, hazy blue glow that slowly crystallized into a ghostly image. The natives of Britain, as well as any who paid attention to the newspapers of the day, could easily recognize the man as the Right Honorable James Stern, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, though the flatness of the glass appeared to distort his features around the periphery as though his visage was being passed through a bottle.

"Is it on? Ahem," he uttered, peering at the center of the glass with one eye before resuming his initial position. "Greetings to each of you, honored guests of the crown. I do apologize for meeting with you in such a... ahem, remote... manner, but recent events have demanded my presence at Buckingham Palace and rather than keep you waiting too much longer, I instructed my staff to admit you so that we could converse via this secure televideo. I see Doctor Murat is present--good, good. And Master Redstone. I'm afraid the distant perception of these devices is not ideal, so forgive me if I do ask that you come closer to the camera. And Master Redstone, if you might, move the decanter a few inches to your left, for it is obscuring half of your face."

[Erasmas]

"Very well then, Doctor.", was all that Marshall replied to Petar's correction at his addressing.

When the device on the table at the center of the room activated, the hunter gave a small start - less of a jump and more of a rounding about on the thing that demanded his attention. He allowed himself a smile when he realized what was going on. This many years in the wilds made this kind of technology still fresh and strange to him. Hell, he knew shaman that would declare the damn thing an object of demons; a bringer of bad omens. Perhaps, Marshall mused, they would not have been entirely wrong.

He stepped closer to the device, tossing the stub that was left of the cigar he had been smoking into the fireplace. When he felt as though he were close enough, he smiled broadly in a roguish fashion, "Prime Minister already, is it James? Good to see you again, as it were."

While Marshall would hardly say that he knew the man, the truth was that they had been introduced to one another on several occassions.Though this was all long before he had risen to such esteemed heights.

[LuckyStrike]

Sheepishly Chase places the decanter back on the table behind him and moves a bit closer. Suddenly he feels very selfconciense and listens intently to what the prime minister has to say.

[Mordae]

"Ah, Marshall, that was you lurking back there. The boys from Weston Hall send their greetings. An alumnus of your caliber is sorely missed in Parliament." The Prime Minister's expression brightens in a friendly but detached way, the kind of expression that goes along with seeing an old school chum after many years apart. "I do hope you've enjoyed your travels."

Peering through the glass again, Stern adds, "And I do believe I see two others there; if they are Mister Smith and The Gentleman, then our quorum is achieved. The five of you are alone in the drawing room, yes?"

[Machinekng]

Randall groaned. Televideo was a pain for conferences. Reception could be poor, the signal might drop out, anything could get garbled up. The last time he had to use it for a meeting, the meeting dragged three hours long, with all the time spent trying to decipher each participants' speech. Hopefully, the state could provide clearer reception for its own business, but he wasn't too optimistic.

Randall walked up closer to the screen.

I'm here all right, minister. And not a moment too soon.

[Erasmas]

"Yes, I imagine so...", Marshall let out quietly as he stepped back to let the others get closer. When the Prime Minister asked if they were alone, the hunter looked about the room as if the reason for the apparent secrecy were to be found lurking in one of the very corners of the drawing room itself. And when he found none, he turned back towards this televideo device and spoke loudly... likely too loudly.

"Yes. It's just the five of us. Now, shall we get on with it? What's the meaning of all this?"

[Mordae]

"Ah, yes. You always were the impatient one. But on to the business at hand. The reason for bringing you here, individually, is that from time to time each of you--excepting Doctor Murat, to date--have handled discreet matters of the crown's interest. The reason, collectively--again excepting Doctor Murat, who is new--is that the good Doctor has requested asylum within the British Empire on the terms that his research is put to good, non-war-minded, use, and that he is personally safeguarded from any potential reprisals from the Prussians. As a collective, you represent a broad range of talent: dogged investigator, world-spanning aerialist, resourceful weapons-master, capitalism's deepest pockets. I could go on, but you understand the point.

"I am pleased to inform you formally, Doctor Murat, that the crown has agreed to your terms, and the presence of these four distinguished men is to assist you in carrying out your stated ends. However, recent dark events--perhaps each of you has perused today's news--has cast a cloud over plans laid by the ministry to provide you sanctuary in the Venus Colony. To wit, the transport ring here in London was sabotaged just last night, and we are currently incapable of relocating you."

The Prime Minister clears his throat before going on. "Now, initially the four others had been summoned to aid in building a cover story for your disappearance, presumed untimely demise, and rediscovery of your work. But with dirty work afoot, our purposes are now more tactical, for if the damage to the transport ring is not random chance, it leaves little doubt in my mind that the Prussians have espied upon the ministry's plans and know you are here. Furthermore, if they are willing to go to such lengths as to blow up the ring portal--critically injuring a dozen bystanders in the process--then they are apt not to let any propriety stop them from taking you back, alive--or dead."

Stern pauses, before a faint, eminently British smile curls up. "Having said all this, I am deeply interested in seeing exactly what your creation can do. Your coded communiques were quite titillating."

[zabbarot]

"Ah, well everything is set up and ready to go. I will need an assistant though." Petar produced a large silvered mirror from his briefcase and handed it to Marshall, primarily because he was the only who had introduced himself. "Mr. Hawthorne, if you could stand near the window and angle that mirror to shine light more directly upon the machine it would be most appreciated."

[Erasmas]

Marshall was busy taking in all the information that the Prime Minister had imparted, somewhat distracted when Petar approached and shoved the mirror towards him. Snapped back to the present situation, he absentmindedly took the silvered disc and nodded, moving to the window. The hunter checked his positioning, uncertain of exactly what it was that the inventor was trying to accomplish by this. But, he held it and adjusted the resulting reflection to where he could best tell that it was needed.

"Here?", he inquired.

[zabbarot]

"A touch to your left... Perfect." The Doctor spent a moment adjusting the array of small mirrors that surrounded the glass orb. "These mirrors focus the light into the refraction chamber. From there a novel chemical reaction occurs causing..." The orb began to glow brightly lighting the room like the midday sun. "Englishmen may want to avert their eyes, I am aware that your nation isn't used to seeing so much sun." There was a bright flash and then the light dimmed. The mirrors arrayed about the orb had closed on it, and now the rest of the machine sprang to life. Gears turned spinning a cylinder that struck an array of tines and... it played God Save the Queen. "Infinite self sustaining energy. The music is just in honor of our hopefully fruitful work in the future. It could power all manner of devices."

[Erasmas]

An astonished look clearly visible upon his face, he lowered the mirror he had been handed and moved over to the machine. "Infinite you say? Fascinating. And it requires no gas, no electricity, no steam even?", Marshall asks incredulously. He bends at the waist to look closer at the device.

"The people of Africa could desperately use such a thing. The infrastructure does not exist to supply them with traditional means of power... they lack even sufficient enough water to support steam-powered devices. This could revolutionize the entire Dark Continent!"

[zabbarot]

"Mr. Hawthorne, you are the first man I have ever shown this to who did not immediately proclaim it's military use. I look forward to working with you." Tears welled up in the Hungarians eyes. This was working out to be everything he had hoped for. "It requires a single exotic material, that which fills the globe, but it is not consumed by the process and as far as my tests have shown it will run indefinitely so long as the mirrors are there to trap the light. The sun provides the power to start it, and thanks to the feedback it does not require much. This could power every home on the planet. Think of it, no more coal smoke. Imagine sunny skies in London." His excitement was palpable, though he was blissfully unaware that even without the smog of industrialization English weather would continue to be retched.

[Mordae]

Stern seems almost stunned as he watches the demonstration through the lens of the televideo. "By God, that is impressive. Certainly worth any means necessary to protect." He looks past the machine to the window where The Gentleman is standing. "Chief Detective Inspector Bootblack of Scotland Yard has been assigned to investigate the portal case. I trust you will want to make your own enquiries, but he should be able to provide you with any leads that we already have." His face broadens as he shifts his position on the far side of the camera, squarely addressing the group. "Meanwhile, Doctor Murat requires adequate protection while he remains in London. I hope I can trust in your assistance to make it so. And before you ask, Mister Smith, any legitimate expenses you incur during this operation remain fully compensable under our prior agreements."

[Erasmas]

Marshall straightened himself up and stood near the fireplace for the time being. He could see that situation now. Normally he wouldn't even think of signing on for a job that could normally be labelled as "baby sitting"; but this was different. The device that the Prussian had demonstrated was one of considerable interest... and the hunter could see the terrible possibilities that could befall the whole world, should it fall into the wrong hands. Murat had valid reason to be worried about his creation. And so, Marshall decided that he would take up this call to duty and do everything that he could to prevent a catastrophe.

"Prime Minister... you may count upon my rifle and my abilities to aid in Doctor Murat's safety."

[ImNotTrevor]

The Gentleman had stayed silent during the varied exchanges. He was not exactly keen on being hired to do the work of the government. His distrust in their abilities had led to his life of Vigilanteism in the first place. He opted to simply observe, rather than participate.

The technology demo certainly raised his eyebrows. That technology was just as dangerous as it was valuable. He found himself glancing at the corporate giant. Such a device could destabilize the economy, as well. Many companies made their money on producing power, and many families made their money by working for those companies. This device was a double-edged razor, that much was certain. At times, men tended to see the advantages of new technology and ignore the potential consequences. For all the good this device could do...it could also do a great deal of harm.

For the first time since his few introductions, The Gentleman spoke. "Have you actually linked the attack on the transit circle to the Prussians?" He stepped forward and took a seat, his cane between his legs. He put both his hands on it. "To assume it is the Prussians before an investigation has been completed makes me wonder if this is a False Flag operation. I imagine some corporate interests would be just as threatened by this technology. Hard to keep selling coal when a small box can provide all of the energy needed for the whole city....isn't it? Hard to sell a lot of things, I imagine. Hard for employees to stay employed. Prussia's ability to use this for military purposes is one thing...but there is also the matter of those who stand to lose everything if this becomes publicly available."

The Gentleman looked at the device. "Call me callous, but the most secure option would be to destroy the device and all the research associated with it, give this man a new identity, and move him to a quiet cottage in the countryside. Or we can do this dance for the sake of the 'greater good,' which is always a rather fuzzy term."

He paused after a moment. "But that's not a very heroic stance for me to take, is it?"

[LuckyStrike]

Chase, who had started daydreaming about clean and safe airships that needn't ever refuel was unpleasantly disturbed by the mention of weaponry or its impact on the working man.
He too could see some of the implications, for better and for worse but was in essence a much more positive individual than most others.

'I don't know about the big-bombs or economics. But if you ask me there ain't no son-of-a-gun out there working the coal mines enjoying it much. Men weren't meant to dig down those dangerous mines, and I can think of much more livelihoods being made safer by this discovery.'
He looks at the gentleman.
'All I'm saying is, don't be too fast speaking for others.. They might not like what you have to say in the first place. The poor man usually knows what's best for himself.'

Turning to the scientist he taps him on the shoulder and enthusiastically proclaims, 'Not to worry professor! I'll also keep an eye out for you.'

[Mordae]

"You are quite correct, as usual," the prime minister rejoins, looking perhaps a bit chastened. "As the attack is just hours old, we have no evidence that even circumstantially links the ring incident to the Prussians. It may even be an entirely coincidental matter. Forgive my incorrect implication. However, the need for security of Doctor Murat's invention, and person, still stands." He pauses and looks along the table to the spot where the blank-masked investigator stands. "I do still hope that we can count on your assistance, regardless of where the investigation leads."

[ImNotTrevor]

The Gentleman looked sidelong at the southerner American. "As I said, mine is unlikely to be a popular stance. I am sure the miners would love an easier job. Unfortunately, the jobs they qualify for will disappear. But why bother with that concern when we could have Progress?

He then turned back to the image of the Prime Minister. "I am disinclined to work for the government out of principle. If I wanted to work for the government I would likely be a cop, wouldn't I?" He leaned back, relaxing. "Regardless, I will assist. If for no reason other than to find the true culprits and see if they connect to any of my personal leads."

[Machinekng]

You read my mind, Minister. Or rather, I hope you didn't read my mind, for if you did, I think my legal consul would have to have a word.

Randall eyed the device. Curious, but impressive. What was the capital outlay for constructing such a machine?

Very impressive Doctor. I hope that there's a way to place a meter on that thing, for I can't think of a man or woman in the industry who would invest in such a venture without one.

[Mordae]

"Well then, Doctor Murat, it appears if these fine four are willing and able to manage the matter, provided of course you are amenable to the terms of your asylum. And, of course, I will answer any questions that any of you may have, if I can. But as for the details of how to accomplish the goal, I shall as always leave them in your capable hands." Stern pauses, and there's a murmur from the other side, after which the prime minister quickly nods before addressing the view screen once again. "They will have to be quick--his Majesty has just summoned me."

[Erasmas]

"I can't think of any questions from my stance on the matter; seems straightforward enough.", Marshall answered from near the fireplace, as he retrieved one of the bronze pokers from the stand and used it to roll one of the logs over in order to better feed the flames. He has squatted down low onto his haunches in order to work, and it felt good to stretch his old knees and leg muscles. The stiffness and soreness tended to happened now when he traveled back home - the damp chill in the air, so they say.

[Mordae]

"Very well then. Good luck, gentlemen, and Godspeed." The image flickers, and then the glass goes dark as the televideo link disconnects. A faint crackling pop issues from the fireplace on account of Marshall's prodding, but the room seems suddenly much quieter without the ambient hum of the communication device.

OOC: So, now where? To the ring portal to find Inspector Blackboot? Take to the air in Redstone's ship? Find a safehouse for Doctor Murat? Something else entirely? It's a bit open ended for now, but if you don't manage to come up with a plan, I'll make sure that trouble finds you :smallwink:

[Mordae]

The Gentleman watched the view screen until its glow faded entirely. Wireless devices with batteries were notoriously untrustworthy, for one could never be entirely sure that the communications link was no longer active. He briefly considered chucking the device into the fire, just to be sure, but with Marshall standing nearby it might cause enough sparks to catch his clothes on fire.

"Presuming for a moment that any party among the Prussian and British governments may have information on Doctor Murat's whereabouts, and possibly a motive for kidnapping or otherwise inconveniencing him, I believe we do our best to help him 'get lost', as the Americans might say. To that end we should keep our own communications private and minimize contact with our employers to the extent practicable. I do not trust Scotland Yard to do a thorough investigation of anything, and so my first inclination is to see if we can confirm or refute any linkage between Doctor Murat's arrival and the damaged transport ring." The blank mask looked around, as Nathaniel's eyes sought out his counterparts for confirmation.

[Erasmas]

"Hmm...", Marshall studied the faceless masked man for a moment, going over what he had to say on the matter. Eventually, he began nodding his head. "Yes. After that business with the Ripper and the poor nameless girl's torso they found in their own bloody basement led to no arrests, I admit that my faith in the Yard is diminished as well. And while I fear not knowing the boundaries of our 'jurisdiction', should we have any in this capacity... perhaps the Gentleman is of the right mind."

The hunter placed another log into the fireplace, making busy work for his hands while his mind raced.

"We should be cautious with your presence, Doctor Murat, even though it is unlikely that whomever sabotaged the transport ring is anywhere to be found in that vicinity. It is possible that they could still have watchful eyes there, admiring the chaos that is following their handiwork. Perhaps a disguise is in order? Maybe the Gentleman here has an extra mask you could borrow.", Marshall jests with this last recommendation, mainly using it as a dig on what he obviously thought was a ridiculous appointment in attire on the investigator's part.

[Mordae]

"I do not. Though I could make one if it becomes necessary. The Geometry involved is intricate but simple enough to replicate." There is no expression on the blank mask, but there is a bit of humor in the voice. "It does take some time to become accustomed to the feeling, however."

[LuckyStrike]

'Get lost. Sounds about right.' Chase smiles.
'I might have an idea that gets the Doctor here out, unseen.'

[Erasmas]

"Well, out with it, man! No need to be enigmatic; we've quite enough of that going round already.", barked Marshall. He wasn't very found of games and indirectness in general... most especially when the stakes were potentially this high.

[zabbarot]

"I am concerned that the sabotage of the ring could be directly related to my presence here... you see due to complications my erm... escape was ahead of schedule. Had I left as was originally planned I'd be likely be caught up in that mess. Somebody has an idea where I was going, but apparently they're distanced enough to have outdated intelligence." The doctor seemed quite proud of himself for deducing this alone. Detective work wasn't usually his cup of tea, but this was all a bit exciting.

[LuckyStrike]

'Uhm, yeah..'

Chase clears his throat and his eyes dart from Marshall to the professors and back.

'Well.. I'm just thinking. Say something happened to this dusty old portrait of someone who looks like they just swallowed a gallon of lemon juice and been told to smile while sitting on a bunch of cactusses.'

He walks over to a large, obviously very old, painting.

'And suppose it got damaged in a clumsy-like moment.'

He flips out his Swiss army knife and pulls out the corkscrew. Before anyone can stop him he drags the tip over the canvas with a painfully audible tear.
'I'm sure mr. Rembrandt won't mind.' He adds reassuringly while studying the signature.

'Then surely this piece of significant cultural heritage (he drags out the words in a sarcastic tone) should be taken for repairs.'

He triumphantly puts the knife back in his pocket and turns around to the presumably stupified gazes of the others in the room.
When he notices that his plan hasn't been recieved with the unanimous positive reaction he obviously expected he quickly adds:

'And a team of art-folk will come in to pick up the piece. In uniform! We slip ourselves and the doctor a uniform, ship the painting to a rich benefactor.. (Looks at Marshall and Randall) and we are out the building! Right out the front door!!'

[Erasmas]

"It's certain to get someone in uniform called out here, that's for certain. A bit rash, don't you think, Redstone?", Marshall said shaking his head. The hunter walked slowly over to the painting, inspecting the damage for himself closer, running his finger along the tear.

"Do you suggest that we stay here until the call out a group of art experts? That could take days... weeks even. I haven't the time for that much waiting, lest not here. There is a certain Turkish dancer who is holding my table at the Le Lanterne Rouge.", he said, taking the pocketwatch from his vest and opening it to check the time.

[LuckyStrike]

'Rash? Hell. You should see my skin condition..'

Chase slumps down in one of the lounge chairs.

'A pizza delivery service maybe?'

[Mordae]

Suddenly there is a faint thump from somewhere out in the hallway, back toward the stairs along which each member of the group was conducted upon their arrival to Number 10.

[Erasmas]

Marshall, already somewhat on edge, immediately reached beneath his coat and drew the Colt revolver that he had taken to carrying in a holster there at all times. If anything could be said for the Americans... it was that they knew their guns. That piece had seen Marshall through more scrapes than he cared to admit. He calmly and quietly opened the loader and closed it again, checking to make sure it was loaded even though he already knew it was; old habits die the hardest deaths of all. The hunter then cocked the hammer back on the handgun and moved closer to the door to the sitting room, placing a finger to his lips in the direction of the others. Once he was to the wall beside the door, he pressed his back against it and waited.

[LuckyStrike]

Chase also jumps into action and moves over to the professor, takes him by the hand and gently but forcefully indicates him to hide behind the leather chair.
If he complies Chase will sit down in that chair, if he doesn't Chase will at least stay between the professor and the door.

He too had some habits and protecting to the point of babysitting his employers was definetly one of them.

[zabbarot]

The professor frantically worked to dismantle and stow his machine away within his bag and nearly has it apart when Chase grabs his hand. A bolt slips and there is a low whistle. "****." A sharp pop and a bright flash later the Rembrandt is on fire, and Dr. Murat is trying to rub the stars from his eyes.

[Mordae]

The Gentleman is not surprised when the noise comes from the hallway. There were too many loose ends to this story, and all it would take is one nefarious agent within the prime minister's household or staff to make this secret meeting known and therefore vulnerable. And as the chaos started to swirl, he knew he would have to use all his skills just to survive--let alone assist his comrades.

The fire was something he could deal with, if he could get the angles correct before the flames grew too much. Striding quickly across the room, he withdrew a crystalline rod from the pocket of his white suit and began to scribe a feathery, hexagonal pattern around the damaged painting.

[roll0] against TN 15 - tricky!

Unfortunately, just as he is about to complete the snowflake, a tongue of fire licks through the carefully scripted perimeter, and the magic is lost.

"Bollocks. Unless someone has a good deal of water, a fire brigade may become necessary."

In the hallway, there is only silence for a span of about fifteen seconds. Then, WHAM! The door is kicked in, swinging to full open with a bang against the wall. The electric lights in the hallway have been extinguished, and a faint haze of smoke curls into the sitting room from the dark hall.

[Erasmas]

Marshall slid along the wall, up against where the door had banged wide open, like a great cat stalking its prey. He kept himself pressed as flat against it as possible, turning only his eyes towards the now-opened portal; his pistol held up against the right side of his face. There, he waited for the fools in the hallway to make the next move.

[Mordae]

Marshall doesn't have to wait long. "Doctor Murat!" a mechanically distorted and amplified voice calls from the hallway. "Lay yourself on the ground and you will not be harmed." As the smoke starts to billow more thickly from both the fire and the unseen source in the passage, a man equipped with some sort of lightly armored exoskeleton strides in through the doorway. A mask covers most of his face, with green-glowing eyes that stare toward the room like an oversized dragonfly. A sort of backpack has numerous wires and tubes extending out of it, which connect in various places to the joints and plates of the robotic frame. Each arm is equipped with what looks to be a shortened version of a Gatling gun, the ammunition chain for which runs up along the outsides of the arms and into the backpack. Beneath the suit, the man is wearing black, non-descript clothes that fit tightly to his muscled body.

Randall recognizes the contraption as the armored power suit recently developed by one of his industrial competitors, the Longfellow Dynelec Corporation. Fabius & Smith are already working to copy, improve, and cheapen the design in the hopes of winning the contract--or at least leveraging a buyout of the Longfellow folks. He knows the device's main weakness is the single primary power cable that runs up the back side of the backpack and connects to the helmet at the neck.

OOC: It is combat time. The PCs get to go first since Marshall is hidden and the enemy is not expecting any sort of resistance.

[Erasmas]

Seeing his opportunity, Marshall quickly prioritized his targets, finding the "soft" spot nearest him, where this man's armor did not cover, he acted. In a single step, he moved up behind the villain and pressed the pistol's mussle into the black-clad torso and fired.


Big Game Hunter (4) + Lucky Shot: [roll0]

[Mordae]

The intruder is caught entirely unaware by Marshall's stealthy positioning, and the loud report is followed by the armored fellow tumbling to the ground, his mechanically enhanced limbs knocking holes in the floor and wall as they amplify his death throes.

Unfortunately for the big game hunter, his maneuver leaves his arm exposed to the NEXT armored intruder that comes into the doorway, aiming both multi-barreled guns directly at him.


[roll0] trying to preternaturally avoid getting shot in the back at point-blank range.

EDIT: Yeah. I had a feeling that wasn't going to happen :smallwink: Fortunately for me, he has backup!

[LuckyStrike]

Seeing events rapidly unfold in a disastrous spiral of mayhem Chase grabs the burning painting from the wall and hurls it into the hallway where the armored men appear.

[zabbarot]

Doctor Murat collapses to the floor next to his device where it had fallen after starting a fire, bu the fire gave him an idea. The accident was caused by an unintentional loosening of the Heat Exhaust valve. So with a simple readjustment... The Hungarian tinkered furiously and then rose to his feat triumphantly now cradling the device in one arm like a heavy firearm. With his other he pulled down dark tinted goggles.

"I would cover my eyes if I were you." A bright flash erupted from the machine towards the machined thug.

Attempting to reconfigure the solar device to 'Emergency Heat Exhaust' mode on the fly. The Doctor needs a weapon. :smallwink:
Reluctant Mad Scientist 4
+ a Lucky Strike [roll]1d6 doesn't work this way +3 from roll in OOC for a total of 16

Does this roll work for my attack as well? This might look like a rave in a minute.

[Mordae]

The flaming painting comes crashing down over the second intruder, but the exoskeleton rips apart the wood frame as though it were toothpicks, and lets loose a hail of lead in Chase's direction; one of the bullets grazes his left shoulder. The distraction lets Marshall live another moment, however, as the twin Gatling guns are no longer trained in his direction.

Seeing the carnage develop, The Gentleman takes his crystalline rod and draws a quick spiraling sigil across his chest. The air around his body takes on a shimmering, hazy appearance, and as he steps toward Marshall to enclose him in the faintly glowing aura, the hair on the hunter's arms starts to rise as though being charged by static.


[roll0] - TN 10 for standard challenge - geometric armor.


You'll have to wait to attack until the next round, which starts as soon as Machinekng posts, or Friday AM at the latest.

[Mordae]

Randall wastes no time; his gloved hand dips into the breast pocket of his suit coat and produces a small revolver. "Gentlemen, you will find this unpleasantness less difficult if you destroy the power cable that connects the top of the backpack to this miscreant's helmet." Taking quick and careful aim, the businessman squeezes off a single round before moving to take cover behind one of the couches.

The bullet flies swift and true, severing the cable that he had indicated. Instantly, the lighted bug-eyes go dark. However, the intruder is still standing--and wielding two Gatling guns.


Taking 2 dice pumps to make this shot count! Throwing in a lucky shot, too, if it could make the difference.
[roll0] vs [roll1]
[roll2]


Next round!

[Erasmas]

Assuming that this had left the second armored mystery figure blinded in some way, Marshall moves to the side and holsters his pistol. He fetches one of the large chairs and hoists it above his head. Then, charging at the machine-gun-toting attacker, he crashes it into the back of him.

Hopefully, this one was the last of these mechanically-enhanced combatants that they would have to face.


Smashing Good Time:
Big Game Hunter (4): [roll0]

[zabbarot]

With the device well in hand the good Doctor began toggling the exhaust valve. What happened was a vibrant strobe effect. The room was intermittently flashed between smokey firelight and the fury of the sun as the device vomited focused light at the man in the machine.

The effect is like nothing the Doctor has ever seen, and he laughs with delight. Honestly the whole thing is fairly distracting and his aim is awful. At least he has eye protection on.

Reluctantly using the device to harm others... y'anno so it doesn't get stolen. This is the right cliche?

Reluctant Mad Scientist [roll0]

[LuckyStrike]

Thankful for Randall's directions Chase takes out his Swiss army knife once more. Armored intruders he has never dealt with, but cutting the right wire was well within his skillrange. He leaps up and ducks as the doctors beam blasts overhead. He slides under the chair crashing down and makes a grab for the wire while standing up.

*clip*
Handyman:
[roll0]

Boost with two lucky shots:
[roll1]

[Mordae]

Not wanting to give the chance for their down-powered opponent to open fire--even blind, machine guns are still dangerous--the group pours on their whole effort. Marshall brings the chair down on the man's unprotected head, eliciting a loud crack of wood and metal as the armor plates bend under the force of the strong man's effort. Murat pours on the light beam, bringing the hapless intruder to a near-boil in seconds as the armor heats under the intensity of the directed energy. Finally, Chase leaps in and slices through another cable, which proves to be the hydraulic coupling to the mechanically enhanced skeleton. The attacker collapses in a heap, hydraulic fluid squirting from the cut line and the stench of ozone wafting up from the third-degree burns he's suffered under the metal armor.

[roll0] against Marshall's Big Game Hunter chair smash
[roll1] against Murat's mad scientist light-spewing device
[roll2] against Chase's handyman wire-cutting

So, here's how it goes down:

Marshall wins with the chair attack, so the intruder loses one die and is down to two.
With only two dice, he gets a 10 against Murat's light-beam thingy and loses again, putting him down to one.
With only one die, he gets a 5 against Chase's handyman attack and loses, putting him out of the fight for good.

[Erasmas]

"Well then.", the hunter says, righting himself and straightening his clothes and hair. Marshall checked the hallway outside of the Green Room with a quick peek, looking for anymore intruders. If it seemed as though the coast were clear, he would come back into the room and make sure that he replaced the spent cartridge from his revolver.

"Good show, everyone. Are we all alright then; Doctor?", Marshall asked.

[zabbarot]

"Haha... heh... *cough*" The doctor spent a moment clearing his throat and composing himself... He wasn't quite sure what had come over him... The machine had cooled drastically. At least the heat exhaust worked efficiently.

"I am fine. Give me a moment to properly pack the device away, and we can be on our way." It was only as he closed the final clip securing the device that he fully came to his senses. The scent of burnt flesh and ozone was enough to turn his stomach. At least the stain on the rug was paltry compared to the rest of the damage to the room.

[Mordae]

The Gentleman puts the crystalline wand back into his suit coat pocket and looks around, his blank mask taking in the carnage. "Indeed. The police will no doubt be arriving to investigate in short order, but in any case the Doctor should not dally to see if there are more of these assailants about. Is your airship nearby, Mister Redstone? I may be able to devise a pattern to disguise the Doctor temporarily, but in any case I advise we split up. Mister Smith and I can investigate the ring portal--and I surmise that he has some information regarding these armor suits as well." He looks meaningfully at the mercantile master's pistol. "If the doctor's whereabouts are known already, it would be best to put some distance between him and his pursuers."

This suggestion to split up is, naturally, a plot on my part to shed the unmanned PCs.

[LuckyStrike]

Chase is in the middle of bandaging his arm by means of tying a torn shirt around the wound. The cloth between his teeth muffles his answer a bit.

'Good idea. Yeah, I parked El-Burro above this 'big ben' of yours. Nice and easy to remember you know.. Not to mention the smog provides enough cover so I didnt have to pay these rediculous high docking fees.'

He finishes up his doctoring and spits out the left over bandage.

'Right, follow me I guess..'

He walks out the door to lead the way towards the vehicle.

[Erasmas]

"Splitting up does seem prudent, in the essence of time. I think we should take the good Doctor here to my family's estate in Buckinghamshire. Thurston Grounds is hardly discrete, but it is nearly fifty miles outside of the city. Perhaps we should meet there tonight?"

Regardless of what the plan was, Marshall went with the doctor and the pilot. "This way, Doctor. Step lively!", Marshall came up behind Murat and ushered him after Chase.

[zabbarot]

"Oh... Of course." Murat took a few quick steps to catch up snatching his topcoat of the broken rack on his way out. He took one final look back at the room over Marshall's shoulder as they hurried out. Broken furniture, bodies, fire...

"I really hope this isn't setting a precedent..." he muttered to himself.

[Erasmas]

"You and me both, Doctor Murat.", Marshall echoed the sentiment as he followed the man out, closing the door on Number 10.

"You and me both."

[Mordae]

The group hustles out of the prime minister's residence just before the armored lorries of Scotland Yard start to converge on the place. The soaring mechanical clock-tower is only a couple of blocks away, but Chase wisely leads the quintet down a side street so as to avoid the crush of police investigators, bystanders, and members of the press that quickly encircle the seat of government.

Coal and wood smoke choke out the sunlight to a large extent, though as noon approaches the air brightens at the pervasive fog is burned off. The shadowy outline of El-Burro floats high in the air above, one airship among the many that make their way through London's somewhat crowded skies. The clock bongs out three quarters of the eleventh hour as the group crosses Bridge Street.

"This is where we leave you," the Gentleman announces. "Mister Smith and I will contact you by telegram to arrange for a meeting if and when we learn something."

"No ifs about it, my masked chap," Randall replies. "These people will rue the day they threatened me." He grasps his walking cane firmly and gestures for the Gentleman to lead the way to the nearby rail station.

[Erasmas]

"Then it is 'good luck', gentlemen. God's speed to you.", Marshall said in departure as the other two moved off. The hunter then turned his eyes back to the airship that Chase had indicated was his, squinting against the brightening sunlight.

"So, Mr. Redstone... how do we get on board your Burro?"

[LuckyStrike]

Well.. Like I said, I didn't feel like paying docking fees and the watcher of this bell-tower owes me one. He explaines as he walks to a small door at the back of the Big-Ben and knocks three times, then two, and three times again rhythmically.

After a minute the door squeaks and creaks open slowly and a Bald head pops out sporting fluffy white sideburns and an intricate golden pair of spectacles.

'Ah it's you.. You've come to take that bloody abomination away I hope?!' The door widens and it seems the head is attached to a small old man impeccably dressed in a black suit. A copper name tag on his chest reveals him to be 'Martin Poylemore - Warden'

He regards the rest with a weary eye. 'You touch anything.. I mean ANYthing! I'll have your hides.' he briskly turns around and walks up a stairs through a door and slams it shut.

Chase shrugs and as he calmly walks in says with a smile 'He owes me one but doesn't like it one bit.' He leads them up another stone stairs that lead to an old red wooden door. Through the door, that goes to an open, metal spiral staircase the party is met with the incredible sight of the insides of the clocktower. Brass wheels turning, pumping arms in large glass vials stirring green and blue fluids under pressure all the way up. An intricate clockwork design of this magnitude is most certainly breathtaking.

As the men stop for a second to admire it a loud crackling sound can be heard and Martins voice blasts through the rusty speakers.

'Get lost, get out!! And don't! Touch! ANYTHING!!'

All the way up the incredibly long staircase, that has them dizzy by the time they reach the top, leads to a rusty hatch. Climbing though they are met by the cold air of London City. Here, on the small roof of the BigBen a rope is tied to one of the exhaust chimneys. Chase unties it and pulls. A wooden rope ladder appears from the bottom of a medium sized airship that looks like it has had one too many storms and has skipped his checkups for a while.

Proudly Chase exclaims: 'Welcome to El-Burro gentlemen!! Make yourself at home. There's brewski's in the cooling compartment, and I'm slow cooking chicken in the engine room. If your hungry.'

http://www.professorbeej.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/Steampunk-Airship.jpg

[Space Lawyer]

A booming and jovial voice rings out in the tinny confines of the airship. "Thank you for the hospitality, Chase. I have already partaken of it, as you will soon discover. I did, however, replace the cold piss you insist on calling beer."

A tall, handsome man steps out of one of the cabins, a bottle of aforementioned cold piss in his hand. "I let myself in. A few sweet words in that curmudgeon Poylemore's ear and a few underhanded tricks with locks I've picked up along the way got me through the door. You really should be more conscious of your security."

Seeing the other two with Chase, the man gives a small but impeccable and overly-dramatic bow. "Gentleman, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Martin Cheval. I became acquainted with the imitable Mr. Redstone during a bit of trouble in Mexico."

[LuckyStrike]

'..kind words? ..locks?' Chase stutters initially dumbfounded before walking over to Martin.

'Hahaa you magnificent bastard!' He hugs the man and holds him by the shoulder in a friendly manner.

'Great seeing you again, but we'll need to skip the pleasantries for now and kick this rust bucket into high gear. We're in a hurry. You coming with us? Trust me.. You won't regret it' the last sentence he delivers with a broad smile.

'Marshall, join me in the cockpit if you will. You can help me navigate to where we need to go.'

[Erasmas]

Releasing the grip of his Colt revolver without having yet drawn it, Marshall visibly relaxes as it becomes apparent that this man is indeed a friend of the pilot's. When he presence was requested bow-ward, he simply gave a curt nod towards Martin.

"Certainly, Mr. Redstone. Doctor, would you care to join us. I'm sure that there is all manner of scientific wonders for you to peruse up there.", the hunter said without moving yet. He wasn't sure that he trusted this fellow yet; much less to leave him alone with the very person that they had been charged with keeping safe.

[Space Lawyer]

Martin gives Chase a hearty slap on the back. "Going with you sounds to be a fine idea. I should say it's the reason I'm here, actually. Found myself in a bit of trouble in Bavaria and needed to return to the isles. Heard you were in town and decided to pay you a visit. Seems you've found yourself in another tight spot if you're in such a hurry, so it'd be my pleasure to accompany you."

Well, looked like everything was turning out alright again, much as it always did. Martin placed great faith in his luck, and had very rarely been let down. The bearded gentleman with the Colt could have put a bullet through him at the first word, but the friendly smile had won out yet again. Martin could swear that the bearded man looked familiar though. Marshall. . .where had he heard that name before?

[Mordae]

The quartet piles into the relatively cramped forward cockpit of the airship. The walls are crammed with lights, valves, handwheels, switches, and gages, lending a chaotic appearance around the twin leather seats that face the primary flight controls and the windshield. Directly above, metal cubbyholes are crammed with rolled parchment maps. The view of London from the enclosed space is much more spectacular than the one previously gained while climbing a rope ladder two hundred feet above Westminster.

A blinking amber light on the control desk indicates "Hover - Engaged".

[zabbarot]

Doctor Murat watched the city below them with great interest. He had personally only been in an airship a few times, and never in the cockpit. "You own this contraption yourself? Are they expensive?"

[Erasmas]

Satisfied that Murat was accompanying them, Marshall fell into line behind the rest. Once inside the cockpit, he looked about in awe - this technology was certainly a wonder. He only worried that the people at large were forgetting that it had its time and its place, and were becoming too reliant on it in their everyday lives. The hunter had even overheard a conversation just yesterday, when he had arrived back on the island, where one chap admitted that he went on drives daily... for no purpose at all other than to tool about and 'feel the wind on his face'. Of all the nonsense...

Marshall reigned in his wandering thoughts. Back to the task at hand, good man, he lightly chastised himself. He then began searching for the sun in the sky, trying to get his bearings straight. Once he had found them, he pointed off to the northwest.

"That way. Thurston Grounds lies in the northern part of Buckinghamshire."

[Space Lawyer]

Thurston Grounds? Isn't that . . . No! He can't be that Marshall.

Martin steps beside Marshall. "Excuse me, but you wouldn't be Winston Marshall Hawthorne, the big-game hunter would you? Forgive me, but the boys and I back at Weston Hall always found your adventures and safaris in Africa to be absolutely thrilling!"

Not a few of the lads had claimed that there wasn't really a graduate of Weston Hall traipsing around Africa having the sorts of adventures that showed up in the penny dreadfuls. But here he was in the flesh!

[Erasmas]

Marshall turned halfway around, taking in Martin as if it were the first time. A smile threatened to turn up the corner of his grizzled mouth.

"Never would have taken you for a Weston Hall man. But yes, I am known to some people as Winston Marshall Hawthorne the Third, actually. But please, just call me Marshall. The rest is all together too formal for my liking. I hadn't thought about my trips to Africa as 'adventures', per se... but some trouble has seen fit to find me whilst there, yes. Though...", the hunter said thoughtfully, turning back to look outside the window down at London.

"... it would see that it has found me here as well."

[LuckyStrike]

Chase flips a few switches and turns a valve halfway resulting in the sound of pressured air being released somewhere by his feet. He pulls a lever down and the blinking amber light on the control desk switches over to a steady scorpion-green now indicating "manual-pilot".

With routinized ease Chase lounges back in the leather seat and with his left hand he spins a wooden wheel around wile his right turns some valves every now and then. The airship moves graciously over London. He opens a hatch within arms reach and pulls out a beer. He uncaps the bottle and after a long swill he answers the doctors question.

'Yup, but she's not mine.' He smiles. 'A pal of mine a few years back figured he'd make some easy money transcontinental, you know? Now he's serving a life sentence in Singapore and I've been babysitting her ever since. He signed over the papers from jail so I could keep up with repairs at the official depot, but honestly I just take her to a specialist I know in the free city of Amsterdam. Much cheaper and less waiting you see.'

As Marshall indicates the direction they need to go to he adjusts accordingly and enjoys hearing Martin and Marshall have something in common.

'How far would you say it is? Roughly?'

[Erasmas]

"Forty miles, give or take a piece.", Marshall answered the pilot. Then, looking at the beer Chase had withdrawn, the hunter asked, "Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but you wouldn't happen to have anything a bit stronger, would you?"

[Mordae]

A steady whum-whum fills the air as the propellers start to turn, pushing the airship forward and guiding it into the complicated pattern of London air traffic. Chase skillfully adjusts altitude and direction to find some open space where the sunshine finally breaks through, deftly slipping between two other vessels, a Royal Post behemoth and a sleeker blue glider bearing the sign "Fabian & Smith, Esqs., Pharmaceuticals". Crossing the Thames a thousand feet up, El-Burro makes northwest at good speed, headed for Buckinghamshire and the holdings of the Hawthorne estate.

[Space Lawyer]

"Never would have taken you for a Weston Hall man." I'm not sure how I should take that. :smallannoyed: Martin sees a small chance though to make a good impression on one of his childhood heroes. He pulls a small flask from his back pocket, its silver sheen heavily scratched and dinged from misadventures, and hands it to Marshall. "Try a bit of this. I picked up some decent scotch on my way here through Scotland.

Martin rests against the bulkhead, keeping well away from the more important looking gauges and levers. "So, what is it brings this varied group together?"

[zabbarot]

At Martin's question the doctor raises his hand. "That would be me. These two have been charged with my safety by the British crown." Murat spoke before really considering the nature of the situation. He got to that before introducing himself at least. This man could be a spy for all he knew, or an assassin. The doctor adjusted slightly and gripped his bag a bit tighter subconsciously.

[Erasmas]

Marshall took the proffered flask and unscrewed the lid. After wafting it under his nose for a moment, he nodded an approval and then took a swig. Making only the slightest of grimaces, the hunter passed the silver vessel to Martin.

"Many thanks, Mr. Cheval. That'll do just fine."

When the doctor blurted out the very crux of their mission, Marshall sighed to himself. If this new man was on the level, then it would be good for him to know the truth. However, his sudden appearance still seemed too much a matter of coincidence to be comfortable with him knowing such an intimate detail... if the doctor wasn't the real reason he was sent in the first place, that is.

"Doctor Murat is correct, if not a bit hasty to trust with sensitive knowledge. The Prime Minister has seen fit to put the good Doctor into the care of Mr. Redstone and myself; along with two other men who are currently underway with a separate portion of our plan. It would appear that you either have impeccable timing, or the poorest timing of any man I have ever known... aside from, perhaps, one Nigel Kensington. For if adventure is what you seek, my dear fellow, I am afraid that you may have found it."

[Space Lawyer]

Martin gives a roguish grin, accepting back the flask and leaning against the wall. "I'd have to go to with the "impeccable timing" option of the given options. I'll say it is certainly a new experience though, having official imprimatur from someone as high and mighty as the PM himself. Now, I'll take it that whatever the doctor's life is in danger for is inside that bag," he says, gesturing to the doctor's satchel, "But I'm not quite so foolish as to be all too curious as to the nature of it. I've seen men killed for nothing more than a few shillings, and if the PM is involved, well then, I'd have to say it is something considerably more valuable. Just keep me apprised of the plan and tell me who to shoot at, and I've little need to know why precisely."

[LuckyStrike]

At that Chase turns around from his control panel. 'Thanks Martin. Sure is good knowing we have you in our corner.' He sounds more sincere than ever.

He takes out two parchement rolls and continues plotting the course while continuously manning the controls.

[Mordae]

Once El-Burro leaves the immediate airspace around London, two things become obvious. First, the air quality markedly improves, and the bright sun beams through the occasional puffy white cloud that drifts free of the London smog. Second, the traffic of airships thins out, substantially simplifying Chase's task in navigating a path. In the open sky, and when really pushed, the little airship is capable of speeds nearing sixty miles per hour. But a more sedate pace that avoids stressing the gears and boilers is about forty miles per hour.

It's almost one o'clock in the afternoon when Marshall spots his family's holdings, rolling pastures dotted with trees, where shepherds are still allowed to graze the southwest pasture nearest the little lake where he had gone fishing and swimming as a boy. The manor house is a sprawling white limestone building, steeped in the classic Greek architectural styles, with several out-buildings of similar color but boasting substantially less ornamentation. The carriage path and fountain circle that front the main building are empty this afternoon. Across the way, the airship pad is also empty; Marshall can remember that in his younger years, it used to be a hedge maze before his father had the rose bushes cut down to make way for progress.

[Erasmas]

Having stayed near the compass, the one instrument that he could make any sense of, Marshall did what he could to help Chase maintain course. Once they neared Thurston Grounds, he barely even bothered to look out the window. With the exception of the airship pad being added, the place had hardly changed... ever. Sure, gas lighting and water plumbing had been put in, but the paintings and statues all stayed in exactly the same places that they had always been. The wallpaper and rugs, even when replaced, where done so with patterns that were either identical or at least close enough that they might as well have been. The hunter frowned somewhat to himself, making it look like strict concentration on the task of helping to land. But the truth of the matter was that this place was not high upon his list of places to come back to.

It would be good to see Agatha again, even if she would pinch his cheek when she saw him... still, despite the fact that Marshall was now nearing fifty. And there were very few things in the world that beat Edwin's strawberry tarts. Perhaps this won't be so bad after all... Marshall allowed himself to think.

[Space Lawyer]

An airship ride was always thrilling. Martin rarely got a chance to fly aboard one; the tickets were often quite expensive, and being a stowaway on one could easily result in a rapid descent that concluded in a very hard and messy end. He had briefly considered taking up the career of the air pirate, but while quite exciting and potentially lucrative, such thieves were dealt with most harshly and had quite a short life expectancy.

"Lovely grounds you have here, Marshall. Last time I saw such rolling greens, I was galloping hard across them with nary a moment to spare for a look."

[Mordae]

Chase skillfully guides the airship into the descent for landing. As the grounds loom larger and larger, Marshall can make out a fussy-looking fellow in a powder blue tuxedo storming out of the main building and across the carriage circle, waving his arms against the air currents of the vessel's propellers as though by force of will he could cause the airship to go away. Fitzgerald, the long-time butler, would naturally consider the unexpected landing an intrusion, and Marshall can practically hear the fellow's high-pitched wheeze and see his flared nostrils even before Chase has thrown El-Burro back into hover.

"No, no, no, no, no!" the butler wheezes as soon as the hatch is thrown open. "This is a private residence, not some blasted cricket grounds! Be gone with this... contraption... before I summon the bobbies to have you hauled away!" His barely contained fury seethes nearly as much as his wispy white hair does under the lingering breeze from the propellers.

[Erasmas]

"Calm yourself, Gerald, before you give yourself an aneurysm!", Marshall said after having let the poor fellow linger without explanation as he waited just inside the doorway for a moment or two too long. The hunter smiled roguishly as he descended the ladder and dropped lightly to the ground.

"Have Edwin set lunch for four and air out the guest rooms. And for God's sake, at least act like you're happy to see me.", Marshall teased as he roughly tapped the man on the back of his shoulder.

[Mordae]

"Master Winston; dear God, is that really you?" The butler appears visibly shaken by the sudden appearance of his vagabond master. "Were your father alive he'd have your hide tanned for this little display. But it is good to see you home again, sir. Dare I trust you've had your fill of debauchery on the dark continent and are finally home to stay? Or must we endure another half-decade in your absence?" Fitzgerald turns to gesture to the house. "I will have Edwin bring a cold lunch to the solarium in ten minutes' time. The rest of the help will be overjoyed to see you, or meet you for the first time, as the case may be. Hearing naught for so long, some of us have feared the worst..." The man's voice trails off as he starts the stodgy trudge back toward the house.

[zabbarot]

Doctor Murat followed along behind whilst taking in the scenery. It was a far cry from the slums he'd grown up in and the government facilities he'd worked in. Maybe if he worked out a good deal with the prime minister he could retire here... The doctor day dreamed a bit about that possible future before catching a condescending glare from the butler. "How long can we hide out here?"

[Erasmas]

"Yes... it's me. But no, I'll not be staying long; a couple of days at the most, I would wager.", Marshall said as he walked with Fitzgerald for a ways. However, he let him get a bit ahead and out of earshot.

"Fitzgerald is the butler. He's a bit... cantankerous at times. Good fellow though; loyal to the family for decades now. You may call him Gerald, if you prefer.", the hunter explained to the others, "But I would avoid Fitz; he doesn't much care for that, however fitting the name may be. Oh... and Fitzy isn't much better, I'm afraid."

Middan smiled to himself as he strode across the familiar grounds towards the front doors; those massive oaken portals that held such immaculate reliefs and splendid scroll work designs upon them. When he reached them, he opened one of them and ushered his traveling companions over the threshold.

[Mordae]

"Very good, sir," Fitzgerald bows and leaves the quartet to their own devices inside the sprawling mansion. He's even polite enough to ignore Doctor Murat's mention of using the estate as a "hide out", instead whistling a somewhat twisted version of God Save the King as he walks down the east wing toward the kitchen, ringing every bell pull along the way.

[Space Lawyer]

Martin gives a chuckle. "An interesting household you seem to have, Marshall." He is, however, not merely speaking of Fitzgerald. At one of the windows on the second story, a maid was dusting a knickknack, and was she a vision! Wisps of pale blonde strayed out from under her cap, and Martin could see the green of her eyes from here, the same color as the grass on which he stood. Then there was her figure, not entirely hidden under the purposefully frumpy uniform . . .

A stretch and sweep of hands straightens his clothes and gives Martin's hair a rakish angle. There was charming to be done!

[Erasmas]

"Well... it's only mine by title.", Marshall explained, as if it would do so. The hunter made his way to the west wing, eventually arriving in the solarium - a grand glass room filled to the brim with plants. On days where he was forced to remain indoors, this had been Marshall's favorite place to stay... and it was, by far, his favorite room in the house. There were many times that he had hidden himself away within the foliage and pretended to be a tiger, stalking his prey through the grasses of faraway Africa. Of course, Ms. Dietze had never cared for the moment when he would spring out for "the kill". Learning to prowl around like that had served Marshall well since then, such as the time when he found the same Ms. Dietze ironing while in her undergarments.

Marshall cleared his throat, jarring himself out of the memories.

"Here we are, gentlemen. If you'll just make yourselves comfortable, lunch should be brought around shortly."

[zabbarot]

Murat followed Marshall into the solarium taking in as much of the house as he could on the way. It was all so clean despite the high ceilings. How did they even get up there he wondered.

He looked around the room, but made no move to make himself comfortable. "It's a lovely room, Mr. Marshall, but I'd be lying if I didn't say I've been bit jumpy around windows lately... Do you think we could find a... more enclosed location?

[LuckyStrike]

'Say, I've been wondering about that..' Chase pipes in from the back of the room. He has been quiet in the background while entering Marshalls estate taking it all in. During the flight he's had some time to contemplate some things that would have come sooner to smarter men.
'They will find us here eventually. They only need to link Marshalls visit at no.9 to this sudden unexpected homecoming. People talk, a chef.. A maid.. All I'm saying is, we can't stay long or we must prepare for more violence.'

The last part of the sentence didn't actually sound like he minded it too overly much.

[Erasmas]

"Hmm... perhaps you're right.", Marshall said in response to Murat. He paused for a moment, stroking his closely-cropped beard, before continuing, "Maybe the Billiards Room. We could even get in a game or two to pass the time and take our minds off of things for a while."

The hunter smiled, and then left the solarium, leading the way. The first member of the house staff that he saw, he bid them to let Edwin know their change of locales and to have him bring ice. Once they had arrived at the Billiards Room, Marshall opened the door and stepped in. His mother had railed against his father putting this room in the house. But eventually, steady and even in his course, his father had won out. The hint of stale cigar smoke permeated everything, from the heavy green velvet curtains to the red leather chairs. The hunter strode over to the small bar against the left wall and produced a crystal decanter of bourbon.

"Anyone care for a nip of something; to cleanse your palettes before lunch, perhaps?", Marshall offered, pouring himself nearly half a tumbler full. He would have to wait on the ice, but it would do for now.

[Space Lawyer]

"I'll take small bit of it." Martin says. It had been so long since he had accepted the hospitality of wealthy house, rather than just helping himself to what he found. It was a nice change of pace.

He then turns to the wall, finding the sticks and selecting a good one for himself. He had originally learned to play at Weston Hall, but had honed his game in the saloons of the American West, along with quite a few other more dishonorable habits. He had never quite picked up poker, being possessed of a far too expressive nature for a game requiring utter stoicism, but games like billiard and darts came easily. Just like shooting, these all about the angles and having a sharp eye.

Martin sets the table, racking the balls with deft hands. "It is your house Marshall, so I will let you pick the rules."

[Erasmas]

Marshall poured some of the dark liquor into another glass for Martin and handed it to him as he approached the large green-covered table that dominated the center of the room. The hunter likewise found himself a cue and chalked it.

"Well, since you've already gotten the rack...", Marshall smiled a little. It was fairly obvious that Martin had spent some time in America - as he seemed to be more comfortable with what the yanks had termed 'pool', somewhat of a bastardization of the game if you asked Marshall. "... we'll play snooker rules, I suppose."

The hunter placed the white cue ball down within the D and then retrieving the red balls and rolling them to where Martin was standing.

"Let's say two hundred points to start? That way we can rotate out players and give everyone the chance to play?"

[LuckyStrike]

'Another time for me Marshall.' Chase says as he peels the cloth off his wound. 'I wouldn't want you to lose from a one armed yank.' He says with a cheeky grin.

'Any chance you have some bandages in this place? Or a hospital wing perhaps?' He adds jokingly.

[Erasmas]

"A hospital, no. But we could probably scrounge up some clean bandages until the doctor can be summoned from town.", Marshall said, quickly striding over to where a rope hung in the corner of the room. He pulled it twice, with a small amount of force, knowing that it would ring a corresponding bell downstairs and alert the staff that they were needed in the Billiards Room. When one of them arrived, the hunter greeted them first.

"Ahh, Gretchen. Hello, dear. Would you mind sending word to Dr. Overstreet that he's needed here at once? And, in the meantime, get some strips of clean cloth and a bowl of hot water please."

[zabbarot]

The doctor emitted a low whistle and looked around the room as he slunk into a chair. Finally he was feeling a bit relaxed. It had been a stressful day so far and it was still early. "This is a very nice home you've got, Mr. Marshall. If you don't mind I think I'll just sink into this very nice chair for a moment, and maybe into a very nice nap while I'm at it. Wake me up when the food comes. We can talk about..." He began to trail off at the end of his sentence already closing his eyes. He was hardly used to so much excitement.

[Space Lawyer]

Snooker wasn't really Martin's game, but he was familiar enough with the rules. The basic principles remained the same; one was putting the balls into the pockets. "Seems whatever you all were up to quite tired the doctor out. Must have been a singular adventure, though I'd suspect as much even if Chase was not wounded. He does often seem to be getting shot at, be it for good cause or lack thereof."

[Erasmas]

Marshall broke, looking over at the sleeping doctor to make sure that the noise of the game wasn't going to disturb him too much. He then spoke with Martin as he continued to move about the table and sink balls into pockets, "Indeed; this morning's affair was quite taxing. I hazard a guess that it may be a bit more excitement than he is used to. Blue ball... that's five. It seems as though you are fated to join us, so I think that we can let you in on the way of things now."

The hunter looked over at Chase, to make sure that the American wasn't going to stop him from sharing the details with the newcomer. When it didn't look like he took issue with it, Marshall continued, "But I'm going to be frank with you, Martin - I don't know you yet. And with the delicateness of the information that I am about to share with you, it renders our little operation vulnerable. I don't mind telling you that if you betray the trust that I am about to instill in you, in any way, that I will kill you. There's another - one more point on the board, if you please. I don't mean that to threaten you or to be domineering. It's just the way of it. I've sworn an oath and I intend to see it through. So, if in fact you are a spy, sent to kill that poor man...", he said, indicating the sleeping doctor, "... then be out with it and let's get this over with now."

Marshall then scratched, quite on purpose, and straightened himself up. He looked directly at Martin, giving the man a chance to respond before he continued with the promised information.

[Mordae]

As Marshall asks the question, there is a polite knock on the door, and the attractive maid that had caught the eye of Marshall--among others--comes in with a tray of sandwiches: roast beef smothered in horseradish and melted cheese atop rustic bread. Pewter tankards filled with frothy dark beer are set in the center, surrounded by the meal. She sets the tray down on the table in the corner, bending a little lower than strictly might be necessary, before looking to Marshall. "Vill zere be anything else, Meister Hawthorne?"

[Erasmas]

Marshall's eyes had noticed the girl sure enough, though he thought he had gotten his fill when he saw her bend over. After all, she was just another attractive young woman. However, then she spoke... and the hunter's ears now noticed the girl. A devilish smile turned up the corner of his mouth and he strode over to where she was standing.

"It seems that I am at a disdvantage; you seem to know me. However, we haven't had the chance to meet yet. What is your name, dear?"

[Space Lawyer]

Martin listens closely to the exchange between Marshall and the maid. The old hunter's exploits of that sort formed a good part of his legend, but he was, well, old. There would be a good chance for someone like Martin to come swooping in.

[Mordae]

The maid bobs a little curtsey, setting other things to bobbing, too. "Liselotte, milord. Unt I know you only by your pictures; I vas hired just zis Zeptember to replace Margaret, who retired." She aims an innocent blue-eyed gaze to each of the men in turn. "Zese are your friends, milord?"

[Erasmas]

"Only time will tell.", Marshall cast a look in the direction of the others with a smile. He then turned back to the intriguing and somewhat beguiling young woman.

"That is a divine accent you have there, Liselotte. Do I detect Eastern European? Perhaps Hungarian? Austrian?"

[Mordae]

"Zilesian, milord; I emigrated from Breslau, in zouth-eastern Prussia, two years' hence to zeek a better zituation."

[Space Lawyer]

Liselotte's accent was one Martin had heard often in his days as a highwayman. Though the German states were now semi-unified in their confederation, the accents particular to each were still quite distinct. "A little far south, Marshall. I would venture to say Ms. Liselotte is Prussian."

He turns to Liselotte, giving a small nod and a wink. "Martin Cheval, at your service."

Dashing Charmer. How much suggestiveness and persuasion can Martin put into a wink?
[roll0]
A lot, apparently.

[Erasmas]

"You mean, like she just said?", Marshall's flirtation took a minor step back. It may have been because the younger Martin was making his move known, but then again... it could be because of the strange verisimilitude of her story didn't sit right with him. Another Prussian immigrant, on the very same day as the doctor's arrival. Now, the girl said that she had been here since September. Could the Prussians that were after Murat somehow have known months ago that he would become embroiled with this scheme?

[zabbarot]

The doctor stirred softly in his sleep. Something was rousing him, as if the soft voice of the motherland was whispering in his ear. He opened his eyes and low and behold there she was, a vision, the jammiest bits of jam*, if you know what I mean. He was up in an instant to introduce himself. "Sorry m'dear, it is unfortunate that you should catch me sleeping." He blinked a bit since he was still groggy, but his suit was still perfect.


Found a list of 19th century slang, and it is amusing :smalltongue:

Also time to use Impeccably Dressed (4) and a Lucky Shot
*fingers crossed*
[roll0]

[Mordae]

"Oh, but no--it is I who zhould be zorry to have disturbed you, zir," Liselotte protests to Petar's apology. "You looked zo peaceful ven resting. Do you require a pillow or blanket?" She smiles rather earnestly, dimples and freckles moving in lovely unison.

First round goes to the doctor! Martin, if he chooses to persist, rolls one less die the next round.

[LuckyStrike]

Roast beef, cheese and dark beer assaulted Chase his senses all at once. His nostrils opened up wide and he inhaled deeply.
He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he took in more information than just the food. The testosterone in the room increased a lot in a short amount of time and Chase could clearly see what was going on. The animal in him stirred and a deep dark feeling washed over him.
He shivered and pushed the feeling back immediately. He was not about to transform here, in the house of a famous hunter no less. His head would be on the wall before he could make his case that it was just a skin condition.
He felt the darkness fade and he scratched his chin. To his dismay his beard had grown half an inch. It was an unfortunate side effect. He hoped no one would notice and sheepishly looked around.
Everybody still seemed busy impressing the waitress so Chase just stood up and decided to help himself to some beef and beer. That should appease the beast for now.

[Erasmas]

Marshall likewise made his way to the tray to help himself with the proffered lunch meal. He then moved off to the side to watch as the situation unfolded. The hunter thought about dismissing Liselotte... but for the moment, he would wait. He decided that it would be good to see how the good doctor and this Martin fellow conducted themselves throughout this. There were precisely two ways that you could learn more about a man than through listening to him talk, where it was easy enough for him to hide his true motivations and intentions. And those two ways were when playing a game... and when he was competing for the affections of a woman. For when winning was on the line, there were very few who held anything back in reservation; their true nature revealed.

[zabbarot]

Murat declined politely, "No, thank you. I'm feeling significantly refreshed now. I do believe I missed introductions though." He raised one eyebrow waiting for a reply.

[Erasmas]

"Of course. How rude of me.", Marshall rose to the occasion, "Liselotte, this is Doctor Petar Murat. Petar, this is Miss Liselotte. Doctor Murat is a Prussian national, such as yourself."

[Mordae]

Liselotte bobs a quick curtsey. "Charmed, Herr Doktor." She turns her blue eyes to the master of the house. "Zir, anyzing else you villst be needing? Or else I zhall prepare beds for your guests."

[Erasmas]

"No, Liselotte, that will be all. Thank you.", he bade the attractive young woman adieu. He shall have to watch her... for more than one reason. Finally, something interesting in the house again., the hunter thought to himself as he indeed did watch her walking out of the room.

When she had gone, Marshall turned back towards his lunch and began to eat. Looking towards the billiards table, he asked jokingly, "Shall we continue? Or does everyone need some fresh air, perhaps?"

[Mordae]

"Fery gut, zir," Liselotte rejoins with a polite curtsey, before she turns and sashays out to leave the men to their lunch.

If you are planning to skip the game and move on, I'll start pushing toward the next scene. No need for the action to linger, after all...

[zabbarot]

The doctor nods politely at Lizette as she leaves the room and then sets into a sandwich. "Your estate manager has good tastes." It wasn't clear if he was speaking of the sandwich or the maid, and the doctor made no attempt to clarify.

one more week of very slow posting from me : / well, 3 more days.

[Mordae]

The four gentlemen finish up their lunch and billiards. About the time that Marshall is considering restating his suggestion for some fresh air, there is a diffident knock at the door to the room, and Fitzgerald enters with a piece of paper clutched in his hand. "Sorry to disturb you, sir, but this telegram is fresh off the wire and marked, 'urgent'." Stretching out his gloved hand, he offers the document to the master of the house.

URGENT FOR MARSHALL HAWTHORNE STOP INVESTIGATION IN LONDON PROCEEDING STOP UNABLE TO RULE OUT ANY SUSPECTS AT THIS TIME STOP POSSIBILITY OF INSIDE JOB STILL EXISTS STOP INSPECTOR BLACKBOOT WOULD LIKE TO INTERVIEW DOCTOR MURAT AT YOUR CONVENIENCE STOP ARRANGE TIME DATE LOCATION WITH EXTREME CAUTION STOP SUGGEST LIFT INSPECTOR AND TRANSPORT TO UNDISCLOSED MEETING POINT RATHER THAN EXPOSE WHEREABOUTS OF DOCTOR STOP WILL USE CURRENT ADDRESS FOR FUTURE MESSAGES BUT ANTICIPATE YOU WILL NOT REMAIN THERE EXCEPT TO CHECK MAIL STOP SIGNED THE GENTLEMAN STOP

[Erasmas]

Marshall took the telegram and walked slowly towards the window as he read it, scratching the knuckles of the first two fingers of his right hand against his stubbly cheek. He let out a low noise of contemplative thought and then came to a stop near the thick gathered curtains. There, he turned about and spoke aloud,

"Gerald, I would like to send a reply immediately. Let me know as soon as you are ready."

The hunter then turned and addressed the three other men in the room. "Gentlemen. This is a message from the masked fellow that some of us met earlier today. He says that they are unable to rule out anyone as a suspect at the moment; and that it could very well be an inside job. It would seem, Dr. Murat, that Inspector Blackboot would like to interview you. The Gentleman suggests that we pick up the Inspector... I assume in Mr. Redstone's airship... and bring him to our good doctor here."

[zabbarot]

"Oh, do we trust this Blackboot fellow?" The doctor stood still holding his case. The device hadn't left his side a moment even inside the estate. His paranoia was evident.

[Erasmas]

"I'm not sure.", Marshall nodded in agreement with the Doctor's paranoia. "However, he'd be a bloody fool to try anything with three armed men watching over you during the exchange."

[Space Lawyer]

"Why don't we just have the interview happen on the airship? That way, he couldn't bring enough men for a double-cross if he wanted to. We don't even have to tell the Inspector that is where the doctor is; we'll let him think that we've left Doctor Murat here, nice and secure in the manor."

[LuckyStrike]

'I'm alright with that, if the doctor is too.' Chase says agreeably, turning his attention to doctor Murat.
'What do you think? Up for another trip?'

[zabbarot]

The doctor sighed. "Well, if we must. I don't think we should tell them I'm here at the estate though. If it is a double cross it'd be a shame to have them stomping through your garden and harassing your staff."

[Mordae]

"Gerald, I would like to send a reply immediately. Let me know as soon as you are ready."

"Very good, sir. If it is a brief message, I will take it now; otherwise, I shall fetch quill and paper, or perhaps you may like to accompany me to the telegraphy room?"

[Erasmas]

"That sounds like a capital idea, Martin! Good show!", Marshall said, clapping the younger man on the back. He then strode back across the room and retrieved a matchstick. Striking it, he put it to the telegram's corner, setting the paper ablaze. The hunter then carefully made sure that it was properly burning and carried it to the fireplace, tossing it inside.

"I think it's best if we play this one close to the chest, gentlemen. Gerald, what you've heard here must remain in the strictest of confidences. It is not only a matter of life or death for our dear Dr. Murat here, but it is also a matter of national security. I pray to your sensibilities as an Englishman that what you have learned does not leave this room. Now, about that telegram."

Marshall paced in a circuit around the billiards table, rolling a ball beneath his hand absentmindedly as he dictated the missive, "Meet Inspector at Big Ben; stop. Board Redston's airship; stop. Meet Doctor at undisclosed location; stop. Come alone; stop. How does that sound to everyone?"

[LuckyStrike]

Chase nods contemplatively.

'Maybe we could tell him to meet us somewhere more quiet.. a town just outside of London and neglect to mention its an airship he will board. Tell him a boat will pick him up. That way he might be less inclined to ready some airship support of his own?'

He looks at Marshall and adds..

'Also, I hate to say it.. but I think we all need to get armed asap. What do we have in terms of firepower, apart from Murat's death ray of course.'

[Erasmas]

"Well, I have my Colt revolver and my rifle that travel with me. But aside from that, all the guns held here on the estate are for hunting game... nothing but a handful of shotguns and a small collection of bolt-action rifles, I'm afraid."

Marshall then addressed Fitzgerald, "Change that first line to 'Meet Inspector at Oxford'. Does that satisfy?" The hunter checked the change with his colleagues.

[Space Lawyer]

Martin pats the belt he had removed upon entering the billiards room, specifically the gun-holding holsters attached to it. "You shouldn't be overly worried about firepower, Chase. You know quit well what I can do these beauties."

The revolvers were in fact quite beautiful. The ivory handles were intricately carved and inlaid with gold, giving both a steady grip and a clear identity. The guns themselves were black, with golden tracery and paisley swirls forming a dancing pattern down the length. Some might deride such artistry on a tool for killing, but to Martin, there was little point to relying on a gun that one didn't care enough about to make magnificent.

[LuckyStrike]

'Ah, you're right the both of you. I shouldn't be worried. I guess it's just that metal-man's bullet fazed me a bit.'

He gets up and runs his hand through his hair.

'We good to go then? I'll fire up the gear thrusters.'

[zabbarot]

"... but it isn't supposed to be a weapon." Murat voiced his objection quietly and to no one in particular, then steeled himself for this new adventure. "I am ready. Let's see if we can do this in time to get something nice for dinner.

[Erasmas]

"Better add an 'ASAP' to that telegram, Gerald.", Middan instructed the butler before taking the last few bites of his sandwich. He then downed what was left in his tumbler and checked his revolver again. Satisfied that things were in order, the hunter strode towards the front doors of his manor. As he exited the house, he smiled to himself at the site of the airship parked on the lawn. It was a nice bit of juxtaposition in his eyes... perhaps he would have to get one. If nothing more than to give the old butler a hard time.

[Space Lawyer]

Metal man?

Martin just let that one pass. There always seemed to be something strange happening around Redstone. Regardless, it was time to go have an adventure.

[Mordae]

"'Meet Inspector at Oxford; stop. Board Redstone's airship; stop. Meet Doctor at undisclosed location; stop. Remind inspector to come alone; stop. Arrive as soon as possible; stop.' Good luck, Master Marshall." Fitzgerald bows and heads off to the telegraphy room, leaving the four men to make their way to the airship. The weather outside is still gorgeously cool and partly cloudy, but the freshness of the air tapers off as they approach and enter El Burro. Having not yet been three hours since landing, the boilers are still fairly warm and tendrils of smoke and steam waft upwards from the various vents and exhaust ports that stud the upper surface of the cabin.

From one of the windows of the mansion, Doctor Murat can make out a blonde-framed face watching the group's departure.

[Erasmas]

"That'll do, Gerald.", Marshall had thanked the butler as he departed.

Marshall wasted no time, boarding the Burro and making his way straight to the cockpit. "Come, Mr. Redstone... let's not dillydally. The authorities will be expecting us. As fond as government men are of making others wait around, let's not put them to the same fate, shall we?"

[LuckyStrike]

'If this dillydallying aint done right, we'll all flippitty-flop into a burning ball of tons of steel.' Chase grumbles under his breath trying to focus, pulling levers and turning gauges.

Moments later, the machine ever so slowly defies gravity and pulls up. El Burro quickly picks up speed as Chase navigates into a hot pocket using the earths warmth to propel them upwards and onwards.
Those last three words are uttered by Chase significantly more enthusiastic than his grumble from before and he visibly relaxes.

[zabbarot]

Murat took a last look at the estate as he trudged his way to the airship. That beautiful home full of comfortable furniture and wonderful food, not to mention beautiful help. Usually he wasn't so concerned with material trappings, but he had been shot at this morning. It was hard not to desire a couple days off. When he saw the blonde framed face looking he presumed it was the maid, though he couldn't quite tell from such a distance. He tipped his hat politely before turning to board the ship.

"Hey Marshall, is it not uncommon to hire foreigners as wait staff? I would have thought your house would be full of British country girls... er... people. I mean... Locals."

[Erasmas]

"It's not unheard of. I myself had a German nanny growing up here.", Marshall seemed lost in the thought for a long moment before drifting back to what he was saying.

"But the thought had crossed my mind that it was a strange coincidence that she was there today... on the very same day that I met you, Dr. Murat. While Prussians in London aren't unheard of either, two in the same day is a little close to suspicious for my tastes... given that your national brethren are the ones hunting you."

[Mordae]

The steady whump-whump of the aft propellers gradually picks up in volume as the nimble airship vectors toward London. Flying against the prevailing winds, El Burro is occasionally buffeted by down-drafts and side drafts, but the overall weather is fair and before long the dark smudge of the little city of Oxford is plainly visible. The sky is mostly clear of airships, save for a Royal Post hauler emblazoned in the Union Jack and a zippy little pleasure cruiser, only half the size of El Burro and glistening with a fresh coat of gold paint.

It's about half the distance from Thurston Grounds to Oxford as it is from London to the same, so even if the inspector set out immediately when the telegram was sent, it would be an hour or more before he arrives. Make of the time what you will!

[Erasmas]

Marshall looked out the windows at the sprawl of Oxford below them, clasping his hands behind his back.

"Right then. How should we go about this, chaps? Do we land and secure a spot for the Inspector to meet us? Or do we float around up here and land once he's arrived, minimizing our exposure to the element that is threatening Dr. Murat?"

[Space Lawyer]

Martin surveys their surrounding with a critical eye. "You can go ahead and put me on the ground. Don't bother to set down; just get me close enough that I can jump and make a soft landing. That way, if there are any various nefarious sorts around, you can whisk the good doctor to safety while I trade a few shots."

[Mordae]

Chase grins. "Alright, lady and gentlemen, take your places. This'll be a neat little buzz." He lowers his flying goggles and waves for Marshall to head topside while Martin heads toward the hatch, taking one of the rope mooring lines in both hands and preparing to rappel to the ground level. Doctor Murat remains ensconced in the cabin, where he can watch the proceedings.

Gleefully nudging El Burro into a steep dive, Chase drives the airship toward the ground with a closing speed bordering on reckless. Narrowly missing an office building, he executes a sharp turn around the corner and settles out over a street-car, which turns down another route just before arriving at the town square. Martin takes his cue and slides down the line, his black leather gloves providing just enough grip as he swings onto the village green and lands with a running gait, slowing to a walk just before he comes upon the war memorial obelisk in the center of the square. Pedestrians on the nearby walk scatter for cover, and two lorry drivers narrowly avoid a collision as they gawk at the flyby.

Marshall maintains a steady presence at the topside rail, gripping it firmly with one arm as he has his rifle tucked under the other. Looking around the perimeter, he notes no airships in the vicinity other than the Royal Post--apparently, either Oxford has no Airborne Patrol Unit or they weren't ready for a aerialist circus stunt. The siren horn of a steam-driven paddywagon wails in the distance, in the general direction of the rapidly diminishing village green, as Chase regains altitude and begins a slow circle back toward the east side of town.

Meanwhile, Lisbet stands near the back of the crowded cockpit, watching the maneuver intently and shifting her weight between her natural and artificial leg as the ship sways back and forth. While she can't see it, her mechanical sensors pick up faint, low-frequency vibrations--the tell-tale signs of airship propellers at long distance. The Royal Post frequency she recognizes from when El Burro flew into town, but the other one is new, and much fainter--too slow to be the golden pleasure craft.

I made an assumption on some of Lisbet's cybernetic capabilities--if not appropriate, tell me and I'll be sure to edit.

Welcome, EnglishKitsune! Welcome back, Erasmus!

[Erasmas]

Marshall laughed, a deep and joyful boom, at the thrill imparted upon him by Chase's maneuvers in the airship. He breathed deeply and held on with a tight grip while the ground pitched and yawed beneath his feet. And when she leveled out once again, the hunter leveled his rifle down towards the green below, first finding Martin within his scope. He then began a slow and careful examination of the area immediately surrounding the young rake. In particular, he searched in earnest for the Inspector.

[EnglishKitsune]

Lizbeth had her eyes closed, feeling the thrum of the ship, and feeling the further vibrations, the slow vibrations troubled her. She sensed the skies here would get very crowded shortly. As such it paid to get the inspector and get out of here fast. She moved towards the rope Martin left dangling coiling it back up with an experienced hand. She was glad she'd had the chance to swap her arm and leg from the Combat System she'd worn to the meeting. With a smile a plan began to form in her head. Well, a plan by her standards anyway. She shrugged off her coat and rolled up her sleeves, the bronze of her augments glinting slightly. She sat down on the edge of the hatch and began studying the buildings below, waiting for her chance.

"Bring it back round! Marty's gonna need backup. These skies going to get crowded soon. We don't find the Inspector fast you need to pull out and protect Sawbones, he'll be the target. If we split up, meet back at Thurston."

[zabbarot]

The poor doctor clung to his chair with white knuckles, and just a tinge of green in his face. Air travel was supposed to be smooth and gentle, like sailing a sea with no waves. Clearly no one had bothered to tell Chase any of that. "I should have stayed at the manor." It wasn't until they straightened out that Petar finally managed to open his eyes and look out the windows again.

[Mordae]

As the airship swings up and out toward the edge of town, Chase nods to Lisbet. "Figured the peaceful air was too good to last. You and Marshall want to drop down and I'll skedaddle with the Doctor? Or what?"

At the far eastern horizon, a dark blot too large to be a bird can be seen above the treeline. Lisbet can detect the faint whump-whump of the airship motor coming closer as Chase points out the slowly growing shape. "That could be our Inspector there. Or not. Too far to pick off any markings."

Using his Big Game Hunter scope, Marshall might be able to make out any markings on the approaching airship. It's a toughie--he'll need a 15.

[Erasmas]

Hearing Chase's voice through the nearby copper speaking tube, the hunter looked about and spotted the approaching dark blot. Leveling his rifle in its direction, he placed his eye against the scope and peered at the airship in an attempt to determine if they may be friend or foe.

[EnglishKitsune]

Lizbeth would smile to Chase, flashing him a roguish grin as she saw what she needed below.

"I thought I could just drop in!"

She pushed off the edge of the ship, starting to plummet towards the buildings below.

As she neared her target building, a tall office with a sloping roof, she would tuck her still-human leg under her, and using her mechanical hand grab the roof, her Bronze parts sending the terracotta tiles flying as she leaves two jagged trails behind her. As soon as she was slowed enough she would kick off, her leg giving a burst of steam as she launched towards the next rooftop, heading in the direction of the new airship, a bounding dot leaping along the rooftops of Oxford.

[Mordae]

Through the tiny lens of the scope, Marshall squints at his distant target. The black ship vaguely resembles a lorry, and emblazoned on the nose are the letters "LPD" and something that--at least from this limited vantage--looks like the London police insignia.

Lisbet lands with a heavy thump, angling just enough not to go crashing through the rooftops before she rights her momentum and angles onto the rooftops. Coming to a halt on a gable overlooking the square, she can see that Martin has taken up a position near a spreading elm tree, watching the slow return of El Burro with one eye on the ebb and flow of traffic in the square. Mostly, it has ebbed at this point, with much gawking and pointing at the circling airship; few are paying attention to the two people who've disembarked in dramatic fashion, save the poor fellow who ended up nearly buried in roofing slates.

[Erasmas]

Marshall spoke back into the copper mouthpiece, "The other airship has the letters LPD and what looks to be the coppers' signage. I'd wager that it bears our man."

The hunter then went back to keeping an eye both on the approaching airship and on the area around Martin.

[zabbarot]

Petar, for his part, mostly just clung to his seat. Sure the ride had calmed, but he had no hopeful dreams that it would stay calm. Surely at any moment they would plummet to their inevitable deaths. The doctor apparently didn't enjoy flying.

[EnglishKitsune]

Happy with her position, Lizbeth crouches down and waits for the airship to get closer, ducking over the gimble to hide herself from the man peering up towards her. She stared at the approaching airship, waiting for her moment, her cyber hand clicking a rhythm against the Terracotta. She was never very good at waiting.

[Mordae]

"Sure it is," Chase grumbles through the communication tube. "Just like the Prime Minister's office was safe, too." Still, he maneuvers El Burro until it is pointed to close the gap with the arriving airship, interrupting only to itch furiously at the thick hair on the back of his hands. "Hang on tight, doctor; hopefully we don't have to go evasive."

As the "inspector's airship" comes closer, Lisbet's sharp eyes can make out the insignia while she gauges the height and distance and prepares to leap aboard. There's a series of flashes from a signal lamp just to the port side of the bridge of the inbound vessel.

It'll be a pretty difficult jump, target 15, to leap and grab onto the landing arms of the police airship.

If you've a cliche you think is appropriate for knowing/deciphering Morse code, feel free to take a crack. Target 15 if it's an appropriate cliche, or 20 if it's something that's tangential or amusingly inappropriate :smallbiggrin:

[EnglishKitsune]

Lisbeth would smile and scoot closer to the opposing airship, judging distances angles, and momentum, then with her real arm steadying her mechanical one, a heavy click would sound and a a large puff of steam would send her hand flying out, trailing a thin metal behind. The recoil pushing her back a little with the force of the shot. It would fly through the sky, the hand outstretched, grasping, until *THUNK* It grabbed onto one of the landing arms and locked steady. With a grin she pressed a concealed button and the wire began spooling back in whisking her up into the sky! She would land on the arm and her hand would reattach itself with a quiet click. Steadying her balance she would lean over to the nearest door and give it a hearty knock. Doubtless surprising anybody within. It's not often you get visitors Mid-flight.

[Erasmas]

Marshall, still looking through his scope, attempted to make out the message being transmitted. He understood a few bits and pieces, but then that strange mechanized woman was flying through the air towards the damn airship! The more-than-momentary distraction caught him off-guard enough that the hunter missed out on several crucial blinkings of the message light. He moved back over to the copper tube and called down to the bridge,

"Did anyone manage to get that message?"

[zabbarot]

The doctor did as he was told and held onto his chair like it was the difference between life and death. The ride was actually pretty smooth, but he didn't trust it for a second. Murat nearly leapt out of his chair when his hat started clicking. At first he thought the ship was coming apart, or they were being shot at, but it was just his Morse de-Code-er. It took in light from a lens on the front of his hat and printed out a translation. He had forgotten he even had it with him, but it was from an old experiment with directing light for longer distance communication. Surprisingly that it still worked, really, good luck though.

"'EL BURRO THIS IS INSP BLACKBOOT REQUEST RENDEZVOUS 1 KM NORTH,'" he read. He paused for a minute, but there didn't seem to be anything else coming. "Chase, did you get that? They want us to meet north of here."

[Mordae]

"Got it. I don't like it, but I got it." The grumpy American pilot dutifully steers his little ship into a climbing turn, cutting across the nose of the purported inspector's zeppelin and making for the rendezvous point. "Might want to drop down, Marshall--we're meeting up in-air a half mile or so north of here. You'll need to deploy the docking bridge. Don't know if it's long enough to mate up." Chase half-hopes it won't be; two docked airships are vulnerable from nearly all sides.

Inspector Blackboot is a tall, deep-jowelled Brit with thinning salt-and-pepper hair and matching muttonchops that make him seem like he was born to be a sea captain. Ruddy cheeks and worn, leathery skin are similar suggestive, though he would deny any inclination to ply the oceans under His Majesty's royal navy. His four-piece suit is immaculate, free from any adornment save the bright silver badge proclaiming his name and rank: Julius Blackboot, Inspector, London Division. He stands at the fore of the bridge, content to leave the two blue-clad bobbies who pilot the ship to do their work, and watches the decrepit little airship as it turns in front to head north of Oxford.

"Good, they've taken the message. Charles, put us in their trail..." He seems to be about to add more when there's a clank from below, and the vessel lurches ever so slightly for a few seconds. Just as it steadies out, there's a knock on the port hatch, about twenty feet back of the helm. The inner deck, sized to carry a platoon of policemen, is nearly empty; so the sound carries far better than it otherwise might, echoing through the various pipes and mechanisms that keep the airship moving. "What in blazes?"

Jonathan and Thaddeus, you are IN!

[Erasmas]

"Understood.", Marshall spoke back before slinging his rifle over his shoulder. Looking about, he spotted the location that Chase had indicated, the docking bridge. The hunter then hopped over the banister and slid down the support pole to the deck below, in order to begin readying it for the meet-up.

[UXLZ]

Jonathan had been milling about below deck reading a book when he felt the ship lurch and heard a *clank* from elsewhere on the ship. Suspecting something to be up, he immediately put down the book and went off to find the Inspector, intending to ask him if that noise had been intentional.

[Tsa'Bakr]

Always wanting to be in the thick of things, Thaddeus finds himself next to Inspector Blackboot watching the other airship approach from a distance. Haha! Isn't this Bully, Inspector. See how he dips and dives like that. Why, it sure is impressive. But it has nothing on a plain's native doing tricks on a pony. Why, there was one time...

Luckily for Thaddeus, he failed to hear the inspector give another sigh of annoyance at yet another "interesting" story of the bullish man as at that moment, a loud clunk alerted all to something hitting their ship and knocking at the door.

Thaddeus quickly volunteers to see who is knocking at the door.

Don't worry, ol' chap! Major Thaddeus Reginald Henry Vanderpump at your service. I will get to the bottom of this!

With that said, and without waiting for instruction from Inspector Blackboot, Thaddeus swings wide the door and comes face to face with the visitor.

[Mordae]

The door slides open with a rush of air as the pressures equalize, and Thaddeus comes face to face with a young woman holding on to the airship's outer rail with one mechanical arm, while her garments flutter and flap in the wind of the airship's passage.

Jonathan arrives on the main deck at the same moment. The Inspector has drawn his pistol and is moving up behind Thaddeus, though not as swiftly as the eager American.
As Chase peels off to the north, Marshall heads down to the lowest deck to ready the bridge and to keep an eye on the police vessel. It slowly, ponderously turns to match El Burro's course. Once he's looked over the bridge controls (an intricate set of brass valves and wooden handwheels), he takes another look at their pursuer through his scope and can see Lisbet clinging to the side rail of the massive ship; she must have jumped up from the rooftops...

[Tsa'Bakr]

Coming face to face with the young woman, Thaddeus lets out a loud laugh. Hahahaha! Bully! Well, come on lass, come in. Isn't much use in staying outside. Major Thaddeus Reginald Henry Vanderpump, at your service. He adds while extending his left hand to the woman while he gives a formal cavalry salute with his right. Noticing that Jonathan had come up behind him, Thaddeus adds. Jonathan, ol' chap. Isn't this Bully! We have a female visitor just in time for what these Brits call tea! Hahaha!

[Erasmas]

"Daft girl...", he curses the brazen move by Lisbet. One of these days, she was likely to get herself killed pulling stunts like that. Marshall went back to the controls and began spinning the wooden wheels in order to lower the boarding plank into place.

[UXLZ]

"Wonderful indeed, Herr Thaddeus." Jonathan says as he also extends an immaculate white-gloved hand towards Lizbet, simultaneously reaching out the other hand to gently touch the end of the Inspector's gun.
"There's no need for that, my friend. She means us no harm."

[Mordae]

Blackboot pauses, fixing a level gaze at Lisbet, before slowly lowering his revolver away from Jonathan's intervening hand. "Highly irregular. Well, Master Jonathan, if you're vouching for her integrity, I suppose you had best escort her down to the docking station so we can engage the prime minister's other operatives--and thus confirm whether she is indeed one of them." He holsters the weapon with a sullen thud against the leather enclosure belted to his waist, and straightens his suit coat.

[UXLZ]

"If she meant ill will she would not have come loudly announced through the front door. At least, I would not have. He looks back to Lizbet as he/Thaddeus/no one helps her inside.
"May we have the pleasure of your name?

[Tsa'Bakr]

Bully! Hahahaha! Thaddeus laughs as he enjoins the newcomer to enter the airship proper.

Well, Inspector? If I let my boys in the 29th Montana Volunteer Battalion stand around with their mouths open like yours, we'd have never run ol' Counting Crows out of Montana Territory. Let's jump to it! Head up, chest out, about face, March! Hahaha!

[Mordae]

Jonathan escorts Lisbet down to the bridge deck, with Thaddeus in tow and the inspector standing on the main deck, simply shaking his head at the American's antics. "Trust no further than a thrown stone," he mutters as he turns to the two policemen manning the airship's controls. "Well, gentlemen, commence docking procedure. And be alert for any more unexpected maneuvers--I don't like this business of trusting national security to hand-picked men, no matter what faith the Prime Minister professes."

Ponderously, like two whales in a circling courtship, El Burro and the police airship maneuver into a tight formation and begin extending their docking bridges. Jonathan finds the controls unfamiliar, but fortunately the government-owned vessel is equipped with an Autoseek device that connects to the ship controls, adjusting speed and altitude without need for manual movement to match up the two bridges. They come together with a hiss-click as touch-sensitive pistons set off a series of mechanical linkages to connect the bridges, forming a railed catwalk hundreds of feet above the English countryside.

Chase eases his hands off El Burro's controls as the mode control indication switches from "Manual" to "Docking", indicating the vessel's course and speed is now set to maintain minimum stress on the delicate steel-framed bridge. "There you have it, professor," he says, glancing over his shoulder to where the white-knuckled Doctor Murat sits. "I'll hazard a guess you'd rather they come over here than the other way around. Suits me just fine--who knows what they've got cooking up over there. If there's trouble, just push this blue button here." At this, the hairy pilot indicates a control with the label "Emergency Disconnect." "Preferably when none of our people are on the bridge."

[Erasmas]

Marshall slung his rifle back over his shoulder, not wanting to display a visage of open aggression as of yet. Hopefully this all would go off smoothly, and without a hitch... well, aside from that which was holding the docking bridges together, that is. The hunter moved beside the bridge and looked across. As far as he understood it, they were to have the Inspector come aboard El Burro... which suited him much better anyways. Although, he was somewhat curious as to what had become of Lisbet since she he has last seen her boarding the other airship.

If Marshall saw no one else, he would call out, "Hello there! Is the Inspector about?"

[Mordae]

Standing at the opposite edge on the police airship, Marshall can see Lisbet flanked by two men, neither of whom he recognizes, neither of whom are uniformed. A wind gust sets the American woman's cloak fluttering, and there is a subtle change in the propeller noise of both machines as they adjust to keep the bridge steady. The big game hunter hears heavy footfalls on the stairs behind him as Chase comes down from within El Burro's confines to join him at the rail.

"Does she look like a prisoner, you think?" he growls in a low tone, his hands flexing almost instinctively, the thick mat of hair on their backs standing on end.

Scene united.

[Erasmas]

"I'm not rightly sure, Chase, to tell you the truth.", Marhsall stood where he was, trying to assess exactly that which the pilot had asked. He gave a polite yet curt wave towards the trio and then called across.

"Ho there, Lizbet! Making friends already then?"

[zabbarot]

Meanwhile Doctor Murat continued hiding in the cabin. The thought that this ship was now unpiloted was a bit upsetting, and he hadn't managed the courage to get out of his chair. Though he wasn't sure if he was supposed to or not. Surely, whoever it was would come to him, right?

[Tsa'Bakr]

Walking out on the connecting bridge, Thaddeus is hailed by the call of an older dashing looking gentleman carrying a rather large gun.

Oh ho, Lisbet, is it, lass? Bully! The brash man says to the woman standing between him and Jonathan. It seems you are indeed with those fine folks. Inspector Blackboot is too fast to judge such a pretty face. Hahaha.

He then calls out to Marshall while walking forward hand stuck out to shake the other's hand. Major Thaddeus Reginald Henry Vanderpump, commander of the 29th Montana Volunteer Cavalry Battalion. That's a pretty fire stick you have there, though I wonder if it can hold it's own against the latest Winchesters. Hahaha! You wouldn't be the Doctor Jonathan and I have heard about from the Inspector, would you? No, of course not! You're much too sun swept for a laboratory man. Did you ever serve in Her Majesty's cavalry? I took a fancy to the pomp and circumstance of the changing of the Guard last I was in London. I'm thinking of introducing something similar back out in Montana. Or what a sight that would be up 5th avenue in New York City! Bully! I can see it now! Hahahaha!

By the time Thaddeus had ended his "introduction" he had made it all the way across the bridge and vigorously shaking Marshall's hand, not noticing if the big game hunter was apprehensive or not.

[Erasmas]

"Another American, how...", Marshall blurted despite himself, extending his hand, "... wonderful. I'm beginning to think we've been invaded."

The hunter shook the man's hand, before rebutting Thaddeus' support of the Winchester, "While your rifles may 'hold their own' when shooting droves of buffalo or red men, I can assure you that this rifle has proven itself to me plenty of times. Whether against a charging rhinoceros, a stamping elephant, or a lion... I'd not rather an exchange with any other firearm... I can assure you, my good man."

[Mordae]

"We've seen the trouble you Brits had trying to fight a war across an ocean," Chase interjects with a feral grin. "We'll just let the French handle the dirty work and laugh at you from the shores of paradise." Turning to Thaddeus, the hairy pilot points over the bridge to where Jonathan and Lisbet are standing. "I gather from your Yankee accent that you're neither a fine southern gentleman nor one of the inspector's blue-blooded coppers. So how do you fit into this mess?" His own drawl marks him as a native of the deep American south.

[Erasmas]

"Oh, is that what you call that place?", Marshall raised an eyebrow, "Was that before or after you all started shooting each other over there?"

He teased Chase in return, before turning his own eyes back to where the other two stood across the way, "Perhaps they needed a moment alone?"

[Mordae]

Chase laughs, a coarse, raucous sound coming from deep in his throat. "Well, as long as their oglings don't keep us up here and vulnerable any longer than the late inspector..." The big man looks over the bridge, as though by his gaze he could force Blackboot to appear from within the police airship.

[Tsa'Bakr]

Bully, my good Sir! But I don't see many rhinoceri, elephants, nor lions up here, do you? Hahaha!

Turning his head back around, Thaddeus yells, Come on, Blackboot! Pick up the step. March!

Turning back to Chase and Marshall he adds, Well, gentleman, shall we come aboard? I'll tell you how an MP friend of mine from Primary School sent me to your Prime Minister to help you all out this day. Bully! Hahaha!

With that, Thaddeus starts to board the new airship.

[EnglishKitsune]

Lisbet would keep her tongue, instantly taken aback from the rather brash Major. Something about him put her off, she got the feeling if she hadn't just entered through the door of the Airship in flight he'd likely have ignored her or tried to kiss her hand. He reminded her too much of the Mining Corporates who used to employ her Father. Rich men, with self made power. Used to bullying others as often as this man seemed to say the damn word.

With a nod to the Inspector she would gesture across the bridge.

"After you Sir, then we can detach and take you to the good Doctor."

[Mordae]

Blackboot emerges from above, his face stern and stiff amid the swirling winds of the skies above Oxford. He strides in the vanguard position behind Jonathan and Lisbet, arriving only a couple of steps behind them.

Chase watches each of his guests warily, nodding with particular gruffness to Jonathan. As soon as everyone is across, he pulls the lever to initiate the detachment of the two airships. "Marshall, take them back to the aft cabin. El Burro isn't much for guests, but it's better than topside."

The after compartment is, indeed, quite cozy, though more spacious than any of the individual sleeping rooms in the main cabin. The small round table with brass fittings, surrounded by wooden benches padded with faded red-velvet cushions, invokes a faintly nautical theme reminiscent of a ship's wardroom--it seats only four. The bookshelves along the forward wall are devoid of books, instead featuring various ornaments and trinkets of the Americas, to include a confederate flag in a triangular flag case and a voodoo doll dressed in particolored green and purple. The after wall has windows that look out past El Burro's big propellers, giving a receding view of Oxford as the airship slowly gains distance away from the town. Brass pipes, fittings, and gauges occupy the left and right walls, connecting to the steam systems that keep the vessel in motion. The whole room is perhaps twelve feet square, but with its outfitting there's

"This is a dreadful situation, and make no mistake. Scotland Yard would have nothing to do with it except the scoundrels are bent upon destroying public property to achieve their ends. The results of our initial investigation into the ring incident are at the laboratory for analysis. The BA, meanwhile, have sealed off Number Ten and won't let any of my men near it, so I have nothing to report. However, I would like to ask Doctor Murat a few questions." Blackboot looks around at each of the assemblage, before his eyes settle on Murat. "The Doctor, I presume?"

[Erasmas]

"One can never be too prepared.", Marshall had replied to Thaddeus. When Chase recommended that the hunter take the Inspector and his retinue to the aft cabin, he complied with a single nod. Once there, he remained standing near the door, allowing the others to find and take the seats. When Inspector Blackboot turned to address Doctor Murat, Marshall observed. This was, as conveyed by the telegram, the entire purpose behind this meeting.

[zabbarot]

Murat swallowed his concerns and stood to greet the gentlemen properly. "Indeed, Dr. Petar Branko Murat, as I am sure you are aware. Please sit." Normally Petar would be concerned with manners. Inviting someone to sit in someone else's home would normally be rude, but he wasn't a fan of standing on the ship.

"Ask away."

[Tsa'Bakr]

Bully! Now, you look the laboratory type. Hahaha! Thaddeus interjects when the Dr. introduces himself.

[Mordae]

"Capital." The inspector takes a seat at the table opposite Murat, his dark eyes honing in. "In the interest of your safety, I will keep this interview short. The office of the PM has provided a suitable dossier describing your exceeding intellect and technical talents, so I feel no need to require you to regurgitate matters of fact. They also indicated you have been pursued by some personages, perhaps even as far as the shores of the British Isles. Have you, in fact, observed any direct pursuit? If so, can you describe the men in any detail and provide the dates and locations of such contact? And finally, do you have knowledge as to whether those men were involved in the attack on Number 10 this past evening?"

Chase relaxes ever so slightly as the inspector seems to be no threat. "I'll be in the cockpit," he murmurs to Marshall as he brushes past and heads forward past the sleeping quarters, galley, and other interior rooms.

[zabbarot]

"Aside from the men who tried to kill me? No, I think I have been lucky enough to have no further encounters. We have been trying quite hard to avoid them after all. To my knowledge the men in Number 10 were there for me. Unless someone else among us is being hunted by foreign governments currently?" Murat had asked the question flippantly, but looking around he suddenly realized there wasn't any particular reason it wouldn't be true.

[Mordae]

"Details, my good doctor, details. Without them I will be quite incapable of finding these men, or linking them to the various and sundry other crimes--such as the destruction of the Venus rings--that may be related to your current predicament. You insist that the only time that you have seen your purported Prussian pursuers is in the prime minister's residence?"

[zabbarot]

The doctor paused. "Well... It is the only time I have seen anyone since I made it to Britain. Before I left Prussia I had a near run in with a group of soldiers who were ransacking my home, either looking for me or my research. There was one with them that I recognized, an intelligence officer who was overseeing my research, Kapitän I Klasse Emil von Rosenthal. He's young for his rank, clean shaven with dark hair. I assume he is in charge of the operation to find me, but I do not know if they would risk sending him here or not. I am not a spy, I don't know how these operations work."

[Tsa'Bakr]

Hahaha! Of course you're not, Dr. Thaddeus laughs.

Ah, what a sight that must have been. The PM's office attacked by foreign nationals. Of course, Washington would never have let that happen on American Soil. At any rate, I'll be sure to bring something like this up with my contacts in the State Department when I get home. Bully! Hahaha!

[Mordae]

While Blackboot does not actually roll his eyes at Thaddeus's comment, he does turn his shoulders ever so slightly as if to exclude his remark. "Von Rosenthal. Hmm. The name does ring a bell, though the fellow I am thinking of sports an eyepatch. Perhaps it was an affectation. And you saw none of them in the intervening time between your departure and your visit with the first house. That is well, I suppose, for your sake. Now, these fellows in Number 10; I presume Herr Kapitan was not one of them? Were they Prussian, or some other nationality?"

[UXLZ]

Jonathan had simply been standing calmly to the side passively absorbing information, but reacted to the Doctor's latest common.

"Young, clean-shaven, Von Rosenthal... Unless my memory deceives, I think I have an idea of who that is. His interference was responsible for some of the only jobs I ever failed. At that point I didn't even think it was possible... He's not an ordinary man."

[zabbarot]

"I'm really not sure. They could have been Prussian, or German. Hell, they could have been thugs hired here in London. You'd probably have a better shot at identifying who made the exosuit. At least there is some of that left..." The doctor hadn't actually meant to burn the men to ash, but things had gotten out of hand, and a bit heated.

[EnglishKitsune]

Lizbet would first, after reentering the Airship, retrieve her jacket and throw it over her shoulders, letting the sleeves hang loose. She wandered the ship idly, literally blowing off steam as she calmed down after the sudden action. She found herself outside the interview, listening in idly. The Inspector seemed competent, a step above the incompetence she had come to expect from some Law bringers. Her fellow American, Thaddeus, made her grit her teeth. He was already getting on her nerves. She normally didn't judge people so much, but he talked to much, often loudly and brashly.

Sinking down cross legged, she removed a small notebook and wash sketching idly in it, thinking about the good Doctor's invention, and how she could use it to maybe cure her of her current limitations. However, as the talk changed to the attack at the office, and the Exo-suits. The suits that her father had been designing when he, he...

A sharp clang would ring out, easily heard from the interview room. Outside, Lizbet would be hanging her head, hair covering her face. Hateful tears brimming in her eyes, her human fist clenching a broken pencil so tight it bled, and her cyborg fist embedded into a large dent in the floor.

She would whisper under her breath. "Bastards, I will make them pay Father, they will all pay."

[Mordae]

Blackboot is nodding thoughtfully, a faint smile appearing at the corners of his otherwise grim mouth, when Lisbet's outburst draws his attention. "Pardon me, miss," he says, turning to face the angry cyborg. "You have some knowledge or connection to these armored suits?"

[EnglishKitsune]

Lizbeth took a deep breath, and buried her anger yet again, her shoulder's drooped and she would eventually look up at the Inspector's gaze.

"These suits, if I'm right, are made by the Longfellow Dynelec Corporation. The design however is eerily similar to one my father, Radigan Conhager, created, nearly 4 years ago. However, on our way to it's first test, there was an incident, my parents were apparently killed, and I was left crippled with these."

She would shrug off her jacket to reveal her brass arm, and lift her pants leg to reveal the matching prosthetic.

"I thought it was a simple accident, but then I heard word of these 'new' suits appearing here. I recognize my Father's work Inspector. He was a smart man, but detested violence, I highly doubt he would want weaponised suits of his design in this world.

She would stand, tucking her still bleeding hand in a pocket, and stared at the Inspector with a dark gaze.

"If these Bastards had anything to do with what happened to my parents. Then I warn you Inspector do NOT get in my way."

[Mordae]

"Indeed." Blackboot takes in this information calmly, plaiting his fingers and resting his hands on the table. "I can have some of my men inquire at Longfellow Dynalec and see if it turns up anything regarding their suits going missing. As I mentioned previously, I have been quite unable to convince the office of the Prime Minister to allow Scotland Yard to examine the evidence, or indeed to participate in the case in any way. It is a sorry state for British intelligence, being hamstrung so by politicking. But until it can be proven otherwise, it is wise to assume these matters are linked..."

Suddenly the airship takes on a sharp angle, diving to port with increasing speed. Moments later, the sound and fury of an explosion outside the glass windows of the after cabin suggest a reason for Chase's radical manouevers. "We've got company!" a somewhat more hoarse, raspy version of the pilot's voice carries from up forward. Two more explosions punctuate the affair as El Burro levels out but begins zig-zagging.

[EnglishKitsune]

Moving with a purpose again, Lizbeth would head up to the observation platform, still fuming inside, she really really hoped the attackers tried to board. She needed someone to punch.

Upon reaching the platform she would assess the situation, closing her eyes and letting her cyber-senses tell her what was happening. It looked strange, this slim woman, coat billowing in the wind, perched atop an airship seemingly enjoying the breeze.


Steampunk Cyborg [roll0]

[Tsa'Bakr]

While Thaddeus appears to have been uncharacteristically quiet, he is quite enthralled with the tale spinning before him. What an adventure this would make to tell the boys back in Montana!

As the airship suddenly starts to dip and dive and its captain reports unfriendly company, Thaddeus whoops out. Hahaha! Bully! Time for some action! Swinging his Winchester down from his shoulder, the American rushes to see what is going on and what he can possibly shoot at.

[zabbarot]

It was everything Murat feared, but surprisingly not actually as bad as he expected. Maybe it was just the adrenaline kicking in. Not that the doctor made any effort to loosen his death grip on his poor chairs abused armrests. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he called out. With any luck the answer would be no and Chase had this all under control.

[Mordae]

"Get up here, you teutonic titmouse! I need you to man the aux controls while I steer through the shrapnel." Chase's voice sounds even more harsh and angry, and the ship suddenly veers to starboard accompanied with a bit of an up angle. A less noisy explosion shakes the airship, but only a little bit.

Up on the observation deck, the wind whistles through the gap between the ship and its luftballoon as Lisbet, Thaddeus, and Marshall emerge topside right as Chase makes his latest evasive maneuver. They can see two small, sleek vessels darting across the bow, and puffs of smoke from exploded bombs drift quickly aftward as El Burro motors to its top speed, the propellers whining and creaking. Further to starboard, there is more smoke, coming from the police airship; it looks to have taken at least one direct hit, and flames are spouting from the general vicinity of the bridge.

[zabbarot]

"What?!" It wasn't a question as much as a challenge. Nobody spoke to Murat like that. He was a respected physicist! And he was marching towards the control room by the time he really stopped to think about what he was doing. He grabbed the walls in a brief moment of panic then shuffled the rest of the way to the co-pilot's seat.

Murat was quick to strap himself in, though he wondered if it would even matter if they crashed. He took a long look at the controls.

[Mordae]

"Brass valves overhead adjust the balloon vents. Use them if we need to get low real fast. Next to that is the periscope for the grapplers; left and right triggers each release one, but both can be launched at the same time. In case we want to pull someone in for mano-a-mano boarding action. The hand cranks at shoulder level are the anchor chains--probably don't need them unless you want to try to drop it on one of their heads; quick release switches are above." To the right of the cranks is a red button with a hand-scrawled marking above that reads, "secret sauce". Underneath is a blank panel of what was once shiny steel, now dented and scratched like most everything else.

[EnglishKitsune]

Lizbeth gritted her teeth, not liking what she was feeling. Helpless. The enemy ships were too fast, there was little hope for her acrobatics to get her aboard them this time. Her eyes scanned the rooftops, trying to find the right angles, the opportune ledge, but nothing. Only the burning airship in the distance. With two men still stuck inside. Men who might have families. Daughters. Something clicked inside her. She turned back, her mind going through alternatives and not liking any of them. Stalking to the nearby hatch, she shouted inside.

"Chase! These Bastards can run circles around us without hitting the redline! Think of something clever while I do something stupid!"

Throwing her coat inside once more she turned to the two riflemen up on deck with her.

"Aim for the engines, hopefully slow them down some."

With that she would fling herself over the side, launching off with a cloud of steam, feeling her heart kick into overdrive as more cogs-blood vaporized to make up the pressure difference. For the second time today she felt the rush of wind and the cold damp of clouds. As she felt herself slowing she gave a second burst of steam, larger to compensate for the lack of a structure beneath her. Her heart was almost screaming now. As she peaked her arc she aimed towards the nearest enemy ship. Tears streamed her eyes, whether from wind shear or the pain in her chest none would know. With an animistic scream of pure rage she nearly emptied her pressure reserves, shooting down towards the enemy like a bullet from a gun, her brass hand extended out, fingers open, ready to shred and destroy the side of the enemy balloon

In the bottom of her mind a dark thought surfaced.
If I miss, at least I won't hurt for much longer.


Pumping twice on this so I don't Miss. I hope...
Steampunk Cyborg 4+2 Pumps: [roll0]