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Author Topic: The Extended Steam Salon  (Read 114081 times)
OldProfessorBear
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Werebears RULE!


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« Reply #350 on: June 24, 2009, 10:54:20 pm »

sb: Upon reflection, The Professor has concluded that he prefers to be know throughout the narrative simply as "The Professor". Necessary editing will be attempted, but should any references to Professor Bear be missed, they should be altered.
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Another Entirely Reasonable Opinion from
Bill P_______, Nul.D. (Unseen U.), F.R.S.*, Restorer of Old Photographs,
Sexagenarian Boy Genius and SUPREME NERD GOD!!! (score=98)
Down in the Belly of Brooklyn, NY, US
* http://forum.retrofuturist.org
MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


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

rtafStElmo
« Reply #351 on: June 24, 2009, 10:56:30 pm »

Brantley digested that bit about "the study of things that are not." it sounded like a passage he'd read from some old egyptian scroll, perhaps even the Dark Directions themselves, back when he and Dusty and Wal were skullduggering in the British Museum after hours, trying to find a way to follow Welles and figure out just how he was involved with the whole Martian Problem. They had found a spell which looked like it might work, and they had been copying out the various ingredients and incantations, when Brantley saw that line in another document and decided to check it out. he still couldn't remember the name of the document...

After they had sat themselves down to wait for the meal in the sitting room, Brantley asked, "Professsor, that bit about 'studying what is not,' does it have anything to do with "the things that were not but existed anyway, because it was known that they were not, but were referred to, which gave them a unique kind of existence, outside of normal reality...?" He hoped he'd gotten that right, because if he had, it meant that he might know where Brandsson was...
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Walk softly and carry a big banjo...

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


Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #352 on: June 24, 2009, 11:23:44 pm »

She listened to the conversation, having settled on a small sofa, leaving room for Tommy once he was done chatting with the butler.

"Things that are not..." She spoke softly. "Sounds rather like something I studied back in the days..." A few russian ideologies came to mind... extremist views of the Rerikh cults and the like. Things were starting to fall into place.
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Action! Adventure! Possible Harlotry!
Abis do it for SCIENCE!
BrassGoggles 2012 Pin-Up Calander!
Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
Zeppelin Admiral
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Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #353 on: June 24, 2009, 11:36:10 pm »

Thistlewaite Hall...




The Baron...

« Last Edit: June 24, 2009, 11:44:10 pm by Sgt.Major Thistlewaite » Logged

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


Werebears RULE!


WWW
« Reply #354 on: June 24, 2009, 11:37:19 pm »

Responding to Brantley, the Professor said, "Anything that is not, and anything that was not. It's rather a large field, of course. The few of us who study it are obliged to specialize because of that. While my particular expertise is not in those realms, nor" nodding toward Mrs. Cross "in those either, I naturally have some small knowledge of them. And I know who to call upon, should deeper understanding be required."

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


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #355 on: June 25, 2009, 12:19:55 am »

A clatter sounds from outside the house, as the gyro-copter settles onto the South lawn. Thistlewaite bustles in through the french doors, says, "What ho! Hullo! Tucking in, I see! Excellent! Excellent!" Crossing over to the sideboard, he selects a decanter and picks up an antique mess tankard, filling it to the brim with gin, which he then upends and drains, then refills."Now then, hmmmphh...well, all satisfactory, I hope?...Good, good...Mr. Brantley, I've taken the liberty of having your airship moved around to the main bay, and given it 'Priority One' status...your upgrades should be finished by tomorrow afternoon. Going to make the whole thing air-tight, y'see..tight as a tick, quite vacuum-proof...don't fret, don't fret, I've left specific instructions not to muck about with any of your time-gear...looks quite as it did the last time I saw it, chap named Pulcifer had it at the time...." The Baron strides quickly over to the table, and removing the cover from two or three dishes, muttering "sardines..sardines...Ahhh! There we are!" He scoops a large serving of the fish out onto a plate, and continues his verbal barrage as he eats them.."Now, then..hmmph (chomp) Mars I think you mentioned...nasty business with them a few years back, eh wot?" Tommy manages to get a word in edgewise, "Uncle, they're going to try it again...the Professor and Mr. Brantley can probably explain it better, but I think it's gonna be in about ten years..." "Ten years you say, hmmm...hmmm..well then, we'll just have a nasty bit of a surprise waiting for them, then, won't we? Eh? Won't we, then? Hah! Blighters! Cleaned their clock twice now, no help for it, just have to do it again, eh? No problem, no problem!" He forks another mouthful of sardines in, and says, "Now then, what were you young people ...lovely bunch, by the way, bit tattered, have to see to getting you some attire...Willoughby!" Willoughby appears by the Baron's elbow. "Yes, Sir?" The Baron continues, around a mouthful of sardines, "Get hold of the tailor, get him up here, have to take some measurements...need to do it for the pressure suits, anyway...well chop!chop! off with you, now!" Willoughby says simply "Yes, Sir..at once, Sir." "Now then, now then, where was I? Oh yes...and what were you lovely young folks discussing prior to my arrival?" Eyes as bright as a bird, Thistlewaite finally pauses, and looks expectantly from face to face.
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Kittybriton
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Steampunk: absinthe-minded professors!


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« Reply #356 on: June 25, 2009, 12:39:00 am »

Having left the comparative safety of the airship, and drawn by the scent of sardines, a black cat has concealed herself beneath the sideboard. A few scraps of leftover sardine would make a welcome change from her usual diet of small bugs and undernourished mice.

*sidebar: I hope you don't mind the appearance of Kitty, she just wants to let you all know what a bang-up job you are doing!*
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Join me in exploring the music of time!
(http://kittybriton.multiply.com/journal
The Abiliegh
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Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #357 on: June 25, 2009, 12:53:22 am »

The Baron's upbeat demeanor made her smile. "We were discussing The Professor's line of work, Baron. Nullology. We were just now getting t'the meat of it, if you've any knowledge on the subject you'd like to add?"

She wanted to hear as much as possible. Thoughts were forming, ideas on to how she could find Max. Maybe she wouldn't have to talk to the old mountain witch after all...
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Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
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I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #358 on: June 25, 2009, 02:24:07 am »

Thistlewaite listens intently to the Professor for a moment, then springs up, exclaims "Half a mo'.." and rushes from the room. All can hear him banging about in another part of the house, muttering, "Now where did that get off to...had it here a year or so ago..eh.eh oh, BY JOVE there they are..." then bursts back into the room, two rectangular boxes under his arms. "Here you are, yes,yes, this might help...don't know, of course, might be nothing, but one can never tell..." the boxes appear to be ancient. "Well, hummphh, yes..towards the end of my Service with Her Majesty's Horse Marines...bit of spot and bother about the Boxer Rebellion..seems yours truly got most of the blame for starting it, and the Home Office didn't know what to do with me, so they assigned me to a chap named Younghusband, actually invaded Tibet, back in oughtfour...brought these back as souvenirs..." He opens one of the long boxes and brings out a handful of parchments, covered with Tibetan script. "Couldn't make heads or tails of it myself, of course, so I had this Russian woman, Blavatsky, translate  them for me..she was as mad as a hatter herself by the time she got through..ran off and started some sort of religion, Theosophy I think she named it....barking mad, yes, quite..barking mad..." He opens the other box.."Aha! Here we go, here we go!" He removes a thick sheaf of typewritten pages. "The transcripts!" He drops the sheaf of papers on the table in front of the Professor.  "Otherwise, you might want to consult this other madwoman who lives near here, they say she's a witch, the locals do, they call her Mother Robey...never had much use for that sort of bunkum, myself, mind you..rum go, you ask me..Science! That's the way to go...but if you want to speak to her, I can arrange it."
« Last Edit: June 25, 2009, 02:25:48 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 #359 on: June 25, 2009, 04:02:38 am »

Curious as to the original parchment's laqnguage, Brantley picked up one of the sheets, and nearly dropped it in surprise and sudden shock there was the proto-devanagari sanskrit that one would expect to see, but interspersed with the sanskrit were what appeared to be either Runic or Petran characters. Brantley didn't really know much about the two alphabets besides sanskrit, but he could read teh runestones in Gotland and Scandinavia, and had used an inscription from a Danish pre-christian coffin in a Denmark museum to ward off intruders to the Beau Rosin once, three years before he entered teh salon in chicago.

"that...that's practically a rosetta stone!" he exclaimed as  he respectfully put it back in its box.
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The Abiliegh
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Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #360 on: June 25, 2009, 04:05:22 am »

Watching Brantley's reaction piqued her interest. "I would love to look at the transcripts, Baron. And I do think meeting with Mother Robey might be useful as well. Never can hurt to cover all of ones bases." She offered him a winning smile of thanks. "Your hospitality is legendary, sir. I certainly appreciate everything you are doing for us."
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Honeybell
Guest
« Reply #361 on: June 25, 2009, 04:28:31 am »

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

     The inside of her head scratched and burned, filled with steel wool.  Her eyes felt pickled and her tongue swolen and dry.  Vague shapes formed themselves in the image of feotal thoughts.  'Honey.  That was her name.'  The words filled the void and left her feeling breathless.  She fought for consciousness as her ears registered a clanging sound.  Minutes passed like hours as finally, her eyelids scraped open.  'Damn, what a night,' she thought as she attempted to clear her swirling head.  She felt like she had slept for days.  
     Looking around her without moving her head was difficult, but her body wouldn't seem to respond.  She was in a strange room, in a strange bed.  'What had she done?  How had she gotten here?  Where was here?'  She began to panic as pain began to register in her mind.  She still couldn't move and breathing hurt.  Calming herself, she attempted to reason.  'I was on my way to... to...  I know I wanted a drink.  I drank way too much.'  Her feeble mind reasoned, that had to be it.  A drunken fairytale, that was what had happened.  But it didn't explain why she was where she was and why she hurt so very badly.  She'd had hangovers before, but this was different.  
     A whistling sound escaped her lips as she once again struggled to move, the pain was excruciating and blinding.  One word swam to the surface through her panic, 'thermogenic.'  That one word seemed very important.  She didn't know what it meant or why it was important, but it seemed stuck at the top of the muddle her brain had become.  Water also became extremely important.  She knew she shouldn't water off a hangover, but suddenly every whirlpool of a thought swirled to water.  She was dying for a drink.  Shutting her eyes and summoning all her strength, she willed herself off of the bed and heard a scream as her broken body rolled and hit the floor.  
     Only when on the floor did she realize the screaming was coming from her own throat.  She calmed herself as the pain began to waver and reopened her eyes.  From her head's position on the floor, she could see the wall, the floor, the door, and the light that crept from an open window.  She began to fight once more when the door opened rapidly and a pair of stylish shoes rushed in.
     She had to explain, she wanted to know.  Her lips formed around the blurred and muffled words, "Surry, cann hanle m' drin."  She attempted to explain away her state as she realized how ridiculous and feeble-minded she sounded.  Whatever had prompted her to drink so much?  She still didn't even know who she was talking to and she remembered she was thirsty.
     "Wader, peese."  she muttered desperately like a two year old.
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Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
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Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #362 on: June 25, 2009, 05:42:10 am »

Willoughby re-enters the room."Begging your pardon, Sir, the young woman in the corner bedchamber upstairs seems to be coming around, but she's not terribly coherent...the doctor should be here any moment, though, and the tailor says he shall be here shortly as well...I have given her some water..she seemed to be suffering from a terrible thirst...and made her comfortable." Thistlewaite nods, "Very good, Willoughby, very good...I suspect she is suffering from time-sickness..I've seen it before, though I suspect these gentlemen," he indicates Brantley and the Professor, " have seen a good deal more of it than I. When the doctor arrives, take him right in to her, and have him give her a thorough examination." Willoughby says, "Very good, Sir," and departs. To Mrs. Cross, the Baron says, "You are most welcome for the hospitality, my dear...however, I did not get to where I am today by engaging in pure altruism. I am always more than happy to deal with Time Travelers, though, and I'll tell you why...they pay in advance."
Brantley looks a little startled...no mention had been made of payment. "Tut, tut, my dear Sir," says Thistlewaite, "No need to look so alarmed...I just need you to do one little thing for me, and the refit to your airship shall be more than amply taken care of...nothing illegal, I assure you. I need you to make one short hop, to London in 1925, and deposit this..." The Baron reaches into his coat pocket, and hands a note to Brantley, "into my account in the Bank of England, then go about your business. By now, the interest will more than have paid for your upgrades..no one is hurt, everyone profits...besides which, it is my money you'll be using to begin with, so your only investment, Sir, is a bit of your "time," so to speak.."

This is what Thistlewaite hands to Brantley...




Tommy smiles...leave it to the Baron to never miss a trick...
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The Abiliegh
Zeppelin Admiral
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United States United States


Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #363 on: June 25, 2009, 05:56:27 am »

"I'm most certain we can take care of that for you, Baron." She smiled, while inwardly struggling over the desire to stay for the tailor, and the desire to check on Honey. Both were very pressing issues.

And, despite it all, she really wanted to gussy up a bit for Tommy.
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MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


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

rtafStElmo
« Reply #364 on: June 25, 2009, 06:03:56 am »

It sounded like a dodge, this business of depositing the old fellow's money to pay for his airship's upgrade; but Brantley realized that it was probably the best kind of dodge to get into, an d was to be grabbed before it was no longer offered. "Alright," he said,"I'll do that. London, 1925... " he trails off thinking, remembering. "OK. I don't think I was wanted for anything in London in the twenties, so no problem, Sir." Hmmp. so thats what Pulcifer meant about 'paying interest before the fact.' He thought.Wily old fellow, the Baron...
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Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
Zeppelin Admiral
******
Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #365 on: June 25, 2009, 07:13:41 am »

Willoughby appears again.."Sir, the doctor has arrived, and is attending to ..ahhh..the young lady. The tailor, too, is here, and says he is ready to proceed..he is in the parlour. Now then, can I get any of you something to drink? The bar is just through here, and the tailor will take your measurements one at a time. Is there anything else I can do for anyone?" Tommy speaks up, "Willoughby, I know the Baron is a "pipes and cigars" man, but do ya have any cigarettes around?" "Of course, Tommy..will 'Sullivan-Powell English Ovals' suffice?...they use Turkish tobacco."  "You bet, Willoughby, sounds great." They head into the bar, where Willoughby fixes drinks, and hands a gold-embossed box to Tommy. Tommy flips open the top, extracts a cigarette and lights it, and offers the box to Abiliegh. Taking a deep inhalation, then slowly exhaling, he says with surprise, "This may be th' best smoke I've ever had in my life!" Willoughby slides a glass across the bar.."Kentucky Bourbon, Tommy..small batch, single barrel." Lighting Abiliegh's cigarette with his Zippo, he sighs, "Man..a guy could get used ta this!" Ms. Storm says, "Well, I guess I'll go first to be measured..I wonder if he'll mind making me some 'guy' clothes?" Thistlewaite has followed them into the bar, and surveys the group with the practiced eye of an old Marine, then speaks." Looks like when the tailor has finished taking his measurements, and the doctor has finished examining the young lady upstairs, it might be a good idea to have him take a look at the rest of you as well...you all seem to be injured in one way or another, with the exceptions of Ms. Storm, and the Professor. Afterward, Willoughby will prepare your rooms. I have to get back down to the Foundry..always busy, you know..but Willoughby and the staff will take excellent care of you. For the moment, I must take my leave." He exits back into the sitting room, and shortly the clatter of the auto-gyro sounds once more.
« Last Edit: June 25, 2009, 06:57:56 pm 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 #366 on: June 25, 2009, 07:54:03 am »

"Doctors..." Despite the fact that he was only in hi sforties, Brantley had developed a hearty mistrust of medical practitioners. In his case,too, they often made errors thinking that a time-travellingcustoms agent woud be no different from the mechanic down the street asfaras the physiognomy wa sconcerned. Face it, he said to himself, You're dne up like a man of spare parts, Brantley. and no doc will ever give you a clean bill o' health, because nothing's where it should be inside of you, since that last Martian Affair. HE morosely awaited the coming of the doctor.
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The Abiliegh
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Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #367 on: June 25, 2009, 03:31:42 pm »

She accepted the cigarette from Tommy gratefully, thanking him and slipping inder his arm while he drank. She was relieved to know that Honey was under the care of the doctor, and while she didn't think there would be much the doc could do for her, she wouldn't mind a couple of aspirin to dull the ache at her temple.

"You're right, this is a swanky nail." She enjoyed the flavor as the smoke rolled around.

The group was demure, certainly due to exhaustion. It had been a rough couple of... days? It was frustrating that she couldn't put a time frame to their adventures.

When Ms. Storm returned from her measurements being taken, Mrs Cross took the second spot. She moved towards the parlor, navigating the halls with care until she found it and the rather proper looking tailor.

He measured her expertly, jotting down notes on his little pad of paper. "The last tomato in here had some unusual requests, fashionably speaking, so I suppose I ought to ask you what you're looking for." He looked up at her while taking her inseam.

She chuckled. "Ms Storm is a function before style kinda gal, mister. Cute as a button though." She lifted her eyes to the ceiling to think, but thought better of it from the telling pain her skull offered. "For me..." She paused. "I like to look beautiful, but I've a feeling I'm going to be doing a lot of running about. So, heavy duty fabrics are a must. A smart skirt and pocketed jacket would serve well..."

"Something reminiscent of the military, perhaps?"

"You're readin' my mind." She smiled, enjoying even this small bit of luxury. "With where we're likely headin', I'd best ask that you make it in black and copper or rust tones..."

The tailor had a quizical look on his face, but he didn't push the issue. She looked down, for a distraction. Her ruined shoes offered a perfect seguay. "A pair of jackboots might not be a terrible idea either..."

She finished with the tailor, returning quickly to bar. She didn't want to be alone. She didn't want to relive any more of her last terrifying adventure...
« Last Edit: June 25, 2009, 03:34:08 pm by The Abiliegh » Logged
Athena
Guest
« Reply #368 on: June 25, 2009, 03:44:49 pm »

She was waiting to be asked....and was glad she came along.

She listened intently to what had been happening and what had been said. This Willoughby was a strange fellow, but she didn't argue. Room and board were few and far between these days. She did have a look at the strange parchment over Brantley's shoulder, nothing but Greek to her. She was just a gun that was along for the ride.

She sank into a beautiful leather chair opposite Ms. Cross and waited for her turn at the tailor. The gentleman had said Honey was going to be alright, which she was glad of.

"And what will madame be wanting?"

"Yes. I would like a pair of wide slacks of some breezy material as well as a nice tailored linen shirt. And a vest would be good. I need to get out of these filthy clothes. Is there a place where a lady might take a bath? You don't want to know how long it's been since I've had one.....Thank you."

Sidebar - Sorry, once again I was out. I keep trying to pick up the storyline wherever I can, but I don't think it's doing much good. Sorry everyone.   Cry
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The Abiliegh
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United States United States


Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #369 on: June 25, 2009, 06:26:13 pm »

She was waiting to be asked....and was glad she came along.

She listened intently to what had been happening and what had been said. This Willoughby was a strange fellow, but she didn't argue. Room and board were few and far between these days. She did have a look at the strange parchment over Brantley's shoulder, nothing but Greek to her. She was just a gun that was along for the ride.

She sank into a beautiful leather chair opposite Ms. Cross and waited for her turn at the tailor. The gentleman had said Honey was going to be alright, which she was glad of.

"And what will madame be wanting?"

"Yes. I would like a pair of wide slacks of some breezy material as well as a nice tailored linen shirt. And a vest would be good. I need to get out of these filthy clothes. Is there a place where a lady might take a bath? You don't want to know how long it's been since I've had one.....Thank you."

Sidebar - Sorry, once again I was out. I keep trying to pick up the storyline wherever I can, but I don't think it's doing much good. Sorry everyone.   Cry

The tailor expertly measured her, making quick work of it. "I can easily accomodate that, Miss. Any color preferences?"

He listened to her responses, took his notes, and advised her to send in the next person.
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Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
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I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #370 on: June 25, 2009, 06:55:45 pm »

It's Tommy's turn to visit the tailor. "My, you're a big one, aren't you?" says the man. "Anything special?"
Tommy says, "Hmm..well, if th' next few days are gonna be anything like th' last few, ...mechanic's cover-alls, double weight cotton canvas, lotsa pockets, with button down flaps, reinforced knees an' elbows, an' I dunno if ya can do this, but bulletproof panels on th' chest an' back would be good. Oh, yeah," he says, rubbing his right shoulder, 'A 'shooter's pad', here"...The tailor says, "That outfit I can almost pull off the rack from the Baron's haberdashery stock...boots?" "Yeah," Tommy, " Paratrooper boots, steel-toed, Corcorans if ya've got 'em." "We do." answers the tailor. "Now, then, all done..I'll have the sewing room get right on these, should be ready by tomorrow morning, I'll have them delivered here. The pressure suits will be ready as well, those I'll have put aboard your airship." The tailor departs through the big front doors, Willoughby seeing him out. Tommy returns to the bar, and rejoins Abiliegh and the others.
Just then, a tall man appears at the entrance to the bar. He has a generous nose, and a full head of very curly brown hair, and slightly resembles Harpo Marx. He's wearing a fedora hat with a wide brim, a long coat, and a ridiculously long woolen scarf is looped about his neck, the ends of which almost touch the floor. Smiling in a charming manner, he announces, "I'm the Doctor. Now then, ladies first." With a deft and gentle touch, he examines the bruises on Abiliegh's face and arms, then removes some sort of tool from his coat pocket which resembles an oversized pen, with a bulbous tip which extends a little and glows blue as he activates it. He plays the instrument over the bruises, and as he moves it, it makes a barely audible whining hum. Suddenly, Abiliegh's headache fades, as do the bruises. He then turns his attention to Ms. Hoven, looking at the wound on her leg. He removes the dressing, plays the instrument over the area, and from his black bag takes sterile pads and gauze, and rebinds it. "Good job dressing that, by the by," he says,"Should be healed now in short order." He then moves to Brantley, who recoils slightly."Now, now, Mr. Brantley, no need to be skittish..I'm quite good at this, you know, and people with an unusual physiology are a specialty of mine... I've been the Baron's personal physician for, oh...years and years, and he made most of his internal organs himself." Brantley is still a bit skeptical. "How do you know my name?" he growls. "Ohh..hummm..certain Time Lor....er...associates of mine have been watching you for quite some time, Sir." The Doctor smiles his disarming smile. " Since your temporal perambulations seem to be altogether motivated by good intentions, it has been decided to allow you to continue. And by the way, congratulations on convincing Mr. Pulcifer to discontinue his work on the Chrono-jammers...saved us all a great deal of bother." He "tut-tuts" at the holes in Brantley's leg, saying, "You're incredibly lucky these haven't gone septic on you." He plays his instrument over the wounds, then re-bandages them. "Try to take it a bit easier, please, if possible..through and through wounds can be problematic, but these should heal well, now, if you'll exercise at least a modicum of care." Directing his attention to Tommy, he says, "Shirt off, if you please." Tommy removes his coat, his shoulder holster, his waistcoat, then his shirt. His right shoulder is a multi-coloured patchwork of blue and purple, with a clearly delineated outline of a rifle butt. Clicking his tongue, the Doctor plays his remarkable little instrument over the area, and the bruises fade. "Now the ribs," the Doctor says. He puts the tool on Tommy's chest, and bends to put his ear on the other end of it.."Yes, cracked at least. Raise your arms, please." T.E. complies, and the Doctor quickly and efficiently wraps him tightly in wide tape, which he has gotten from his bag. "There now, all done." He smiles once more, touches the brim of his hat, and departs...through the side doors off of the sitting room, and out into the Rose Garden, where, unaccountably, an old-fashioned London Police Box sits amongst the roses. He enters, and with a strange
"Vwommm,vwommm,vwwommmm..." noise, it fades from view and is gone. The group back in the bar does not witness this, but Willoughby does..he registers no surprise...he's seen it before, many times.
« Last Edit: June 25, 2009, 07:02:48 pm by Sgt.Major Thistlewaite » Logged
The Abiliegh
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Wench with a Wrench

The_Abi
« Reply #371 on: June 25, 2009, 07:10:26 pm »

The tool the doctor used was facinating, and she was relieved to feel better. She watched as Tommy removed his shirt, trying to be subtle. The sharp gasp at his bruises, however, gave her away something terrible.

She fixed him another drink while he was being bandaged, and lit a cigarette for each of them, both of which were handed to him as soon as he slipped back into his clothes.
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Sgt.Major Thistlewaite
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Gibraltar Gibraltar


I am, therefore I think.


« Reply #372 on: June 25, 2009, 10:21:08 pm »

"Thanks, doll," Tommy takes the drink and the cigarette, gratefully, and rubs his chest. "Feels better to have it taped, got to admit...whoever he was, that Doc sure knows his business." After a bath and a shave, Gunn knows he'll feel like a new man. He sips the bourbon, "Man, this is th' good stuff!" and blows a perfect smoke ring...."Th' nails are first rate, too!" He grins, and thinks to himself, "Too bad th' Baron is prob'ly immortal...I wouldn't mind inheritin' this set-up!"
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Athena
Guest
« Reply #373 on: June 25, 2009, 10:28:27 pm »

She nodded at the Doctor's compliment. "Thanks, I've had previous experience." She watched as the little blue light ran over her skin and felt its warmth. She didn't believe this thing would work, but if it made him feel better, then that was okay with her. She heard a strange noise, but attributed it to the espresso machine behind the bar.

She ordered a Turkish coffe and sits down carefully. It still smarted a little, but that's nothing a cigarette wouldn't fix. She took one out of her pack and lit it, inhaling it deep and feeling the zing that came with it. It was akin to being hit by a wall of water. Everything went nice and numb and sounds come like low thuds. She exhaled the pretty blue smoke and sat back in her chair, watching the chemistry between Ms. Cross and Tommy sparkle.

She couldn't wait to get a bath.
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MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


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

rtafStElmo
« Reply #374 on: June 25, 2009, 10:45:39 pm »

Brantley did his best to maintain a good poker face, once he realized who "The Doctor" was. The last time he'd seen the fellow, he had a shock of fuzzy white hair, and drove a car with a woman's name...Betty? Betsy? He couldn't remember, but he did remember it was incredibly fast for a turn-of-the-century touring-style steamer. He wondered how Miss Sarah Jane was getting on, but didn't ask for fear it might be getting into territory that shouldnt be discussed in front of the others. He didnt hear the characteristic basso Whomping of the TARDIS' temporal drive, but he did hear the high-pitched whine that meant it was already hitting the high end of the phase cycle, as it faded away into the continuum.

Well,, to more inportant things. He pulle dteh S&W out of the shoulder holster, and wondered if the replacement Mauser he''s ordered would be delivered here, or waiting for him on the Beau Rosin. Teh S&W was a wonderful big-bore weapon, but it onlt carried six shots to the Mauser's ten, and took much longer to load. He'd welcome the holster/stock, if they could wangle it, and the 200 rounds and a reloading rig with jacketted sharps and Austrian caps would be invaluable. The railing guns would supplement the deck guns extraordinarily well, and the Holbars variable-bore ordnance launcher, when he'd seen it, was an obvious choice as a rear gun. He had considered asking for the airdrop tank that he'd seen in a shadowy corner, but the lack of a place to carry such cargo had prohibited it. the glider packs would have to be made toserve as off-ship transport.
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