The Steampunk Forum at Brass Goggles
December 17, 2017, 03:04:30 pm *
Welcome, Guest. Please login or register.
Did you miss your activation email?

Login with username, password and session length
News: Brassgoggles.co.uk - The Lighter Side Of Steampunk, follow @brasstech for forum technical problems & updates.
 
   Home   Blog Help Rules Login Register  
Pages: 1 ... 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 [34] 35 36   Go Down
  Print  
Author Topic: The Extended Steam Salon  (Read 58607 times)
Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
Zeppelin Admiral
******
Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #825 on: August 21, 2009, 12:44:54 am »

and a few moments later, rising up from somewhere inside the complex, a small gyrocopter clatters across the sky to them, and sets down beside the Beau Rosin.
Taa, taa, Toodle Pip!" And with that he skips back over to the little gyrocopter, spins the blade, rises rapidly, and is gone, back into the vast complex.


Life imitates art, and truth is stranger than fiction...I just bought this in RL.... Grin



Wish me luck, as I have never flown one of these.... Tongue
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.
stardust
Zeppelin Captain
*****
United Kingdom United Kingdom


friend of polar bear


« Reply #826 on: August 21, 2009, 01:03:53 am »

wow - good luck! if you survive let us know how it goes!
Logged

and doesn't Mr. Kipling make exceedingly good cakes.......
Athena
Guest
« Reply #827 on: August 21, 2009, 01:11:23 am »

*nodding* Good luck with that! And good job with the story!
Logged
MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


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

rtafStElmo
« Reply #828 on: August 21, 2009, 03:25:22 am »

and a few moments later, rising up from somewhere inside the complex, a small gyrocopter clatters across the sky to them, and sets down beside the Beau Rosin.
Taa, taa, Toodle Pip!" And with that he skips back over to the little gyrocopter, spins the blade, rises rapidly, and is gone, back into the vast complex.


Life imitates art, and truth is stranger than fiction...I just bought this in RL.... Grin



Wish me luck, as I have never flown one of these.... Tongue

sidebar: *in his best Mad Max voice*Good luck, Jedediah!
Logged

Walk softly and carry a big banjo...

""quid statis aspicientes in infernum"
Kittybriton
Zeppelin Captain
*****
United States United States


Steampunk: absinthe-minded professors!


WWW
« Reply #829 on: August 21, 2009, 12:58:15 pm »

Now that's what I call seat-of-the-pants flying! Here's wishing you safe landings Sergeant-Major.
Logged

Join me in exploring the music of time!
(http://kittybriton.multiply.com/journal
The Abiliegh
Zeppelin Admiral
******
United States United States


Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #830 on: August 29, 2009, 05:03:32 am »

She'd never get used to being transported by thousands of little bugs, that was for certain. It was inherently against her feminine sensitivities, she decided. She watched the martian as Brantley gave a salute, and silently urged him to respond in kind. The motion wasn't as crisp as it could have been, but she felt the idea of what was going on settle in the creature's mind.

She was right, this one could learn.

"Right. Gentlemen, I believe it's time for us to go home. We can discuss the logistics of getting this..." she glanced to the martian, "...man back once I've got him ready for his new job." She glanced about at the diminutive creatures, deciding that she could probably just speak to the swarm. Her voice was smart and authoritative, shadowing the woman they'd all met in the salon. "Once we return to earth, I've got no idea whether or not this hive mind thing will still work, so it's imperative that you all make sure they survive in my absence. Keep them healthy, keep them moving. I'm sure it will become obvious that they are leaderless should I be too far away to communicate with them."

She waited for an affirmation, and then smiled grandly, clasping her hands. "Fantastic. Lets get this boat in the air then."


sidebar: be careful in that thing, Sgt.Major! And you must let me play with it when I come visit!
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 #831 on: August 31, 2009, 05:03:43 pm »

Once the Beau Rosin has been moved to the site of the massive gun tube, millions of the little mantoid creatures swarm around it, each carrying a grain of red-tinted Martian volcanic sand. In a symphony of cooperation, they somehow secrete a substance that fuses the grains together, the alignment between grains so perfect that within moments, the Beau Rosin is encased in a silicate shell half a meter thick, and absolutely transparent, with just a bit of reddish tint. Unlike the trip out, the long return to Earth will not be inside a featureless metal container...our intrepid adventurers will view the solar system through rose-tinted glass. Shortly thereafter, the ship is loaded into the gun tube, the powder ignited, and the Beau Rosin is headed home, to a safer Earth, but a still uncertain future. Sitting in their acceleration chairs, Tommy squeezes Abiliegh's hand through their pressure-suited gloves, and manages to turn his head enough to give her a wink, and a lop-sided grin.
Logged
Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
Zeppelin Admiral
******
Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #832 on: September 17, 2009, 03:53:08 am »

sidebar:

Seems we lost our momentum...oh, well...what's been written thus far is a topping science fiction story with a noir setting...maybe ( if no one objects,) I'll write it up, edit it, illustrate it further and try to get it published in the Real World.


One thing to note...if poor Clark has been polishing brass all along, the Salon is probably now the cleanest cocktaillounge in the history of the world. Grin

-T
Logged
OldProfessorBear
Zeppelin Overlord
*******
United States United States


Werebears RULE!


WWW
« Reply #833 on: September 17, 2009, 10:56:52 am »

*sigh*

... My poor little bloggy-thingy has been sitting there for months waiting for the vaunted "polished version" to be ready.

All that research and tinkering ... come to naught.

Such, I suppose, is life ...
Logged

Another Entirely Reasonable Opinion from
Bill P_______, Nul.D. (Unseen U.), F.R.S.*, Restorer of Old Photographs,
Sexagenarian Boy Genius and SUPREME NERD GOD!!! (score=98)
Down in the Belly of Brooklyn, NY, US
* http://forum.retrofuturist.org
fireheart storm
Zeppelin Captain
*****
United States United States


Monster hunter, researcher, & cyberjacques's rival


WWW
« Reply #834 on: September 24, 2009, 02:00:49 am »

I personally feel terrible coming back then dropping off the face of the earth again.  RL stress of getting settled into a new movie.
Logged

Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
Zeppelin Admiral
******
Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #835 on: December 22, 2009, 04:39:46 pm »

Tommy stands on the deck of the Beau Rosin, still pressure suited, but with helmet off, smoking a Sullivan-Powell. "I wonder," he muses, " will we still have Lippy to contend with, or will stopping the Martians mean he never got rebuilt?" Shaking his head, he realizes he'll never be able to sort out this time travel business. "Leave that to th' big brains, like the Professor. If I've got ta kill th' Lizard all over again, then I will."

Sidebar: As per the rules of Meta-clubs, I'm posting this to keep the thread alive.
Speaking of which, does anyone know what has become of the wonderful Abiliegh? She hasn't posted anything in quite a while, and I miss her. Sad
~T
Logged
Miles (a sailor)Martin
Zeppelin Admiral
******
United States United States


Just a head full of random thoughts


« Reply #836 on: December 28, 2009, 05:47:40 am »

just wished to let you all know i really enjoyed riding along in the slipstream of your collective entertainment, was an absolute blast to read , my complements to the collective talents of you all .    Miles (a sailor)Martin
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
OldProfessorBear
Zeppelin Overlord
*******
United States United States


Werebears RULE!


WWW
« Reply #837 on: January 02, 2010, 08:29:57 am »

Sidebar: As per the rules of Meta-clubs, I'm posting this to keep the thread alive.
Speaking of which, does anyone know what has become of the wonderful Abiliegh? She hasn't posted anything in quite a while, and I miss her. Sad
~T
Well, she hasn't been seen in these parts in over a month, and hasn't posted in nearly two! I see her from time to time on Facebook, so she still exists, but I guess she doesn't love BG any more *sniff*
Logged
MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


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

rtafStElmo
« Reply #838 on: January 10, 2010, 02:41:45 am »

(SIDEBAR: I've been wondering much the same things, and have feared the worst. Glad to hear she was OK as of the 2nd of January.)

(SIDEBAR#2: If you're languishing for something to read involving a character from the Steam Salon:
Pulsifer (Mad Jack) is currently included in an airship battle outside Shanghai, several miles up the Yalu (Yellow) River in my Between the Threads series of stories; he and Steam London characters Jaisen S. Dreyfuss and Irene Frost, the two main leads of the Between the Threads series, are fighting pirates who were once part of the recently-disbanded mercenary company that Dreyfuss and Jack were once officers in. I'm thinking of putting Brantley in the next "book" of the series, assuming I get that far before I die (lol); since Mad Jack was a Marauder, and since Brantley first took, then bought, Jack's blimp, I figure he should be in the prior history of the St. Elmo, somewhere, since
1. it all occurs around the same time in regard to the Victorian Mileau, and
2. Dreyfuss' liaison with Her Majesty's Secret Service would make him the logical  choice of investigator for the crown to send to look into certain strange temporal occurrences within the Realm.it would make a good continuing "affair" or "case" for Dreyfuss and  Irene to check out, and might dovetail nicely with the Lands End vampire infestation that they clean out just before the St. Elmo starts it's inter-dimensional escort duties guarding the Boheme during the early D-Hopper missions(see below)
3. The Boheme and the St. Elmo both being fitted, albeit later on, with trans-dimensional travel apparattus (!) (no kidding, it was a part of a whole RP, finishing up about the time that the Steam Salon got started), it stands to reason that some kind of encounter before, during, or after the thread of the second Steam London RP would more or less have to occur. I'll add in a Brantley Post here to do my bit to keep the salon alive...)

Brantley stepped through the forward wall of teh cabin (and cursed, remembering, too late, that it would have been far better manners to use the door), sans pressure suit but wearing the old leather 'shipman's trench, tam o-shanter, and his customary black-and-tweeds weskit and trousers, and shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, the action pulling the lapels of the trenchcoat back and exposing the new-model Mauser Pistol's handgrip and magazine.

"Wellsir. If Lippy's around, and if he causes trouble, especially of the temporal variety, I or one of my compatriots will be around to at least catch him, if not prevent the event-- Unless they already caught him, and come back to prevent it from occurriing..."  he trailed off, considering the possibilities.

"Point is, somebody will hopefully be there to pick up the pieces. Hopefully, it'll be one of us.  He looked over at Tommy then, and said, "Aunt Sally knows you now, Tommy. You might never hear from her again, or you might hear from 'er tomorrow. depends on which regulars are available, if any, and whether she decides to see if you can be one of 'em. It's not a bad life, just a trifle confusing, or sometimes odd things happen to you," he patted his stomach, silently referring to the Martian organs that gave him such odd abilities, and without which he would have died years ago. "But she'll take care ofyou, will Sally, as long as you get the job done. Even if you're an independent old cuss like me!" he said, a twinkle in his eye.

" I thank you and the Colonel for everything, Tommy. I wish I could say that the Beau Rosin will stay as she's been remade, but she's a pan-temporal constant, now (Sally says it's necessary in order to prevent an irreconciliable paradox), and it might not be in her future to stay a de facto hovertank. Rest Assured, though, she'll still be around. Maybe faster and closer than you think!"

He patted Tommy on the shoulder, turned and walked over to the Gatling gun, pressed a switch, and watched as it slowly folded up on itself, and sank below the deck, the hatchcovers sliding smoothly into place on top of it. Brantley then stepped off of the scow, down the gangway, and into the night. It was difficult to be certain, but it seemed that as soon as he stepped five feet beyond the scow, he simply vanished, just blinked out of existence in the darkness. Somewhere off to the right, the wind moaned in the trees like a subdued version of the timewinds, and then was silent and still...
« Last Edit: January 10, 2010, 03:32:32 am by MWBailey » Logged
Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
Zeppelin Admiral
******
Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #839 on: February 05, 2010, 09:28:57 pm »

Back on the grounds of Thistlewaite Hall, Tommy is not even surprised to see Brantley fade from sight..he's seen so many odd things by now, this latest is just another small incident that doesn't even have to make sense. The sun is just rising above the Appalachian scenery, and Tommy notes with satisfaction that at some point while they were on their mission, someone has had the forethought to have his Buick delivered, probably Willoughby, who seems to handle everything so smoothly that it seems effortless. "I think I'll take a little time off," Tommy says to himself. "Maybe go down ta Key West and lay on th' beach fer awhile."
The Baron has offered him the position of General Manager of The Iron Furnace, but the big gumshoe isn't sure he's ready to settle down to a "9 to 5" just yet...plenty of time to think about it later.
"Yeah..Key West sounds pretty good..go down and see what Ernest is up to, ....good guy ta get drunk with, anyway. Abileigh's gonna be busy sortin' out how ta keep them Martians alive for awhile, and I need ta get my own head sorted out...I feel like it's been a hundred years since I first walked inta that cocktail lounge..."
He brings his gun cases across the parking lot, and puts them into the trunk of the Buick.
Logged
The Abiliegh
Zeppelin Admiral
******
United States United States


Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #840 on: February 18, 2010, 07:32:42 am »

She doesn't let him leave.

"Key West, hrm? I could do with a bit'a sun not seen from..." she pauses a moment. "From space."

She slips beside him and sits on the edge of the still open trunk. " I'm sure, sitting in the back, my dear martian wont cause too much of a stir." She looked up at Tommy, shadows from her fedora casting over her face. "And Florida is most certainly closer to Mars than we are here, wouldn't ya say?" A familiar smirk played over her lips, and a twinkle shone in her eyes despite the dramatic shadows.

[[OOC: sorry everyone. I owe much in the way of apologies for my disappearance. Life took over, holidays, getting settled into a new city, traveling and the like. But, things are winding down, and while i'll not be around nearly as much as I was when I was getting paid to sit at a computer, I'm endeavoring to be around at least once or twice a day, though likely not as much on the weekends. My dearest Sgt.Major, I'd be honored if you took over the polishing and whatnot of this, as it just seems that the time for that project has escaped me, and this is all too wonderful to pass over. Again, my apologies for my ridiculously long absence!]]
Logged
Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
Zeppelin Admiral
******
Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #841 on: February 19, 2010, 07:24:24 pm »




.....and they lived happily ever after.

 Grin
Logged
The Abiliegh
Zeppelin Admiral
******
United States United States


Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #842 on: February 19, 2010, 07:35:21 pm »

[[LOL!!!]]
Logged
Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
Zeppelin Admiral
******
Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #843 on: August 29, 2010, 09:56:45 pm »

Yes, thank you for the reminder, but I Know this topic has not been posted to in over 120 days...close to 240, in fact, which is the sole reason for this post, as I don't want this story to disappear...I still haven't printed it out, and for the only copy of such a corker to vanish would be criminal!
Logged
MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


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

rtafStElmo
« Reply #844 on: August 31, 2010, 04:15:56 am »

hear, hear!

We could always do another episode. Maybe make it a regular serial...
Logged
Miles (a sailor)Martin
Zeppelin Admiral
******
United States United States


Just a head full of random thoughts


« Reply #845 on: August 31, 2010, 10:04:23 pm »

why not sounds like a good idea to me
Logged
MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


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

rtafStElmo
« Reply #846 on: September 03, 2010, 01:21:49 am »

(OOC: I'm not trying to be DM, but I'll start it out according to principle of DSEIIW(Do Something Even If It's Wrong)

(Cue bluesy, melancholy theme music with a slightly creepy edge)

(Camera shot: Above and then sweeping slowly down in a graceful curving glidepath to center on a smallish bar-like establishment)

Scene: A misty, wet, dark street somewhere in a steam-ish, yet also diesel-ish Chicago of a permutation of the 1940s. People mill about on the street under the street lamps and traffic lights; cars and other conveyances that resemble and yet do not resemble the road machines of our own RL world go hissing, chugging, or in some cases merely gliding along nearly soundlessly on wide whitewall tires as the people of the evening ply their various trades amid teh smells and sounds of a city in a raistorm, the petrol, steam, burnt grease, the unwashed laborers, the perfumed office workers, hot rubber squelching on wet pavement , the hiss of a sudden burst of rain...

Some people either hurry home to hearth and family or head to work and toil, and some to their various boltholes to spend another evening at home alone. They pass by, and in a few cases slow and enter, the parking strip and front door of a streamlined, noir-ish little diner/cafe-style establishment. The neon signs above the front door and in the window read The Extended Steam Salon.

Walking in, there's the cigarette machine and blue arabesque-style tiled wall to the left, and a row of diner-style booths on the right, whilst the back wall of the room and a largish portion of half of the establishment's floor is dominated by a huge, walnut marble-topped bar. Behind the bar stands an android bartender all decked out in a tux and slacks of brass, bronze, copper and chrome. A million stories crowd the comfortable, invitingly dark confines of the establishment, waiting to burst forth and play out their yarns ...

« Last Edit: September 03, 2010, 01:29:48 am by MWBailey » Logged
MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


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

rtafStElmo
« Reply #847 on: September 03, 2010, 03:48:57 am »

There was a flash, and a strange sound like a sucking noise turned inside out, behind the door at the back of the main room of the establishment. A figure emerged, closing the door behind him. Clad in a somewhat tattered and travel-stained brown trenchcoat, The fellow entered warily, hand stuffing into the coat a device that looked like a black brick or box studded with hundreds of tiny lights and switches, dials, potentiometers and rheostats, and from which issued a strange, clingy, sticky white vapor, slightly luminescent in the relative darkness of the establishment.

The coat, unfastened and hanging open to a degree, revealed the man's brown vest, plaid shirt and trousers with black shoes. All of this was seen only dimly; however, those patrons who could see him closely eyed him with a mixture of fear and anticipation. What appears to be the butt of a Colt 1911 semiautomatic pistol can just barely be seen but darkly in the shade of the bulky coat.

The man's tanned, eyepatched face under a grey felt newsboy beret stared out at the crowd in the bar; there was no sign of the enigmatic Mrs. Cross, yet there was a feeling as if she had simply left the room and would be back at any moment. A cigarette that matched Mrs. Cross' brand, from what the newcomer could remember, smoldered on the edge of the tin ashtray that sits upon the bar.

The man sat at the bar in front of the metallic bartender and said,"Howdy Mac. Brantley says hello. Nice monkey suit, by the way." He grinned mysteriously, and then asked,  "Gimme about two fingers of that rotgut you have there." He sipped it, coughed once, then asked aloud in a clear voice, "Can somebody tell me what year this is?"

------
After awhile, somebody answered that it was 1942. In another dimension, the fellow reflected, there was a war on, a war that would irrevocably shape mankind and change history in that dimension for centuries to come. But in this one, it was just status quo out the wazoo. Nothing doing here-and-now, he said to himself. Brantley and his comrades had seen to that. I wonder why they wanted this area checked out? He shrugged to himself as if answering his own question.

After a while, the fellow paid his tab, got up, fished a card out of the depths of the coat, and left it on the bar, nodding at the bartender, who nodded back and left it where it was. The trench-coated fellow got up, walked to and out through the door; the misty, rainy night had turned foggy, and he walked off into the thick of it. There was a green flash that made the fog glow eerily for a moment, and then the man was gone.

Inside the Salon, a patron, curious about the card, went over to the bar, bought a beer and picked up the card and looked at it.

Eddie Beltane
_____________________________________
U.S. Customs
Paratemporal Investigations Division
Tel. AuntSally 2009
132613 Chaise-a-geuse Road,Chicago, Illinois, USA

"Hmp. Another wiseass..." muttered the patron, and put the card back where he found it, taking the beer back to his booth...
« Last Edit: September 05, 2010, 07:07:24 am by MWBailey » Logged
Miss Cheshire Cat
Officer
***
United States United States


http://public4.tektek.org/img/av/0909/d06/2144/c7f


« Reply #848 on: October 13, 2010, 01:18:24 am »

Seems like I haven't missed much being gone, hope it picks up again.
« Last Edit: October 13, 2010, 01:37:09 am by Miss Cheshire Cat » Logged

I apply my personality in a paste- Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
Miles (a sailor)Martin
Zeppelin Admiral
******
United States United States


Just a head full of random thoughts


« Reply #849 on: November 27, 2010, 05:04:52 am »

a beat up  cab pull up on the street the rear door opens  a tall blond gent crawls out of the back seat then streatches back in and reatreves a sea bag then passes the cabbie a couple of double eagles,says 'keep the change'then walks over to the door after puting the seabag over one shoulder of the black, very worn, bridge coat before he enters, glances around tosses the bag on one of the tables turns to the bar and asks for a irsh whiskey neat and a bottle of mead. collecting the glass and bottle he sits down to wait......
Logged
Pages: 1 ... 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 [34] 35 36   Go Up
  Print  
 
Jump to:  

Powered by MySQL Powered by PHP Powered by SMF 1.1.20 | SMF © 2013, Simple Machines Valid XHTML 1.0! Valid CSS!
Page created in 0.097 seconds with 17 queries.