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Author Topic: The 97th Annual Time Machine Expo and Regatta  (Read 2313 times)
Alexis Voltaire
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


Shàlle We Dànce?


« on: April 20, 2014, 02:51:12 am »

Somewhere around the outskirts of London, in a universe with a few notable differences from our own...

"Come one, come all, to the ninety-seventh annual time machine expo and regatta!" A showman's voice sounded out over the fairground's many loudspeakers. "Whether you're a a seasoned traveler or just getting started, or even just a spectator who's never tasted the timewinds, we've got something for you. Gaze upon the newest advancements, speak with the travelers who've seen it all, try the exotic foods. The Ming Sun brothers have brought tea from 15th century Beijing this year, and I've been told the Triceratops barbecue is excellent.""

The crowd in one of the avenues parted suddenly when a crash and a deep hum like microphone feedback on a subsonic level came from one of the booths. There was a loud curse and the booth's awning collapsed. Two identical men emerged from the wreckage swinging fists at each other.

For a moment one of them seemed to be winning, but then as the onlookers watched they both froze in mid-fight. A globe of rippling purple light surrounded them, and then the globe, the men, and a shallow scoop of the ground vanished with a whump of inrushing air.

Another voice sounded over the loudspeakers. "Visitors and exhibitors are reminded that Hard paradoxes are forbidden within the spacial and temporal confines of the fairgrounds. Violations will result in immediate and permanent expulsion. That is all."


((OOC: This is an open roleplay, feel free to wander and create your own plots within it. Management is not responsible for loss of any unattended items, sanity, body parts, etc.))
Logged

~-- Purveyour of Useless Facts, Strange Advice, Plots --~
Fairley B. Strange
Zeppelin Overlord
*******
Australia Australia


Relax, I've done much dumber things and survived..


WWW
« Reply #1 on: April 22, 2014, 01:48:32 pm »

Over to the left of the Fried Dodo stall, a tall figure in the blue and green jacket of the 4th Temporals sets up a mechanical arm to beat rhythmically upon a recruiting drum.

He unrolls a banner on a slender stand: "Be a a Man among Men among Monsters!"

As a pair of young chaps pause at the display table, he begins his well polished spiel.

"That, my lad, is the Mark Four Aetheriser. A proper gun for a real fight. Bored here on vanilla-Earth? No outlet for a man's natural instincts? Well, sign up here for service in the Temporals.
Over on Earth-Six the war against the Martian Invaders is still in full swing today and most of the planet is overrun and burnt by the heat-rays of the filthy Martians- but not for long!
As soon as we have two hundred fit, young volunteers from here and the other 12 planes, trained up and ready for the off, we're dropping in Earth-Six back in October 1897, just before the Burning of St.Petersburg to crush the Squishies and their 3-leggers once and for all - just like you can read it here in the history books!
Assured victory at the critical juncture, only five-point-six percent casualties, lots of grateful Russian beauties and a warehouse full of chilled Tzarist vodka... You'll never find a war anywhere or anywhen with a better deal!
Guaranteed by authorised tempero-historians and with an exemption from loop-causality to clean up Earth-Six once and for all!

Now who's going to sign up?
Only a six month term to train, eight days from drop-in to final victory, a week of leave and 'gratitude' after that, and back home half an hour after you say goodbye, so fast you old mum'll barely have stopped cryin' over you leavin' before she gets to start all over again for her hero's homecoming.

Good lad! Just sign here... and here...

And you, young fellow..?
« Last Edit: April 22, 2014, 01:54:14 pm by Fairley B. Strange » Logged

Choose a code to live by, die by it if you have to.
Miss Indigo Darling
Officer
***
United States United States


Adventuress


« Reply #2 on: April 24, 2014, 08:50:22 pm »

She pulled her intricate lace shawl back up around her shoulders, as it had slipped down baring her upper arms to the chill of the fog. “The Legendary London Fog” she remarked, as she gazed about her at the collection of wondrous items, bits and bobs, strange beasts and people in exotic manner of dress. 

The crowd ebbed and surged around her.  Intriguing scents of unfamiliar foods filled her nostrils.Every colour ever identified, and some which were new.  Spiraling clouds of aether which twinkled with the light a thousand stars.  And the sounds! The humming and clack of machinery. The “Zzzzzzap!' of electricity, which sparked life into all sorts of mechanical creations. And underneath it all,  she heard music. Wild, fascinating music. Calliopes and bells. Horns and fiddles. Voices, loud, soft, bawdy and refined. Swirling cacophony, which, as she closed her eyes and listened more carefully, became a symphony of glorious chaos.

A man on a bicycle rode through the puddle she had avoided stepping in, splashing her boots and stockings with cold, muddy water, interrupting her reverie.  Startled, she jumped backwards, bumping into the corner of the booth behind her, knocking over some of the small clockwork creations which were being displayed for sale. “Oi,  Miss, Do be careful! If you break em, you've bought all of em.” Shouted the proprietor of the booth, as he paused in his demonstration of the clockwork creatures, to see what the commotion was all about. The small boys who had been watching the little clockworks in rapt fascination began to giggle.  “Oh dear,” The woman gasped, as she endeavoured to set the fallen clockworks back upright and correct the position of the shelf, which she'd knocked slightly askew. “You don't need to do that, Miss,” spoke the proprietor again.” Watch this, they'll get up by themselves if I ask them to.”  The man patted his hands over his vest pocket, and tugged gently on one of the brass chains which were snaking out of the bulging pocket. At the end of the chain was a shiny copper whistle, with gleaming brass inlays and a steel mouthpiece. He raised the whistle to his lips, and blew a short note. The  crashed clockworks began to move their spindly legs. The woman could hear a faint hum emanating from the little things, as they gathered their legs beneath them, and smoothly stood themselves back up. She watched in awe as they trundled back to their original positions on the shelf.  One of them turned to face her, and a little metal door dropped open with a soft click. A fragile  arm extended towards her, and a tiny mechanical hand waggled it's delicate fingers.
"I'm so sorry, little one" she said to the clockwork. "I didn't mean to jostle you all that way."
The proprietor smiled broadly. "How do you know they can hear you, Miss?" He said. "Or understand what you say even if they did?"
The woman turned to him and spoke. "I have always believed that which is animated by means of electicity,  the aetheric, magnetism, or any other  force is indeed, by it's very nature alive in it's own way. There is a considered prejudice expressed by animal life, so I have observed, which tends to deny the status of alive to those which are not flesh. I find such  bias quite distasteful."
"Well then, you're in good company with me, Miss" replied the proprietor. "I've always considered  my wee ones here to be alive. They seem so to me, and have not proven otherwise to me yet. You don't sound like a Londoner, Miss. " He winked at her. She blushed, and adjusted her hat, whch looked ever so ready to tumble off her head into the puddle. "No, I'm from America." She replied. " My circumstances have recently changed, and I've decided to travel. From New England to Old, and from there to wherever outrageous fortune may lead."  'Well, Miss,  nice to meet you."  said the man. "I do hope you aren't disappointed." 'Oh no, " replied the woman. "Already any expectations I've tried to eradicate  have been exceeded.  Although I did hear some talk about some amazing tea. Could you direct me to the booth please, where I might purchase some?"
« Last Edit: April 24, 2014, 09:01:35 pm by Miss Indigo Darling » Logged

"Of all the fishes in the sea, my favourite is the bass. He climbs up on the tall sea weed, and slides down on his hands and knees."
Fairley B. Strange
Zeppelin Overlord
*******
Australia Australia


Relax, I've done much dumber things and survived..


WWW
« Reply #3 on: April 26, 2014, 11:28:53 am »

For young Jake his trip to the fair, and his assignation arranged there was going so much better than he could have dreamed – and now it had suddenly changed into a fight that was drawing a large crowd.

While the music from inside drifted following a theme from Lindy-Hop to Chap-hop via Sock-hop, out here nobody was dancing. Now normally he could handle himself well enough in a scrap, but here he found himself pushed to the sidelines as the two girls circled, swinging wildly, stepping in tighter circles in the alley that was now crowded with an expectant crowd of onlookers. Some of them, noting that the two women looked, and were dressed quite similarly, also looked over their shoulders for the imminent arrival of the Chrono-cops, but apparently this was a private fight.

The one he now recognised as his fiancée Jenny swung wildly at the other girl who ducked and replied equally wildly, turning to abuse her fiancé.

“So you invite me here, I come to meet you, and I find you hammer-and-tongs up against a drain-pipe with some slapper…”

The other girl, flaring at this, must have subconsciously taken it as a hint, landing an open-handed hit on her face.

“But honey… you texted me that image with that red dress you said you’d found in the attic for the Old-timey-whimey Ball, and well… it was too loud to talk, and with those curls she kindov looked like you…”

“Looks like me? No way, look at her… my dress is proper vintage and hers is cheap and new,”- punctuated by further wild swings – “and her cameo is just glued-on cogs from Regretsy, mine has proper gearing…”.

“Glued-on? I made this myself and I’ll have you know that this brooch has been in my family for four generations.”

“Four? Hah! Well, mine’s been in our family for seven, and it was hand-steampunked by my… Oh shi…”.

She turned from her adversary to Jake who was standing in the midst of a silent crowd who were all calculating the same math. She threw the cameo from her neck onto the cobbles, and the ring from her finger into the stunned lad’s face, before breaking away to collapse against the members of the surrounding crowd, sobbing her words.

“Ohmigawd… and my Gran never liked you, and said I should have stayed away from you. Oh please, tell me you did at least use protection, righ..?”

Jake stood there alone, the other girl now running away down the other end of the alley, realising that, despite the unexpected interruption, he was definitely screwed.
« Last Edit: April 26, 2014, 11:32:08 am by Fairley B. Strange » Logged
Fairley B. Strange
Zeppelin Overlord
*******
Australia Australia


Relax, I've done much dumber things and survived..


WWW
« Reply #4 on: April 26, 2014, 01:55:17 pm »

It was rather easy to find amidst all the other strange sights spread throughout the avenues, an iconic blue pillar standing incongruously in the cul-de-sac behind the main Tesla-coil tower that was powering much of the Fair.

A lot of passers-by had stopped, taken photographs of themselves next to the item, some wit had even spray-painted a ‘Bad wolf’ tag on the back panels. However, long after the initial rush of interest, by the third day of the fair, only a small coterie of obsessive followers were still camped out around their new object of devotion. By that afternoon when nothing else had happened and it remained steadfastly locked despite so many random Yale keys being tried, popular interest had waned and many of the tourist images being taken had morphed into a ‘2001’ theme with the small group of primitive acolytes crouching in devotion before their blue-not-black obelisk.

And then, as in Kubrick’s work, the first blow was struck.

It started with a wild supposition voiced a little too loudly, then a harsh word in reply, then changed rapidly into an argument that afterwards none of them could remember the specific origin. They didn’t know each other’s names, as they had gathered there singly in response to hearing of the object’s discovery the day before, and in the aftermath they reconstructed the story of the fight using only their scathing descriptions of each others’ outfits.

Apparently the girl in the too-tight top with the bleached-blonde hair had said something the girl in the policewomen’s uniform and red wig didn’t like, and they were sparring verbally when the other girl in the jean-jacket and frizzy hair poked at them both with her painted nerf-gun. That’s when, they all later shamefacedly agreed, it had really started. The girl in the prim governess’ Victorian dress had started swinging, hitting the fake copper and the other redhead who said she didn’t look bovvered by it, but joined the general melee anyway, hitting the girl with the long scarf, gripping her lab-coat as she was struck by an inhaler swung as an improvised knuckle-duster.

In the background, the two girls, a brunette in the diaphanous white robes and the blonde one in the saucy sailor-girl outfit, shook their heads in wry amusement at the juvenile spectacle before them, having already examined the nuances of the object – it’s lamp, the number and arrangement of it’s edgings, the colour of the window-panes, and the position of the St.Johns badge, and having made a confident assessment of their chances, had amicably agreed to split any ‘spoils’ that might emerge in an appropriate ménage, or even share -au-quatre with the gobby late-comer in the stewardess outfit.

Further back, a more mature young woman, was taking notes in an old-fashioned notebook when a stranger standing behind her startled her with a low chuckle. She swiftly looked back over her shoulder but couldn’t make out much of his features in the gloom.

“Taking notes? For a story, like a journalist?”

She felt her face blush, “Actually, I really am a reporter… I kind of understand this, I mean I'm too old now to dress up in funny costumes, but underneath everything it was Sarah-Jane who inspired me to become a journalist, inspiring me that as a girl I could do anything, and not be afraid, you know?”

Behind her he chuckled again, “Oh, I know what you mean about being inspired by stories, that’s how I got interested in Quantum Physics and a lot of other weird stuff. That’s also why I put it there. Oh, don’t worry, it’s an original one – it’s smaller on the inside – made of concrete and it went missing during a bad night in the Blitz, November nineteen-forty. I picked it up and brought it here for a bit of a laugh, just to see how people would react… And you? How do you react?”

She turned and took the out-stretched hand, “My name’s not Sarah, it’s Rebecca, but like her I’m working free-lance, so there’s nothing here to tie me down, so, if you happen to have a machine that can go back to the Blitz or earlier, and you’re looking for a companion…”

He held her hand, and she didn’t let go… and they ran.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)
« Last Edit: April 26, 2014, 02:13:27 pm by Fairley B. Strange » Logged
Alexis Voltaire
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


Shàlle We Dànce?


« Reply #5 on: April 26, 2014, 11:03:03 pm »

A harsh electrical crackle tore at the air, and a man appeared a second later in a cloud of acrid blue smoke. He had a a longish face that suited laughter well, blonde hair that was slightly too long. He wore a navy blue waistcoat over a white dress shirt with ruffled cuffs and a collar, trousers with a blue and gold paisley pattern, and a 12th era Markovennian greatcoat (also blue with gold lining and trim.)After coughing a little, he pulled his coatsleeve down over his wrist and looked up at his surroundings expectantly.

The announcer's voice sounded over the loudspeakers, accompanied by a screech of feedback. "Apologies, but part two of the seminar on jumping the Horsell Common time gap has been cancelled due to safety reasons. Refunds are available for survivors and next of kin."

"Ah. This is it, has to be..." He said loudly. A snarl of timelines like this would act as a magnet to a drifting time capsule, not to mention the sub-aetheric effects of what the faire management laughably called a flight coordination and landing system.

Still, there was no sense in hurrying. He'd spent a dozen years trying to track it down, but if it was here it wasn't going anywhere, and if it wasn't then hitching a ride and picking up the signal again wouldn't be a problem. For once.

He started down the avenue at a leisurely pace, taking in the sights and sounds. Among them, a group of people with feline features, and clothing that seemed to consist entirely of studded leather were roasting trilobites and a leg of triceratops on the exhaust ports of a racing Vertigo-87 Alpha E. The cat people seemed glad to accept Markovennian currency, so he bought a trilobite, and was eating it with the sharp end of a spare phantometric drive diagnostic tool (the plastic fork had proven useless) when he heard someone inquire about tea.

"That'd probably be the Ming Sun's booth, m'lady." He said cheerfully, and paused with a thoughtful look. M'lady? That's earth slang, right? It probably didn't matter, given the diversity of the gathering here. "I just passed it on the way here, I could show you where it is if you like."
Logged
Fairley B. Strange
Zeppelin Overlord
*******
Australia Australia


Relax, I've done much dumber things and survived..


WWW
« Reply #6 on: April 27, 2014, 12:53:14 am »

“There you go, Corporal Lasseter, I told you Old Wensley here was the finest leg-crafter and that the Temporal’s’d look after you right and proper. Full brassalloy, and self-winding with every step. Anyhow, the bill’s taken care of and you’re back at the Fair on your right Earth, and still time for tea before dark.  See you at the re-union next year.”

And with that gruff manly farewell, Sergeant Whasisnom strode off into the passing throng that flowed unceasingly down the avenue, his dappled blue-green jacket doing as it had in the Oranienburg Gardens when he’d snuck up on that Squishie’s Drainer, blending him seemlessly into the crowd, and he was lost from sight. And so Jake was left at the shop counter with his thoughts.

“And would you like the old one wrapped, Sir?”

The shopgirl’s polite enquiry pulled him back to the present. The other leg, crudely carved of Birchwood. No, he wouldn’t be needing that. It had been the best the primitive Russian field-hospital could produce and it had got him through for the months while he’d slowly recovered. He remembered the first time he’d had it fitted on, the pretty young nurse blushing when her hands had brushed his thigh. Natalya Filipopov… and she’d blushed more later, when his hands brushed hers… The other guys of his Squadron had all been jumped back after their Victory Parade, so he and the few others left waiting in convalescence had been treated as, well, conquering heroes. And now he was home, half an hour later as promised, and over a year later, and things had changed.

The leg and a few other scars, he still hadn’t worked out how to break that to his parents. Jenny? Well, that was long gone. During training it had kept him awake nights when he should have been in the sleep that his aching body demanded, but he hadn’t found a solution to that particular Grandparent Paradox and he’d eventually let it go. Natalya, Katya, Mischa, and the others, had helped with that, as much as they had with the leg, and the other bits like seeing Daffyd still burning in that Ray. For a while there he’d let their eager gratitude go to his head until he’d come to expect that every girl was like that, that maybe it wasn’t the medals and the limp, that he really was some natural Casanova, until that slap from that Countess and a few words of non-commissioned wisdom from Whoz’ had set him back to level.

“Sir?”

Her voice jolted him back again.

“Oh. Uh, no, I don’t think I’ll need it, thanks.”

She turned and gently placed it in the bin. She was short, only up to his shoulder and slender for the most part, but as she was straightening up he remembered that this wasn’t 1898, and that wouldn’t be a bustle… Well, he was back home as a new man, and it wouldn’t hurt to see how things had changed.

“Well, that should be it, then. Sorry to have kept you after closing time, but, uh, I don’t know about you, but I’m a little parched. Since you’re closing up, I don’t suppose you’d know of anywhere around here we could perhaps find a pot of tea..?”

She smiled shyly, “Well, all day I’ve been hearing the announcements about those chaps with the 15th-century tea. It’s two streets over, if that isn’t out of your way..?”

“Oh, no, I’ve gone a lot further than that before, Miss..?”

“Rogers, Sally Rogers. It’ll just take a minute or two to get my coat.”

“Jake Lasseter, that’s fine. Time doesn’t really worry me.”
« Last Edit: April 27, 2014, 01:14:31 am by Fairley B. Strange » Logged
Miss Indigo Darling
Officer
***
United States United States


Adventuress


« Reply #7 on: April 27, 2014, 01:24:43 am »

The petite woman  in the shawl with a mind of it's own looked away from the booth at the sound of his voice.  "Oh, hello there", she replied. "Yes, thank you, I'd like that very much. I feel just a little lost here, overwhelmed a bit. So many marvelous things. Things I've never seen before, or realised even existed."She paused for a moment, then spoke again.   "Please, if you will,  there's one last item of business I'd like to complete here. " Quickly, she turned back to the proprietor .
"Excuse me, my good man," She called out, waving her gloved hand to get his attention. "How much for this little fellow here? The one who acknowledged me?"

 The proprietor's somewhat melancholy countenance brightened at the prospect of a sale. "Well, in London here and now currency, five quid. But I'll accept whatever you've got. Whatever, wherever, whenever, it's all coin of some realm to me." The woman looked slightly perplexed at his reply, but  courageously forged ahead. " I'll give you twenty American dollars." She said, definitively. "Sold!" shouted the proprietor. "And you get his whistle in the deal as well. He rummaged in his vest pocket again, and pulled out a small silver and brass whistle, one inlaid with mother of pearl in an intricate design. "Each one of them little lads is got their own. " He said. "The Master key's here, but once he's yours he'll forget all that, and yours he is for good! I don't get many returns. Nobody knows exactly when they'll end up, and I build them reliable, like." He smiled proudly and  dropped the little whistle into the woman's outstretched hand. "Here, Miss, just  puff into it, he'll hear it, and then watch what he does!"  The woman put the whistle up to her lips, and gave a tentative toot.  The top of the little clockwork lifted suddenly up and down, and small round lights appeared around it's dome.  It's thin mechanical legs extended from underneath, and it stood up. The dome whirled around as the little creature  gracefully marched towards her, and the lights changed colour as it moved.  "Put your hand down, Miss, on the flat, there, and he'll walk right into your hand!" Said the proprietor. The woman placed her hand down, palm up, and the little clockwork daintily stepped onto it.  It's lights all flashed a deep blue, and it settled down into her hand, retracting it's legs until it was as smooth as an egg. She thought she heard something  akin to a  blissful sigh, and then it went still. 

 The woman beamed like a happy child. "Thank you!" She said to the proprietor. "He's lovely, I shall take very good care of him."
 "And, he'll  take  very good care of you, Miss" replied the proprietor. He'll be a loyal friend, guide you in times of trouble and the dark. He's a lot more durable than he might appear. He'll learn things, too. You'll be surprised,  I'm sure, and pleasantly so. Enjoy the Faire." With that the man grinned, and turned away to demonstrate the  antics of the clockworks to a fat fellow with a tight collar and red face and his stringy, pinched looking wife.

The woman turned back to the blonde man.
"I think he likes me!" She said. "Thank you for your patience." she said, smiling warmly. "There's something about this little guy. I simply couldn't leave him behind. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Miss Indigo Darling. It's probably obvious that I'm not from here..."she blushed slightly." So nice to meet you." She proffered her hand. Something about his handsome features reminded her of  tales she had heard. Tales of Kings and Princes, of distant times and places, other lives, other worlds.  He  looked  to her like he might be Scandinavian, and yet somehow....not. She couldn't quite put her finger on  what it was, exactly. But he certainly did look wonderful in that coat......
« Last Edit: April 27, 2014, 01:37:35 am by Miss Indigo Darling » Logged
Alexis Voltaire
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


Shàlle We Dànce?


« Reply #8 on: April 27, 2014, 02:25:12 am »

"Ha, He's cute." He said, and genuinely meant it, as he bent down to peer at the little creature. The little clockwork reminded him of something from a long, long time ago. A fallen empire under the light of a broken moon, a new form of life forged in the heart of a dying star, but born too late. "I wonder." He muttered, then dismissed the thought with a wry turn of the corner of his mouth. No, it couldn't be. Not here.

He grinned broadly as he shook her hand, a bit awkwardly since he couldn't remember the exact custom of the time. People tended to add a lot of flourish and extra motions to handshakes once they got past the mid twenty first century. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Indigo." He spoke with a British accent, or something very close to one. "I don't mind, why worry about time, here of all places?" A thought in the back of his mind said: Well, there was the fact that massive concentrations of time threads like this tended to cause a localized collapse of spacetime if they were left to persist too long. But that probably wouldn't happen for a few years, and someone with sense was bound to notice and clean it up by then.

"I'd be surprised to learn if half the people here came from anywhere near this area of space or time." He said, starting to walk down the avenue in the general direction of the tea booth.

"I certainly don't." He added, pausing abruptly before trying to move smoothly to another topic. "Ha, there's an Archon twenty-four." He said, pointing out a time machine on a pedestal with gleaming brass piping and bright red paint job. "I guess Professor Redleaf finally worked out that loop fluctuation. Terrible business with the giant squid cult, that caused. Well, actually it caused the giant squid cult to begin with. Things get a bit circular from there."
« Last Edit: April 27, 2014, 02:37:40 am by Alexis Voltaire » Logged
MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


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

rtafStElmo
« Reply #9 on: April 27, 2014, 06:25:05 am »

Over by the drinks concession stands, back in an alcove inadvertently created by the happenstance placement of the beer garden, coffeehouse and nostalgic soda fountains, a split appeared in midair. It was as if the universe had suddenly been split apart with a frighteningly sharp knife, the edges left flapping in the sudden disturbingly odd-feeling wind, which howled through the flapping edges of the gap like a bereft hurricane. The world, or perhaps the not-world, on the other side of the breakline, was blue-black; alien forms writhed back among it's darkest shadows, as a man in the brown leather greatcoat of a dirigible aviator of a far-different universe, a brownish grey tweed flat cap, brown houndstooth suit beneath, and the handle of a broomhandle Mauser selfloading pistol protruding from under the lapel of the suitcoat, stumbled forth as the blue-tinged mist that accompanied his arrival seemed to caress and seek to entangle his legs. A sensation of insanely-intense heat and cloying humidity seemed to pursue him into the tiny space between the stalls.  

"Chthuga, love, cut that out, will you?" Marius Wendell Brantley called out, apparently back through the split in the universe. "This's Committee business, so I hafta go, even Lord 'Thulu'd say so. A weird purring sounded, apparently in reply.  "I will, love, and you keep outta trouble, hear? Leave cousin Thargad alone for a bit, OK?" The purring sounded again, and the mist retreated back across the split, apparently reluctantly, the heat dissipating slightly as well, asthe edges of the split suddenly sealed themselves- but not before a buxom humanoid female figure in motorcycle leathers, skull earrings and purple dreadlocks dove through, the split snapping shut and ceasing to exist a millisecond later.

"Gahhh! Bugger it all, to hell and back!" Brantley swore and tapped away at the bricklike device in his hand, opening several splits and ducking his head into each one, apparently fruitlessly. "Conjunctive vortex must've shifted," he muttered. "Oh well, nothing for it, I've a job ta do." He moved off into the crowd, and after dodging. bobbing and weaving through the mass of seemingly ecstatically-ethralled humanity, he tugged at a black cloaked, stoically lounging figure that he had encountered about halfway across the sea of gyrating, writhing dancers. "Where's the souvenir vendors area from here, d' you know?" He asked as politely as he could, considering that he had to shout to be heard over the music.
« Last Edit: April 27, 2014, 06:54:16 am by MWBailey » Logged

Walk softly and carry a big banjo...

""quid statis aspicientes in infernum"
Fairley B. Strange
Zeppelin Overlord
*******
Australia Australia


Relax, I've done much dumber things and survived..


WWW
« Reply #10 on: April 27, 2014, 04:26:09 pm »

They walked through the narrow alleyways that cross-linked the broader avenues, lost in conversation. Or more accurately, she’d asked him about the war and was now hanging on his every word, and walkingon the side away from his hefted duffle-bag she pressed herself closer to hear his voice more clearly amid the hubbub, his arm naturally slipping into hers as they skirted the myriad strangenesses along their route.

“… and that was why it had to be ‘Pete’s-burg and Earth-6. Somehow the Squishies could react to what happened to them on the other Earths. Nobody knows how, but after here on Earth-8 – and, no, I never found out whoever decided which one was One and counted through the rest, it was just the way they told us when we sorted out into the Barracks huts - where here they got sealed in those Time Gaps just after the first landings, and Earth-3 where they got out of that and had to be hit with the Plagues, on Eee–Six they had wised up and started to grow the yellow armour-plates – ‘toffees’ we called ‘em – but at that point it was still weak enough that we could shoot through it with regular guns so that was the Criticality. We could only use so many Aetherisers against their Tripods without giving 1897 too many hints about advanced Aether-physicks too soon, so it was mainly teams with light Maxims to smash their Controllers and Drainers, then clean them up personal with the Auto-Borchardts that sprayed through the toffee and then shredded up the jellyness inside. So what they thought was going to protect them turned out making it easier for bullets to mess them up in there...”

He slowed at this point, distracted from recent history by his right foot beginning to droop at the toes, scraping on the cobbles if he didn’t deliberately lift it that extra bit on each step.

Before he could formulate a better response, Sally had pushed him into an alcove out of the traffic, dropping to her knees before him and unbuttoning her coat.

Steady, Desyatnik, you’re not down in the Pavlovsk Grottoes now…, he could almost hear Ol’Whoz’s voice audibly in his good ear and quickly pulled the hand that was hovering at the back of her bonnet away, as the young lady rummaged inside her coat and produced a swivel-head ratchet-spanner. Both his hands were thus safely away behind his back before she even noticed, too absorbed in lifting his trouser cuff to access the shiny ball-joint and jewelled actuator linkages that now emerged from his shoe in place of an ankle.

“Sorry, I’ll just need to make a small adjustment… here… and retighten this grub-screw… There, I’ll get out of the way and you can try that…”.

She shuffled aside and at her urging he took a few tentative steps. The toes didn’t droop any more, but there was a slight inward turning. Before he could say anything, she has behind his calf, readjusting something a few more turns. Embarrassed now by her proximity, now that her motives were so obviously both innocent and helpful, Jake took the next few trial steps quickly to confirm her handiwork.

“Yes, that’s it, it’s fine now. Thanks. Uh, I didn’t realise you’d be carrying a tool-kit out to tea.”

Sally was back on her feet now as he turned back towards her, fitting her spanner back inside her coat. Both hands free, she briefly opened her lapels wide to give a glimpse of two rows of various mechanic’s tools looped across her bodice.

“I always take them with me. Now Master Wensley is getting on he only goes the shop-work and the fittings, so I’ve had to take on a lot of the repair visits, and it was easier to make a little leather vest than carry a clanking rattling satchel everywhere. Anyway, if we haven’t got lost yet, we should be almost at the tea-house…”

Even more impressed, Jake offered his free arm once more, and they rounded the last corner to find the Ming Sun Tea-room on the opposite side of the Avenue.
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Miss Indigo Darling
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« Reply #11 on: April 27, 2014, 04:57:45 pm »

Miss Indigo gave the blonde man a quizzical look.  "Giant squid cult? Are they anything like the 'New Thought' people? You know,seances, table tipping and all that? I must admit, I am most puzzled, and not quite certain of how I arrived here." She said, as she trotted along beside him, trying unsuccessfully to avoid  more puddles and patches of mud as they walked.  "I left on a ship which sailed from New York, destination London, on Thursday. Which was yesterday.  Because by my calculations, it is now Friday afternoon. No ship has ever crossed the Atlantic in less than five days. But here I am. And something else..." She paused. "  When we disembarked I was expecting to see all sorts of people. Which indeed, I have, but..." She nodded her head towards the feline folk. One of the larger males noticed her gaze, stared her directly in the eye, and uttered a soft, deep growl. Then he winked one luminous golden eye. His lips curled upwards in a suggestive grin, exposing gleaming fangs. Miss Indigo inhaled sharply, stared right back, and returned his wink. The large feline looked  somewhat surprised, then began to chuckle heartily. He  raised a mug of something  in her direction in salute, and turned back to his fellows. 

Slightly flustered, she spoke again.  " I know I'm in London,  or at least, it looks like London. Mostly. I mean, yes, it is London, I'm sure of it.  Sort of. " She took a deep breath and continued. " My Aunt Genevieve was supposed to meet me at the dock, I am to be staying with her, but she wasn't there when I arrived, and when I inquired about arranging transportation to her house, the hack driver told me there was no such address. I returned dockside, to the ship, to collect my valise, and was told that all of the luggage had disappeared from the hold.  Not unloaded, gone."   She  frowned at the memory, then continued.

 "Something odd occurred last night, whilst we were at sea.  I was jolted awake by  a terrible roaring sound, and the peculiar motion of the ship. It felt as if it were moving sideways.  The air crackled and burned with electric flashes.  I ran to the portal window of my cabin and looked out. The ship was engulfed by a strange storm. Darkness within darkness. I could see the ocean and the stars in the distance, but  directly above us, the stars weren't there. The ocean seemed to have vanished below, yet the ship wasn't sinking.  There was a peculiar sensation of stretching, and then everything snapped back. I felt somewhat ill,  but looked up again. The stars were there.  Once more I could hear the sound of ocean waves, could smell the salt water, although I am now most grateful that one of the things I did NOT see was any sort of giant squid. I was more tired than I have ever felt before, and went back to bed. When I awoke, the Captain was calling for all passengers to exit immediately. We didn't even get breakfast. " She huffed.

 With a look of annoyance, she stamped one small, black booted foot. "I have nothing save my reticule," she dangled an overstuffed, lumpy looking black macrame bag,  "And the clothes on my back. Which are rapidly becoming besmirched." She stopped, and tried to dust some of the drying mud from her  vibrant purple taffeta skirt, which was now decidedly more tatty looking.  Her shawl slipped down even further, trying to make an unheralded escape.  Her small black hat was  holding steady, albeit perched in a most precarious position.  She could feel the comforting weight of the little clockwork, which was snuggled warmly in the inside pocket of her sapphire blue silk Spencer jacket.

"So again, here I am. But where, or perhaps more to the point, when? Because it seems to me that I'm quite a ways from where I began, in all manner of things. I'm enjoying the experience immensely, I must admit. I'm a traveler by intention, although I do believe I have now journeyed farther already than I ever thought I would. It would be nice to have more information. I believe you know things, Sir. And please excuse me, I didn't quite catch your name. What was it again?" She turned to the blonde man, and looked towards him expectantly,  a slightly plump, whirling hurricane of rumpled lace, spotted clothing and unassailable dignity.
« Last Edit: April 27, 2014, 05:41:10 pm by Miss Indigo Darling » Logged
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« Reply #12 on: April 27, 2014, 05:08:04 pm »

The crown parted as the seven foot tall robed figure moved through the crowds, his hood was pulled low to cover his face and if it wasn't for his height, he would have been mistaken as a monk. Unless the other's here, he hadn't arrived via any time travel device, he didn't need to, in his long life, he had found other means to pass back and forward through the time lines and dimensions.

"Boss, have you found your target?"

"Not yet, keep radio silence, we don't know if anyone has developed the means to use the same communication system as us yet."

"Yes sir, by the way, you really should try the t'top burgers, they really are nice."

He closed his eyes and lets his other sense Rome around, his six sense picked up his target and he headed in that direction.
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I suffer from a random misfiring synapse and a bad case of wolfen the turns me into a seven-foot-tall werewolf or a seven-foot great wolf!
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MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
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United States United States


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

rtafStElmo
« Reply #13 on: April 27, 2014, 05:54:53 pm »

Lost again. Embarrassing, really; he could navigate his way through the myriad planes and dimensions both with and without the A.U.N.T.S.A.L.L.Y.  Time Brick, and unerringly arrive at his spatial and temporal destination, but try something like a Mardi Gras or this mass of humanity and other sentients,, and he invariably lost his way. if it weren't for the myriad rogue rifts left behind by arriving and departing travelling devices, he'd have been completely at sea; they provided a sort of surrogate multiverse effect that, weirdly, put the utter chaos of the festival into a strangely disorderly kind of order.

He found himself outside of a tea room venue, the Sun-Ting or something like that. Brantley wandered in, deciding he could do with a cup or a pot, and managed to find a space at the bar. Procuring a huge mug of chai with some kind of honey-like sweetener in it, he made his way to an unoccupied chair at a table and asked if the seat was taken.
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Alexis Voltaire
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Shàlle We Dànce?


« Reply #14 on: April 27, 2014, 09:51:02 pm »

He gave Indigo a rather lost look. "Well..." He sighed and half smiled. He seemed to give people the impression that he knew what was going on, he really wasn't sure why."Personally, I think you jumped a time track, sort of like changing hyperlanes." did that analogy mean anything here? "In your case, I think the ship accidentally fell into a nearby parallel of the earth you know. I think if you tried to get back to New York, you'd find it there alright, but your home would be gone or occupied by someone else. Or another version of yourself. Seeing as how your aunt isn't where you left her, probably the first one."

He started to rummage through his pockets. "Fortunately, you live in a multiverse continuum where that's fairly easy to resolve. I think there's quite a few machines here with the capability to cross dimensional barriers, given that the one you came from is, probably, practically next door it shouldn't be difficult." He pulled a handful of purple discs from one pocket, and started to count them.

"As for your last question, well..." It suddenly came home that he wasn't in Markovennian time or space anymore, people here expected you to have a name rather than a unique bio-numerical designation. He'd rather liked his markovennian 'name', but it seemed like it would be very out of place here, and too long to reasonably expect anyone to remember. He wouldn't be back to Markovennia any time soon, but he was at a loss for what he should give as a name. "I'm just sort of a, navigator. Used to be, anyway, worked for an official hyperspace ship and everything."

He looked up at the sky, and half closed his eyes. He pointed upward, knowing with some unerring accuracy that he'd never understood how or why it worked, that he was pointing to the area of space the ship used to patrol. Would patrol. In about twelve thousand years. "Somewhere out that direction, I think." As he looked up at the foggy sky, thinking of the stars beyond, something clicked. Navigator. I like it.

"Call me Navigator." He said with a quick smile. He handed Indigo a stack of purple plastic discs. "From what I've seen, people here seem to take currency from anywhere, this is Markovennian. I won't be here long enough to spend all I've got, and I doubt I'll find anywhere else that takes it in a hurry- Ah, here's the tea room. Smells wonderful, very authentic too." He pulled the door open and stood to one side. "After you, m'lady."
« Last Edit: April 27, 2014, 09:56:07 pm by Alexis Voltaire » Logged
Miss Indigo Darling
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« Reply #15 on: April 28, 2014, 01:32:53 am »

The objects were shiny, purple, and strange. Indigo nearly dropped them in the doorway. She composed herself, stuffed the discs into her reticule, fully  intending to return them to their original owner, and swept through the open door. "Mr Navigator," She said when they were both inside.  "The tea smells most refreshing, and truth be told, I need quite a bit of it right now. However, I simply cannot take your money, sir. Whatever shall you do without it? I appreciate your generosity, you are indeed most kind.  However I do have currency of my own. "

She fished in her bag,  pulled out a small round gold piece, and held it up. It glinted in the dim light of the tearoom.  'This, " she said, "is the equivalent of twenty dollars. One hundred percent guaranteed by the treasury of the United States of America. I have one hundred and twenty nine of them in here, it's why this bag is so cumbersome, but I can manage it alright. I'm a lot stronger than I look. "

 She was hoping her new companion would be staying around long enough to have tea, and to possibly answer the sort of questions she had, the likes of which she'd never had before.  Jumped a time track, he said. That could explain a lot. It also could explain what had happened to Luther Barstow, who had disappeared a month ago whilst working on what he called his  "Time Machine" after reading a newly published work of fiction written by a Mr H.G Wells. Maybe he'd jumped a time track too, and was wandering around somewhere wondering where everybody had gone.

  Old Luther was a  retired mechanical engineer. He'd been building the thing out in his barn for weeks.  Everyone thought he was crazy,  until the night of that big storm.  Indigo had never seen such a storm in all of her life.  Lightning. So much lightning.  Monsterous, impossibly white bolts, which crashed through the hundred year old oak trees which had lined both sides of Main Street, shredding them into splinters. Several bolts hit  the Barstow's barn all at once. There was a huge explosion.  Indigo could feel the force of the blast all the way down the street. Then she saw Sophie Barstow running down the road barefoot, in her  nightdress and cap, shrieking for help and wailing that Luther had just vanished without a trace.   That was when the brand new gas line  that the town had put in not a week before blew up.  Lightning struck the street three houses away, and the explosion traveled back up the lines. One by one the houses went up in flames and shattered boards. Indigo had run outside to help her poor, terrified neighbour, which was what saved her life. Her house went up in flames too, taking her past with it.

The gas company compensated the homeowners for the destruction of their property. Two thousand six hundred dollars had been paid out to one Miss Indigo Darling.  She had taken it all, packed the few remaining possessions she could salvage from the wreckage of her home, got a lift down to the train station from a farmer with a hay wagon and headed to New York. 

'Mr Navigator," She said. "It sounds to me as if you have fascinating stories to relate.   This business about time lines, and getting me back to where I came from.  Tell me. They don't have to send me back, do they?  I'm not out of place here, am I?  You said there were many people from many times and places here. Seeing as that's so, then I am just one more." She  gave him a concerned look. " Because I don't want to go back. There's nothing left for me there, nothing at all. Even my valise is no more. I am what I have. A bag of gold, myself and my new little friend." She patted the side of her jacket. "If you must leave, I most certainly understand, although there is quite a bit  about all of this that I do not. However, I do catch on to things quickly. This idea of traveling through time is not something frightening to me. I find the concept exhilarating. I'm stalwart, not timid, by any means, nor am I one to panic in a crisis. I can shoot a gun, and not afraid to use it if defense is necessary. I'm useful. I can fix things." She paused. "Well, I can fix some things.  I can fix tractors, although that might not be all that useful of a skill here." She looked around, then continued. I understand mechanical workings, and wiring, some.  " And I'm good with schematics.  Maybe someone here might have some work for me, or there might be someone I can help out, somehow.  I wanted to travel, and I certainly am doing that. Besides, this a lot more interesting than where I came from. I like it. "

She pointed to a small wooden table with a colourful red and blue tablecloth.  There were four empty chairs, and a teapot waiting to be filled. "Shall we sit down?" She said, and smiled.

 
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MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
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United States United States


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

rtafStElmo
« Reply #16 on: April 28, 2014, 04:18:15 am »

The table's occupants left abrubtly; Brantley had an impression of a gold-glinting pocket device in the male(?) patron's hand that seemed to emitting a curious tone just above the perceptible range of human hearing. Brantley, being of at least partial alien makeup, could hear it just on the edge of his perceptive range. At about the same moment that the pair exited the booth, He caught a snatch of conversation concerning "crossing dimensions," and also something about something or other not being hard to do.

There was also a rather loud exclamation from a neighboring table about "Creepy-crawlies, alien bastards and anybody else better watch out, 'cause I'm 'ere to take care of 'em!"

Brantley smiled to himself at the thought that if they knew what he was, they'd probably make the tearoom floor a very wet environment indeed. He clenched the tentacle under his coat - and froze, seeing the heavy combat-grade blaster the fellow was drunkenly brandishing.

Changing tactics before having actually played the scare-the-yahoo card, he relaxed the tentacle, and pulled the others back before they became more than small bumps under the skin, while simultaneously reaching into his suit coat's breast pocket and pulling out his badge folio. he opened same, and showed both his A.U.N.T.S.A.L.L.Y. and Temporal Customs badges, allowing the glint of the platinum Committee Agent card to show from behind the customs flap. He stood up and flashed the badges at the drunk's face, giving the lout plenty of time to recognize what he held in his hand.

"Temporal Customs, kid," he said, "You got a permit for that cannon? It ain't exactly illegal to have one in a thing like this festival, but you oughta know not to wave it around armed." He reached over and squeezed the muzzle end of the weapon while the drunken trooper was still bemused by the sudden advent of a customs badge, pressing as he did so the glowing yellow button that powered down all but the stun functions of the firearm.

"There, that'll make it technically nonlethal, should you slip and shoot somebody with it." Technically, yeah. Sure. It might pick somebody up with the force of impact and throw them forty feet, but at least the impact with a solid object would be what killed the victim, instead of the initial blast of the gun. Technically, 'Stun' was 'not lethal.' "Who's your C.O? Is it Whozzie or whatever they're calling him now? Something tells me he won't be happy about your misuse of an official weapon." He took a stronger stance and whipped out the Mauser as the trooper got a very angry, vicious look on his face and pointed the blaster in his direction. "Damn Sallies, tellin' us who we kin shoot! Half you people are part crawly yerselves, you bastards!"

"You're throwin' down on a temporal regulator, kid," Brantley said evenly, a tinge of command in his voice. "Your gun's a real  thumper, it'll knock me fifty feet even on stun, but mine throws a slug a helluva lot farther and faster than yours throws its beam. You'll be nailed before your beam even leaves the muzzle. Think about it, maybe you oughta save some of yer fire for the 'crawlies,' as you call 'em."

It took a long time, seemingly, though Brantley knew it was over in a matter of actual seconds. Still, he had plenty of time to stare at the ugly muzzle of the gun, in line with the ugly eyes in the ugly mug of the trooper's face and wonder if he'd ever see Chthuga again, and whether she'd disobey Lord Thulu and throw back in with the Martians again, sweeping humanity off of the Red Planet and out of existence as she had nearly done a standard century before.

"Yeah. Well." Something in the trooper went slack, and the blaster dropped to his side and found it's way back into it's holster. "I guess we're all culpable in some way. Sorry, mate." the trooper sat back down and his doxies pressed him with spiked tea and sympathy while Brantley holstered the Mauser and settled heavily back into his own chair, nursing the mug of chai and thanking the Powers that Were that tonight, at least, he wouldn't start a holy war with his death. I can remember when all I had to worry about was gettin' blown ta atoms, he thought wistfully. Life was simple then, even after the Crawlie transplant. I never thought back then that I'd end up marryin' an alien deity, he sighed to himself. He looked around for the people who'd talked about something being easy to do with all the time machines around. Were they his target for this mission? "I wish they'd give me better intel," he grumbled under his breath.
« Last Edit: April 28, 2014, 05:24:48 am by MWBailey » Logged
Alexis Voltaire
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United States United States


Shàlle We Dànce?


« Reply #17 on: April 28, 2014, 05:34:47 am »

"Oh, well, sorry for any offense." He said, taking the purple discs back. He hadn't really thought anything of giving it to her, but now that he thought about it there was a cultural custom of some kind in this time about giving money, but he couldn't remember quite what it was.

"Just Navigator." He said, taking a seat at an empty table. "And no, you don't have to go back at all, I just thought you'd want to. Most people would." There was some admiration in his tone. He pulled an orb of crystal caged inside a framework of metal and wires from his pocket, and started to fiddle with one of the dials. "Tell you what, if I can find-"

The Navigator turned quickly in his chair to watch the commotion between the man with the A.U.N.T.S.A.L.L.Y. badge and the drunken one with the blaster. He tilted his head slightly as he watched them, and glanced between the crystal orb and the man in the aviator's coat several times. "Huh. I thought there weren't any of them around anymore." He muttered under his breath, and pocketed the crystal device. Alike and yet... not. Part human, too, probably, although chromosomal drift made the distinction somewhat blurry.

He shrugged and looked back to Indigo, trying to remember what he'd been talking about. "Anyway, I'm trying to find a time machine here, it's mine, sort of, but it got lost. Have you..." He searched for an appropriate metaphorical context. "Ever left a car on a hill and had the parking break fail? Well, in this case it was never set, actually, but the point is that the car rolls down the hill and into oncoming traffic or something. Now, imagine this happening in an eleven dimensional context... um," He shut one eye and raised the other eyebrow. "Well, no, you can't. But the point is, it's taken a lot of running to catch up with it. Back at school they'd argue it was mathematically impossible, but those calculations tended not to take the real world into account. It's been bouncing off dimensional walls and drifting around timeloops on the way, and sort of, losing velocity as it goes." He winced slightly, but a more elegant explanation would have taken several hours and a lot of math. "Short answer, I think it's been attracted by the landing system here, and it's either orbiting this temporal location, or if I'm lucky, it's been pulled into a stable physical landing."
« Last Edit: April 28, 2014, 10:03:20 pm by Alexis Voltaire » Logged
Fairley B. Strange
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« Reply #18 on: April 29, 2014, 03:03:38 pm »

The venerable Master Ming Sun, or Roderick to his friends, the taller of the two brothers whose trading Empire spanned at least twelve centuries and four differing planes of existence, happened to be at the doorway of his establishment as Jake and Sally entered. He couldn’t help himself in counting the house and doing a quick check of the till. Even though he knew from previous calculations that he was losing money on every pot and practically paying his new customers to consume those delicious little sugar biscuits, his trader blood couldn’t help it. Similarly, when the young couple came to the desk while all his waiters were engaged, he couldn’t help but put down his mastodon-ivory pen, don his warmest and most welcoming smile, and personally escort them to the nearest available chairs as he would have done for the Queen-Empress herself.

“Good afternoon, Sirs, Madame,” he bowed as they approached the table with it's odd blue and red tablecloth, “unfortunately our establishment is rather popular today, so if I may take the liberty, Sir and Madame, would you care to take the vacant seats at this table and your waiter will be with you shortly.”

Jake nodded and guided Sally to the chair on the left before occupying the other. He hadn’t really noticed the other persons seated at the large circular table as they approached, so took the opportunity to quickly look around as he prepared to introduce himself.

Hmmm, a tall blonde chap in some kind of blue and gold greatcoat, who appeared to be accompanied by the young lady in the lace shawl playing with some kind of shiny brass clockwork, who looked like they’d also just arrived as their cups were still empty; and another chap in a brown leather greatcoat, who had just moved across to the end of this table, although he'd been there long enough to have emptied half a large mug of chai. There were still one vacant chair – which was odd when the rest of the tables were packed to the point where pained Baronets found themselves at the elbows of swarthy Navvies or Asiatic washerwomen.

The hairs on Jake’s neck bristled despite the apparent normalcy of the crowd around them. It hadn’t done that since the Nevsky Prospekt, but he tried to stay outwardly calm, as he introduced himself.

“Hello, Madam, Gentlemen. I’m Corporal Jacob Lasseter, Fourth Temporals;and this is Miss Sally Rogers, I do hope we’re not intruding…”
« Last Edit: April 29, 2014, 03:06:28 pm by Fairley B. Strange » Logged
CPT_J_Percell
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« Reply #19 on: April 29, 2014, 05:27:41 pm »

The robed figure was drawn to the little tea shop, he knew his target was in the opposite direction but he hadn't had a good cup of tea in ages. Opening his eyes and drawing his hood back enough to see out, he looked into the crowded place and realised his current form wouldn't fit in. With a thought, he shrunk into human form, removed the huge earpiece and dropped it in a pocket hiding in his sleeve. He took a deep breath and opened the door. a little bell rang above him and he had the feeling of having been in a place like this before.
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MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
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United States United States


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

rtafStElmo
« Reply #20 on: April 30, 2014, 05:38:38 am »

Lasseter? Brantley looked at the fellow and sized him up while displaying a wan smile. He seemed OK, not at all like the villain of the same name who'd tried to steal the Beau Rosin out from under him and Jack in Busted Flats back on Earth One. "Not at all, do have a seat, Mister Lasseter, Miss...Sally?." He looked and deferred to the other patrons at the table. "Er, if you all don't mind that is?"

He was knocked for a loop; Sally didn't look like his boss, Miss Sally Kemmermann, but the name and it's incidence in the present time and situation was intriguing, if not downright speculation-provoking. Who knew? Was this a Ms. Kemmermann who turned out completely human and not a Temporal Customs tsarina?

Damn, his mug was empty. He looked pointedly into it, and said, "That's the problem with mugs; they tend to run dry when you drink out of 'em." Maybe the empty mug was for the best, though, he reflected offhandedly; he was keyed up still, after the confrontation with Tall, Dark and Gunhappy.
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Alexis Voltaire
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United States United States


Shàlle We Dànce?


« Reply #21 on: April 30, 2014, 07:02:00 am »

"Don't mind at all... Call me Navigator." He said to the newcomers in general.

He was perhaps a little apprehensive of sharing a table with the man in the brown aviator's coat, but this one seemed nice enough, nothing much like the old legends. And the A.U.N.T.S.A.L.L.Y. agents he knew of were generally good people, or at least they tried to be.

He'd never really liked being patient and careful though (a trait that had gotten him into enough trouble that he really ought to have learned better by now) so he offered his hand to the man in the aviator's coat with a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you. Tell me, what's an Elder Child doing in these parts?"
« Last Edit: April 30, 2014, 07:17:21 am by Alexis Voltaire » Logged
Fairley B. Strange
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Relax, I've done much dumber things and survived..


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« Reply #22 on: April 30, 2014, 10:46:03 am »

That Miss Rogers instinctively pressed herself into his side at the mention of the Old Ones would normally have been a good thing. That her sudden closeness would impede Jake from drawing his Auto-Borchardt from the crossbelt holster in a sitting position was not.

He kept his face smiling gently as everyone awaited the stranger's reply, utilising the sound of Sally's quiet scratching of an old superstitious symbol on the tabletop before her to mask the slip of oiled metal as he thumbed the safety-catch to 'Voll'...
« Last Edit: April 30, 2014, 02:29:39 pm by Fairley B. Strange » Logged
MWBailey
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"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

rtafStElmo
« Reply #23 on: April 30, 2014, 04:06:45 pm »

Brantley didn't hear the characteristic sound of a safety being manipulated on a firearm. He did note the fact that Mr. Lasseter's arm was in a position that suggested his hand might be somewhere in the vicinity of his hip, and while he steeled himself not to tense, he did shift position as he accepted the Navigator's hand. "Navigator, uh? I'm Brantley, M.W. Brantley."  he moved his shoulder so that both the suit coat and greatcoat fell open, revealing his houndstooth vest and the ivory-like Franzite grip of the Mauser.  He redrew his hand from the handshake, keeping it on the table in easy proximity to said grip.

"Elder Child, uh? I haven't heard that term in quite a while."  He chuckled in spite of himself. If only it had been that simple. "I think you're laboring under a rather massive misapprehension. I'm old, but not that old. A mere matter of a hundred years and then a regular lifespan. I was captured by the enemy back during the first Martian War on old Earth One, the actual Terra Firma, Mother Soil and all that. They transplanted their and another alien species' bits and bobs into me, trying to replicate through surgery a time-and-space-traversing race that is extinct along that timeline. It didn't take, or at least not the way they intended."

"But I'm not an Old One, Miss, er, Sally, Mr. Navigator; I'm just a an A.U.N.T.S.A.L.L.Y.* operative and a Temporal Customs officer of the Pantemporal Regulatory Committee of Travelling Planes. Yes, old Lord 'Thulhu's still on it, but he's not the President this cycle, and my lady wife has sworn to not go do a pogrom on humanity ever again." Provided I don't go and get myself killed by a Temporal with an itchy trigger finger, he reminded himself. He sighed. "Please, Mr. Lasseter, I nearly perforated a timesoldier already this evening, I'd prefer not to risk another in a firefight. Your deaths off the battlefield cause more trouble than you know."

-----------------------------
*(OOC: a little explanation may be in order. We don't have to follow Brantley's Mythos to the letter (I'm not that egotistical), but this is where he's coming from)
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« Last Edit: April 30, 2014, 04:39:10 pm by MWBailey » Logged
Alexis Voltaire
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


Shàlle We Dànce?


« Reply #24 on: May 01, 2014, 06:41:09 am »

"It's just the Navigator, or Navigator." He said, a little disappointed that his guess had proven wrong. "No mr. or sir, it... sounds weird."

He swirled the tea slightly in his mug, and took a sip of it. Honey and jasmine, and just a hint of an herb that went extinct about three centuries ago, relative time to now. Extinct. The word rattled around his his mind along with the other fairly pointless information that tended to turn up at times like this. 'replicate through surgery a time-and-space-traversing race that is extinct along that timeline...' He smiled slightly. Yes, I thought about as much.

"Well, Zaven tian 'vri, va'alro." He said, and then frowned, realizing that it was unlikely anyone else understood what that meant. "It means, oh, nevermind..."

He sighed and drank the rest of his tea. He wanted his timeship back, the proper one. He'd be able to get back to a time he was familiar with, or at least have a chance of traveling with someone that understood what he'd just said.

"Has anyone seen or heard about a time capsule showing up here where it shouldn't?" He asked. It was a very long shot, since it was next to impossible for anyone to tell what belonged around here and what didn't, and given the variety of cultures and timelines present it could have ended up looking like almost anything in the universe. "It might look like a big silvery box with a door, or... Maybe a small house with chicken feet?"
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