Author's fatuous and probably unnecessary blurb:
Hello again. Yeah, I really did do this. The two stories in the same post were beginning to make things move veeeeeerrrrrryyyyyy sssssllllooowwwwlllyyy, and were a cast-iron expletive to edit and add on to, so I've split the second from the first and put it here. Mr. Corsair, I'm not quite finished doing this, so please don't delete this story from the other thread yet. Thanks in advance!
Thanks to my readers who've kept going back and reading this and hoping I'd add along to it.. I know there have to be a couple or few, since there are far more views than I would be able to rack up on my own
.
Thanks, folks.
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Between the Threads
-or-
what came after the Cold One Queen
And Before
The Search for George
-------------------------------------------------------------
Book II
Under the CobblesBook II: Under the Cobbles
Prelude: Landfall
White Island turned out to be a massive pumice, bauxite, and sulphur-mining operation, coupled with a gunpowder mill, in the middle of the South China Sea. The whole thing was a volcanic flyspeck of an island that was barely large enough to hold the entirety of the mountain itself, the miniscule fishing town, and the mining operation, along with a surprisingly good hospital and a small contingent of Sepoy troops to guard the mill. There was a fisherman's harbor, where a large ferry-type boat also docked, and an aerodrome, where three or four heavier-than- and two lighter-than-air ships were parked and moored.
The St. Elmo was moored to a mast, then the mast , mounted on odd-looking, gear-toothed rails and powered by a small steam locomotive integrated into the tower's construction, towed the St. Elmo over to a berth, and a crew lashed her down and detached her from the mast. The odd thing about the tracks, Jock noted as he helped the Commodore and a certain singularly truculent third person disembark, was that the geared teeth were located at the inside bottom of a folded-over top edge of the rails, apparently an attempt to build a system that could not simply be blown off the tracks in a gale.
They disembarked onto the bit of dock, Irene dressed in roughly a Texian airshipman's uniform, her colts belted on about her waist and her sword at her left hip. She glared dourly all around as if looking for something to slash or shoot full of holes, and had to be held onto by either Dreyfuss or Jock to keep her from decking several of the officers and men who saw only the unveiled part of her face and assumed the rest of her was equally comely. If they only knew how well-protected the rest of her is, and what t' other 'alf o' her face looks like, Jock thought wryly, most of 'em'd piss themselves.
That was often the case when an unsuspecting 'prospective suitor,' As Dreyfuss chose to call them, was confronted by Irene's guns, and her attitude -- which at the best of times bordered on absolutely psycotically murderous. In the worst of times, and when her blood was boiling for any number of a myriad of reasons, and in battle, she was uncaringly lethal; she literally did not care about anyone beyond Dreyfuss, Jock, or, apparently, herself. She would tolerate Ishmael, their new nominal 'captain,' and Tim, loudly proclaiming she spared Tim only to protect their payroll; but anyone else, including their immediate superior Sir Charles, she would just as soon shoot as look at. Dreyfuss secretly hoped she would never be given an award by the Queen; he feared regicide, or any one of a number of equally horrifying possibilities, should such an event take place.
"Idiots, I hate idiots.' Irene grumbled, at almost a low shout, "All idiots should be dragged out and shot."
"You keep calling me an idiot, does that --" Dreyfuss began, before Irene cut him off with a glare and a low growl, then barked back,
"I do not! I say you do idiotic things. There's a difference. Besides, you're Family."
"Well, thanks," Dreyfuss said, not without a slight tang of sarcasm, and then added, "just make sure you're not the one does the dragging out, or the shooting."
"Oi, remind me ta go look up me cousins fer the 'oliday,s when 'ey come, Commodore, sah." Jock said, jovially, earning an ill-tempered glance from their resident harridan, and a slightly perplexed and rather jaundiced one from Dreyfuss.
They had left Captain Ishmael aboard the ship, with instructions to keep up the boiler pressure and instructions for how to do so. Tim , who had jumped ship in Shanghai just as his airship was about to depart and managed to leap aboard the Elmo, had accompanied them to Silver Cavern, then left with them after a duel with two large pirate airships and an aeronef, now went off in search of the local "airpark bar" to see about posting a letter home. Dreyfuss supected the firefight, and the storm they flew through to get to White Island, had put him off of 'globetrotting' for the present.
"what're you implying, you dirty-sashed lout?" Irene barked at Jock.
"Why, nothin' me li'l passionflower," Jock said, getting a boot in the shin from Irene in response. "OI! That 'urt, Irene," Jock said. He was also laughing a little too hard for it to have been too bad. The two could go on for hours, Jock baiting the veiled young immortal harridan mercilessly and she right back at him, seasoning her responses with blows and horrific insults that would cause someone not in the know to think there was a lethal situation developing.
But, both seemed to enjoy the sparring, and they kept at it out of an apparent liking for the pastime, and in a rather twisted way, one another, so as long as Irene didn't hurt Jock permanently (He doubted either would ever admit it out in the open, but Dreyfuss suspected that there was a sort of bond, dysfunctional and twisted though it might be, developing between the burly, ebullient fireman and Dreyfuss' wasp-waisted, wasp-tempered deathless hairtriggered autopistol of a cousin and ward), he usually did little more than scold them in response.
"OK, you two, pipe down," he said not unkindly, as they were approached by a toppered, official-looking fellow and a uniformed assistant.
->|Book 2|<-
Critiques/comments/suggestions are appreciated!
PM me, or send to
mwbailey@hotmail.com
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« Last Edit: November 27, 2011, 01:41:21 am by MWBailey » Report to moderator 75.53.110.222
MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
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United States United States
"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"
rtafStElmo
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Re: Between the Threads(WIP)
« Reply #18 on: September 26, 2011, 11:01:36 pm »
Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify
Between the Threads
-or-
what came after the Cold One Queen
And Before
The Search for George
-------------------------------------------------------------
Book II
Under the Cobbles
Book II: Under the Cobbles
Chapter 2: An Odd Assignment
"Another foppish idiot," Irene growled as the betoppered youngfellow approached.
"I happen to agree, Irene, but lets keep civil tongues in our heads for now, at least until we find out what the fop wants; he might just be important --" Dreyfuss cut off as the tophat with attached greenhorn diplomatic type stopped a couple of feet away and offered his hand, saying, "Ah, Commodore Dreyfuss and crew, I presume? I am Clapham Foulshire, Aide to the Director. Right this way, if you please."
A horsedrawn landau with the folding top raised drew up alongside the little group as the fellow spoke, and they all climbed aboard, Irene somewhat uncharacteristically allowing the young gentleman to hand he rinto the vehicle. What a name! Let's hope he doesn't get any ideas, or we may have a vacant tophat to deal with, Dreyfuss fumed to himself. He glared at Irene warningly as her hand ghosted to one of her pistols. Whatever he did, Cher cousin, pray let it be 'til after the meeting, he thought. Irene looked up at him suddenly, as if having heard his thoughts. Such might come in handy, Dreyfuss thought, but dismissed the idea immediately. Uncle Caractacus'd have his hide if he found out.
The ride through the (rather few) streets of the island town was like a trip to several corners of teh Orient at once; the nose alone reported the scents of a hundred different cultures. unnumbered stenches and fragrances, aromas and miasmas made themselves apparent, while coliors of saris, kinonos, business suits and robes clothing brown bodies, white bodies or black or yellow, sometimes in succession and sometimes all at once in a nearly overpowering assault on the senses.
->|Book 2|<-
Critiques/comments/suggestions are appreciated!
PM me, or send to
mwbailey@hotmail.com
---=====<[[/{{"<(|)>")}\]]>=====---
« Last Edit: November 27, 2011, 01:38:35 am by MWBailey » Report to moderator 76.195.204.5
MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States
"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"
rtafStElmo
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Re: Between the Threads(WIP)
« Reply #19 on: November 27, 2011, 01:28:54 am »
Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify
Between the Threads
-or-
what came after the Cold One Queen
And Before
The Search for George
-------------------------------------------------------------
Book II
Under the Cobbles
They pulled up before very long at all in front of a wooden edifice that was obviously built to resemble the stone becolumned pile that the Home Office resided in in London -- though very much smaller. They were ushered within, up the central Stairway, and into a second-floor flat resplendent with decor and objects and gadgets typical to a British South Asian diplomat's demesne, right down to the huge waving carpet-tapestry overhead, providing what was supposedly a cooling breeze.
The fop had left them upon entering the building, and they had been conducted to the apartment by a young Sepoy in a satin uniform, who now went to the far end of the room, opened a door, and spoke to the person within. He stepped out and back, then to the side, and out the room stepped a familiar figure: Sir Charles Tayle, Head Minister of Her Majesty's Secret Service. "Good show in Shanghai, Sir Jaisen, he addressed Dreyfuss, "and also in that Silver Cavern affair, but I feel I should caution you to be careful whom you ram with your fierce little aerial man o' war; it's not always as simple as sinking the ship that attacks a liaison."
"I was only doing my duty as I saw fit, Charles," Dreyfuss said, "and I did follow your advice in sending Irene and Jock as boarding party, much though I would have preferred to go along as well. My boat gun itches for a good battle."
"You might have such an opportunity in the near future, Jaisen," Charles said matter-of-factly. "We have for you what you might at first see as rather an odd little assignment. Tell me, you do know about vampires, do you not?"
Dreyfuss put down the cup of Earl Grey that he had had handed to him, lest his reaction cause him to drop it -- or to use it as a hurled weapon of indignation. "Do I know about vampires?" he said hoarsely, his southern American accent coming out strong and thick, "Come on, now, your intelligence is so very good on everything else, I cannot believe that you, sir, do not know of my history in that area. I had to, with my own hand --!"
"shoot with six rounds of silver your fiancee Miss Morganthe De La Vigo, because she had become a most powerful vampiress and held your younger sisters in a glamour, preparatory to turning them," Charles interrupted in a slightly singsong voice. "Yes, I do know, and I also know several other things." His voice took on a harder edge as he proceeded. "Including your duel with Miss Harper-Chen over Shanghai Harbor, for example. You seem to be awfully free with your fire-throwing, Jaisen. It gets a bit hard to explain away after several incidents. That fireball you cut loose with in the Aether League airpark will live in dubious fame for many long years, I fear, as an example of an utterly impossible-to-explain incident."
" I also have a bit of news that, to you, may be a bit of a shock, but first, here's a milder one. You remember, of course, that sensational bit of a diplomatic fiasco involving a certain Transylvanian count a while back? Well, he is certainly utterly destroyed, thank the heavens, but his ... heiress, shall we say ... has relapsed from Dr. Van Helsing's cure, and now leads a an entire coven, hundreds, maybe even thousands strong, in the tunnels, sewers, and other underground complexes beneath London Proper."
"But the war, the Battles of London, and the Cold Ones, surely they wiped out all o' the underground nasties!" Jock exclaimed, "The 'ole city were devastated!"
"Aye, Jock, many were destroyed, and some were our allies --but now they've been joined by Miss Harker's ... offspring ... And those of another, one who has recently arrived from the New World, and yes, Jaisen, we know who Miss Harper-Chen's Sire was," Charles said, before Dreyfuss could blurt it out, "They are one and the same, the Newcomer and the Sire. I am sorry to inform you of this, Jaisen, but the one you thought you had destroyed in fact survived. Your Morganthe is in London's Underground at this very moment."
"Your assignment, should you accept it, is to
1. locate and ally our government with Miss Harker's coven. Failing that, destroy, with fire, silver, salt and acid the entire coven or as near to it as can be managed without destroying the city.
2. Destroy utterly the new coven being raised by Morganthe -- and her new lieutenant: Miss Harper-Chen."
"That's..." Dreyfuss sighed, seeming to almost, but not quite, sob in grief and grievous foreboding, "gonna take one helluva lot of silver, Charlie."
->|Book 2|<-
Critiques/comments/suggestions are appreciated!
PM me, or send to
mwbailey@hotmail.com
---=====<[[/{{"<(|)>")}\]]>=====---
« Last Edit: November 27, 2011, 01:39:07 am by MWBailey » Report to moderator 75.53.101.183
MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States
"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"
rtafStElmo
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Re: Between the Threads(WIP)
« Reply #20 on: November 28, 2011, 01:43:17 am »
Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify
Between the Threads
-or-
what came after the Cold One Queen
And Before
The Search for George
-------------------------------------------------------------
Book II
Under the Cobbles
Chapter 3: Will we, Nil We
"Not so fast," Charles had said, when Dreyfuss recovered and stood up, proclaiming there was no time like the present to "Hit London like a salvo of artillery" and "Root out Morganthe and her damned minions."
"First, return to your new berth at Tinker's Row, and receive delivery of a special weapon designed and prepared for the St. Elmo by Our mutual friend Ms. Emma Lewistine. After reprovisioning and briefly (and I stress the term briefly) laying over for same, we need for you and your crew, and a picked squad of Service operatives, to go to Grimpen Ward on the Dartmoor Heath, and determine what, if any, connection the recent disturbances there have to events in London; If anything hellish is going on, destroy or at least drive out those responsible. Suspicious activity has also been reported in Land's End, but seems oddly disconnected from these other incidents, or at any rate is not as pressing for investigation.
Charles handed Dreyfuss a thick pasteboard file bound with a gutta percha band, and said, "in there you'll find all pertinent information on the Squad; they are Blacksuits all, I assure you. Their commander is one Leftenant Watson."
An hour later, Dreyfuss, Jock, Irene and Tim had rejoined Captain Ishmael aboard the St. Elmo and departed for Kathmandu; from there they would set forth for Points West and Finally the Dock at Tinker's Row, London. Dreyfuss sat at the command console in the steering room in the bow of the gunboat section of the St. Elmo, staring into the sunset dead ahead as he thought back to the events of his past, in particular the chase and (he had thought at the time) final confrontation with his fomer and undead fiancee Morganthe. It's odd, he thought, looking into the Indian sun, What will come to be, will we, nil we...
->|Book 2|<-
Critiques/comments/suggestions are appreciated!
PM me, or send to
mwbailey@hotmail.com
---=====<[[/{{"<(|)>")}\]]>=====---
