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Author Topic: The Extended Steam Salon  (Read 68437 times)
The Abiliegh
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Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #275 on: June 21, 2009, 01:49:12 am »

"They, doll. THEY." He stopped pacing and turned to face her. "The Martians."

Her eyes went wide as she opened her mouth to speak. But before any words came out, there was an explosion. She could tell it was from inside the same complex, but it was above them, and rather off in the distance. 

That didn't seem to matter to Lawrence Lipschitz. Already angry, he grabbed her roughly by the arm, and started to drag her. "We'll have t'finish this charming conversation later. I don't know what's goin on up there, but people are going to die for it."

And then he was running. All she could do was try to keep up, stumbling in her heels as he lead her.
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OldProfessorBear
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« Reply #276 on: June 21, 2009, 02:28:45 am »

Having, with difficulty, extracted himself from beneath several miscellaneous pieces of heavy gear, where he had been thrown by the airship's precipitous dive, the Professor dusted off his bowler, retrieved his walking-stick, and sought out its commander, who was now covering T. E. Gunn's dash into the remains of the building.

"Brantley," he said quietly so as not to distract the man, "when are we now? I can tell more or less where we are by certain landmarks, but much is changed."
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Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
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Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #277 on: June 21, 2009, 03:16:38 am »

T.E. makes it through the gaping hole where the door of the warehouse used to be..it's laying on the floor twenty feet away, on top of a couple of goombahs. Without slacking his pace he hurls the two grenades to either side of him, and continues further in another thirty feet, where he pauses, spins, and rapidly sums up the opposition...some of them are still moving, cursing, pulling themselves out from under scattered pieces of warehouse walls. Snatching two more grenades from his belt, he brings his hands together, hooks each thumb in the ring of the grenade in the opposite hand, then separates his hands quickly, pulling the pins and throwing the bombs in a smooth motion. Turning 180 degrees, he makes a flying dive just as the first two grenades detonate, landing behind a largish piece of machinery, and flattening himself as the second pair go off, a rapid one-two blast. Pulling the revolvers from his pants pockets, he ventures a look over the top, and sees nothing but smoking ruin. There are a few groans, but nobody is shooting at him...probably a temporary situation, though, as he hears the sounds of men shouting, and the pounding of running feet, lots of them, getting closer. This is a big complex, and he's made a good sized hole...but only in a relatively small part.
"Hope th' others take th' hint an' get it in gear...if I don't get some back-up in here pretty quick, I'm gonna be a dead man."
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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 #278 on: June 21, 2009, 04:06:49 am »

She couldn't run any further. "Larry... Larry please... stop." Her breaths were ragged, her words gasped. "For God's sake... I'm not some... some machine like you!" There was venom in her voice.

Still running, he looked over his shoulder at her. In that moment, she wished she hadn't said anything. He was terrifying. There was nothing of the man she used to know inside of him. No mater what honeyed words he might say, she knew now that it all meant nothing.

And then he threw her into the wall, pinning her with the arm he had ahold of over her head and his body pressed forcefully against her. "Don't make me think you're useless, Abiliegh. You don't want me t'think you're useless."

She saw his free hand move, and then all the world went black.
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MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
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"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

rtafStElmo
« Reply #279 on: June 21, 2009, 04:44:56 am »

"Professor? you up for a little relief op?" Brantleyturned and yelled at the cabin door, still gaping open. "Ms Storm, if you would, please attend the fire control cranks, those three largish wheels, one over the other on teh railing , there. The top one's for the starboard side, and the bottom's for the Port, and the brass one in the middle is for the gatling gun; don't worry about that one unless I get shot or otherwise made ineffective."

"Professor, you look like an airshipman from 'way back, so if you wouldn't mind piloting this tub, we need to get down by that ruined car, Pronto!" He clung onto the gatling as the professor complied, whipping the ugly little blimp down between the warehouses, while Ms Storm cranked the fire control wheels when MW told her to "FIRE!" however many shots per (usually two or three), thus destroying the gangsters' first counterattack.

"When, professor? about ten years later; where, I'm not sure , unless this is a new waterfront complex that wont exist in our home time for at laest ten years." adn eithe rM4rs. Cross or Cap'n Brandsson is sdown there, held captive so far as we can tell. I need your piloting, Professor. I can't do all of this alone."

The new wave of "running feet" noises turned into men running toward the bow of the airship with weaponry, some of it heavy, and one of them made up apparently of almost all clockwork and mechanical prostheses... "TOMMY! AIN'T THAT LIPPY?! LIKE I SAID, SOMETHING THAT SHOULDN'T HAVE SURVIVED!" HE screamed in T.E.'s direction, and turned the gatling on Lippy -- but then froze momentarily, when he saw whom he had thrown over one shoulder. PROFESSOR! TAKE 'ER UP ABOUT TWENTY FEET, he yelled, whipping out the Smith and Wesson from the shoulder holster along with a really old 9-bore over-under caplock Howdah Pistol (which looked as if somebody had sawn all but the hindmost half-foot of the barrel off of a caplock market gun), from the holster in the small of his back. He fired twice with the revolver, blasting gears off of Lippy's torso, but otherwise doing little damage. It did make him sort of cringe and limp, however. Lippy began running toward the airship, Mrs. Cross still over one shoulder. He heard Tommy yelling at him to look out, but paid little heed as he tied the line from the big winch in the bow 'round himself and turned to jump off the bow and try to take Mrs. Cross away from Lippy --only to find it wasn't necessary. Lippy was right in front of him!

The man had jumped clear up to the deck of the Beau Rosin, with Mrs, Cross still over one shoulder! Brantley knew he was done for if he didn't act fast, so he used the only logical move left open to him; He fired the S&W point-blank into Lippy's gut, holstered the pistols, grabbed Mrs. Cross off of his shoulder while he staggered, and dashed clumsily to the cabin, gently laying Mrs. Cross on the floor beside the cot on which Honey still dozed. "DON'T open the door for ANYTHING!" Brantley yelled, and slammed the door behind him as he ran out through it, and tackled the just-then-recovering Lippy such that both he and Lippy tumbled over the side to the ground below; the professor took the hint and lofted the airship up just out of pistol range, as Lippy hit the ground, screaming, with Brantley on top of his chest. HE waved at Tommy, hoping he'd take the hint and get over there to him before Lippy woke up, and got ready to give the line the jerk that would make it yank him and Tommy out of harm's way...
« Last Edit: June 21, 2009, 08:50:08 pm by MWBailey » Logged

Walk softly and carry a big banjo...

""quid statis aspicientes in infernum"
Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
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I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #280 on: June 21, 2009, 06:02:56 am »

A group of men runs past, Tommy ducks, and they don't even notice him, but go tearing through the hole and out into the sunlight, firing at the Beau Rosin. As they leave the shade of the interior, Tommy sees one of them has a dame over his shoulder.."What the hell!?!" thinks Gunn. All in a flash, he realizes the dame is Mrs. Cross, and that something about the guy that's got her isn't really...human. He rushes out of the warehouse, just as the robot-guy, still with Mrs. Cross on his shoulder, crouches, then springs straight up twenty feet, onto the airship and out of Tommy's line of sight. The other gangsters are firing up at the Beau Rosin, and, incredibly, they still haven't noticed T.E. Sticking the big revolvers back in his pants pockets, he unslings the machine-gun from his back, and starts firing, mercilessly executing them from behind.."No time ta get sentimental, now," he thinks, "and they gave up any right ta fair play when they started shooting." Abruptly, from above, Brantley and the ...whatever he is..crash back to the ground, right in front of Tommy, momentarily knocking the steam out of the clockwork guy. Brantley's got a line attached and he gestures for Tommy to grab on. "Time ta go," thinks Tommy. He remembers Clark lifting the two hundred pound airship ballast like it was a cardboard box, and figures this mechanical halfling may be just as strong, and he doesn't know if it..or he..or whatever..can be killed. Tommy slings the chatter-gun across his shoulder, grabs the line, Brantley gives it a yank, and the two start moving up like a couple of fish being reeled in.
As they ascend, the creature on the ground rolls over, exposing the side of his face that Tommy hasn't yet seen..there's something familiar.."Holy Joe!" says Tommy, "it's Lipschitz!" They lock eyes, and exclaim in unison, "Hey! I shot you! Why ain't you dead?!?" The clockwork abomination gains its feet, and springs skyward once again, but the Beau Rosin is gaining altitude, and his jump falls short, missing their feet by a scant few inches, and he falls heavily back to earth. Left hand grasping the rope, with his right Tommy plucks one of the grenades from his belt, pulls the pin with his teeth, releases the spoon, and yells, "Hey, Lippy...catch!" and drops it. With inhuman speed, the former socialite, now some sort of half-man, half-machine monster, rolls out of the grenade's blast zone, and stands, shaking his fists and cursing, as the Beau Rosin,still gaining altitude, swings to the west and heads for the horizon. As the winch hauls Tommy and Brantley across the gunwale and onto the deck, Tommy exclaims, "That thing!...that was Lipschitz!" Brantley says, "I know!" Tommy says, "Leapin' Lizards!"
« Last Edit: June 21, 2009, 06:44:19 am by Sgt.Major Thistlewaite » Logged
MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
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United States United States


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

rtafStElmo
« Reply #281 on: June 21, 2009, 08:36:07 am »

Brantley rolled over, the pain in his leg making him cringe and groan. that leg of his pants is soaked with blood frm the calf down. "I must have been hit," he mutters, "or that fall busted the scabs."

"Ain't nothin' sacred these days, Tommy? Now even death can apparently be postponed and even replaced with mechanical life."He got himself untied, and then he and tommy limped an hobbled to the cabin, which he unlocked with the key he always kept with his other important ones; on the end of his watch-chain.

As he entered, he heard Mrs. Cross groan, and went to the makeshift kitchen in the port rear corner of the cabin, and poured water out of the large leather water pouch that hung on the wall beside it into a cup, then added water to a coffeepot, which he placed on the coal-oil stove, fired by the electrical ignition rig that Pulcifer had set up for it.

He reminded himself to rig up a flash-boiler water heater, and to rig up an electrical system for lights and to run the gatling gun.he figured the airship would benefit from electrical lights, since they tended to be much brighter than the kerosene and coal-oil lamps currently in use on the flying scow. he then went to the wheel, which the Professor had stayed at, and started the Chrono-jumper, and set it to a slightly-wider range of causal threads; then he took his pocket device out of the skillet on the tracker, and set it according to the frequency of the divergent thread, which he got by twisting two dials on the tracker and then cranking it back up to speed, and then measuring the ever-moving lathe blades atop the wooden housing of the 'jumper. HE set the dials, toggles, and the crank in the proper manner, and told the professor to keep the big green dot on the line in the tracking device's depiction field.

As the water began to steam, causing the coffeepot to start making a low hisssss noise. He took the water cup to Mrs. Cross, and moved to help her to sit up so that he could start getting liquids down her, as most involuntary (meaning unconscious) temporal travelers tended to lose a lot of body mass through sublimation of bodily fluids(caused by the traveling field Interacting with the body's tissues).
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The Abiliegh
Zeppelin Admiral
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United States United States


Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #282 on: June 21, 2009, 09:01:59 am »

The smell of coffee tingled in her nose, but even that couldn't convince her to open her eyes yet. She thought Larry must've hit her pretty solidly, for her head to feel like it did in those first few moments of consciousness.

Then hear mind cleared a bit. Yes, there were mechanical noises, but none of them we're Larry.

After an unsuccessful attempt at sitting up, she felt hands on her, aiding her into a more comfortable position. She felt a coffee mug put into her hands. With eyes still closed, she brought it shakily to her mouth.

After a delicate swallow, as even that made her head spin, she attempted to open her eyes. Relief flowed through her, seeing Brantley, but it was fleeting. Her trembling intensified, her voice waivered.

"Where is Larry?"

She listened to the retelling of the story, and though she was momentarily safe, she knew that he would be after them. He wasn't one to suffer defeat... never had been.

"Thank you, Brantley. Thank you for rescuing me. I..." her head spun. "I think I need some fresh air...."
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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 #283 on: June 21, 2009, 03:50:58 pm »

"I'll help you to the door, Mrs. Cross, but you really ought to not go out on deck 'til you get your air legs back," MW said gently. "We're in temporal transit, attempting to track the Cap'n, and if you got woozy and fell overboard now, you might fall forever and end up Lord only knows where. I've done it, last night as a matter of fact, and it's an experience better avoided, let me tell you." Brantley pushed the cup back into her hands "You also need some more liquid in you; you've been unconscious in transit before just now, I'd wager, plus you have an interesting-looking bruise on the side of your forehead. Liquids and aspirin are about all I can doi at the moment. Pulcifer has some great medical euipment on boardhere, but I have to find it before I can use it. "

"Which reminds me, I or somebody needs to force some water or something into Miss Honey or she's going to dry up like a leaf. Ms. Storm nodded and moved over to the water skin and poured out a cup of water, and grabbed a rag and then the coffeepot handle in the rag, and poured a cup of coffee and took them over to the cot, setting them on the crate beside it, and began to tryand get Honey to wake up. Brantley turned back to Mrs. Cross.

"Now, about Mr. Lippschitz?" He asked, trying to be as gentle about it as possible.
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Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
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Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #284 on: June 21, 2009, 04:57:41 pm »

Gunn busies himself on the foredeck, cleaning and repacking the weapons. If there's one thing his Uncle drilled into him when he was young, it was that a workman takes care of his tools. He is almost overwhelmed with happiness that they have found and rescued Mrs. Cross, but shocked at her appearance..apparently that..thing..abused her fiercely. He looked into the cabin as MW and Storm brewed coffee and ministered to her, and thought, "I'd best just stay out of the way." He's acutely aware, too, that he looks none too good, himself. His suit is dirty, torn in several places, and, as he rubs his jaw, he thinks, "I need a shave, too..couple more days an' I will look Neanderthal." As he's putting the guns back into the mahogany cases, he notices that the rectangular cut-out where the ammunition for the tommy-gun should be is empty. "Damnation! Under th' seat o' th' Buick! Hope we don't need it. The drum is half empty, and there is one more, loaded, but that's it." The cut-out, though, is just large enough to accept the seven remaining grenades, so Tommy takes them carefully from his belt, and puts them in the case, too. Closing the cases, he stands, rebuttoning his suit coat and, nodding to the professor at the helm, goes aft to the cabin once more, and peers in. Mrs. Cross is coming around, and Tommy takes off his fedora and grins his lopsided grin, and says quietly "Hey, doll...good ta see ya.."
He hasn't felt this awkward and shy around a dame since he was in the fifth grade. "Jeez, Gunn," he thinks to himself, "Ya got it bad fer this lady, ain't ya?" The flood of relief at seeing her safe affirms his thought..no doubt about it, he's falling for Mrs. Cross, falling hard. The sight of her bruised face makes a cold anger rise up in the big detective. "No matter what it takes," he thinks, " I'm gonna kill that Lizard, an' this time I'm gonna make sure he stays dead!"
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MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


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

rtafStElmo
« Reply #285 on: June 21, 2009, 09:57:32 pm »

Sidebar:While I'm afflicted with a bad case of Writer's Block, here is a (admittedly rather fanciful) illustrated Book cover or what you will, with a pic of me as Brantley:
_______________________________________


_______________________________________
I'll try to put up a small rendering of the Beau Rosin in a short while (might be a couple of days) (Sgt., yours would undoubtedly be better, but I thought I'd provide something to work from.)
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Captain Brandsson
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"We've done the impossible, that makes us mighty."


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« Reply #286 on: June 21, 2009, 10:02:12 pm »

The first hour was spent in old-fashioned thug work.
After two goons pulled me out of the cell they escorted me down a corridor to a metal door...  more of a hatch, really... and tossed me inside.
I was back on my feet long enough to look around... two more goons, a big fella in a cheap suit but with a hard military attitude, some starved-looking scientist fella at bank of dials and meters, an eerie figure shuffling too deeply in the shadows for me to see and an imposing looking "chair" attached to a mess of wires, tubing and lights... before they knocked me back off of them and laid into me with brass knuckles, baseball bats and size 12 Brogans.

I told myself I wouldn't answer their questions, but it didn't matter...
They never asked any.
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- Maximilian
MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
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United States United States


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

rtafStElmo
« Reply #287 on: June 22, 2009, 04:04:04 am »

MW looked over the Professor's shoulder, checking the course and gauging the distance yet to be traveled. It looked like a couple of hours , at least, before they would encounter the anomalous disturbance on what he hoped was the Captain's causal-resonance line. he was halfweay back ove rto where Athena sat, cleaning and reloading her gun and sharpening her hideout knives, when suddenly the Proximity alarm , a large schoolyard bell  fitted with a mechanical clapper, began ringing out slowly. Something was in their path, and it wasn't budging!
« Last Edit: June 23, 2009, 09:21:50 pm by MWBailey » Logged
Captain Brandsson
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"We've done the impossible, that makes us mighty."


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« Reply #288 on: June 22, 2009, 04:07:19 am »

Sidebar:  Brandsson's geographical location can be anywhere, his temporal position is more problematic.  The room in which he is being beaten exists "outside of time" at this point.
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von Corax
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« Reply #289 on: June 22, 2009, 05:28:05 am »

A moment later, an explosive oath rang through the airship's cabin. At the galley table sat a nondescript gentleman, a half-empty glass in one hand and a notebook in the other, a horrified expression on his otherwise-forgettable face. He quickly set down his drink and consulted a pocketwatch.

"No, no, no, no, no!" he muttered. "I wasn't here, I have never been here. I should not be here now!"

Before anyone could move he had leapt to his feet and, muttering angrily, had bolted out the starboard cabin door into the darkness. Gunn was almost certain he could see a flicker of neon and hear the chuff of an automobile in the instant before the door closed.

The gentleman's muttered words had been mostly drowned out by the clanging alarm, but three words had been quite clearly audible above the din. The first two, in order, had clearly been "Time" and "Causality." The third word seemed to be an adjective, although it could have served just as well as a verb, but in either case it was clearly a word which should not have been uttered in polite company.
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My hands acquire a shaking
The shaking becomes a warning
By the power of caffeine do I set my mind in motion
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OldProfessorBear
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« Reply #290 on: June 22, 2009, 06:09:27 am »

Outside, the Professor keeping a vigilant eye on the tracking device, reached into the storage space beneath the wheel and pulled out a pilot's cap, which he swapped for his bowler.


"Might as well dress the part," he muttered. "So ... about 1958, eh? Now what do I know about 1958?" He lapsed into silent introspection, while minutely twitching the wheel as the green spot and the line shifted slightly.

Suddenly, there was a loud clanging, and Brantley, halfway back to the cabin, did a 180 and was back at the Professor's side.
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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 #291 on: June 22, 2009, 06:16:17 am »

"It couldn't be him!" Brantley shouted,looking at the dot they were following, now joined by anothe rdot that was moving away from them "He's been dead for over 40 years!" HE went over to the galley table, picked up a fountain pen that hadn't been there a moment before, and then rushes back over to the Wheel, muttering, "I'll get to the bottom of this now, if that's H.G., then bloody EVERYTHING is coming apart!he laid teh penin the skillet of the tracking device, pushes two buttons on his pocket device, which is still on the skillet.

Begging your pardon, professor (he noted the cap), er, skipper... Mw grabs the wheel and spins it hard to Starboard, causing everyone to grab on to whatever they can to keep from rolling or stumbling across the cabin as it kilters up on thwe port side, acting as an illustration of pure centripetal forece.

They look out through the front windscreen, and suddenly Miss Storm yells, "Look!!" and there's the elderly gentleman, running like a teenager, toward or away from god only knew what. Welles! jump back in, you can't get back to Grammercy from here!but the man ran on, and then suddenly dove into an alley. by the time Brantley brought the Beau Rosin back arounsd, he was gone.but then the Anomaly symptoms started up again, and they crossed some kind of threshold field, and the spinning Jumper circles faded away; they had reached, against all of the odds, a place that didnt exist anywhere or, anywhen, for that matter.The pen stops rocking back and forth on teh skillet, and a name can be clearly seen stamped into the barrel with a gold stamp lettering machine:
H.G.Welles
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OldProfessorBear
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« Reply #292 on: June 22, 2009, 06:27:32 am »

"A temporal doldrum!" exclaimed the Professor, turning pale. "I was stuck in one of these once ..." he trailed off.

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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 #293 on: June 22, 2009, 07:53:16 am »

But the shades don't leave fountain pens behind, surely! Brantley exclaims
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OldProfessorBear
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« Reply #294 on: June 22, 2009, 09:19:41 am »

"Nothing to do with ghosts," said the Professor. I was referring to a little-known phenomenon whereby a time vessel is -- how can I put it? -- becalmed, for extended periods, like the old sailing-ships on the sea. It is extremely rare, though with all the travelling you've done, I'd think you would have at least heard of it. Then again, it goes by many names, so you may know some of those.

"The problem is this: while our engine can move us about in space, of course it has no effect in the timestreams. We are dependent on the currents and what we might call the 'winds' of time for our propulsion. What happened back there threw us radically off-course -- I'd guess at nearly a 90-degree angle to the timeflow -- and we ended up in a sort of timeless pocket, and in effect a nearly spaceless one as well. In fact, look there."

The Professor pointed ahead. Far in the distance, something was visible.

"Train a spyglass on that, and I'll wager you'll see the stern of this very airship! Space is very tightly curved in here, you see.

"There is a way out, else I wouldn't be standing here talking to you, but ... something happened the last time I was stuck in one of these, I still don't know what, and there is a lacuna in my memory of that time. If only ..." and he shook his head slowly and sat down on a nearby crate.

"As for the pen, that arrived here just before we entered the doldrum. I take it you knew, or know, the owner?"
« Last Edit: June 22, 2009, 09:22:20 am by OldProfessorBear » Logged
Athena
Guest
« Reply #295 on: June 22, 2009, 02:59:10 pm »

Sidebar: Sorry, been ill with stomach flu. *bleh* Will try to jump back into story somehow.....but it's turned lovely!
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The Abiliegh
Zeppelin Admiral
******
United States United States


Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #296 on: June 22, 2009, 03:55:03 pm »

Too much was going on at once. She heard talking, she head shuffling, and she wasn't making heads nor tails of any of it. Through all of it, however, she managed a smile to Tommy.

The coffee in her hands was the center point of her world, the only thing to fucus on that wasn't swimming through the pain in her temple.

When it finally became clear to her that something was amiss, she stood, setting the mug on the table, and made her way slowly to the deck, to see what everyone was looking at.
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Captain Brandsson
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"We've done the impossible, that makes us mighty."


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« Reply #297 on: June 22, 2009, 04:18:52 pm »

The next…  I guess I don’t know how long… was spent in “the chair”.
They strapped me in and connected several of the wires, secured some kind of crazy skull cap to my head with a leather strap under my chin.  Even ran a tube in through my nose.
The military man kept talking about my time in the second War of the Worlds.  Not asking me about it just reciting my record.
I couldn’t figure what they wanted.  Yeah, I’d done some stuff in the War I wasn’t proud of, but what was it to them?  I tried to think back.  There had to be something.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Skinny over at the dials respond to something and nod to whoever was in the shadows.
“We are getting something, Major” Skinny said, “But you will need to force him a bit farther down Memory Lane, I’m afraid.”
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Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
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I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #298 on: June 22, 2009, 04:19:59 pm »

Tommy returns Mrs. Cross's smile, and steps aside as she glides out onto the deck of the Beau Rosin. "What a gal," thinks Tommy, "All she's been through, and she still moves as graceful as an angel." He replaces his fedora, and goes over to the galley stove and draws himself a cup of coffee. Going back to the deck, he moves to the port side, gazes out at the nothingness that now surrounds them, and finally sits down, his broad back propped against the gunwale. Fishing in his coat pocket, he brings out the deck of Camels, shakes one out and lights it with the Zippo. "Can't remember when I've been this tired," he muses."Gettin' old." Sipping the coffee, smoking his cigarette, he heaves a deep sigh, and his mind drifts back to better days. Long sunny summer days, when he was a kid. The clear blue skies over the Virginia mountains, summers spent with his great-Uncle, whom almost everyone called The Baron, but sometimes old men would come to visit, old men with English accents, and they called him Sergeant Major. He finishes the coffee, stubs out the cigarette, and, within moments, he's sound asleep, slumped against the rail,dreaming of being a tousle-haired kid again, riding his favorite pony Blackie along the trails beside the New River.
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The Abiliegh
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Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #299 on: June 22, 2009, 04:31:19 pm »

She lit a cigarette and took a long pull. It felt magnificent, and it occured to her that she'd no idea how long she'd been out, either before waking up in Larry's warehouse, or after he'd knocked her unconscious.

She squinted her eyes, looking at that pinpoint of something visible off the stern of the ship. She heard the men talking about it, saying they were possibly seein themselves, but she couldn't make out any details.

She focused on the nail in her hand, the feel of the smoke as she inhaled, and appreciated the freedom of being able to do so. A smile finally crept over her face, and she felt a bit better. She was like to have a wicked headache for a while, seein as she was pretty sure she had a concussion, and she could feel abused muscles tighten and bruise, but she smiled.

"Did someone ask me around Larry?" She murmured softly to the men. She wasn't sure if she ever answered the question...

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