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Tree’s Monday Night Ne’er-do-Well’s Victorious Game 
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Greater Lore Drake
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Post Tree’s Monday Night Ne’er-do-Well’s Victorious Game
Somewhere along the eastern seaboard of the US, in a nondescript office of a trading company (used as a front for the British Secretory of Foreign Affairs operating in those United States - presently united is used loosely - of North America). A codded telegraph message is decoded an passed to the office manager/station chief

From Scima – stop
Finished survey of Missouri, Kentucky, S Illinois. – stop
Report sent via currier – stop
As directed, left Springfield, preceding to Chicago with all do speed – stop
Approximate arrival 3 days - stop
Will meet (agent code named Akrasiel ) – stop
Await further orders – stop

***

A young, but tired eyed, British spy road from Springfield Illinois. Eyes searching the surrounding country side for enemies (that were not there) and for beckoning shadows (that are nearly ever-present).

The shadows drew him to them, promising comfort, protection and power, but he knew the darkness they were made of, and the nightmares they contained. He prayed that for one more night, at least, the shadow nightmares would let him rest in peace.

Unknowingly, he pulled his hat lower over his eyes to block the harsh sun, pulled his travel coat closer, and trotted on toward ...


***

Characters:

Roger Mosby – Scima – English Spy with Shadow powers
Galahad Akrasiel 3.0 – English Construct
Liam Burke - The Night's Vengeance - Irish immigrant's son, ex-soldier
Miss Faith Finney - Faith Healer - Psychic & Healer
Miss Alexandra Matthews - Asklepios - Flesh Melder /Crafter
Jean Claude - French Ex-Lieutenant of Napoleon's Young Guard - Joc Frost / Ice Powers
Damon Vaterlos - The Akrobat - Prussian/German - Highly unusual Acrobat / Curiosity

I Think I got everyone now
...

***

Official first game planned - 28 August 2017

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Forgive all spelling errors.

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Sat Aug 26, 2017 5:22 pm
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Greater Lore Drake
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Post Re: Tree’s Monday Night Ne’er-do-Well’s Victorious Game
Arrived Chicago – stop
Met (agent code named Akrasiel ) and (Code name Watchmaker) - stop
(Code name Watchmaker) requested to survey World fair – stop
Review for unique technology and exceptional individuals – stop
Received word of prior Marine – personal experience with him in (code name area Ottoman / Egypt) - stop
Will attempt to recruit him – stop
May need additional funds – stop

***
The shadow eyed Englishman followed the 2 other agents he was ordered to assist and protect through the muddy Chicago streets, toward the overcrowded fair grounds. Worried, this would be a perfect place for an ambush or anarchist attack. At least in Chicago, he isn’t worried about a Turkish bullet or an Arab knife from the crowd in the back. Also, at least everyone (well nearly everyone) in the teeming mass of people spoke English instead of the 100 various near east heathen jabbering languages …

They wondered through the crowd, stopping here and there when something caught the Swiss/English Watchmaker’s eyes. The entire time Roger quietly watched the crowd for hidden dangers .

Soon enough, the 3 found the young man Roger hoped to recruit. The son of an Irish immigrant to Americas (Irish … well not everyone can be perfect and blessedly English), A Marine who had served America in the Near East, on a team Roger himself had given information to inured to hamper Muslim pirating of Western shipping, and to cause trouble for the dammed Turks and Egyptians.

Standing in front of a booth of a ‘Mystic Faith Healer’ watching a crippled slight wisp of a girl, and the greedy mouse faced huckster calling out to the crowd to sell them the story of her “God Blessed miracles of wonder and healing short of only Paul, Peter …”

That blue suited …. Handle bar mustache … I know him …

2 rubes stepped from the crowd, one stabbed in a recent mugging (maybe this Chicago World’s Fair is no safer than a Syrian back ally market square after all) and an other one with a leg crushed and improperly set.

A finely dressed lady stepped from beside her exceptionally dressed father, and helped the injured up to the ‘healer’ one at a time
The act continues and the blood stops leaking from the knife wound and the lame stepped up and walked with nary a limp.

The lame healer stumbles back ‘exhausted’ , the wealthy Miss helper leaning in the support her …

]“Gentleman!” ... “Will no one assist these mademoiselles in distress?” ... Followed by a whispered ‘C’est la vie. … French, the blue suited mustached monsieur is French … I know him… He climbs up to the platform to help the 2 ladies.

The greasy eyed huckster glanced around (nearly hiding his surprise) and warped up his act.

I’m not perfect, but I would swear this wasn’t an act … It must be, and a world class act at that. Lame healer, wealthy (and attractive) helper, easy to fake injured, and a hero to help them off the stage before anyone can look too close.

Standing next to the young Irish man “They would have been useful in those dammed Turkish sands”

A quick flash of recognition crosses the prior Marine’s face when he focuses on the English officer he last saw in the Middle East sands across the canal from Egypt …

***
A good first night, a lot of discussion of the character’s powers backgrounds etc. Some modification of backgrounds and talk about the rules.
Next game, more into the meat of the adventure

***

Again, don't consider this just MY version of the story, jump in and add your version of the games !

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Forgive all spelling errors.

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Wed Aug 30, 2017 1:09 am
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Ulthal

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Post Re: Tree’s Monday Night Ne’er-do-Well’s Victorious Game
Jacque Frost at the Fair, pt 1

***Jean's PoV!

The thunder of hooves took Jean Claude back in time. He no longer saw the mock cowboys and Indians racing through the arena of Buffalo Bill’s Wild West Show. No, he saw the flash of steel, heard the thunder of hussars around him, the boom of cannon in the distance, and saw the white snows of Russia, churned with mud and flecked with blood. Shaking himself out of the memory, the dapper Frenchman stood and left the show, making his way through the crowd of Americans desperate to relive this small myth of their recent past.

Jean was done with myths. The myths that promised a young man glory on the fields of battle. Myths that a great leader actually cared about his men, the troops he blithely sent to war against the Prussians, the Austrians, the English, the Spanish….and the Russians. No, Jean Claude du Orleans, late lieutenant of the Grande Armee’s Young Guard, had enough of myths.

The Frenchman, looking far younger than his years, left the sound of cavalry behind and walked towards the 1893 Worlds Columbian Exposition; America’s response to the 1889 Exposition in Paris. His steps quickened as he mocked his own cynicism. ‘Done with myths, Jean Claude?’

He silently mocked his own attitude? Then why do you encase yourself in the armour of ice and put paid to villainy?’ He snorted with amusement. Jean Claude might be done with memories of glory in war, but now he sought glory in other combats. Or did he? Perhaps he was simply hoping that one day something would finish him off from his years of despair. Like that creature who emerged from the icy gate a lifetime ago. In his bones Jean felt that the monstrous form within the living snowstorm would come again, and claim his soul for its own.

Shrugging the maudlin thoughts aside, the young-seeming Frenchman loitered past the court of honor, a grandiose name for what amounted to a outdoor foyer, and strolled the lanes. His eye was caught by the incongruous scene of a American preacher shouting to passersby about the healing power of Faith…young Miss Faith that is. His atheism from the days of the revolution still held him in its grip, despite the things he’d seen. Yet he was amused at how an American could sell anything, clothing, horses, and now even God. He stopped to observe the healing of the sick by a young woman nearly immobilized by some affliction. ‘If she was so powerful at healing’ he thought with asperity ‘…then why didn’t she heal herself?’

Yet the act was curiously effective. It did almost seem as if Miss Faith and the young woman from the crowd who assisted the ailing to Faith’s healing touch were actually healing injuries. The men pretending to disability were very good actors. Jean Claude had seen injured men aplenty, and there was a bearing that the wounded had that was difficult for any actor to perform; much as when someone actually saw a dead man no living actor could fool them again.

The ladies continued their act, then with a convenient fainting spell Miss Faith had to be helped off the stage, again by the lovely young woman at her side. Strangely, neither the huckster pastor nor anyone in the crowd made any attempt to assist the women.

“Gentleman!” Jean Claude shouted before he could stop himself. “Will no one assist these ladies in distress?” Once again, his mouth and antique ideas of honour had gotten him in a fix. ‘C’est la vie.’ He thought wryly to himself as he moved upon the stage to assist the ladies in stepping down to the street.

…to be continued!

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Thu Aug 31, 2017 4:43 pm
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Mogrl

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Post Re: Tree’s Monday Night Ne’er-do-Well’s Victorious Game
Awesome! Thanks, guys! This will help me develop the adventure going forward, as well as help us all recall what has gone before. I find it a big help when my players do these kind of write ups for inspiration on how to go forward. The more perspectives I get, the more inspiration I can find.

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Thu Aug 31, 2017 8:29 pm
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Greater Lore Drake
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Post Re: Tree’s Monday Night Ne’er-do-Well’s Victorious Game
DMMike wrote:
***Jean's PoV!

...

The ladies continued their act, then with a convenient fainting spell Miss Faith had to be helped off the stage, again by the lovely young woman at her side. Strangely, neither the huckster pastor nor anyone in the crowd made any attempt to assist the women.

“Gentleman!” Jean Claude shouted before he could stop himself. “Will no one assist these ladies in distress?” Once again, his mouth and antique ideas of honour had gotten him in a fix. ‘C’est la vie.’ He thought wryly to himself as he moved upon the stage to assist the ladies in stepping down to the street.

…to be continued!


Sorry I miss quoted you in mine, but I had to have some way to tie it into you being French in my write up ... ;)

I'll fix it (a bit) in mine.

Hmmm what are my friend and family back home going to think when they find out I'm working with a Frenchman and an Irishman ... :lol:

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Thu Aug 31, 2017 11:00 pm
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Henchman

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Post Re: Tree’s Monday Night Ne’er-do-Well’s Victorious Game
POV: Ms. Elizabeth Matthews

May 1st 1893, Chicago, World's Columbian Exposition

Though I must maintain my composure, I will confess I am as excited about the Exposition as the children who run along the fair grounds. I feel that I am in a rather unique position as a woman in that I am educated enough to understand the theories behind the technological wonders on display here. Though I certainly can't discuss such things openly with any of the pioneers of the inventions, I am thankful to be able to stand by my fathers side and listen to them explain things to him in greater detail than the usual passer-by. They are all too happy to express how their wonderful creations work in the hope that my father will put in a good word with his benefactors. While I enjoy everything I am learning today it is important that I remember that I am only here to see, and be seen. Inventors will doubtlessly be fawning over us for months here as long as we make the appropriate ambiguous assurances.

This is also one of the few chances I have to be seen in the same capacity as "proper" ladies, a reassurance as the fleet of journalists attending the Exposition rarely bother with subtlety as they take note of my father and I's presence. It will be a much better headline than usual I assure myself, "Notable Doctor and scandalous daughter alike enjoy the Fair!". I smile prettily and focus on keeping our outing as boring for the tabloids as possible, caught up in the displays and explanations my father gathers.

We approach the outer lying exhibits of the fair row sooner than we thought we would, and take a much needed breath of relief as the crowds noticeably lessen. Only one stage seems to draw any crowds here and my father and I approach. "Faith Healer!" the handmade banner proclaims, peddling illustrations of a petite woman, portrayed in sympathy inducing straits. Her outfit is homely to say the least, outdated, and in poor but passable repair, but what the crowd notes most about her are the braces on her legs. "Likely due to Polio," I think to myself, already proposing potential diagnosis though I do not know why. I wonder, if given enough time, would I be able to reverse the condition of her limbs with my power?

Perhaps that is something Asklepios would be able to achieve. "Or," I think to myself, "she is just a part of the act and her condition is a ruse." A man who introduces himself as Orville begins, a remarkable showman, it is no surprise he somehow managed to procure a stage so close to the fair. As Orville gives his performance my father leans over to me and whispers, "You know, there is the real possibility that some faith healers are actually able to do what they claim now. At least if any of them have been affected by The Event. Still exceptionally rare, but it's amusing to ponder on it." I think over what it could mean if this faith healer was the real deal. It made me wonder why she had not healed herself, why she still lived in such an environment if she had such a gift, surely she could be doing at least a little better for herself.

"I'll find out if she is legitimate then." I whispered back decidedly, my mind now ablaze with questions. Mr. Orville asked for volunteers and injured from the crowd, and two men came forward. One a mugging victim who still had knife wounds that could use treatment and the other man a worker who had his leg badly broken from factory equipment. Orville called up the Knife victim first. I seized the opportunity and went to help the man up to the stage, trying my best to seem like a helpful bystander and not much more. Together, the man and I approached the woman known as Faith, who promised to remove his pain. I adjusted my grip on his arm to touch the bare skin of his wrist, letting my gift echo through his frame, revealing to me the extent of his injuries and any effect this woman may have on them if her claims were legitimate.

Faith and Orville continued their routine, working the crowd up for to the climax of the performance. Finally Faith reached out her hand to the man and proclaimed for the crowd to witness the power of God. With my gift, I could 'see' the wound close substantially as Faith called upon the Powers that Be. The wound stopped healing before it was completely closed, but her affect was undeniable. Faith turned away and continued to work the crowd, and seeing the opportunity to help I continued the process of healing the man. I prevented myself from reacting to the pain of his wounds as they closed completely and he stood a bit straighter, pulling his arm away from me and working his shoulder as he realized he was relieved of all pain. He presented his completely healed wounds to the crowd, sharing his amazement and gratitude. Faith looked back at him with a smile that only slightly faltered as she realized his wound was now completely closed. She looked to me with a slightly suspicious gaze before regaining her composure and using the unexpected result to raise the spirit of the event even further.

As I quickly went to help the next man with the horribly injured leg up to the stage I couldn't help but think of the possibilities for my fathers practice if Faith could come work for us. The possibility of my father having someone else to help with his practice was intoxicating, and then there was the potentiality for Faith's life to improve as well. I thought of the chance we would have to help repair her legs, of giving her an income that would allow her to wear clothes in good repair. Then, beyond all that, was the curious thought that maybe it could mean that my Father wouldn't be forced to rely on me so much. The act continued, and Faith turned once more back toward me and the injured man I helped stand, her hand outstretched. I could audibly hear the cracking of the mans bones mending themselves back together, and "see" the flesh mending where bone had previously pierced through it. I decided to help a bit more but I wasn't able to do much before I saw Faith begin to collapse. Grateful for the excuse to separate myself from sharing the pain of the mans previously broken leg I immediately went to catch her.

She was surprisingly light as I partially caught her weight, Faith still able to partly hold herself up. I began to help her toward the backstage when I heard a man with a thick accent call out to the crowd “Gentleman! Will no one assist these ladies in distress?”. There was a brief pause before a well groomed man in a blue suit took Faith's other arm, easing some of her weight. I thank him before we disappear behind the curtain, leaving the crowd behind and I toward what I hope is a brighter future for Faith.


Mon Sep 04, 2017 6:43 am
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Ulthal

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Post Re: Tree’s Monday Night Ne’er-do-Well’s Victorious Game
Lurker wrote:
DMMike wrote:
***Jean's PoV!

...

The ladies continued their act, then with a convenient fainting spell Miss Faith had to be helped off the stage, again by the lovely young woman at her side. Strangely, neither the huckster pastor nor anyone in the crowd made any attempt to assist the women.

“Gentleman!” Jean Claude shouted before he could stop himself. “Will no one assist these ladies in distress?” Once again, his mouth and antique ideas of honour had gotten him in a fix. ‘C’est la vie.’ He thought wryly to himself as he moved upon the stage to assist the ladies in stepping down to the street.

…to be continued!


Sorry I miss quoted you in mine, but I had to have some way to tie it into you being French in my write up ... ;)

I'll fix it (a bit) in mine.

Hmmm what are my friend and family back home going to think when they find out I'm working with a Frenchman and an Irishman ... :lol:



...Aghast no doubt, next you'll be working with....women! :O
;)

Mike, whose character is rather egalitarian for the era...

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Thu Sep 07, 2017 8:44 pm
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Greater Lore Drake
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Post Re: Tree’s Monday Night Ne’er-do-Well’s Victorious Game
Dear Diary,

A most singular day! I have found myself simultaneously liberated and indentured in the space of moments. I have met a wondrous person with abilities similar to my own. I dared not dream there were others, and thought myself an abomination. There is, I am told, a contract involved. I should like to read it one day, but I fear it would not be allowed. Dare I dream I have found a truly kindred spirit?

I feel like rejoicing aloud! O! wondrous Fate! She has finally changed the warp and weft of the tapestry which sings of my pathetic life.

The look in Orville's eyes chilled me to my very core. My new friends and benefactors believe that whatever sum assigned to my life's worth was sufficient to break the terrible bond that kept us together, but I know Mr. Whitman very well and it is important that I am counted as his possession. Power means as much to him as does this filthy lucre.

Could it be true, that tomorrow I will no longer be required to work in the revival tent, giving hope to the hopeless that even I cannot cure, praying to a god in whom I do not truly believe.

There were many strange individuals attending my feinted faint. I heard them speak aloud of things I wish I had not heard. I believe it possible that every soul in possession of these wondrous abilities was gathered within 30 feet of me this day.

I agreed to be a healer, in the employ of my new benefactor, but I believe there may be other things at play here. I wonder what will be asked of me?

Employ! One such as me, a woman, reliant on crutches, poorly educated, with 23 pennies to my miserable name, with what sounds like a respectable and honest position with a wealthy family! I dare not even close my eyes, lest when I open them anew I find this dream world has fled and I am once again resigned to Mr. Whitman's abuses.

I have so many question, but I will not give them voice, as no one has asked me and it would be prideful to believe they would be interested in hearing me speak.

I am here at the Chicago World's Fair, and though my tormentor is near, I feel for once that my horizons are as exotic and wondrous as the exhibits and people populating this singular moment in time and space.

Your devoted chronicler,
Faith

p.s.

My little blue friend is coming with us! So tolerant of our afflictions, these new guardians are the very saints themselves!

p.p.s.

In our fantastic entourage there is one who admonished an attendant for using French! I shall have to be careful. I used the word entourage! I already sound like a Gaul; I should keep my counsel then and figuratively stitch my lips together lest I utter a word that spoils this moment.

p.p.p.s.

We went to a real butcher's shop and Miss ordered whatever we wanted, and didn't even need to do any sums before she did so. I offered to make gruel, but I made a fool of myself, of course it's not what she eats. She even gave the butcher more money than he asked for. He was most devoted afterwards!


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Tue Sep 12, 2017 2:27 am
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Greater Lore Drake
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Post Re: Tree’s Monday Night Ne’er-do-Well’s Victorious Game
Somewhere along the eastern seaboard of the US, in the same old nondescript office of a trading company (used as a front for the British Secretory of Foreign Affairs operating in those United States - presently united is used loosely - of North America). A codded telegraph message is decoded an passed to the office manager/station chief

From Scima – stop
New agent recruited – stop
Need additional funding for pay – stop
Need additional funding for Equipment – stop
Have begun surveillance on possible agents – stop

The secretary to the Right Honorable … the Secretary of North American branch of The Secretory of Foreign Affairs frowned. … Scima/ Mosby ... 4 lines to his report and most ‘need money’ … that Roger Mosby whelp of a pup was trouble in the Ottoman region and may become a problem here in these American States … He dutifully carried the report to the local director

Sometime in the near future – the time it takes a steamer to make the Atlantic crossing, an older Mosby brother frowned down at the letter from his younger brother – in political and social exile in the wilds of America.

The letter, to the common reader, looked nothing more than a letter from a brother abroad to his more settled and older brother. However, in this family, with nobles, soldiers, and spies for the last 5 generations, it was more troubling … order to murder a foreign diplomat, general , of a sovereign congenital country, in this time of a tender keg ready to explode into war … from the Home Office of the Secretory of Foreign Affairs, or an underling in the North American office … troubling, unacceptable. The older Mosby sat his tea down and crossed Whitehall street to the Home Office … Archibald may be fool enough to sanction this, but there are enough Gascoyne men in the office to get answers for Mosby. Even relitative and cousins in the office would be forthcoming. If any of the Redcliff, Brundell, or Somerse’s are involved, heads will roll … The Mosby’s may not be of the highest order, but with generations of service, and with ties to families of the bluest blood they are not a family to be trifled with.

***

Roger shook the Irish man’s hand and clapped his shoulder, and started to quip about history, the Irish and the queen’s gold. Before he could breathe a word of the joke, he noticed the 2 ladies, actors they had to be actors, emerge from the alley beside/ the booth stage they so recently ‘performed healings ‘ on, and an older gentleman – he too is familiar, an American Dr with his picture splashed across the society pages of the local paper – followed the two than worked his way to take the arm of the well-dressed Miss. … a family resemblance, … father and daughter … probably … … interesting . … Then the blue suited Frenchman … I KNOW HIM …. Stepped from the alley headed the other way.

“You take Her Majesty’s gold, you have a job. See that blue suited mustached Frenchman, follow him. Find where he is staying”

The Irishman blinked in surprise at the abrupt order and slid into the crowed behind the Frenchman.

The British spy slid into the crowd following the Frenchman himself.

As he walked into the crowed the British automaton mumbled, … orders, … the general, … the German general … and walked into the crowed …

None noticed a strange fellow, coated despite the season’s warmth, slide from the alley shadows and follow the two Misses and the one’s father.

The Irishman and the English noble followed the Frenchman 10, 15 min successfully. Stopping here wandering there, simply taking in the sights and wonders of the Chicago Fair. Then … the Frenchman noticed something, a quick skillful slide into an alley way .

Roger nodded to Liam to follow, and the stepped into the beckoning shadows … ghostlike he shadow walks to the street across from the alley way and hides in the shadow watching.

The Frenchman, sure he is being followed, emerges from the alley and leans into a nook of a booth wall and calmly watches the Irishman walk past .

20 feet later the Irish former marine notices his target is nowhere in sight … stopping dead in his tracks looking for the Frenchman. Soon enough he turns and see him there in the shadow . The Frenchman tips his hat and smiles.

The embarrassed Liam turns and walks on, now followed by the Frenchman. Just as the blue suited Frenchman steps out to follow , he noticed a strange shadowed figure, in a place there should have been no shadows . Knowing he had been glanced, Scima/Roger grimaced, waited till the Frenchman followed the Irishman, and then stepped from the shadows following him as he followed Liam .

Spying is no easy task even for those well trained and battle tested . If it was easy, there would be more in the ole codger’s homes, and fewer in unmarked graves …

After less than a hour, the Frenchman grew bored with following the Irishman, and slipped into the crowed.

Roger worked his way to the down cast Irishman, not a word, but a friendly clap on the back … and the 2 headed to the local safe house.

There the two met the British Construct – Galahad - and the ’watch maker’ . The automaton explained he received an order from The Secretory of Foreign Affairs Home Office – Kill General Alcide Rodin, a French General, using his ‘unique’ powers, powers to control the mind. The General is giving speeches here at the World’s Fair. Assassination ... The English nobleman/spy frowned.

Galahad went on to explain that he listened to the General through the evening and saw no proof of unique powers, mind control, or any other justification for the order to murder the general. Good oration, yes, unabashed use of historic speeches without a doubt, but no super human hypnotism,

Roger/Scima, A noble British man always, loyal without doubt, a spy when luck and skill allows, but an assassin … never.

Mumbling about Turkish orders, Roger plans with the others … someone in the North American department of the Foreign Secretary’s office may have been compromised, or unsanctioned orders passed – or we are being used as scape goat the noble thought to himself – What ever the problem was, he would not murder not in a time of peace or without a truly just cause.

We will watch the General, see if there is something to support the orders, but also assume that if the local department was compromised, others would also be trying to kill the German General, so we may need to try and prevent it, and at the same time figure other the secret behind the secret.


***

Faith, diary entry ... NICE , well played !

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Wed Sep 13, 2017 2:03 am
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Post Re: Tree’s Monday Night Ne’er-do-Well’s Victorious Game
After Fraulein Finney's near colapse on the stage today, she was bought from Herr Whitman by a doctor and his daughter.

As she left the show in the company of her new masters, I feared for her. She is frail and innocent and has been my only true friend. I followed them through the Fair and the city to a large spacious home. It took me several, long minutes to gather my courage to approach the door, but finally, my concern for Fraulein Finney moved me to knock. The young Fraulein answered the door. She must be of stout character; she did not flinch at my appearance, as most people do.

I made bold and asked f I may speak with Fraulein Finney. The daughter admitted me to the house as she scanned the streets intently. Such lavishment I have not seen since I preformed for the Kaiser. Fraulin Matthews showed genuine concern for Fraulein Finney's well being as she showed me to the parlor. I took this as a hopeful sign.

Fraulein Finney meet me in there and exclaimed that she was to "work" with Herr Doctor and the daughter healing the sick and would be able to buy her "contract" at some future date.

Fraulein Finney them showed her kind and noble heart by pleading with Fraulein Matthews to let me stay the night, as this was a strange place to her and I was a comfort and a friend. Fraulein Matthews left to speak with Herr Doctor.

When they returned, Herr Doctor was startled and distraught by my demonic demeanor, as most people are, but Fraulein Matthews beseeched her father, and I used my best preforming abilities to put him at his ease. After several strained moments, Herr Doctor relaxed and permitted me to spend the evening with Fraulein Finney. He magnanimously gave me the use a room for dignified guests. I responded by giving Herr Doctor my best flourishing bow, as I had once done for the Kaiser.

Fraulein Matthews then suggested that we dine. Fraulein Finney offered to make gruel. Fraulein Matthews said that she would procure meat and prepare a meal for us with her own hands. I was honored.

Fraulin Matthews showed me to my room personally and then the two young Frauleins left to make arrangements at the butchers. I was duty bound to follow and protect the innocents. The butcher was but a short distance, however, I did notice a man surreptitiously following the Frauleins. I soon determined that he was not a threat, but kept a watchful eye on him until the Frauleins returned to the home.

******
I had intended to post something earlier today, but got busy at work and didn't have time.

R-

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Wed Sep 13, 2017 3:08 am
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Ulthal

Joined: Wed Dec 14, 2011 10:38 pm
Posts: 648
Post Re: Tree’s Monday Night Ne’er-do-Well’s Victorious Game
Jacque Frost at the Fair, pt2

Before Jean-Claude D'Orleans really knew what he was doing, he’d leapt upon the stage and was helping the two ladies to the ground behind the stage. The two were quite a pair, one garbed in a dress that could’ve been a Worth creation while the other was clothed in near-rags. Yet chivalry still held a small part of Jean-Claude’s soul, so he helped them down to the street and with a gallant tip of the hat and smile turned and walked around the stage and rejoined the crowd before the Reverend Orville.


That dubious fellow was wrapping up his sermon, being sure to call everyone’s attention to the donation plate on the edge of the stage. Apparently God was omnipotent but needed money. Few took notice of the plate, as everyone’s attention was drawn to a handsome fellow in the congregation, standing as still as a statue. An elderly German doctor fussed around the unmoving man, muttering about reversing a neutron flow or some such. The sight was curious to be sure, but not enough to keep Jean’s attention. With a Gallic shrug, the Frenchman broke away from the crowd and strode slowly down the lane.

After only a few dozen paces, Jean felt eyes upon him. Glancing negligently over his shoulder, he saw a large man dressed in common clothes trying to follow him. He might’ve gone unnoticed, but the man’s eyes were too direct. This man was a soldier, not a rogue or spy. Yet he continued to dog Jean’s steps. Could he be an agent for those fools in the Silver Empire? They’d tried to recruit him in their never-ending war against ‘racial contamination’; whatever THAT was. ‘Like any man, or woman, is pure anything in the cosmopolitan nineteenth century.’ Smiling to himself, he decided to lead this soldier on a chase. He began to move in odd directions, and his shadow kept up with his movements. Not trying to close the distance, just keeping Jean in sight.

With a sudden turn to the right, Jean moved quickly through an alley between the World Mechanics display and the building holding the wares and exhibits of the Brazilian Empire. Once he made it to the end of the alleyway, he skipped slightly to the right and leaned against the wall. He was at the corner, but just out of sight of his pursuer. The soldier kept up his pace, but missed Jean’s post and strode instead to the center of this new lane. He gazed about, his head and eyes moving like a gun turret searching for a target. A bit of bonhomie caught Jean, and he tipped his navy blue bowler hat towards his large pursuer. Flushing with anger, the man simply glared with disgust at the grinning Frenchman and strode off down the lane, back towards the revivalist tent where the chase had begun.


Apparently the soldier didn’t see the humor of the situation. ‘He must be young, the world will soon teach him its great truth; that life is a farce.’ He thought bemusedly to himself. With nothing else to do, Jean turned to follow his angry stalker. Yet something….drew his eye to the far end of the lane. It was another small alleyway, much like the one he’d just left. There were shadows, but one of the shadows stood out as a silhouette against the brickwork. A stray beam of light caused the shadow to flicker and provide Jean the briefest glimpse of a man’s form…watching him. “Apparently I am quite popular today.” Jean said with amusement. He considered tipping his hat to the shadowman as well, but decided to continue his languid pursuit of the soldier instead. After all, he might follow Jean’s progress as well?

After a block or so, Jean realized that the angry man wasn’t to be deterred from his stolid march down towards the Court of Honor. The Frenchman had hoped to find a beer stall or some such and offer the man a drink as a peace offering. Jean had yet to meet a soldier that wasn’t thirsty for intoxicants. Yet luck wasn’t with Jean-Claude, and he gave up any attempt to engage the man in a conversation when the soldier showed undue interest in a parasol shop!?!? Shrugging, Jean went back towards Reverend Orville’s tent. Perhaps he’d have another chance at conversation with his duo of pursuers at a later date. He just prayed the soldier hadn’t been looking to Jean for amorous intent. Though Jean-Claude had nothing against such men, his personal tastes were closer to the ladies he’d met when all this curious afternoon’s events began.

***Part 3 will be chronicled after the next game!

Mike

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Wed Sep 13, 2017 4:52 pm
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Mogrl

Joined: Mon May 01, 2006 7:00 am
Posts: 20192
Location: Arizona and St Louis
Post Re: Tree’s Monday Night Ne’er-do-Well’s Victorious Game
Awesome! Thanks! This really helps!

Edit to the over all game. The General is General Alcide Rodin, and he is French, not German or English. Completely my mistake, and I should have remembered since it makes far more sense for him to be French in the over all diplomatic scheme of things.

I ended up choosing his name at pretty much random, so if there is such a general of that name in actual history, its completely by accident on my part.

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Since its 20,000 I suggest "Captain Nemo" as his title. Beyond the obvious connection, he is one who sails on his own terms and ignores those he doesn't agree with...confident in his journey and goals.
Sounds obvious to me! -Gm Michael

Grand Knight Commander of the Society.


Wed Sep 13, 2017 5:31 pm
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Ulthal

Joined: Wed Dec 14, 2011 10:38 pm
Posts: 648
Post Re: Tree’s Monday Night Ne’er-do-Well’s Victorious Game
Treebore wrote:
Awesome! Thanks! This really helps!


Glad to help...Perhaps another thread for the description of each character? Both in civvies and in costume might be of assistance in visualizing each other?

Treebore wrote:
Edit to the over all game. The General is General Alcide Rodin, and he is French, not German or English. Completely my mistake, and I should have remembered since it makes far more sense for him to be French in the over all diplomatic scheme of things.


In that case, Jean-Claude might've been interested in hearing him talk...if possible.

Mike

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The Save for Half Podcast: Old School RPGs Reviewed
http://www.saveforhalf.com

Victorious: Steampunk Adventure in the Age of SuperMankind
http://www.victoriousrpg.com


Wed Sep 13, 2017 6:55 pm
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Greater Lore Drake
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Joined: Thu Jan 18, 2007 8:00 am
Posts: 3215
Location: Oklahoma
Post Re: Tree’s Monday Night Ne’er-do-Well’s Victorious Game
... somehow it double posted on me ...

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Forgive all spelling errors.

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Thu Sep 14, 2017 2:05 am
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