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Author Topic: The Blazing Gun Saloon  (Read 30564 times)
Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
Zeppelin Admiral
******
Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #200 on: March 04, 2010, 07:02:24 pm »

"Ma'am...I can only answer that I do not know...until earlier today, I myself was unaware that they had been incarnated in human form again here in Purgatory. I keep my part of the bargain, and what the Almighty does with them after that is His business. I can speculate that perhaps 'repentance at gunpoint' is suspect at best, and so He has placed them here as a sort of 'halfway house,' to see how they behave. I do know that they seem to have no knowledge of anything before they got here...Gonzales for instance believes he has been here all his life...I expect the others also have similar false memories. I had previously presumed that when I killed them, they went to Heaven, but I guess the Almighty had other ideas."
He shrugs. "They seem to have remarkably little curiosity about the outside world, and no tendency to wish to leave here...except for the smith, Farnsworth, who left and went to Old Mexico to get silver, and found that device on his way back. Even so, he was returning of his own free will. He is a Mormon, and they have a somewhat different view of what we Catholics call Purgatory...perhaps that is why he was able to leave and return. Honestly, it is beyond me as to the exact nature of this place, and these people."
Logged

Yet well thy soul hath brooked the turning tide, with that innate, untaught philosophy,Which, be it wisdom, coldness, or deep pride, is gall and wormwood to an enemy.
The Abiliegh
Zeppelin Admiral
******
United States United States


Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #201 on: March 04, 2010, 07:18:41 pm »

"Alright..." she spoke softly. "And, you, Shepard.... have you ever sought forgiveness for your crime? Or have you simply been, pardon the flippant term, jumping through the hoops you were presented with."

She thought of her mother, while awaiting the priest's answer, and she wondered at many things she had never wondered at before.
Logged

Action! Adventure! Possible Harlotry!
Abis do it for SCIENCE!
BrassGoggles 2012 Pin-Up Calander!
Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
Zeppelin Admiral
******
Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #202 on: March 04, 2010, 07:32:42 pm »

The brief flicker of his grim smile plays over O'Callahan's features. "Forgiveness? In order to seek forgiveness, one must first be repentant, Ma'am....and, honestly, I've never felt the least bit of regret for killing that little bastard McPhee...as far as I'm concerned, he deserved it. Perhaps I am truly damned for that, and, seeing as how the Devil doesn't want me, I may be doomed to walk the earth forever. There are some new parameters to consider, though...I was also unaware until recently that such a thing as time travel was possible."
Logged
The Abiliegh
Zeppelin Admiral
******
United States United States


Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #203 on: March 04, 2010, 08:19:34 pm »

She sighed inwardly, wondering which course of action would be best to take, in this juncture.

"I thought, once I found out that things were awry in this place, that I ended up here because of Jack. But I don't believe that to be the case, not anymore." She paused, a hand moving in familiar manner to smooth her hair. "Seems to me that the man you've been trying to impress is givin' you a chance to do just that. I'm not unfamiliar with your type of situation, however more celestial your players may be, and it appears that the boss has worked out a way for you to win at this. Same thing happened to me back in... well..." Her voice hitched a bit, and she moved back on topic. "However unconventional, it appears your works are good ones. But, knowing what I do of your christian religions, you ain't getting past those pearly gates without makin' right for your actual sin."

She watched as a bird flew about the edge of the barrier, confused. "You've done as your told, followed you instincts, so to speak, and it's gotten you here. You've got a wanted madman that you can't legitimately save. You're taking council with a godless harlot, and you're surrounded by the souls of ex-sinners. Seems to me that your following orders has done but one thing only for ya... Put you in position to look at the real picture."

She removed the locket from her throat, fingers caressing the edges while she thought. A disconcerting thrum resonated from it, and even through the barrier, O'Callahan could feel it. That would have been enough, for her, but she thought the priest might need a little more clear a picture.

Opening the locket for the first time in ages, she didn't hide the emotion on her face. She peered at the small bit of artwork and the small photo inside, and a knot formed in her stomach. She pressed it against the barrier, and the priest could see, fuzzy though it was, a photo of a woman of obvious Dalriadan decent, and a crest of arms with "Mac Dhuibhshíthe" scribed beneath it.

"That's my mum. Her Anglicized name was McPhee..."
Logged
Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
Zeppelin Admiral
******
Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #204 on: March 04, 2010, 10:05:59 pm »

O'Callahan is nonplussed. He squints at the little picture, and it is several moments before he answers. "Miss Meta," he pauses again, then continues, "That was a long time ago, forty years and then some. I don't know how he ended up there...me, I was an only child, and the famine..the big one..took my folks. I could have put up with him being cruel to me. In a place like that, cruelty was the order of the day, and some of the things our 'benefactors' did defies description. It was the outright glee he took as he killed that poor little mouse, a creature that never did any harm to anyone, and was the only thing I loved, that's when something in me snapped and died, that's when I decided that humans were just no damned good. When you're nine and you make a decision like that, it sticks with you. I don't know what Johnny was to you. An Uncle...Brother?...cousin?...No way you're old enough for him to have been your son....and maybe you're right about me asking forgiveness- in fact, I'm sure you are- but pretending to feel something that I really don't feel isn't going to fool the Almighty. I don't know what he might have turned out to be, if I hadn't ended him in that Belfast alley, but I don't think it would have been good, and I'll tell you why..only the Hell-bound people I've killed end up here...there's a kid that works at the Western Union Telegraph and Wells Fargo Freight Office as a runner...I haven't asked his name, but he sure looks like Johnny McPhee. I don't think time works the same way here that it does elsewhere. Funny thing is, this time around, he seems like a pretty nice kid. All the people here seem to be alright, just decent, ordinary folks, doing everyday jobs, getting along. Maybe all they really needed was a fresh start at a second chance, and it makes me think that maybe I've been wrong about human nature all along...but I've been this way for a long time, and, unlike these folks, I remember everything...if this is my second chance, it's not the same as theirs. As far as your being a 'godless harlot,' Ma'am....well, the Almighty's Son hung around with drunkards and sinners, and some say that one of His best friends was a woman who had the same trade as you...He saved her life when everybody in town wanted to stone her to death, and she changed. I guess everybody can change, if they want to...maybe even me. But that's a big 'maybe.' It's been a long, long time since I've felt anything like affection for any living creature, and I've never given any cause for any creature to have affection for me, either...except for the Devil's Dog, Cerberus, and I don't know if that even counts. Anyway, if that kid means anything to you, you might want to go down to the Freight Office and see if it's him. Could be that's why you're here...it's my job to 'redeem the irredeemable,' even though I might be one of them. I appreciate what you're saying, and what you're trying to do, I think...but there was a Chinese philosopher a long time ago that said, 'If you try to cut wood like a master carpenter, you will only hurt your hand.' They say that my Master was a carpenter, and forgiveness is His stock in trade...but, Lady, I'm not Him."
Logged
The Abiliegh
Zeppelin Admiral
******
United States United States


Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #205 on: March 04, 2010, 10:48:46 pm »

"I don't know a lick about the boy, but neither do I believe in coincidence, Preacher." Her voice was tart. Maybe that would get through to him. "And I've certainly no way of knowing who he was to someone or who he could have been, at least not while stuck in here." She rapped her fingernails against the barrier, and it echoed with a frustrating, and somewhat alarming, chink. "But I suspect that, when all is said and done, I'm not here for me. I'm here for you. I've a thought that I'm the first person you've talked to about your past in a damn long time, and it's like to be because you were supposed to."

She gathered herself. "Hell-bound before or not, he was a little boy. I'm not saying he wasn't a bad seed, but children, they're impressionable, and as you say, you're neither god nor his carpenter son. Who are you to say that he wouldn't have found somethin' to change him, later? What he did was evil, but not unforgivable, just the same as what you did.

"You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against the sons of your own people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself... Leviticus, I believe." She chuckled, despite the mood, being a bit shocked in her recollection of such studies. "I know that you've no mind to give false repentance, but maybe you're meant to learn how it truly feels. Seems to me it ould make your job a might bit easier, being able to recognize truth for truth."

Her eyes wandered back towards the town. "I think I'll bring the child here, at least, then, we'll know if we're on the right track. I truly do believe you're past to b' holding us here just as surely as that machine..."

Not giving him time to reply, she turned on her heel and walked away.
Logged
Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
Zeppelin Admiral
******
Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #206 on: March 04, 2010, 11:20:18 pm »

"Huh!" says O'Callahan to himself, "She's a feisty one, that's for sure!" And, he reflects further, she's right about one thing..that was the longest conversation he's had with anyone, about anything, in more than twenty years. More than that, he feels, just a little, the knot in his chest start to loosen. Just a little.
He shakes his head, and goes and sits down beside the pinyon pine. He doesn't eat...he hasn't eaten in ten years...but he drinks. Whiskey is the only thing he can still taste. "I wonder if there is anybody in that town with an arm good enough to throw a bottle 88 miles an hour? I sure could use a drink." Failing that, he has nothing left to do but sit, and ponder the harlot's words, turning them over and over in his mind.
"Feisty. Long time since anybody gave me a dressing down. Long time since anybody gave a damn enough to try. Maybe there's something to what she says." He doesn't sleep, either. Sometimes he wishes that he could. He doesn't get tired...but sometimes he gets weary. World-weary. For the first time in a long time, he has....what?....doubts?!? He shakes his head again, and draws a pale, thin hand across his face.
"Life...or whatever it is I've got..existence, anyhow...was certainly simpler three days ago."
Logged
MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

rtafStElmo
« Reply #207 on: March 04, 2010, 11:26:08 pm »

BANGGGG...BANNNgggg...THUNK! rattle, rattle TINKLE...

AWWwwwww GOSHAWFUL SPANGLEHONKIN' UNDEROVER OSCILLATOR FROM HADES! Brantley dropped both the Khukuri and the huge box-end Wrench that Jack had sworn was the one he adjusted the oscillators with and hopped around on the foot that the Grubelshtachter Oscillator agitation gear hadn't fallen on, hugging to his chest the hand that gotten caught beween the spanner and a live Field Energy Extraction Feed line.

(Each Chronojammer that Brantley had made was as individual as a snowflake; sometimes parts were big enough to fill a room, others the same parts were tiny enough to fit into a pocketwatch case; most times they were a mixture of wildly-, almost madly-assorted sizes, shapes, and origins; it just depended on what he was able to get ahold of at the time of building it, and what tools he had to shape and install them).

Mad Jack, ever the "helpful" sort, watched Brantley jump around for a second, then began clapping and calling out, "GRAB yer partner Here we go, ALLAman left and DOSIE Doh!"

"So help me, Pulsifer, if you grab that banjo and start accompanyin' me, I'm gonna blast a HOLE in it!" Brantley swore, reaching for his blaster with the non-burnt hand.

A little while later, Brantley wiped hios hands on a towel provided by the Bartender oout of sheer sympathy, and decided to bring Thalesia into the process. "Miss Thalesia?" He called, to no avail. "HAY! MISS THALESIA! WE'RE READY NOW!"

"Oh yeah, yell at a lady, that'll make 'er come to you right quick." Jack said, with a twinkle in his eye. "thing is, last time I tried that, the one I wuz yellin' out for came with a rollin' pin! Course, I guess you pally-din types can heal up special quick after such an attack, huh?"

Brantley just glowered at Jack in response to the jibe...
Logged

Walk softly and carry a big banjo...

""quid statis aspicientes in infernum"
The Abiliegh
Zeppelin Admiral
******
United States United States


Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #208 on: March 04, 2010, 11:59:36 pm »

It took a fair bit of searchin, children being employed to run what they are, but eventually, she found the boy. His dark hair shone a bit of red in the mountain sun, and his green eyes... well... the shape was familiar to be certain. The boy was playing with a bit of somethin, and didn't see her approach.

"Johnny?" She called to him, softly. "Johnny McPhee?"

He startled, jumping to a crouch before running off to the corner. She saw him peer back at her from the safety of the building he pressed himself with.

Skittish, that one, untrusting... she thought. "Yer don't 'av ter be afraid, boyo." She let her mother's cadence slip into her words. "Oi'ss Mise Meta, an' oi tink we are cousins, 'av a sort."

To that, the boy approached her, albeit cautiously. "You're a gran' fella, ain't yer? Oi nade yer ter cum wi'me ter 'elp somebody."

He nodded, having finally closed the distance. She offered her hand, he took it, and they returned to the edge of town where the preacher had retreated to his tree.

"Johnny, dis is Father O'Callahan. Wud yer..."

He interrupted her and ran to the barrier. "Oi nu yer..." He paused, looking confused. "Ah. me noggin 'urts. Why's it al' fuzzy?"
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Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
Zeppelin Admiral
******
Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #209 on: March 05, 2010, 12:58:53 am »

O'Callahan stands, and approaches the barrier. Jed Gunn's observation was correct...it is definitely more noticeable than it was just a few hours earlier. Meta has brought a red-haired lad with her, and the boy rushes up to the barrier. "Oi nu yer," he says. "How..." The priest is startled. There should be no way...
"Aye," he says with uncommon gentleness, and let's the brogue slip into his whispery voice, "An' what then moight be yer name, laddie?" The boy, small for twelve, looks at his shoes for a moment, then replies, "Oi be Johnny McPhee, Faither..." Yes...memories of many years gone flood back in...it's hard to believe that this little boy was the terror of his life, once upon a time. Of course,back then, he was himself small, emaciated, one of the thousands of victims of the Famine that swept across Ireland in those days.The youngster doesn't look menacing in the slightest.
O'Callahan looks at Meta. "What would ye be wantin' me ta say to 'im, then, colleen?" So easy to slip back into the speech patterns of his youth. She merely shrugs. "You know."
"Aye...laddie...Johnny...p'raps ye'll not be knowin' why...but Oi'll tell ye true..oi'm sorry, lad." The boy brightens. "Me 'eads stopped hurtin'..." He smiles, and his freckled face takes on a conspiratorial air.
"Ooo, 'ere, Faither, yer wants ter see sumpin'?" He pulls a box from his pocket, a small wooden box a bit bigger than O'Callahan's box of playing cards, and he opens the lid, just a bit. It is what he was playing with when Meta first found him, and his face shines with pride as a small grey mouse, obviously tame, crawls out to sit on his hand. The mouse regards O'Callahan through the barrier, and twitches its little whiskers, then sits up as the boy strokes its shiny fur. " Shure an' he's a foin one,hain't he, Faither? Ooo, Oi think he loiks yer!"

O'Callahan falls to his knees, and a single tear rolls down his gaunt cheek. He raises his hand, and wipes it from his face, and stares dumbfounded at the moisture on his finger. Shaking, he raises his eyes to Heaven, and then bows his head, and whispers, "Father, forgive me."
He slumps sideways, and falls to lie prostrate beside the barrier. From the other side, Meta cannot tell if he has passed out, or if he's dead...really dead, not just half dead. She cannot tell if he is breathing, but then, she's not entirely sure that he was ever breathing.
"Hey!" says the boy, "What's happened ta th' Faither, then?"
And then the boy, and the mouse, simply disappear.
Logged
The Abiliegh
Zeppelin Admiral
******
United States United States


Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #210 on: March 05, 2010, 01:08:46 am »

Her eyes widen with worry. "Father!" She rushed towards him, forgetting the barrier momentarily.

She didn't make it to him, of course, but she noticed that, for a breath, it was much less solid. Her skin tingled where she had nearly pushed through, but that meant nothin', seeing as she was unsuccessful.

Couching, she put a hand against the edge of purgatory and watched.
Logged
Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
Zeppelin Admiral
******
Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #211 on: March 05, 2010, 03:35:00 am »

He and the youngster are holding hands. Ahead of them is a stairway, shining with a rich golden glow. They move forward, and up the stairs. The climb seems short, and they emerge through a portal, and the scene opens up. Standing before a beautiful gate is an old man, dressed in a flowing white robe, with white hair and beard. There is a stand in front of him, with a large book open on it. He smiles, and beckons them forward. "Hullo, Guv'ner," says Johnny, "What's all this, then?" The man smiles even more broadly, and his big hand reaches out, and gently tousles the lad's hair. "You may call me Peter, Johnny. I see your name is here in my Book...this is Heaven, Johnny, and since your name is in this Book, you may come in." Johnny holds out his hand, upon which sits the little mouse. "Peter," he says, "Do they lets mouses inter Heaven, then?" Peter reaches down, and the mouse hops into his hand. "This one they will, Johnny..this one they will. It's a very special mouse that can save two Souls." He lets the mouse hop back onto Johnny's shoulder, where it sits and gazes around, whiskers twitching. Peter produces a quill pen from within his robe, and, turning pages in the Book until he finds the one he wants, writes "Kevin O'Callahan" in flowing calligraphic script on the page, then turns the Book back to the page with Johnny's name. "Kevin," he says gently, "your name is back in the Book, but it is not your time yet. Your mission is not finished...but you must be very careful from now on...things won't be the same." He smiles gently again, reaches out and touches O'Callahan's forehead, and...

O'Callahan draws a deep, convulsive breath, and coughs, and jerks back up to a sitting position. His eyes are wide and staring, and his chest heaves with each breath. His head turns from side to side, as if searching for something, and his eyes finally fix on Meta, looking very concerned from the other side of the barrier. When he speaks, it is no longer the whispery voice she has come to expect, but a rich baritone. "I'm breathing!" His colour, she now notices, is not the deathly pallor that was so noticeable before, his skin is still fair, but there is the flush of blood beneath the skin. He expression is one of utter astonishment. "My God! I'm alive!!" He comes up to his knees, and throwing both hands skyward, he cries out, "Thank You, Almighty Father!" Lowering his hands, and his gaze, he again fixes his eyes on Meta, and says, more quietly, "...and thank you, Ma'am, with all my heart!" And then he smiles...really smiles, not the rictus grin which would briefly flash across his features before. He rises, a little shakily, to his feet.
Logged
Miles (a sailor)Martin
Zeppelin Admiral
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United States United States


Just a head full of random thoughts


« Reply #212 on: March 05, 2010, 04:20:49 am »

Following Jed Gunn back to town Miles asks him if he would help him get the Arion out of her temporary hanger now that shes all repaired, he's trying to get ready to launch her as soon as the storm stops. asking Jed '"Do you know what this material is? , he holds out a chunk of iridesent silver-blue  stone
Logged

Who you calling old, Sonny boy? Just because my birth certificate is on birch bark there isn't any reason to be calling names.
machinist for hire/ mechanic at large
Warning : minstrel with a five string banjo
The Abiliegh
Zeppelin Admiral
******
United States United States


Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #213 on: March 05, 2010, 10:46:37 am »

Releasing a breath she hadn't been aware she was holding, Meta smiled. "You're welcome." Her voice was soft to match the preacher's, but warm. "But..." she pressed her hand harder against the barrier, her pal and fingertips showing white from the other side. "But, now what do we do?"
Logged
Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
Zeppelin Admiral
******
Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #214 on: March 05, 2010, 04:54:50 pm »

Jed answers the airman, "Shore, Mr. Miles, I'll be happy ta help yer..I ain't got no pertiklar knowledge o' sech thaings, though, so ye'll have ter tell me whatcha want me ter do, an' I'll do hit. I reckon hits a-gonna be a dang sight more useful then all thet foo-feraw th' preacher had us a-doin'...thet thar twernt nuthin' but a flat-out waste o' time." He scratches his head, then continues, "O' course, I reckon ta be fair, we hain't got much elsewise but time hyere lately..." He shrugs, then peers closely at the material the airsailor holds. "Naw...cain't say as how I'se evuh seed nuthin' like thet thar...but I'd betcher five gold dollars to a plug o' rabbit terbacky thet Mr. Brantley could tell yer what hit tis."

Meanwhile, just outside the barrier, O'Callahan collects his wits, trying not to be distracted by the flood of things that it has been so long since he has noticed...the smell of the air (It smells wonderful!)..the chirping of birds (they sound grand!)...and the beauty of the woman on the other side of the barrier (he mentally chides himself.."Even before you were dead, boyo, ye weren't supposed to take notice of that!...ye took Vows, y'know!) Smiling at his own impertinence, he bends down and picks up a small stick, and pushes it experimentally into the barrier. It goes in easily enough, with just the barest feeling of resistance, as if he were pushing it into water, but when he pulls it, it sticks fast and will not budge backwards at all. He releases it, and it stays where it is, seemingly suspended in the air. "Well," he says, "so far, at least, things can still go in...I'm going to put my skills to use for something else for a change, and go shoot a couple of mule deer, maybe a bighorn if I get lucky, and bring 'em back here so there will be some fresh meat in town...wouldn't want folks to start eating horses, since they'd probably eat mine first!" He laughs..and then he laughs some more at the sound of his own laughter. "Might be a good idea to take stock of what supplies are in town..no telling how long it's going to take Brantley to do something about this barrier. I noticed that the Wells Fargo wagon that came in is still here, too. Apparently, the telegraph is still working, so they have likely gotten the word out about how this town has become a "tar baby" trap*...not likely anybody else in going to be in a hurry to bring more provender in."

(*Historical note: The "Uncle Remus" stories, published in 1881, were widely disseminated, and very popular. O'Callahan, being a very well-read student of human nature, would of course be familiar with them. It has been established early in the story that the relative time is September, 1887. In this high country, Winter will be coming soon...which may be important if it continues for any length of time...what will be the result if snow can fall in, but cannot be gotten out?)
« Last Edit: March 05, 2010, 05:24:37 pm by Sgt.Major Thistlewaite » Logged
MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

rtafStElmo
« Reply #215 on: March 05, 2010, 05:55:11 pm »

(OOC: I'm trying to wait for Miss Thalesia to return so that our characters can trade dialogue, if nothing else; I don't feel right about moving her character  around w/ out permission. However, I do realize that I might have to do so before...) too long.
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Thalesia Turnblood
Snr. Officer
****
United States United States


One bathtub scene, coming right up!


WWW
« Reply #216 on: March 05, 2010, 05:55:32 pm »

(OOC: I'm here! I'm here! Sorry. Thursdays are a killer for me and yesterday was worse than usual. Doesn't being a Stay At Home Mom mean that I occasionally get to stay home?!?)

Jasmine. Darling. Precious. Pet. You really need to stop grooming me. I've got work to do. Let's go back to the lab and I'll make the pretty lights sparkle. How would that be?

Thalesia was fairly itching to get back to work and begin testing the electrical conductivity on the malletium in her arm. Not to mention, she wanted to get a much closer look at the various apparatuses...apparati...items that contributed to the remarkable power. But the moment they'd returned to the saloon, Jasmine had taken it upon herself to undo the heavy weight of all Thalesia's braids and begin grooming her.

She had to give it to the ape, though. Rebraided and pinned in a fetching new style, her hair had never looked better.

It's perfect, Jasmine. It really is. Did you hear that? Oh please, let that have been someone calling her name. She was desperate enough to ignore the fact that it was more of a yell than a politely worded request. She HAD to get off this chair! I think someone needs me. Let's go find out who it is, shall we?

Holding Jasmine by the hand, Thalesia set off downstairs to be greeted by the sight of a seriously disgruntled Mr. Brantley, his hand wrapped in a towel that looked none too clean, pieces and parts of machinery strewn across the floor. And her fingers were tingling again.

Her erstwhile patient, however, was in a pleasant frame of mind, drinking from a tall beer mug as if it wasn't his first of the afternoon. Neither of his bandages appeared to be soaked with blood, so she assumed that he was holding together.

You called, Mr. Brantley?

Capt. Pulsifer sniggered into his foam. Hollered is more like it.

Since you mention it, I shall make my point. Rudeness is hardly necessary. A more amenable tone will make our continued interactions a good deal more pleasant. Are we understood?

Thalesia was distracted from further lecturing by the spark from the machine. Mr. Brantley. I'm surprised at you. Why didn't you turn off that live Field Energy Extraction Feed line before you started working on it?

She reached in with her left arm and deftly disconnected the wire that attached that particular item to the still humming generator. She leaned in closer and held her hand out wordlessly for the spanner still in Mr. Brantley's hand. She muttered her thanks before she began poking around.

Fascinating, she said, and poked some more. I think if I connect the extraction feed line directly to this dampening plug we might be able to get this thing running more steadily, rather than in pulses, which indicate to me that there's a short in another segment. Now, if I take this off...

(OOC: As to the conjoining Purgatory plotline -- How do you think Papa Dearest's brain ended up in a jar? She knew exactly how strong she was with that arm. And it wasn't right, what he'd done to her. Not right at all.)
Logged

Reality is messing with my fiction.
Have Coffee, Will Write
The Abiliegh
Zeppelin Admiral
******
United States United States


Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #217 on: March 05, 2010, 06:35:19 pm »

"Take stock... yes, that is a good idea..." She muttered. "You'll be alright out here by yourself?" Then she smiled. "Yes, yes of course you will."

She smiled at him one last time, grateful to see him a man more than a ghost, and turned back to town. She first headed to the general store and got what would serve as a ledger, and then began going door to door, taking tally of every bit of provision she could think necessary.

[[OOC: I'm leaving town at some point today, probably in the next 4 hours, so I don't know that I'll be on anymore til sunday evenin. If something important happens that I'm needed for, someone ought to shoot me an email and let me know. I can get a moment to check from my phone, should it come to that Smiley]]
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MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

rtafStElmo
« Reply #218 on: March 05, 2010, 09:21:13 pm »

(OOC: Brantley or Thalesia might need Meta for one more cooler head so that the group can prevail, lol. in any case, I'm going to have him answer Meta and move a bit further along toward creating teh containment field, probably with some comedy relief, and maybe some soul-searching of his or Jack's own...if I get this Abblemenicketin' ofuscatingus lumpusmacneckering *grumble...* bank statement done.

(sorry about the nonsense words; I used to do greeking for document comps and got used to inserting pseudo-words like those just to relieve the boredom; I once scrambled every word in Jabberwocky and put it in as typog. comp for an annual report; that was back when I used to know trhe whole poem by heart...yes, I've always been weird)

Thalesia, sorry 'bout the "forum tag," I 'm paying more mind to teh bank statement than o the computer right now, or will be again in a minute.)
  )
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The Abiliegh
Zeppelin Admiral
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Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #219 on: March 05, 2010, 09:52:08 pm »

[[OOC: miss.nelle@gmail.com, if ya need me. I ought to have service at the North Texas Irish Festival Smiley  Though, I will say, if it's post 8pm tomorrow through sunday morning, I'll be completely indisposed watching Great Big Sea and drinking a lot!]]
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Thalesia Turnblood
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One bathtub scene, coming right up!


WWW
« Reply #220 on: March 05, 2010, 10:03:37 pm »

[[OOC: Have fun!!]]
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MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
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"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

rtafStElmo
« Reply #221 on: March 05, 2010, 10:21:17 pm »

Be careful drinkin' thae great big sea, Lassie. Them selkies 'n' porpoises are kinda hard tae swallow!
 If you see a "woodenflute.com" booth, tell 'em MWBailey said "hello." Um, and take cover if they're in a bad mood... Cheesy
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The Abiliegh
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Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #222 on: March 05, 2010, 10:40:56 pm »

[[OOC: Will do, and thank you!]]
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MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

rtafStElmo
« Reply #223 on: March 05, 2010, 11:49:12 pm »

"Understood, Miss Thalesia. Um..." Brantley forebore to swear as teh Martin implants took over , and the burn wound, and bone injury from the huge gear falling on his instep, suddenly produced sensations as if they were sucking in all of teh flesh around them and  were simultaneously being plunged into an absolute-zero nitrogen bottle. He watched as the burn scar turned charry, then smoked, then bubbled and steamed as it had upon initial contact with the live feed, and then completely disappeared; he felt the bones in his foot realign, audibly, loudly, popping and clicking back into place, the breaks mending in reverse order to the process by which they had been broken, that last eliciting a yelp of pain and causing him to fall backward into a chair (nearly missing it).  He fished out the velvet bag holding the medallions, and was shocked to see that the sweat that had soaked through his shirt, weskit, and coat-lining had all frozen up into an irregular block around the bag. As he looked at it in wonder, the ice began to melt, and then broke away from teh bag altogether, to fall, smashing slushily across the wooden floor under the table. He looked up then, and said, as if nothing unusual had just occurred, "We are ready to work with you now, Miss Thalesia, to build, modify, or otherwise create a containment field around the... you already know that, don't you?" He shook his head, once, twice, then a third time. "Aha, yes, I would suggest making the chemical paint for the core's lightning knob first, if we could do that," he said. Just so that we don't blow ourselves up next time a ligtning  bolt happens by... "
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MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

rtafStElmo
« Reply #224 on: March 07, 2010, 03:15:30 am »

Edit: I am quite suddenly struck with a severe case of either allergies or a moderate case of flu; not sure which. It might just be the leapin' creepin' crud that we teachers and subs pass around each ear around this time. In any case, I am spending long periods laying down, and more is apparently in the offing; thus, I may be 'gone" foe what seem like long whiles, or on a nother RP(once again, I belong to three, but at least this time one at least  a slow mover. I might post in one , get suddenly exhausted, and not be able to post in the others. We'll just have to see.

But rest assured,I will still be thinking about this RP and you all.I don't know when I'll be in next, exactly, butu i will try to post every day, probably twice or three tike if possible,and maty be more. depends on the nausea. thanks! I'll be around!

MWBailey
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