"STEAM LONDON" Game Thread

[MWBailey]

About halfway up to the deck, Dreyfuss remembered that the fellow on the clipper had handed him a letter addressed to him.

He paused just long enough to pull the envelope out and tear it open, more to get it out and remove the discomfort than to read the thing, but began to read it on the way up. he paused again, after nearly stumbling, near the top of the stairway, reading several parts again:

"Dear Nephew,

I therefore have no qualms about sending Your cousin Irene to you, so that you may be the figure of a father that your departed cousin is no longer to be for her. I shall send a letter to you, in her care, to identify her and clarify her situation. You do have, I assure you, the legal right to declare her her own and a free woman, when she proves to you to be capable of fending for herself. She has in her possession a Land Ironclad, or "Tank," which (despite your undoubted disbelief) is capable of relatively-fast flight; I do not know where she acquired this vehicle, and she averrs with a different story each time when asked about it; I suspect her foster-father (my nephew/your cousin Nyland) may have owned or invented it, as there were reputed to be many such things sold from his estate. It might also be a legacy from a member of her original family. I took the liberty of attempting to trace the name, but have so far discovered nothing of use.

Your Uncle and Your Servant,

Caractacus Overcroft Dreyfuss

22 March 1857

"Well, ain't that a hell of a note!" Dreyfuss said, a grin nearly splitting his head in two, as he stuck the letter back into his breast pocket, opened the hatch, and stepped out into the cold air on the observation deck, not noticing the figure lounging against the rail there until he looked up to see what was laughing so hard and evilly.

[MWBailey]

Dreyfuss stood and stared for a moment at the top-hatted clown commodore. "We do keep meeting under odd circumstances, Pugilist" he said, menace growing in his voice the longer he spoke.

"Yeah, we do, don't we," Dreyfuss answered, slowly moving his hand up toward teh Paterson revolver.
"Oh, just go ahead and pull the damned pistol, Dreyfuss!" the clown snapped. "do you really think I dont notice you doing that," The clown said, pointing at Dreyfuss' hand. Dreyfuss changed his mind in that split second, and, grabbing the wavy bladed knife from beside his toothpick knife, Dreyfuss slashed teh clown across his torso, and then brought it back, up, and over, stabbling down as hard as he could through the Commodore's breast bone.

Dreyfuss called the fire, pouring his fear, his rage, his startlement, and yes, even his joy about finding a relative he didn't know he had, into the conflagration that he found he could feel blazing suddenly in his chest and his head. It must have somehow shown on his face, becaus the clown suddenly blanched and began pleading for his life. "no, no, NONONO!! we can talk about this, yes... I KNOW! I can have you made into a commodore! you could be immortal!"

That was all it took. Dreyfuss' rage suddenly, and finally, boiled over. "What, and become a danger even to my own family? to Irene? turn against the Captain, and Emma, and Ella and Elisha, and Patrick and Jen, And Abe, Rowland, Rosie, and Trip, and George? NOT...BLOODY...LIKELY!--Dreyfuss' hand shot out  and grasped the Clown's throat, and Dreyfuss let all of the white fire out through that arm, and watched the clown literally fry before his eyes, screaming past the chokehold, smoking and flaming away to ash and charcoal, and finally croaking his last breath from his body as it roasted away to carbon, as the eyes flared and burnt out.
 Dreyfuss let go, and looked at the clown's completely carbonized corpse, and turned away. a gust of the wind of the Boheme's passage through the air caused the remains of the figure's top hat to blow away, carrying off half of the back of the head, which fell off and clanged against the rail; Dreyfuss whirled on reflex, drawing the Paterson, fanning it, and blazing away the last three shots in the cylinder, seeing the charcoal body smash apart to fly away as ash on the wind.

"Take THAT, you damned glitch!" Dreyfuss roared

[Stella Gaslight]

It was only after every kissable bit of Cain was covered that Angel picked herself up, dusted herself off and took the rose back from One.  "Have some Cain, it is really good."

Emma was getting very good at firing the new cannons she found dealing with beams of concentrated heat much better than worrying about projectile trajectories.  She really would have to send the plans on and if she knew the Aether League there would be variations of them on every ship they could geit their hands on within a week.  "George you should tell Patrick we can bring him home soon it looks like we will be done fighting soon."  Emma was very wrong another wave of enemies followed them both above and below.  The blackfly swarm and the diggers were posed for a two pronged attack.

[MWBailey]

There were just too many of them. Already exhausted almost to the point of collapse, by his use of the white fire against the commodore, and woozy from blood loss from a couple of wounds that he had not been aware of before, Dreyfuss began to miss shots, and actually hit the tailplanes once or twice. He finally smartened up, holstered the pistols, and drew the saber and his boot knife, and just slashed, thrusted, and stabbed wildly at anything and everything. managing thus to fend off and even kill a large portion of the swarm of cold Ones. The blackflies had either been destroyed by something or someone else, or given up; Dreyfuss sagged against the rail, thinking this might be his last stand, when he saw the wave of cold ones coming back.

He was about to clamber up onto the rail, to throw himself into the cloud of cold ones (he wasn't thinking too clearly at that point; both the cold, and blood loss, had numbed his reason), but was forestalled by bullets spanging away on both sides of the railing, and into the massed cold ones, as Irene came pelting up and over in her tank, flying and strafing at the same time, twin Gatling guns (they looked at such a short glance like short-barrelled Hotchkisses), protruding from the forward hull of the tank. And then it was gone, cold ones and flying tank, like a delusion of wild horses chasing each other across the prairie.

Dreyfuss dragged himself via the railing over to the hatch, opened it, and half-climbed, half fell down until his feet somehow found the rungs, and he was able to just barely feel the inner handle of the hatch above him. He grasped it with his once-again cold-numbed hands, and locked it in the same motion. He then climbed down to the middle landing, and rested there for a moment, before continuing on down the final few steps to the engine room, and sagging against the non-lethally-hot end of teh starboard engine, and lay there hurting for a while, until the feeling returned to his hands.

Dreyfuss reached into his bag and retrieved the flask, opening it and downing about a fourth of the contents, finally stopping as the high-alcohol-content liquid burned and stabbed its way down his throat, both warming and perhaps even burning parts of his insides. he capped the flask, put it back in thebag, and then closed his eyes, and went to sleep. He awakened to someone poking him. He opened his eyes and found Emma prodding him with her foot, asking if he were alive, and screaming for ...someone, he couldn't make out the name, to "come and help this man."

HE woke up once after that to find himself laying in his room, on his own bed, Miss Armistead taking his pulse...but that may have been a mirage, because she actually smiled at him... and then he could have sworn he heard himself snoring...

[Nigel Wetherby]

Cain shrugged.
"why not?" He shrugged. He took a bite of the sweet, soft rose. His eyes practically bulged from his head as the flavor of the flower seemed to smack him across the face. However, his moment of sweet-induced serenity was interrupted when Patrick burst in, carrying a semi-lucid Jen.

"The crew needs our help!" Patrick cried out, grasping One's attention. One tilted his head curiously, inquiring silently how he knew. "The aetherphones! I tried to send a message ta George, and he told us what was happenin! We need ta get ta Russia straight away!!"
He Looked towards the round-faced shopkeep and slammed two pale fists into the table.

"I need an airship!" He pleaded, though it may have sounded like a command. The round man simply grinned and pointed to his roof, where a decorative, brightly-colored windmill stood sentry. Patrick shrugged and decided to take what he could get. Within moments, the five were crammed into the windmill. The propeller at the front megan to morph and distort. Minutes later, the brightly-colored windmill had become a small, fast-moving sky-clipper. This model of ship was designed for ambushing larger airships quickly and precisely.

The candy-man waved and cried "Auf Widesed!" As the ship soared off. Angel clutched her candy rose tightly.

[Stella Gaslight]

The fight had not yet stopped only thinned to the point were one or two people manning the guns could keep the numbers of cold ones down and the ship safe.  They were trying to ware the Boheme down.  They could keep at this slow and steady pace forever and doubted the Boheme could claim the same.  Eventually they would falter or run out of supplies and then The cold ones would mass and devour the ship.  Emma had already sent out frantic messages to any Aether League ship to come to their aid and help was coming but it was coming slowly.  The way behind them had filled up with attackers the League ships were plowing through but it would take time.   Emma had been on the cannons for hours she was tired, cold and hungry but she refused to leave her post no mater how much George fussed at her and called her a stubborn mule.

Angel stared to feel like something was wrong and sung speed in to the ship between bites of candy.  One soon joined her, He could feel it too and knew the sooner they got back the better.

[E.A. Claringbold]

She had only used the flight of the tank once and that was more for experimentation and out of curiosity. It was different now that she was in combat and lives were at danger. As she flew, shooting and purposefully slamming into bodies, she was sure at the end of it all, if she got out safely, she was going to have to wash the thing well. One could not say that she was having a grand old time, but safe inside the tank and destroying things that were meant to be killed was no more than a game (though it’s not supposed to be). 

[Nigel Wetherby]

Patrick struggled to keep his goggles on as the cold air cut at his face from such high speeds. Thheir speed led them to collide with a flock of geese who were all very irate at their rude driving, and expressed their anger in loud hisses and furious honks. Patrick squinted his eyes, seeing the dot of the Boheme in his sight. He struggled to put his Aetherphones on and called to George.
"George! This is Patrick! I have Angel, One, Jen, and cain with me! Help's on tha way! I need ye to get Scraps to tha kitchen! He'll hold off whatever's attackin' ye till then!"
Scraps looked up at george with a canine obliviousness that seemed to come as naturally as licking oneself and chewing ones own fur off. His egg-whisk tail bobbed back and forth excitedly as he let out a playful yap.

[Stella Gaslight]

"The dog made of kitchen appliances is going to save us?" George muttered to himself and shook his head, the Monkey was insane with out a doubt but the problem was his insanity actually worked sometimes. "Come on dog you have a job to do."  Scraps barked and followed him.

Diggers stared to pop up and fire at the ship and then vanish like a hellish game of whack a mole.  Emma tried to keep up but she was running on an empty belly and a nagging headache it was only a matter of time until she missed a critical shot and she knew it.

[MWBailey]

Dreyfuss awoke disoriented, and a bit refreshed, even though he had apparently been sleeping against the starboard engine.
Wait... then it was all just a dream? I haven't been in sickbay?
There is no sickbay on the Boheme, Dreyfuss, George said in his head. A different voice then spoke up, George! since when has Dreyfuss been able to 'ear you in 'is head, speak to 'im with your mouth, man!
Dreyfuss chuckled, hoping it was sent over the... whatchacallit...the aethernet? HE then headspoke, as he liked to think of it, saying with a mischievous thought, George, tell Patrick I can hear both of you just fine, and Nyland Dreyfuss' fosterdaughter is flying around outside in one of his flying tanks shooting at cold ones. See what he says. And tell Emma I'm back in action.

Dreyfuss broke the link, or hoped he did, and headed to the gundeck, where Emma was very nearly at the point of collapse. He gently half-carried her back from her gun to let her sit on the floor (he was afraid to put her on a crate, lest she pass out and fall), and then returned to the gun, stepping into the harness, and grasping the handles, blasting away at cold ones as fast as he could possibly operate the gun. Damn things are persistent, He thought...

HE then happened to think about Irene, and tried to send to her, Irene....Irene... A very small air clipper is closing on the Boheme; with it are two winged beings, a male and a female; a third one is also likely. They are FRIENDS, I repeat, they are FRIENDS. do not shoot them. uh...That is All...He thought he heard an answer, but could not be certain.

[Nigel Wetherby]

George took scraps to the kitchen, and immediately the appliences reacted. A look of moronic consentration steeled Scrap's gaze as his metal body arched with electricity. George watched with terror as all the knives, forks, spoons, pans and pots flew towards scraps like a flock of steel birds. A cacophany of chaotic clanks shook the air and forced George to put his hands over his ears.
"It's amazin what ye can do with magnets." Patrick said cheerfully over the aetherweb. The tiger-sized metallic beast stood magestically where the metal terrier once stood. It seemed ready for playtime, despite its knife-blade fangs and claws made from meathooks.
"Oh my..." George stammered.

Patrick looked at the clipper's controll panel. "Okay then, let's see what this thign can do!" He exlaimed, pressing a red button. A loud wet slap  was all that resulted. A red candy apple slid harmlessly from the cold one ship's hull.
"A raider clipper that shoots CANDY?!"
Angel couldn't help but giggle.
"Alright!" Patrick slapped his hands together. "Time fer some modifications!" He wrapped his hands around the steering wheel and let the white fire take hold. The candy-clipper made a loop-de-loop before skimming the deck of the cold one ship. The barrels of the candy clipper released barrages of rock-hard jawbreakers. The sweet projectiles snapping bones and bashing skull of the human cultists. Flaming lollipops were hurled into the faces of attacking cold ones.

"Are you telling me, the crew of the famous hell galleon the Cerberus is being slain by CANDY!?" The czar slammed his fist into a wall, snapping it like a twig. A few sickening cracks later, and his wrist was righted in alignment.

[MWBailey]

Dreyfuss broke off firing as Irene blasted past in her tank. "Hecate's Hamhocks!" Dreyfuss shouted." George, can you please try to hail that woman, and tell her to be careful? I nearly fried her that time! I can't seem to get through.

[Rowland Elmstone]

Rowland had left Abe and began wondering around the ship. He made it to the engine room and began rooting around. He soon found a tool box with an aether rotor cuff. He took it out and began making some well needed adjustments. He assumed the crew wouldn't mind, since this would be putting the aether circuit away from full compacity toward a more balanced state. He then heard the voice of Elisha.

"Yeah. I will continue to work on it. It will be done soon"

He had no idea about all the comotion on the inside of the ship. He blinked when he exited and saw quite a lot of problems. He then walked over to Dreyf who insisted on giving him an earful. He decided to help the man with his injuries and moved next to Elisha.

"I believe we will have to land soon. There is some damage to the outer core of the aether orb. It will implode if we don't make an adjustment. I will try and hold it off as long as I can from combusting."

He wiped his face with his handkerchief and nodded, moving off to sit at a table.

[Vancouver Air Privateer]

"Ah. Alright" said Elisha. He'd let the aether professor deal with...well, aether.

As Rowland worked, Elisha brain sorted over this. "So...could an explosive weapon then be made from Aether?"

[MWBailey]

Dreyfuss continued to shoot at cold ones, blasting away at a very high rate of fire; he had found that if he fired short bursts instead of long burns, he could get more shots more rapidly. He began to worry about the durability of the firing trigger, however, and switched to only using rapid fire when several targets presented themselves at once.

He needed to do several things; he needed to reload both the Webley and the smaller pistol, not to mention the empty paterson cylinders; he only had four left; actually quite a bit of firepower, but if things got hot and hectic, he could use the reloads. The boat gun hung empty on his shoulder as well, so during a lull in the cold ones' advances toward the ship, he reloaded it, being sure to use heat rune-inscribed pistol balls. He wondered if there were any Grenades on board; the boat gun could be used to lob those, much like a portable mortar.

He looked out the port again, and saw the tank cruising by, shooting at a large flying nightmare, while being stalked by an even bigger one, so he spun the cannon on its azimuth and slapped off three rapid bursts, reducing the larger of the monsters to goop and charred tentacle pieces. He briefly saw Rosie at the side window of the tank; he could swear, if she hand hands, she'd be waving hello, so he waved back. He looked down, and saw how bloody his boots were, and checked the bite to his midsection... it was actually mostly scabbed over now, but it still bled in the stretch-marked areas where the rib bandage had stretched the skin.Dreyfuss took the bandanna from his inner vest pocket, and in the process of doing so, the old airshipman's hood-cap came out as well. Well! I forgot I put that in there.if I weren't wearing my hat -- he felt the top of his head, and realized his hat had been gone for some time. Dreyfuss was glad he had put the heat goggles in his coat thigh pocket. he put the hood on, cinched it and buttoned teh buttons, and pulled out the heat goggles and put them on his head.

He buttoned his shirt, adjusted it with the mailshirt underneath (the bite would have been much worse without the mail shirt) and closed and buttoned the leather vest, switched during the brief wait in Shanghai. He then stuffed the bandanna, wadded up in a ball, down next to the bite, and left it there. it would have to do for now. He suddenly straightened and slapped off from a standing-off position three shots on the cannon as a small flotilla of cold ones drew abreast of his gunport; all of them perished.

Dreyfuss then set about reloading the cartridge pistols, which was done so quickly that he seriously thought about getting a newer model Colt. HE finished the Webley, an dthen pulled ou the empty Paterson cylinders. This might be a long night, he thought to no one in particular, as he began to reload the empty cylinders.

[E.A. Claringbold]

Irene saw a clipper and wondered if it was friend or foe. She was not sure of as to what exactly she was seeing (she thought she saw lollipops), but she saw them strike the enemy and that was good enough for her. If they were not against them, they might as well be for us, was her temporary thought. Leaving them be, she continued hacking down the numbers.

Thump. Two. Thump. One. THUMP. Five! That was five point right there for that big ugly brute. Letting loose a vicious smile, Irene chuckled. She let out another round with the Gatling guns and licked her dry lips. Some of them hung onto the tank and attempted to beat the metal in no particular rhythm futilely like beating sardines out of a can. The armor held strong, at most receiving scratches, as it was its function.  She was not going to go out and thrash them off her vessel, but she could collide with other bodies to encourage them to stay off her tank and that was what she did.

[Vancouver Air Privateer]

Elisha was relieved that the engine room was secure.

"Keep at it!" he said to Rowland. "We can't let ourselves fall back at a time like this. He staggered as the hull shook. Outside in the corridor, a brute had smashed it's way in. Elisha stabbed upwards, the bayonet lodging into the things writhing mouth. He fired, sending a heat round into the brain. He took cover behind the door. A group of Occultists ran in, wildly screaming and firing pistols and rifles. Elisha remained calm. The rifle steadily shot off rounds in a set rythm. The Occultists took cover, then fell back, falling to the ground which was finally starting to become further.

[MWBailey]

Dreyfus heard the sounds of a boarding party, and left the cannon to run to the engine room, Paterson and Webley in hand. HE stopped at the doorway, flattened against the wall, and saw teh remains of a Brute and two or three cultists, and a big hole in the hull where they had smashed their way in.

He thought he had heard Elisha's voice, so he looked around for him, but only saw Rowland, whom he saluted; he did not return the salute. Either he was still miffed about earlier, or just did not recognize the salute fo rwhat it was. No matter.  Dreyfuss pulle dthe needles and waxed thread from his bag, and sewed up the rent in the fabric. Sometime, maybe after all this Cold Ones rigmarole was over, he or someone'd have to replace or patch the section of metal hull covering, but for now, the re-sewn rips would serve the purpose. He replaced the needle and thread in his bag, and moved off to Emma's laboratory for more steel balls; he figured they might be extremely useful in short order.

When he arrived, He found that Emma must have just been there, for the bench was still warm where she apparently soldered something, to judge by the still-hot spatters of silvery solder oin teh bench.Dreyfuss didnt remember her getting up or leaving the gundeck portion of the ship, but she must have at some point he realized. Poor lady engineer. I guess shes sort of on autopilot; poor thing's probably exhausted. He found the balls, poured abut half the box into the carbine's hopper magazine, and then saw the backpack; he remembered her saying something about using the backpack to power the carbine...but how was he able to shoot, before, if it required the backpack? he shook his head.

It was a puzzle, but one which would have to wait until later, as he could hear what sounded like another boarding party up around the roof of the stores compartment, if he had to make a guess. He strapped on the backpack, plugged the cord into both the carbine and the power unit, and then took off at a dead run for the ship's stores.

[Nigel Wetherby]

Cain dropped from the Candy clipper the moment it hung upside down over the deck of the boheme. When the construct spread his wings, Irene stared for a moment in brief wonderment at the crimson and silver wings that glittered in the sun. Cain made a beeline for a phalanx of roaring brutes and semolished their ranks with artful swoops of his deus blades. He made her think of a scythe, slashing fat corn from the stalk.
As Cain cut down the enemies on the deck, Angel intercepted and destroyed targets in the air. Glider-riding occultists dropped like flies and plummeted into the cold green earth below.

Scraps trundled past Elisha, plowing through the occultists. His hooked claws ripped into the flesh of those who opposed the mechanical beast. Knife-blade teeth dug into soft human flesh as geysers of crimson stained scraps' silvery muzzle.

[Vancouver Air Privateer]

Elisha began to advance down the corridor, Ella following behind. He went in the wake of Scraps, eliminating anything that was still left. They needed to move quickly - an enemy on board could cause untold havoc. He looked out a porthole. The numbers were thinning...but it still looked dire. Worst of all, there was still too many enemy airships afloat.

"I think we should head for the deck" he said to Ella. "We need to get to some deck guns."

----------

Tobias stood brooding at the front of his airship. This witch was cunning. They had just avoided him in Germany. He hadn't expected the damn windmill to be an airship. These constant frustrations were beginning to take their toll on him. He took a sip from another vial. He was going to head straight for the Boheme. There was no sign of the clown, so he could assume that there had been a failure. That was just about as much as he expected.

[MWBailey]

Dreyfuss walked up the corridor, armed to the teeth and full of thunder; whenthree brutes and a weird smaller cold one ran through the smoke toward him, he pulled thetrigger of the Boat Gun, and fired three thunderous shots from the carbine the cold ones were ripped to shreds and burnt to death by the plasma of the ultra-hot steel balls' impact. He heard a shout and a sound like a hound from hell, and and Scraps in battle mode bounded around the corner, not recognizing Dreyfuss in the airman's hood and goggles.

Scraps barked thunderously; Dreyfuss, never having been at the receiving end of the BARK before, was knocked against the wall, but managed to keep the carbine up. he lowered it, and called "Scraps? Scraps! good boy!" HE was amazed by the change; the dog waggged his tail, and jumped from side to side, for all the world as if playing a game of throw-the-ball-and-chase-me. "Good booooyyy!" Dreyfuss crooned, patting the huge head, and then pointed down the corridor toward the engine room. "SIC EM!" he shouted, and Scraps BARKED and took off. 

he heard the sound of trotting human feet, and whirled, bringing up the carbine in one hand and the Paterson in the other. He saw, vaguely, two figures through the cordite and gunsmoke in the corridor, he cocked the Paterson as loudly as he could, and shouted "FRIEND OR FOE!"

"FRIEND!" shouted Elisha and Emma in unison; Dreyfuss lowered the carbine, holstered the Paterson and and switched from carbine to boat gun and reloaded the redoubtable old weapon.

"Where to, now? I thought I heard a boarding party in Stores...?" he asked.

"The deck guns, Dreyfuss, we need to knock a few enemy ships out of the air."  Answered Emma. "We took care of the boarding party."

 

[Arabella Granger]

It was almost impossible to see through the thick smoke, and Ella found herself involuntarily hacking and coughing. The battle had made it very difficult to breathe with any sort of ease or relaxedness. Her eyes streaming, she tried to make out exactly what was advancing upon them in the sky. "Who...is...it?" she managed to croak out before dissolving into coughs again.

Elisha seemed to be the only one unfazed by the thick haze--Dreyfuss and Emma, however, seemed to be suffering a similar fate as they coughed and wheezed. "I don't know," said Emma, "but I'm not sure I want to wait around long enough to find out."

[MWBailey]

Dreyfuss passed around his water bottle, refilled sometime the night before. "drink a little; it helps, some," he said. "If you wet a handkerchief and tie it over your mouth like a mask, it will filter some of the worst smoke -- mine's soaking up blood from a brute bite, or I wouild be using it that way." He saw Miss Ella give him a look, and stare pointedly at the chewed leather of his vest on the left side, and said "it's alright, Miss Armitage, i'm fine," hoping she wouldnt notice how bloody his pants or especially his formerly-light-colored moccasin boots were.

[Rowland Elmstone]

"Techincally, yes, but it would take a lot more---"

"Keep at it!" He saw Elisha run off while Rowland stood in the engine room threshold. He shook his head and dropped back down into the room. He tapped some dials, making sure they were still alright. He wrenched open the containment hold of the massibe aether sphere that ran the ship. He picked up a glass jar he had found in the galley and held it in his right hand. Very carefully he used his aetherial knife to cut off a section of the massive orb. It looked as if someone sabotaged it to make it expand and eventually implode. He then slide a massive sliver of the orb into the jar. He closed the lid quickly and shut the door to the orb. He breathed deeply. They were still in the air. He smiled as he held the jar. He decided he would be much safer now. He would have to tell Elisha eventually.

[Nigel Wetherby]

Patrick emerged from the smoke, Jen lay limply in his arms. Their pale faces stained grey with soot.
"Is everyone alright?" He cried out. Angel and Cain landed beside him and began to call for any survivors.