Forgotten Futures: The Cassowary and the Continental Zombies

Roster

Captain Neill MacAndrew - Malacandra
Franklin Boyd - Elendil's Heir
Lore O'Cuinn - RabbitMage
Ian Spencer - What Exit?
Dr. Raoul Lefevre - Zuul
Klara Augusta Weber - Orual
James Wilfred Smythe - Ramses
Lucius Nathaniel Barnaby - CatInASuit
Toff - Hoopy Frood

----------------------------
May 19th, 1872

Prince Heinrich XIV, of the Reuss Younger Line has called a number of people to a residence he has temporarily taken up in London. A relative of both Queen Victoria and her late husband, the German prince has many ties in England, including to those he has called to him on an unusually cold, rainy Sunday evening.

Each individual is ushered into the parlour, where the prince waits. He's a relatively young man at the age of forty, his hair neatly styled back and his lengthy moustache curled up at the ends. The room isn't terribly large, but richly furnished and quite comfortable. There are two couches on either side of a low table with high backed chairs at either end of the table. A fire crackles away merrily in the hearth, chasing away the damp chill of the night.

The prince settles himself in a chair while his servants bring refreshments to his guests as they arrive. He refuses to answer any questions until the entire party has arrived.

Franklin "Frank" Boyd sees that he is first to arrive. He bows to his host and murmurs, "Your Royal Highness, thank you for your kind invitation. I'm pleased to meet you." He accepts a cup of coffee from a servant and adds quite a bit of sugar. A former captain of the Royal Marines and the Imperial Indian Dirigible Service, he is of average height, strong and wiry, with hazel eyes, a lean, lined face, dark hair and a full but neatly-trimmed beard. He wears a dark suit of a conservative cut, a white shirt and a cravat.

In something that only happens on rare occasion, Toff is actually living up to his name wearing what is his only high-class outfit (a payment from a tailor he did some work for a few years back). He's got a brown wool suit, wool vest from which the chain of his watch is hooked to an eyelet and the watch is in his pocket, and a pressed linen shirt. Upon entering the residence, he removes his leather bowler hat and leather overcoat and hands them to whichever servant is taking the things. He also wears a pair of recently shined shin high leather boots. Toff's usually untamed and scraggly hair is clean and pulled back in a small pony tail, and his face is clean shaven. Inside on the right side of his left boot he conceals a dagger. It is the only weapon he has on him. If asked if he has any weapons, he will admit as much and will happily hand it over. If frisked, he will immediately tell them to check the boot. If neither, he will mention to whoever looks as the most senior security person that he has a dagger in his boot and he will willingly give it up, as he intends no subterfuge or threat towards the prince. He just always feels vulnerable without a dagger on his person when walking around and will mention this to the guard. He just requests that they return it to him upon leaving.

Upon being led into the parlour, he bows and greets the prince.

"Good evening, your highness. It's my pleasure to meet you. Thank you for your hospitality."

Taking a seat nearest the fire to shake off the chill, he orders a glass of dark rum served neat, it certainly has to be better than the gin in his flask.

As far as the rest of his standard equipment, other than a lighter, he's left it all at home. He's not going to need it in this place. He does have a cigarette case in his inner pocket, which he pulls out with the lighter, and opens it up revealing a handful of prepacked cigarettes.

"Is it all right if I smoke, your majesty?" he asks the Prince.

If the answer is no he will pleasantly accept it. If the Prince says it's okay, he will offer both the Prince and Frank a cigarette as well.

Travel was brisk and able from his residence in Staffordshire, the family estate upon which he inconvenienced from one time to another, and he brought with him a single trunk, two rifles well protected within leather cases, and his own person dressed more for a hunt than for meeting royalty. Bedecked in his expeditionary clothes of canvas and cotton, with cravat puffing out from his button-up shirt being the greatest of his fineries he wore, he was not of proper attire to meet with royalty, and seemed to play at no great fawning for their established privilege. Having asked the servants on entry to tend to his rifles, and single bag, that he brought with him from his travel, he moved inward, his face marbled with ire. "Prince," Smythe greeted, his voice brooking a disinterest in pleasantries, but still he offered the most basic.

The word dark would accurately summarize the mood which possessed Smythe as he took in the establishment, his chin strong with a dimple inverting its foremost point, handsome and tall with lean muscle. Adding to the clarity of his foul demeanor, clearly displeased by his own presence here, was the rough nature of his face, having clearly been absent the touch of a razor for some days, scruff that was not yet respectably a beard, nor shaved in anticipation of such.

His safari hat was brought with him, and tucked under his arm. His jacket was worn openly, to make hint seen of the shoulder-slung holsters for pistols that were nestled neatly at his sides beneath the jacket. The band was seen, if not the metal itself, and he moved to acquire drink, letting his eyes travel those other arrivals with a considerate gaze. He wondered at their purpose, their payment and their knowledge, but awaited the telling; the man had hired them with purpose, and he would permit the man his word when he chose it, even if Smythe appeared to scorn the undue pageantry that preceded the sordid business.

Thanks in no small part to the Scotophilia popularised by the Queen, Neill MacAndrew has no hesitation in presenting himself in traditional Scottish regalia - or at least, "traditional" as it is generally viewed in London. With an air of easy ceremony he surrenders his claymore and dirk at the door but retains the sgian dubh in plain view in his stocking, as duty demands that he be prepared to defend his host at need. Entering, he bows first to the Prince and then to the other company. "Good evening, your Highness, and The MacAndrew sends his best regards," he says, in the barely-accented Highland tones that can be more English than the English.

Knowing that the Prince will speak when he is ready, and recognising a fellow ex-serviceman by his bearing, MacAndrew steps aside to make the acquaintance of Frank Boyd. He takes no sugar in his coffee, no more than he does in his porridge, for he is a true son of his country.

Nate arrives at the entrance wondering what he is here for. The request did not appear to be for an example of his usual talents, but it was enough to pique his interest and one never says no to royalty, no matter where they are from.

Handing his coat and hat to the servant at the front door he makes his way with confident steps to where the prince is waiting. To those inside, a thin, neat man walks through the door looking at home in such splendour. The suit is of high quality and the shoes shined brightly.

He looks carefully around the room at the those already there and in turn looks over each of them as if trying to understand who each of them are. When satisfied with something perhaps known only to himself, he walks up to the Prince and thanks him for his hospitality on this night.

Then he will accept a drink that is offered to him and warm himself by the fire.

After handing her coat and umbrella to a servant, Klara hesitates in the doorway before entering the parlor. She stands a little over five feet tall, and wears a plain tan walking suit. Her fair hair is up in a braided chignon, topped with a blue satin hat. Her wide, inquisitive gray eyes examine the room and its inhabitants for a moment before approaching the prince.

"Guten Abend, Eure Hoheit," she murmurs as she drops a curtsey. She will then take a cup of coffee and settle herself on one of the couches.

A man arrives in a dapper pilots suit. Immaculately white with blue piping. He hands off his hat and jacket and heads for the parlor. Sadly this suit does not favor the short man, he might look pudgy at first but it is hard to miss he is of a thick strong build like a wrestler.

"Your Royal Highness, I thank you for the invitation and look forward to a new profitable venture."

He nods to the rest of the guests, "Greetings, I am Ian Spencer, Pilot and Engineer." He hands out business cards with gold leaf printing.

Ian W. Spencer
94 Baker Street, London

Masters of Engineering
King's College London

Pilot, Mechanic, Engineer, Scientist,
Adventurer and Inventor

"A pleasure to see you Neill, I was afraid I would be bored by uninteresting talk tonight, but with a fellow engineer here I feel better."

On arrival, Lore relinquishes his traveling bag and his well-worn coat to the servants. He's dressed far more like a dock worker than a man holding audience with royalty. His brown hair is combed, though, and he is clean shaven for the occasion.

Before there's a chance for proper greetings, a gilded card is thrust upon him. He glances at it and scoffs, tossing it aside.

Free of such distraction, he acknowleges the mustachioed price with a deep nod that one might read as a half-assed bow. A seat is taken on one of the couches, and he waves to one of the servants.

"Y'got any scotch?"

Dr. Lefevre arrives looking mildly nervous about being in a German prince's residence. After his coat is taken and he's shown into the parlor, he blanches a bit to see how large the crowd is that's gathered. His clothing is a season out of fashion, though cared for. He simply is too busy to spend much time worrying about such things. Despite the dark coloring of his hair and eyes, his skin has the pallor of a scholar, all the more dramatically pale as he looks around the room with evident worry.

Once he regains his bearings, he bows to the prince. "Your Serene Highness. It's good to see you in better health these days."

When offered a refreshment, Dr. Lefevre accepts coffee, then seats himself on a couch.

Ian is perturbed by dock worker's actions. He picks up the discarded card and inspects it. If it is undamaged he hands it to the newest person, "Good Day, I am Ian Spencer."

Dr. Lefevre watches the engineer, cocking his head curiously, then accepts the card. "Good day, Mr. Spencer," he responds, his French accent apparent though his English is flawless. "I'm Dr. Raoul Lefevre." He pauses, looking down at the floor.

"Are there cards for all of us down there?"

Ian looks confused and ponders, "No, for some reason that labourer type dropped my proffered card and did not even introduce himself. A pleasure to meet you Doctor. Are you a Doctor of Medicine or Science?"

Toff pockets the card, thinking in the back of his mind he now has a new alias to borrow should he need one.

Boyd thanks Spencer and, with only a slightly-raised eyebrow, puts the gold-lettered business card in his pocket. He asks MacAndrew, "From where in Scotland do you come, sir?"

"Appreciation for that, Mr. Spencer," Smythe said calmly, as he took the card and looked it over, twisting it to inspect, before sliding it into one of his pockets, upsetting the necklace of varied bones that hung around his neck as an array of his victories.

The hunter then watches, less interested in their conversation, than in that between Boyd and MacAndrew. They were both clearly of service, and he remained askance from them, eyes lingering as subtly as he'd manage. Otherwise, he returned to his quiet brood, awaiting the Prince's address. Many did not appear, he recognized, to have a full clarity of purpose, either, and that gave him only some comfort in the moment.

Finding a wall, he placed his back to it, and continued to watch the room and its interactions, with special note made to MacAndrew and Boyd still.

Klara accepts Spencer's card with a smile and a "charmed, I'm sure."

As conversations begin to spring up around the room, she continues to observe from the couch, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and confusion.

The card is acepted with a smile. "Thank you sir."

"A strange way to introduce oneself, but perhaps not unusual in such a strange collection of people. Engineers and army men, workers and doctors, I wonder what the Prince has in store for us? " Nate ponders why such a strange collection of people should be brought together.

Despite his decidedly working class appearance, Lore is brought the scotch he requested and treated as graciously as any of the other guests. Once everyone has arrived and settled in, the prince clears his throat. "Leave us now," he tells his servants. The three young men who had been serving step out immediately, shutting the door behind them.

"I'm sure you're all quite curious about why you've been brought together here. I promise that there's a purpose for this, however. What you in all your diversity have in common is that I've either crossed paths with each of you previously or else I'm well aware of your talents."

He pauses for a moment. Klara, Nate, and Toff note that he's hiding some other aspect of why he's chosen them.

"There is a Welsh scientist who has taken a remote estate in my own principality. It's believed that he's working against the crown here and because of that it's...preferred that those retrieving information on what he's doing be primarily British subjects. A rotorcraft that my associates have been designing for me is prepared to carry you to the estate and among you there are enough talented people in order to keep it in flight."

He gestures to his guests. "Mr. O'Cuinn in particular is already experienced in flying ships such as this one and with the automation put in place with the assistance of Miss Weber and her father you may fly with a crew of five."

Prince Heinrich pauses again to take a sip off of his coffee. "This is for the good of my principality as well as the British Empire, at the request of your queen, but I cannot tell you more if you do not agree to the mission. You'll be rewarded generously, of course, but if you are not interested you may leave now and hear no more."

(Earlier, to Boyd: "The MacAndrews call Perthshire home, sir, and a pleasant seat it is at that. Perhaps you would like to see it some time?")

"Rewards are of small account next to loyalty to Queen and country, your Highness. I'll stay and hear the rest for sure."

Before the Prince begins speaking, Dr. Lefevre answers Spencer, "A medical doctor, though I assist in the physiological aspects of zoological studies at King's College."

In response to the offer to leave, Dr. Lefevre raises a brow, but makes no move to leave. "I've no homeland but this one now, your Highness. I intend to stay."

"Y'know I'm willin'," Lore comments over his glass of scotch. One he takes his time sipping, since this is no barroom swill but fine, royal scotch.

One might think he were more concerned with the quality of the alcohol than the purpose of the mission. And one might be right.

Ian says, "Did you say a rotorcraft? I'm in your highness!"

He looks positively blissful and distracted.

Klara is slightly troubled by the fact that the prince is holding something back, but hopes he will be more forthcoming once he is assured of the group's interest and good faith.

"It would be silly of me to have come all this way just to go back again, ja?"

Boyd earlier said to MacAndrew, "You know, I have a vague memory of visiting Perthshire as a boy. It rained quite a bit, as I recall, but it was nevertheless an enjoyable visit."

He now says to the Prince, "If I may be of any service to you, I gladly offer it."

"From what I know of Your Highness, You have a reputation for being most fair in payment for services rendered. While I don't give much stock to the whole 'sacrifice for Queen and Country" thing myself, I am confident that we will all be amply compensated for the effort. Besides, every opportunity to extend my horizons is always a welcome one. I was getting a bit tired of London anyway."

*Raises his glass.*

"My skills are at your service, your Majesty."

Smythe, for the entirety of his action, said nothing; they did not ask for affirmation, after all, but merely stated one could leave if they so wished without problem. Smythe remained, arms crossed as he gazed out at the Prince, waiting more of their host's commands with a patience and deference.

It was, as he imagined, working still for the crown, and that rankled him, but the money was fair and a distance would be placed between the land and so he was willing to provide that which they asked of him. Even if the provision he granted was bitterly offered.

"Your Highness, undoubtedly it will be a generous reward and the thanks of the queen herself comes without comparison. But I do hope that should we all accept your offer, we will be told everything."

"You will be told everything, Mr. Barnaby," Prince Heinrich assures him with a faint smile.

"There is a second reason as to why I've chosen you, aside from your skills and abilities. You see, this scientist has found a way to take control of men's minds. I've yet to see an example of a woman being susceptable, but even so I've been cautious. Most thorough research into your backgrounds has assured me that not a one of you has ever crossed paths with Dr. Victor Llewellyn.

"We're unsure what agent he uses to take control of them, but the results are terrifying." The prince gestures to a stack of folders on the table. There's one for each person attending the meeting. "Please, take a look for yourselves."

Henry Nevill, son of Baron Bergavenny, had been a typical sixteen year old boy of his station. Several photographs and descriptions of his hobbies attest to that. He had blond hair which had a tendency to raise up in a cowlick and pale eyes with somewhat heavy eyelids. But then, Dr. Llewellyn had been invited to the Baron's estate. Two nights after the doctor's arrival Henry had attempted to kill his father in the midst of dinner. It had taken four men and a broken arm to subdue him. He would answer no questions about why he had attacked his father. In fact, he never spoke again. The final photograph of him shows his eyes wide, yet blank, hair in a mad dissaray.

There is a similar story involving a lieutenant-commander in the Royal Navy suddenly attacking the Earl of Romney after having met the doctor. The man had an examplary background with no sign of madness or violence in his family. He was killed in protection of the earl, so that he could not be questioned.

The third story is the most troubling, involving the village Grünhohlen--a village of 252 people--in the the duchy of Saxe-Gotha. The doctor had spent several months in the village before moving on. Shortly after he left every man and youth in the village had taken up arms and attempted a revolt against the duke, brother to Queen Victoria's late husband. The village had always been peaceful before, with no great political upheavals. The men who were captured rather than killed would not speak, simply gazing fixedly into space.

"You will leave in two days for the lunatic asylum in Gera, the capital of my principality. That's where a number of Grünhohlen villagers are being kept. With your various talents, I hoped you might be able to discover something from them we've yet to find on our own. From there you would then go on to infiltrate the country estate Dr. Llewellyn is staying at to recover further intelligence on what he's doing and how. You'll be announced as guests of mine, preparing for a safari in Africa. Dr. Lefevre has heard of Dr. Llewellyn's studies into the functions of the brain and has requested a meeting, with his assistant Miss Weber at his side and leaving the rest of you to do your work."

The prince pauses again for a moment, looking over the assembled group. "And now your questions?"

"I would like to know the name of the vessel and how many rotors it uses. What speeds can it achieve? This is quite exciting." Ian says in his unaware way.

"I know little about the workings of the brain and the mind. I know there have been some pioneering advances made by German doctors in recent times, but such matters are specialised studies quite distinct from my own. On the other hand, give me a few minutes and some common laboratory reagents and I can blow quite large holes in almost anything," smiles MacAndrew, "including any hellish contrivances that might be responsible for the phenomena you enumerate, your Highness; for I'm no believer in sorcery or witch-doctory. Otherwise, it's likely I can help to manage this rotorcraft while my more talented confreres get to the bottom of this mystery."

He takes out a briar pipe and a pouch of aromatic tobacco, setting to work with a speculative look in his eye.

Mind control? Inspiring a whole village to treasonously take up arms? Boyd is puzzled but intrigued.

"I have no direct questions for you. But I think we should discuss our strategy before we set out. My goal will be to try to break into Llewellyn's lab and get his research info. If there is time, I might sabotage his work, but I think ultimately getting to the bottom of what he's doing is paramount. I will need one of the scientists on our team to accompany me in this, both to help me figure out exactly what we're looking for, and to throw a wrench into Llewellyn's plans. Hopefully Dr. Lefevre can distract him long enough for us to pull this off. Your highness, if you have any maps or at least a rough idea of the layout you can tell us about, it would help immensely."

Klara picks up one of folders and starts examining the contents, with a bit of a quizzical look in Spencer's direction.

"Is there anything known about this man Llewellyn - his family history, or where he studied?"

Turning to Dr. Lefevre, she says, "if I am to masquerade as your assistant, Doctor, you will have to give me a bit of instruction. I have not studied much Biology or medical science."

The facts settled in and he understood the written invitation better. Steeling his chin, he gave a curt, understanding nod as the information was laid out for them. They would be traveling to a specific path, to follow a specific man... and he would kill people on that path. The facts of it were sharp in his mind, and he listened as others went on. The most painful were the words spoken by this Spencer, who's card Smythe casually flipped in consideration.

Faced with the horror of mental thefts, he flippantly inquired into the wondrous workings of a flying machine. Typical society fool. "No questions," he clarified, then, his voice catching for a half a moment, and he forced instead his calm demeanor return, his upper lip stiffened and chin upwards, as the old phrasings insist in times of emotional acrobatics.

Dr. Lefevre listens attentively and with interest until the Prince gets to his part of the plan. His eyes widen somewhat, his lips pursing in a frown. He's silent for a long moment once the Prince stops speaking, letting the others make their comments first.

"I'll tutor you in what I can during the journey," he tells Miss Weber softly, before looking to the Prince once more.

"I know a bit about the actual physical structures of the brain, but surgery in these matters tends to be...hopeless in most cases with our current medical knowledge, so matters of the human brain aren't something I've applied any sort of delicacy to. I'll need to get more information on Dr. Llewellyn's work if I'm to appear familiar with it in any capacity."

"An interesting conundrum, your Highness, at a rough guess I take it that it goes beyond mere hypnosis of the victims? There are many tricks to make people do you want, given access and a willing patient."

Nate picks up one of the folders and begins to peruse it.

"It would be interesting to see if his control goes beyond parlour tricks and he has tapped into something hidden within the human psyche. The first two instances, how much access did Dr Llewellyn have to them. To put them under his control is one thing, to ensure they carried out the correct instructions is another. Certainly when it comes to forcing them to do something that they would normally not do. Was he treating them professionally or did he just happen to be in the area at the time? In which case, do you know how he gained access to them?"

Prince Heinrich regards Ian with a bemused look for a moment before answering his questions. "It is called the Cassowary and it has twenty-six rotors at the top with a single large propellor at the rear."

To Toff: "I can provide maps. In addition, there will be materials for Dr. Lefevre and the others here with scholarly minds to look over to better prepare themselves. You will hopefully have as much of an idea for what to look for as any of us do at this point."

At Klara's questions about Llewellyn, the prince shakes his head with a sigh. "He'd studied in Cardiff before going to London. He's sixty-five and is the only surviving child of his parents, both of whom are dead. He's a widower and he has something of a reputation for being an eccentrically entertaining dinner guest. Five years ago, he began to do brisk trade for cadavers in Newport for his research into the brain and its relationship to personality. That petered out after a few months, followed by a number of disappearances. One of his assistants made accusations of fiendish and inhumane experiments, but he was murdered shortly thereafter and an investigation turned up nothing."

Nate's questions make the prince smile slightly. "I've never seen hypnosis that could have results like this, but it may be a new technique. It's unclear how much access he had to the villagers, but in the case of young Henry Nevill and Lieutenant-Commander Murray it would have been a few hours. It's possible he may have had access to Nevill while the boy slept, but there are only four hours when Llewellyn could have had Murray isolated. With Murray, they both happened to be guests at the same party while with Nevill he and his daughter were invited to stay with the Earl, as he had an interest in Llewellyn's research."

"Sounds fun," Lore muses over his scotch, seemingly unconcerned with all this talk of mind control and breaking and entering.

"It's a start your Highness, a few hours of hypnotism is not really enough for something of this nature, unless they are exceedingly susceptible and I doubt that is the case. I wonder what it might be. Well I guess we will find out more at the lunatic asylum."

Nate beings to ponder the options, his professional curiousity now piqued.

Ian, "Perhaps he is using true Mesmerism rather then mere hypnotism? I hear that some can take true control over others with these ancient techniques of Animal Magnetism. But a mind controlling machine or pharmaceutical could also be the answer."

After the group's questions are answered by Prince Heinrich, he dismisses them with instructions to meet again for their journey. They all have two days to prepare themselves for the journey, as well as to purchase any last minute items they might feel are needed. The prince will reimburse them up to seven pounds for their purchases [see here for prices], though warns that weight will be a consideration for the trip and so they shouldn't needlessly weigh themselves down. Space must be considered as well, as some of them will have to share rooms.

Files on Dr. Llewellyn's research are sent to those who requested them. Dr. Llewellyn dissected the brains of criminals in an attempt to discover the physical component of the mind. He had also theorized that by altering those physical structures, human behavior could be changed and had written extensively on a procedure he called a "leukotomy" that might be used to control lunatics. His former assistant had accused Dr. Llewellyn of having performed this procedure, which involved the destruction of neural tissues, on five psychiatric patients. No evidence of such surgeries was found, however, nor were the alleged patients. The theorized surgery would have involved a steel spike introduced to the cranium via sinus cavities in the face in order to sever connections between different parts in the brain.

As the day of their departure dawned, those chosen by Prince Heinrich would assemble in a modified warehouse near the River Thames. Workers in the prince's employ are busy retracting the roof of the warehouse, which had been replaced with vast sheets of canvas and ropes forming a framework to support them. The prince has apparently not arrived yet.

The Cassowary sits there, awaiting them. In profile it's somewhat similar to the same shape seen in the non-rigid, lighter-than-air crafts, except for its many rotors. The primary difference is that there is no gondola beneath, but instead a cabin incorporated directly into it. A secondary oddity is its size. The entire ship from nose to the rear rotor is only one hundred feet long.

http://i1126.photobucket.com/albums/.../cassowary.gif

A stern looking woman waits until everyone has arrived, then introduces herself. "I am Frau Friedrich. I cook, I help nurse, I watch Fräulein Weber. You will behave yourselves."

Frau Friedrich will briefly show them where things are located within the ship. O'Cuinn and Spencer are both well-acquainted with the layout, but the others are not.

1 - Bridge
2 - Library and Babbage engine
3 - Cabin
4 - Cabin
5 - Cabin
6 - Cabin
7 - Cabin
8 - Cabin
9 - Galley and dining room
10 - Head
11 - Sick bay
12 - Mechanical access
13 - Guns
14 - Storage, accessed through floor

The ship's guns are quite similar to the artillery Boyd is experienced with and he'll feel confident that he can man them if ever that becomes necessary. There are mechanical controls to maneuver all of them from the bridge. The sick bay is fairly well-stocked for its size and Frau Friedrich will give Dr. Lefevre a key to the locked cabinet holding the medicines.

Frau Friedrich will tap at the door to the eighth cabin and give a hard look to each of the men in turn. "Fräulein Weber and I share this room."

One of the workers from the hangar steps in, holding his hat. "Pardon me, but we've brought in your luggage. If you could direct us where each of you'll be staying we can stow it close at hand for you."

"I'll be staying in the medical facilities so that there is more room and I won't have to wake up a bunkmate should someone turn ill in the night," Dr. Lefevre says, gesturing toward the sickbay for his things. He hadn't brought much with him anyway and had felt no need to purchase extra equipment. A firearm may have been useful, but he wouldn't know the first thing to do with one.

He's trying not to show his concern over being in a giant flying piece of metal. He's never been in any sort of airship before, but can already guess this won't be his favorite way to travel.

"Just as you like, Doctor - though my door will always be open should you feel like a late nightcap and a chat. I shall transfer the glassware and so on that I have brought with me into Cabin 3 and if anyone wishes to share with me and does not mind the proximity of some slightly unstable chemicals, I have not the least objection to his presence."

MacAndrew returns Frau Friedrich's hard look and pointed remarks with the bland expression of one who could not have needed the warning less were she instructing him not to swallow-dive from the Cassowary at ten thousand feet above datum.

Aside from his normal supplies, MacAndrew will take the opportunity to pick up a few carboys of industrial acid, (chiefly sulphuric, nitric and glacial acetic), distilled water, sodium, ammonia, nitrous oxide, lead oxide, mercury, pure ethanol, bulk cotton fibre, palm oil and coal tar. He will synchronise one dial of his pocket watch with Greenwich time by telegraph.

"Cabin 3 or 6 would be best for me, I would probably be best off bunking with you Captain, I imagine we'll rarely be in the cabin together anyway. I've heard reports I am a terrible room mate. Though those reporting were usually just jealous of my abilities."

Aboard the ship, Lore purses his lips at the shipfrau's stern warning. Well, there may be some way around that, yet. It doesn't sound like there will be much chance for female companionship on this journey, after all.

He shifts his bag over his shoulder. It's no more weighted down than it was at their first meeting. He travels light, and he travels prepared.

"I'll be takin'...this one, then." He points to a random door, as though it's very important.

"Jealous?" says MacAndrew, with a peculiarly Scotch air of entirely suspended judgement. "At least we may be certain there'll be no cause for any of that between you and me. It'll help if you don't snore, but I've bunked in some out-of-the-way places and with a variety of companions, some gentler than others, so no doubt we'll do well enough."

Klara sees no need to make any demands on the Prince's generosity. In the days prior to departure, she writes to her father and sister - nothing specific, just letting them know that the prince's offer was intriguing enough to pique her interest, and not to worry if they don't hear from her for a few weeks (though she rather doubts that her father has noticed her absence yet). She also starts a notebook on Dr. Llewellyn, compiling all the information they have received about him, in the hopes that some sort of useful pattern might emerge from the sequencing of events.

She's very excited to be travelling aboard the Cassowary, and is eagerly anticipating examining the workings of its Babbage engine as she approaches the warehouse. She's reading through some old notes of her father's on its mechanics when Frau Friedrich makes her appearance. She can't stop herself from blushing in embarassment when the nurse starts in on how she needs to be 'watched'. A chaperone is one thing, but treating all of the gentlemen like potential seducers isn't going to make it any easier for Klara to discuss the case or their plans with them.

"Cabin 8 it is, then," she says to the worker with her trunk and travel desk. She gives Frau Friedrich an awkward smile and a nod and returns, red-faced, to her notes.

Toff goes back to his quaint home and grabs the rest of his stuff (as detailed in the setup thread), including the contents of the dufflebag. Changing into an outfit more appropriate for adventuring/theiving, he puts his dress outfit into a garment bag and folds it into the duffle bag as well. Who knows if he'll have to pretend to be some rich dandy or such in a pinch? Might as well be prepared. He takes out the crossbow and sticks a 5 bolt magazine into it. He then hooks this to his belt under his cloak. He makes sure to secure his house on the way out and heads to the warehouse. On the way, he stops by a local merchant to pick up some charcoal pencil. He hadn't realized he had run out.

Upon arrival, he throws his dufflebag into Cabin 5. He then starts looking at the diagrams of the layout of the estate Llewellyn will be at.

Boyd selects Cabin 4 for the moment. He is not averse to sharing a cabin, but will not volunteer to do so. He has a large Gladstone bag with his things: several changes of clothes, cold-weather gear, toiletries, small binoculars, a compass, an Eley's No. 3 revolver with a box of ammunition, a small framed picture of his late wife, a half-dozen leatherbound books, a notebook and pencils, and various other odds and ends. He is pleased to be heading back into the air once more and, once settled in, will look over the Cassowary from stem to stern.

As the time drew close, the hunter carefully scribbled a missive to his relatives in Staffordshire and sent it on its way, explaining that he will be away for some time if he returns at all. A message composed of facts, and bereft of sentiment. Once the airship arrived, he marveled for a long moment, having never been astride such a thing in his years, and gathers his bags and arms.

Traveling aboard the ship, he is clearly impressed as they are given the tour, and as they all end their tour amongst the cabins, with people breaking off, he decides upon the last cabin and moves to settle his things in cabin six, setting down his rifles, his baggage, and even his cap. Removing his jacket, to hang it, he remains in his hunting trousers, his boots which end just shy of his knee, and a plain white cotton shirt. Dangling from his neck are still those familiar teeth of his various kills, and seen peeking from the right sleeve of his shirt is what seems to be the unit crest of some unit or another; if canny and observant, it would be the bottom half of the crest for the 60th Rifle Brigade, the King's Royal Rifles. (( more or less this: https://www.elliottmilitary.co.uk/ca...fantry%209.bmp ))

With this done, he traveled to the frontmost of the ship, intent on seeing from the bridge as the ship would in time rise and push on. The thought exhilarated him to see.

Ian is packed lightly. A smallish steamer trunk of clothes. A smallish tool box and some drafting and writing equipment. For arms he has only a pair of pistols.

Oh, and people will now see that Toff's shoulder length hair is freely hanging down, having shed the pony tail from the first meeting. And his clothes are black. In fact, other than his dress suit, even his changes of clothes are black.

How lucky, it appears that Cabin no.7 is still available. I do hope I will get a good night's sleep there.

So, once everyone is settled in, would everyone like to meet for lunch?

Ian goes to check out the cockpit and then superstructure and then the engines. Actually he'll get fairly lost inspecting the finished vessel until such time as he is summoned away.

With due allowance for such bumpiness as an aerial voyage may entail, I'll set up some apparatus to allow me to employ the time usefully on our voyage, and then I will gladly join my companions for a little lunch.

"Lunch sounds like a great idea. It'll be nice to get to know the people I work with better. It's not very often I actually work with someone else. I'll see you all in the Galley."

*Walks off to the galley.*

Boyd, too, is feeling a bit hungry and will find his way to the galley. What are our luncheon options?

Ian eventually stumbles into the dining room as most of the others are finishing up. He helps himself to whatever is available. Without asking he takes a roll of Boyd's plate thinking Boyd would not be eating it at this point.

After making sure her belongings are stowed properly, and giving the Babbage engine a quick inspection, Klara joins the others in the galley.

Boyd glares at Ian. "May I ask, sir, why you would take something off my plate without even asking? I will thank you to get your own food and not help yourself to mine."

"Heh? Oh weren't you done, normal people* eat their rolls early in the meal, I figured I would just save it from a long trip out the window."


* Yes, Ian does not realize he is not normal.

Klara raises an eyebrow from across the table.

"Where I come from, 'normal people' eat off their own plates," she says.

"Oh, true enough, sorry bout that then." He wanders over to where the food is. He picks up a few different pieces of fruit before deciding on one and gets a large heaping of food. "So what's the plan?"

"Eatin'," Lore points out as he finally strolls in to dinner. "An' sleepin', prolly."

Boyd is glad for a change of subject, and resolves to keep an eye on Ian. "That sounds like a good plan to start, given the trip we have ahead of us. Have any of the rest of you traveled by air before?"

Ian, "Of course, what sort of person has never traveled by air? Now how to we find the mind control machine and destroy or capture it without being controlled?"

"I have never had the opportunity to travel by airship before," Klara says to Boyd. "It is rather exciting."

Directing her attention to Ian, she says "I do not think it is wise to make extensive plans as of yet. We may discover more information at the asylum in Gera. We cannot be sure of what Dr. Llewellyn is doing - there is no call to leap to the conclusion that he has built a 'mind control machine', as you say."

"I, too, have never travelled by airship before. Indeed I have never left these shores, so this is certainly a new adventure to me."

"Something else may be of use to all here, a little demonstration of hypnotism perhaps, a minor parlour trick as far as most are concerned. A willing volunteer, if any is interested?"

Ian, "Try me, I doubt it will work though, I'm too logical."

"What a good idea! I would be very interested to see what effect your skills have on Mr. Spencer."

There's a snicker from Lore before he takes a drink of his beer-really, what else did you expect him to drink with dinner?

"See if y'kin turn him to a chicken like they do in those shows."

Boyd laughs. "I'd be very interested indeed in seeing the gentleman turned into a chicken. When I was in India I saw fakirs do some remarkable things by sheer force of will, through a form of self-hypnotism, I suppose. The human mind is a very powerful device."

"I'm the kind of person who has never traveled by air. Do you have a problem with that, mouth?"

"Not really, just shocked by the number of groundlings on this mission. Good thing you have some experienced men along, right Cap?"

"Speakin' a'groundlings, any of y'ever get seasick? Same thing happens in th'air sometimes. I went up flyin' with a whole gaggle've these fancy-types once. Hit some crosswind goin' up, th'whole lot of 'em fired an' fell back, if y'get th'meanin'."

Lore casually takes a bite of his mashed potatoes. "Took th'crew half a day t'clean tha' up."

After an awkward silence, Boyd coughs into his fist and says, "Well... let's hope for smooth sailing, then, shall we?"

"I would hazard a guess that in most of those times you see some made to think they are a chicken, it is more performance than anything. And besides, I think a flying bird would be more appropriate. However, this should be a simpler demonstration and perhaps more appropriate to our task at hand."

"Then make 'im think he's a lady."

"As long as no-one asks me to turn you into a gentleman."

An eyebrow is raised. A drink of beer is taken.

"Mebbe y'kin hypnotize us all in't makin' us think yer funny."

"Er. Who's thinking he's a lady?" Dr Lefevre asks with some concern as he comes in for lunch. He'd taken a bit of time setting himself up in his own private medical quarters, as well as ensuring that none of his equipment was likely to shift too much during flight. The idea of trying to perform surgery in an airship is, perversely, somewhat exciting. Imagine the challenge!

"Mr. Barnaby was going to demonstrate hypnotism for us," says Klara, who has been observing the conversation from behind a teacup and trying not to giggle audibly. "Mr. Spencer has graciously volunteered to be the subject. I suppose they are trying to decide what the suggestion should be."

Boyd laughs outright at Barnaby's joke, and lifts his cup of tea in salute.

"Then let us begin and see if this mere amateur can conjure something before your very eyes.", he says with a theatrical flourish.

Moving a chair to one side, he beckons Mr Spencer to be seated.

To the rest of the party, "I would ask for silence, if you please. I cannot guarantee this will work, but I will endeavour to try."

Barnaby pulls out a shiny silver pocket watch on a long chain and let's it slowly move back and forth as a pendulum.

"When you are ready, Mr Spencer..."

Lore rolls his eyes, partaking of a more of his beer.

He will shut up though. For a while, at least.

Ian is ready, he is thinking over an rotor problem he has been trying to solve to increase lift as a defensive measure. Ian does not really believe an unwilling mind can be hypnotized.

Lefevre watches with mild interest, dutifully quiet. If mesmerism was more than simply a parlor trick, the doctor could imagine it having medical applications. He can't help but be skeptical about it, however.

Once everyone is in position, Nate stands by the side of Ian and begins to speak.

"Now, Ian, I want to relax, and breathe deeply. Know that as a guest of the Prince it would be the highest of impropriety to cause any harm to you. Feel calm, clear your mind and listen to my voice. concentrate on nothing but my voice, do not think about anything else, just relax and listen to me."

"Stop thinking about you know and listen to me, hear the sound of voice and let it guide you. Clear your mind and be calm, listen only to the sound of my voice and let your mind be clear."

(In order to get Ian to listen to him and be perhaps more willing, Nate is going to make an Acting role to get and keep his attention. Contested Role of Nate's Acting (6) vs Ian Spencer's MIND (5), roll 2d6 with a TN of less than or equal to 8 gives 6, a success, so Nate now has Ian's attention focused on him, rather than his intial thoughts. That was the easy part, but then Nate is a professional scene stealer)

With Ian's attention, Nate then moves and hangs the silver fob watch in front of Ian's face and starts to swing it slowly back and forth in front of him.

"Now, I want to focus on the watch and listen to my voice, see it move and listen to my voice, focus on it and listen to my voice, keep your eyes moving to follow it and listen to my voice, concentrate on it and listen to my voice. Listen to me and relax, be calm, follow the watch with your eyes, see how it moves, listen to my voice and what I am about to tell you. Think of the watch and listen to what I am about to tell you, relax and listen to what I am about to tell you. You are feeling relaxed and calm and will listen to what I am about to say."

(Ok, Nate has now started trying to hypnotise Ian. This works off Nate's Psychology (6) and is a contested roll against Ian's MIND and he has to succeed in a straight number of rounds equal to Ian's Mind. With a MIND of 5, Ian could be quite a tricky proposition.

Using a random dice roller online, gives, 8,7,7,8,6 - 5 successes in a row, how fortunate is that.

At this point, Ian is now hypnotised and open to suggestion.)

Looking at the sllightly glazed look on Ian's face, Nate is surprised to find it worked so easily. Maybe it was fate, lending a helping hand again. The watch swings back and forth with Ian's eyes fixed on it.

"Now you are listening to me, and you are feeling sleepy. You are drifting off and will do as I say. You are falling asleep and will soon be under my control. You will only listen to what I have to say and act as I tell you to act."

Nate pauses slightly.

"Mr Spencer, while you are listening to me you will pass all your bread rolls to Lady Klara as a present. You do not want your bread rolls and will give them to Lady Klara. While you are under my control you will give your bread rolls to Lady Klara. Soon you will awake, but you will be under my control. When I clap my hands you will sleep again and listen to what I have to say. You will not remember why, but you must give all your bread rolls to Lady Klara, and when I clap my hands you will listen to me again. Wake up Ian, wake up, it's time to wake up.

Nate stops swinging the watch and puts it neatly back into it's shirt pocket.

"Wake up Ian, so how do you feel..."

"Sorry Nate, knew it would never work. It's just trickery after all."

"Such a shame", says Nate as he heads to the table. "Oh look there is a bit of lunch left, here you go Ian, for being a good sport, have a bread roll."

Nate passes across a small plate with a bread roll on it.

"Lady Klara, may I present you this roll", Ian says as if it a grand object.

"Well better luck on the rubes and all that", he says to Nate.

Boyd says with a sigh, "What a pity; I was hoping to see someone really hypnotized." His eyes are dancing with amusement, however.

"Does anyone have any questions?" asks Nate of the others.

"No, not really," says MacAndrew, who has been quietly watching up to now with an air of studied detachment. "We've little enough to go on for the present, and after we arrive and start nosing around it will likely be time enough for questions - but we'll have to be prepared to think quickly when things come to that. Until then, it's my opinion that bridges not come to need not be crossed."

"I see you've settled in here. Good," the prince declares from the doorway of the galley before stepping in. "And you've clearly impressed Frau Friedrich if she's agreed to feed you." Once he crosses the room Prince Heinrich holds out a tube filled with maps and charts for Lore's use for the journey, to guide them to the lunatic asylum. There are a few cryptic notes on them, scribbled in German.

"For the duration of this mission, I will put MacAndrew in command with Boyd as the ship's first mate. I expect your skill with artillery should serve well for protecting my ship, Mr Boyd. O'Cuinn of course will navigate with Spencer piloting and Fraulein Weber maintaining the Babbage engine. The rest of you have little to do until you reach the ground, unless something should go wrong. Mr Smythe will manage the security and safety of our little crew here. Mr Toff shall be in charge of...acquisitions and I suggest you all listen to him well when it comes to that. Mr Barnaby is your insurance, should there be things to observe or be wary of that no ordinary means can detect.

"Now I must apologize for my delay, but I'm afraid another one of my experimental ships--the Pinguinus--disappeared on a test flight earlier this morning. We haven't been able to determine what happened or find it, but as it was a different design than the Cassowary I'm sure if there was a mechanical problem behind it your ship should not suffer the same fate."

He pauses to mop sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, his magnificent handlebar mustache drooping somewhat. "Now unless there are any questions, you should take flight. I can have my men open our hangar here and you can be on your way before there are any further distractions."

Their huntsman was dressed down into just his white undershirt, khakis and boots; his weapons and paraphernalia were all well locked by now in either the weapons lockers on deck or his own assigned room. With him, by rote paranoia, he still bore a single gun strapped to his right calf, and two knives affixed to his belt which seemed to be made of some strange leather; surely a cured hide of a creature he had at some point slain.

He arrived into the galley without pomp or display to find himself a roll, ignoring much of the antics of those other crew who saw fit to indulge in them. Smythe was there for more than a few when their host arrived, the Prince greeting them pleasantly as always. "I am certain you all feel quite a bit safer knowing this," he managed his joke without much of a smirk at the Prince's assignment of him as the security officer.

"The sooner we've off, the better, I feel, Majesty," he answered plainly, but out of decorum, still stood with his plate set aside rather than indulging, standing rigidly in respect of a crown. Royalty demanded attention, and he offered such without restraint.

Very well. Mr O'Cuinn, a course if you please, and let us have the Cassowary's rotors spun up, Mr Spencer. Posts, those who have them, and those who are presently passengers, I suggest you enjoy the ride while you can; there will likely be work enough for all of us before we're done.

...so first a large, flightless bird from the southern hemisphere and then one from the northern. Dr Lefevre frowns a bit, noting how bitterly fitting it is that the ship named after the extinct genus should be the one to suffer such a fate.

"How rough is taking off? Those of us who are not part of the..." He makes a sweeping, vague gesture. "...flight crew or however you say, do we have somewhere we are supposed to stay during launch and landing?"

"Thank y', highness." Lore takes the tube, finishing off his beer before stretching a bit. There's a nod to the new captain, and without much ceremony he'll start for his new position.

Although he does pause for Dr. LeFevre's question. "Sit'cher ass in somethin' tha' don't move an' hang on," he suggests with a smirk.

Ian is off to the bridge. He looks quite happy.

Dr Lefevre gives Lore an answering smirk and a nod. "Thank you."

Turning to Miss Weber: "Might I sit with you, mademoiselle? I haven't had a chance to see anyone actually use a Babbage engine before." If that is not an option, he'll settle himself in the medical facilities until the ship is steady in the air.

Boyd says, "I would be honored to serve as first lieutenant. Thank you, Your Highness. Capt. MacAndrew, by your leave, then, I will examine the ship's weaponry and ammunition stores and advise you if I note any deficiencies." He rises to go.

"Of course, Doctor. I would be happy to explain it's workings." Klara says. "This is really an ingenious use of Babbage's design - the algorithms involved are quite sophisticated, the aeronautical equations it can handle are really ..." She'll go in this vein as she makes her way towards the library.

For a moment, Smythe looks over the assembled, his eyes moving towards the two doctors, then back to the exuberant Boyd. They all hurry to their particular tasks, and he waits for a long moment in the galley. Enjoying a bite, he savors it slowly, patiently, then leaves the area to find his room and a book he brought with him. It was not in English, and and he slowly rises to find a view window, where he will station himself and wait for the travel to be put underway. The book is opened to pass the time as he waits, and if any took a look, and could manage, it seemed he held a book that was in some asian dialect. The lack of pictures obfuscated any additional purpose to it.

Absently, as he read, he slid his thumb against the teeth which hung around his neck as trophy; his finger would pause, regularly, at one at the base. It looked particularly human.

"Oh dear", mutters Nate to himself, "I haven't removed that hypnotism from Mr Spencer yet. I do hope lady Klara likes bread rolls and I really should remove it later."

He settles back down to the table with a cup of tea, pulls out a deck of cards and starts dealing them out onto the table.

The Babbage engine takes up the majority of the room in which it sits, as well as being connected to the majority of mechanical parts in the ship itself. Lefevre will be able to follow most of Weber's explanations of how it works, though cannot grasp the full complexity of it. One innovation of the machine that will make Weber's job easier is sheets of paper which are struck with metal sorts like the ones used in typesetting. This will print updates and notices spontaneously, as well as the results of programs Weber might feed into it.

Boyd's inventory of the ship's weaponry and ammunition stores shows that there are four artillery guns. Two are on either side of the cabin and two are at the center of the Cassowary. They are machine loading, with the recoil energy used to load the next round after firing. Extra ammunition is stored in the crawlspace beneath the cabins and the guns may be controlled from the bridge. Everything inspected appears to be in good working condition.

Once everyone has settled in for the flight and the prince has left the ship, the canvas roof of the hangar is pulled back. The ship vibrates as the rotors start up and the shift in gravity is felt by everyone aboard when it rises. For those who have never been in an airship before, it's somewhat unsettling and may make some nauseated.

Aside from the spectacular view, the flight is fairly uneventful for the first two hours. Then, as they're crossing over the Channel, MacAndrew will notice something in the air off of the starboard bow. It's partially obscured by cloud, but an indistinct black shape can be seen for a moment. It's still some distance away, but appears to be larger than any bird MacAndrew is familiar with.

All hands to their stations. We have sighted another vessel. As a ship of war would, we hope she is a friend and prepare for the eventuality that she is not. Is the Cassowary provided with means for ship-to-ship communications?

At the declaration of hands to stations, Smythe bolts to his room to retrieve his rifle, and once he grabs his trusty weapon and his ammunition. He had every intention to double back and race to the crew deck; but he moved with the expectation of impact, hand constantly along the wall as he's preparing to catch himself if an impact is made. His hands should be at the deck for his station as security, he figured, but he'd be doing a poor job of it if he was unable to shoot someone with his favored weapon.

A fact that displeased him more than a touch.

Nate hears the call through the ship and sighs, he was close to finishing his game of Solitaire. He didn't really like the thought of being called insurance, and the more he thought about it, the more concerned he was becoming.

However, the tea was excellent and he poured himself another cup, certain that the crew would handle whatever was about to occur.

Dr Lefevre frowns and gets to his feet, then starts back toward the medical facilities to prepare some supplies should any injuries result from this meeting. He makes a mental note to stash one such kit in the bridge later. Being at the farthest point from the sick bay, it would be better to have the means there for binding a gaping wound before trying to transport them back. He walks with one hand along the wall as he would on a sea-bound ship, giving Smythe a tight smile of acknowledgment as they pass one another.

Ian maneuvers the ship to present the smallest target to the potential aggressor. He then begins checking the guns are ready. Once the first maneuver is underway, I apply additional lift to gain altitude.

Lt. Boyd, your binoculars on the strange ship if you please, and tell us what you make of her.

Though there has been some theory regaring wireless telegraphy, nothing of use has yet been developed. There is a speaking tube in the bridge, which will project the voice through a trumpet on the exterior of the ship.

As Spencer increases the altitude of the ship, they are able to look down toward the other flying object. It's a smaller, but similarly designed rotorcraft. This one has its belly painted white so that it blended in with the clouds when seen from below, while the top portion is painted black. Had it not been seen against the backdrop of cloud, the black likely would have blended into the sea.

Should Boyd look through binoculars toward the other ship, he will be able to see three men flying it with what looks like some effort. On its side is painted the word Pinguinus.

We should have semaphore I would think.

Ian says, "Captain, we could try signaling with semaphore or Morse code by mirror."

There are signal flags, but no one in the party is currently skilled with communicating via semaphore. There are also mounted mirrors on the exterior of the ship for watching behind them, which could be adjusted manually though it would involve opening a window at altitude. There are likely to be other mirrors on the ship, of course. MacAndrew and O'Cuinn can both use Morse code.

The head mirror of a physician would be a standard piece of equipment, and well-suited for signaling with because of its curved surface. Dr Lefevre would have one as a matter of course with the supplies he's carrying to the front of the ship.

What's the exterior noise like on a rotorcraft? If we can make ourselves heard through the trumpet when we're slowed to a hover, we can flash the Pinguinus to pass within hail. Try the Doctor's mirror and if there is any trouble making a signal with that, there's an acetylene lamp among my lab equipment and some tins of carbide for it.

Spoiler (mouseover to read):

CaC2 + 2H2O = Ca(OH)2 + C2H2, a reaction known since the 1860s.

"Tha' thing e'en looks like a penguin," Lore muses, looking up from his charts. There's been suggestions of Morse code and mirrors, and Lore will head for the doctor, holding out his hand for the mirror.

"Let's give this a go, then."

He gave a brief gesture of something resembling greeting as Smythe passed the doctor, grasped his rifle in his room then turned and sprinted back towards the deck with his armaments in case things went sideways.

The noise isn't quite deafening, though close. The trumpet can be heard over it.

The Pinguinus finally notices the other craft and turns toward them, coming in closer. After some experimentation with the mirror, O'Cuinn can use MacAndrew's lamp in conjunction with it to flash a strong light toward the other ship.

Signal "Approach within hail, reduce speed to minimum"

"Aye, aye" and Ian does so.

Smythe, aware of Boyd's experiences in the Marines from the man's discussion he overhead, addresses him. "Can you handle ship guns?" he would ask, a skill he himself does not possess as a proper Infantry Rifleman.

If Boyd answers affirmatively, Smythe would order him to man them in preparation for possible conflict; if their predecessor has the same armaments that the Cassowary does, it is wise to be armed; he, on the other hand, will try to use his rather sharp vision to make out any helming of the wheel; while slowly chambering a round in his rifle and eyeballing for a window that can be opened or a hatch to allow him access.

Toff grabs his bag of tricks and brings it with him to the deck, dropping it next to him somewhat carelessly. He pulls out his crossbow and looks through it's scope at the approaching ship. He scans it looking for anything that will indicate their possible purpose. He suspects they aren't here to make friends since most people who's intentions are innocent aren't sneaking around with a quiet and camouflaged transport.

Boyd raises an eyebrow at Smythe's peremptory tone. "Yes, I can handle the ship's guns, but you will, I'm sure, recall that the Prince put Mr. MacAndrew in command of this ship, and appointed me first mate. I intend to man one of the guns anyway, but not because you have 'ordered' me to do it, my good man." Boyd will go to the gun nearest the other aircraft and prepare it for action. If he cannot do so single-handedly, he'll ask anyone nearby who's not otherwise occupied to help him.

With the right angle on the light, Lore signals the other ship. His Morse code is fast and practiced. He'll send the message twice, then wait for a reply.

"We've signaled 'em, sir."

Spencer adjusts their crafts position expertly.

Smythe will see that there is a window on each side of the bridge with latches and a crank. Both have three latches to hold them in place and thick rubber around the edges. The cranks appear to release them outwards.

Boyd finds he is able to singlehandedly prepare the guns. From his controls he finds several levers for adjusting the angle of the guns as well, so that he has a greater range for aim.

After the Pinguinus receives O'Cuinn's message they look around their bridge, then find a mirror to send another message back. They aren't so practiced at Morse code as MacAndrew or O'Cuinn and their light is weak, so the message comes through haltingly. S...O...S.

Through his scope, Toff will see that the men in the other rotorcraft are wearing brightly colored vests in red and blue over billowing white shirts. They don't look particularly English.

Smythe, stand clear of the window! We're sealed for flight at altitude, and an abrupt loss of cabin pressure would be dangerous. Belay the rifle, pending orders.

Navigator, shortest course to the English coast, and we'll signal the heading to the Pinguinus when you've computed it.

"Aye, sir," Lore calls back, returning to his charts. It's just a few quick calculations before Lore's back, signaling the heading. Perhaps a bit more slowly this time.

Smythe keeps the issue to himself of the orders; Boyd's attitude leaves him frustrated but there were far more important issues upon which to focus. Signalled against using the windows, he lifts his hands up, showing a disinterest in opening the pressurized window, looking back for the Captain.

"Well, I hardly intend to use it inside, so I'm taking that natural cognitive leap already," he concurred at the dismissal for use of his rifle, as he settled some, lowering the rifle; assuming that the S.O.S. message is transmitted, he calms some, hoping that those in the opposing ship are anything but opposing.

OOC: Did I really put apostrophes in two possessive pronouns in my last post. Ugh.

IC: Toff keeps scanning the other ship through the scope, watching for any suspicious behavior.

"Oh my", thinks Nate and he wanders up to the Bridge area.

"Excuse me for asking, but who is chasing that other vessel?"

Dr Lefevre gives Nate a confused look. "Chasing?" He looks out the windows off to the sides, to see if there's anything they might have missed.

"They've sent an SOS signal," says Boyd. "We don't know that they're being chased."

For the record, "SOS" was a much later distress signal IRL. RMS Titanic was one of the first to use it, in 1912.

Klara has been sticking by the Babbage engine, keeping an eye on things.

Once Nate heads onto the bridge, her curiosity will get the better of her, and she'll follow him (assuming the machinery appears to be operating correctly).

Settling, he gives a nod to Dr. Lefevre again, who had passed him in the halls moments prior, before keeping his eyes scanned to the other ship. He considered his rifle, and lifting it to use the focus of the lens to sight better on the opposite ship, but his orders were clear and he obeyed; they knew what they were doing, and he kept his rifle down, at the ready, in case of the worst.

"Can you handle a gun, Doctor?" he asked of Dr. Lefevre, before arching aside, to present the gun strapped to his waist if the Doctor felt bold enough to be armed against whatever possibility lay before. It was the sensible choice, he felt, the Doctor being assured on any sort of rescue mission to be present... and also likely unarmed at this moment.

The offer of a gun is met with a mildly horrified look and a shake of the head. "No, thank you. I've never fired one and inside of a rotorcraft isn't the time to learn."

O'Cuinn sends back a heading to the English coast to the Pinguinus.

While he watches, Toff will note that the men in the other ship do not write down the signal as they receive it, simply watching.

By sheer dumb luck, as Weber enters the bridge she happens to catch a glimpse of a reflection in one of those external mirrors. It appears to be a second ship--an enormous dirigible--and from the angle of the reflection it must be behind them on the port side.

"Excuse me," Klara says sharply, "there seems to be another Luftschiff coming up behind us."

She'll point out what she sees to the group, and move around to try and get a better look.

Turn to port to bring port side guns to bear, and let's have a closer look at her. Lt Boyd, stay at your guns, and Mr Smythe, your hunter's eyes on the new arrival if you please.

"Aye, Aye, we'll put this ship through its paces." Turn and ready port guns.

"For once you are sent alongside to investigate, Doctor," he clarified, "not while inside our rotocraft," he clarified to Dr. Lefevre as he moved to get a better view of the approaching vehicle; perhaps this, in fact, was what caused their distress.

If the view could not be made from here, he would race to the next best view so he might have some better view on what is coming their way. Considering the increasing level of panic, he seemed surprisingly at peace, if intent on his job.

Spencer turns the ship to port without event.

As it turns, the party is able to see clearly what had been approaching. There is a large purple dirigible with a black skull painted on its envelope. Two smaller vessels accompany it, just large enough for two people in each gondola. One of them is lagging behind the others and is smoking. It doesn't look as though it will stay afloat for much longer. All three are somewhat battle scarred. It's clear that the rotorcrafts are more manueverable, though outnumbered.

When Smythe moves to get a better view he will see that there appears to be one gun each on the smaller crafts and four on each side of the larger one. The purple one has its bow turned toward them, a poor angle for those guns just yet.

A strange mechanical device covered with horns is on the gondola of the large dirigible. Out of it comes...harpsichord music, somehow enhanced enough to not only be audible but loud. After a moment the music quiets and a theatrical man's voice is projected.

"Grrreetings! I, Captain Piero, shall now accept your surrender! In exchange, we shall let you live and perhaps will even let you join our crew for adventure and profit."

Smythe, if made distant by the travel to find a good vantage point, shares all the details in a loud, booming voice well-trained by battlefield necessity. If closer, well, he'll still make himself known, less deafeningly.

Right before he is cut off by a Grrrrreeting by Captian Piero.

"...an' buggery," Lore mutters under his breath.

Boyd scowls, pulls his cap a bit lower on his brow, and carefully takes aim on the gondola of the large dirigible.

"Does this mean I can open fire?"

"Hey guys, either our distressed ship over here has men with phenomenal memory, or they're with the other guys!" Toff shouts, while loading a flash grenade into his crossbow.

Taking aim, he launches it on the deck of the distressed ship with the intent of knocking out as many of the three men manning it as possible, depending on if they were stupid enough to cluster. If he can only get one, he'll get the one that appears to be the commander."

He'll save the lethal weapons for the guys he knows for certain aren't here to make friends.

The Cassowary's bridge is enclosed; Did Toff shoot through the glass?

MacAndrew quickly computes the external atmospheric pressure and estimates our condition if cabin pressure is equalised to match. Assuming we would find the air breathable and we have means to vent our current overpressure safely, he'll do so; if that's not possible, reduce pressure to the equivalent of three miles above sea level: seventeen inches of mercury. That will leave us better than fifty percent of our usual ration of oxygen. Meanwhile he will loudly discourage Toff from either shooting through or breaking the cabin windows, and order our helmsman to keep us in front of the large airship. Gunner, acquire your target and load solid shot - a round through that gasbag would force him down in short order. Hold fire for the present, though.
Useful website: MacAndrew can do sums like this in his head, of course.

Boyd says crisply, "Aye, sir," and does as he was ordered.

Quote:

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Originally posted by Peeta Mellark

The Cassowary's bridge is enclosed; Did Toff shoot through the glass?

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That's a "duh" on my part.

I totally forgot that we are no doubt at a high enough altitude that we wouldn't be out in the open due to pressure/oxygen limitations. So scratch that.

He will still alert everybody to the fact that the distressed ship isn't acting very distressed.

Quote:

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Originally posted by Malacandra

Meanwhile he will loudly discourage Toff from either shooting through or breaking the cabin windows

---

No need, Toff's not dumb enough to that (don't blame him for the inattention of his player).

"Acknowledged, Mr Toff. Let's not be hasty - this could already be evidence of the very shenanigans we were sent to look for. Will you please watch the Pinguinus for any evidence of overt hostilities?"

Nate decides that staying quiet and out of the way is the best course of action for him as there he is little he could do in this situation.

He starts trying to rack his brains as to where he may of heard of Captain Piero before.

Braces for impact. Rifle ready.

"Gotcha, McAndrew. They haven't made any hostile motions yet, but I'll sound the alarm if they do."

Venting the pressure in the cabin of the craft seems to work quite well. It's not as comfortable as it had been, but there's no impairment to the crew. While it may not be preferable for extended flight, it has notable advantages in battle.

Nate has no recollection of Captain Piero or the large purple dirigible [henceforth the LPD]. It may be that the airship was recently stolen and given a new envelope to change its appearance.

At the captain's order, both guns on the port side are fired at the LPD. One strikes the envelope. The hydrogen within doesn't ignite, but a slow leak is made. The other shell strikes the gondola beneath, going through what can be assumed to be the bridge. The LPD begins to turn, readying its own guns. The movement is slow, giving the Cassowary time to react before they'll be in position to fire.

The smaller dirigible that isn't smoking [SD] is somewhat faster and fires. A shell strikes the Cassowary's cabin, damaging the outer wall of the sick bay. The impact shakes the ship, causing Klara and Lefevre to nearly fall and Nate to bump into the wall. None of them are injured.

On the starboard side of the Cassowary, Toff will see the Pinguinus dive below them suddenly. There is the sound of another round being fired and the SD explodes into flames as its envelope is struck by one of the Pinguinus's guns.

With battle joined, Boyd will coolly maintain a steady and aimed fire at the LPD until ordered to stop.

Smythe will reach out to try to help Klara and Lefevre to their feet, as he braces for more unfortunate impact.

Nate will steady himself and then offer assistance to Klara and Lefevre should there be another shock.

"If possible, Mr Boyd, please force the purple dirigible down in such a manner as to admit the survival of her crew - though I fear there is nothing we can do for the poor devils aboard the other vessel. However, it seems that the Pinguinus is on our side, at least."

"Bloody Hell! I wasn't expecting that one! Anyway, enemy of mine enemy is my friend and all that. Let's see what's going on in said enemy's environs, eh?"

*Toff starts surveying the LPD through his scope.*

Lefevre thanks Smythe and Nate for the assistance and finds something solid to hold onto out of the way, not wanting to go too far in case someone is injured.

The Cassowary manages two more shots before the LPD positions itself for firing back. The Pinguinus fires as well. With the merciful efforts to drive the LPD downward, it takes more damage to the gondola instead of the volatile envelope. The Pinguinus is still struggling in the air and can only hit the bottom of the gondola now as the smaller rotorcraft drifts further downward.

Through his scope, Toff will be able to see activity on the bridge of the LPD. An anachronistically dressed man in a dark suit and a Beau Brummell inspired cravat is angrily gesticulating at the crew as people rush around frantically.

Four shots are fired by the LPD. The impact can be heard coming from below, but not felt. It seems the LPD targeted the Pinguinus.

The harpsichord music starts up again. Then the voice. "We must rrrespectfully withdraw from battle! You have won this round, ugly bird, but may yet lose your sister!" With that the dirigible will begin ponderously turning away to attempt fleeing.

The smoking dirigible is lowering itself to the water below. The flaming one is crashing.

Move so that we have a clear view of the Pinguinus and see if she requires our aid - it is enough to have driven off this eccentric harpsichordist for now, and I do not believe we have a mandate for more than self-defence. If the Pinguinus is in no immediate danger then we should prepare to receive survivors from either of our damaged enemies. Don't be too misled by the flames - burning hydrogen ascends rapidly and if the crew survive the impact they are quite likely to escape being burned.

Spoiler (mouseover to read):

Later time-frame, but a surprising number of the Hindenburg's passengers and crew escaped.

"What the bloody Hell? The don of that airship is a right toff! E's even wearin' a cravat like it's a dobbin or such. Good on us that it appears we've shakin' 'im a bit, though."

"..tha's somethin' alrigh'," Lore agrees from his station. "N'way in 'ell'm lettin' somethin' like tha' take me out."

Boyd ceases fire and double-checks and reloads the cannon, but is ready to resume fire if needed. His expression is grim. This is not the first airship disaster he's seen.

"I'd assume rope or ladders are stowed somewhere on the ship for transport when we can't land? If they can't or won't come aboard of their own will, I should probably assess them for injuries before we attempt moving anyone." The doctor pauses, giving Toff a somewhat bewildered look at that description.

Klara has kept out of the way and close to a wall since she nearly lost her footing, despite her curiosity about the LPD's mechanical voice enhancer. She hasn't been around gunfire before, and is visibly alarmed.

After hearing Toff's latest outburst, she turns to Dr. Lefevre - "Was that English?"

Dr Lefevre frowns, uncertain. "If I understand correctly, the captain of the ship attacking us was dressed up with a neckcloth. Like a...horse?" Cockney rhyming slang loses a few things in a second language.

Nate provides a Cockney to English translation for Klara and Dr Lefevre.

"Whatever's needed," Smythe grunts, his weapon still fast in hand. Preparing to land and act as rescue... or to lower his weapon if they will be barreling along their plan elsewhere. His eyes were on the Captain to see the decision.

When they once again get the Pinguinus in their view, they are able to see what damage she took. One rotor has ceased working, making flight erratic and wobbly. One whole side of the craft is peppered with holes now. However, it does appear that this is another advantage the heavier-than-air crafts have over dirigibles. Because the rotorcrafts are not built to be as light as possible, it has held together much better than a dirigible could have under a similar assault.

After a moment, the other craft will again attempt sending a message by Morse code. Their attempts remain awkward, but the letters are recognizable. N...A...V...H...U...R...T.

The burning dirigible manages a controlled crash into the water below. The less damaged but still smoking dirigible descends nearby, tossing ropes to their fellows.

"We might seriously want to consider boarding them at this point. The Pinquinus doesn't look like it can survive another barrage. Let's give our foe something else to concern themselves with, especially before they have time to regroup."

"I believe our foes to be rescuing their comrades and their main ship has left the area. It would be highly unsporting to fire on those helping survivors, even if it is their own men. If their Navigator is hurt, I would suggest leading them to land, and then assisting them there as best we can."

"I disagree, we should disable that vessel, not shoot the men, but the air bag itself."

Dr Lefevre looks genuinely offended by this turn of discussion. "It is uncivilized to attack those who are helping the fallen. You do not shoot at rescues. If their ship is strong enough to fly them out of here, all the better. It's one less distraction for us, while we should be helping the Pinguinus."

"Quite. I have been placed in charge of this vessel and my orders stand. Signal the Pinguinus to follow us and leave the dirigibles to their own affairs. The less-damaged one is the only succour the other one has."

Was the NAVHURT signal from the Pinguinus?

Sorry, yes. The Morse code came from the Pinguinus. The two small dirigibles haven't made an attempt to communicate yet.

"Given th'way they're flyin' now, Cap, I'm no' sure they'd be able t'land even if they follow us. If they don' hurt themselves, they migh' ram us, too."

Meaning, at least to Lore's mind, they can take the risk of leading the Penguinus to a safe landing. Or, take the risk of trying to dock with the other ship and rescue her crew.

They are currently closer to the North Foreland on the Kent coast (i.e. back to Britain) than they are to any continental shore. The Pinguinus looks somewhat unstable, but they aren't losing altitude. With the damage to the other rotorcraft slowing it down it may take up to an hour to fly back to the North Foreland. An alternative would be to fly to the south-east to the Belgian coast. It's a longer trip for the Pinguinus, but gets the Cassowary closer to their own goal.

There are ropes and hooks that could be used for docking in flight if they so choose, though of course this carries risks if the other rotorcraft loses control.

"So Captain, Kent or Belgium?"

"Kent. The Pinguinus is short-handed and plainly in difficulties, so we'll get her to friendly soil as soon as possible, and have a word with the men aboard her. We can survey our own craft for damage while we are at it. Assuming all is well, we can have a little try at seeing what way our good Cassowary will carry later."

Dr Lefevre turns to Nate. "Assuming Miss Weber can detect mechanical failures through the Babbage engine, why don't you and I examine what we can along the port side to look for physical damage? I think Misters Toff and Smythe are better suited for lookouts up here."

Returning to his station, Lore quickly re-plots a course, taking them safely to Kent. Since the Penguinus is without a navigator, he returns to the window, and sends a simple signal. F-O-L-L-O-W.

"We're all set fer Kent, Cap'n. I kin stand by an' relay instructions to th'other ship if they're strugglin'."

Toff keeps his scope trained on the main enemy.

"Before we do anything else, we might want to talk to our main foe. Maybe we can get them to surrender to us. Besides, it'd be nice to know if they're acting on their own accord, or if they're mercenaries."

"A splendid idea Doctor, let us leave those more capable than us to the tasks at hand and see if we can find where we were hit."

Boyd will stand by his guns, and keep an eye out for any further attacks.

Smythe waits, obediently.

Klara nods at Dr. Lefevre's suggestion and heads back to make sure the Babbage engine isn't throwing out any alarming messages.

Klara doesn't find anything alarming about the mechanical operation of the ship. According to the Babbage engine, everything is still operating properly.

Nate and Lefevre find some damage on the outer wall of the sick bay. The shell that struck the wall cracked it to the point that air is now whistling through steadily. It looks as though it should hold together, though the room is very unpleasant to be in while they're in the air. It is cold and windy.

The Pinguinus is able to limp along behind the Cassowary. It does take a full hour to reach the coast and they touch down on a field alongside an orchard. The Pinguinus has a little more trouble with their landing, but manage. As soon as it's settled, one of the crewmen from inside climbs out to rush over toward the Cassowary while waving his arms and shouting in German.

Klara, Dr. Lefevre, Boyd, and Lore are all able to understand him and easily translate for the non-German speakers. He is shouting that his navigator, Uwe, has passed out and has been bleeding.

Dr Lefevre will grab the prepared bag of medical supplies and run out to go help, unless someone has any objections.

As we are now on the ground, Nate will go round to the outside of the sick bay to see what the damage is like.

The other navigator is injured, but there isn't much Lore can do about that. Now that they're grounded, Lore will instead start going through the ship inside and out, looking for damage, checking to see if anything's shifted dangerously in the public areas.

He may be overstepping his bounds as navigator, but he does know a bit about repairing the ship. Plus he's not one to stand around twiddling his thumbs.

I can assist if help is needed for repairs.

Klara goes in search of Frau Friedrich, to let her know that the doctor may be needing her assistance.