Chapter Two, Part FiveBecome confused at the continental Europeans' mentions of elk as there are no real elk in Europe, only rather large moose called as such. Realize what they mean, and regale them with stories of the similar, but superior real elk from America.
Sitting in the exclusive tea wagon with "G" and the two other Germans,
Smith listens to their enthusiastic conversation about the regal elk with some consternation and considerable confusion. He decides to interject, convinced that these Europeans have committed an incredible error, and hoping to illuminate for them the unfortunate path upon which they have erred [2-1 Fallible Pedantry penalty -1 Wikipedia penalty].
"I say," he begins, "ah, hold on a second. Bother."
The Germans look on in astonishment.
Trait Gained! Not a Zoologist! (-1 to Zoology rolls)
Kindly excuse myself from our tea drinking party, walk out of carrige 1, and begin chase.
Somewhat embarrassed by Smith's lack of knowledge in the field of Elk appreciation,
"G" finishes his tea, makes his excuses, and rises to leave. He strolls gentlemanneryly towards the exclusive tea wagon's door and pushes it purposefully hard to open it [1]. It opens with considerable force and swings back in his face! It renders him unconscious! "G" falls to the floor with a thud, and Smith's horrendous faux pas is quietly and quickly forgotten.
Keep going.
Apologize to link before peeking over the roof edge to watch.
Link recovers manfully from his dazing brush with the door and carries on down the next carriage's corridor [5]. He catches up with
Wellington, who turns to him to apologise for the unfortunate accident, before getting a good position in which to watch the unfolding confrontation on the carriage's roof [4]. Link climbs up for a good view beside him.
Point sword at Gruber and compliment his eyepatch. Offer him a chance to surrender, while holding pipe, rather than have us do ungentlemanly amounts of injury upon him. Mention that I would under normal circumstances challenge him to a duel on the train roof, though unfortunately it seems Wellington and another German has already prepared himself for one such fight and it would be horribly rude of me to cheapen their bravado by imitating them. Of course, were von Gruben to insist, I wouldn't be able to deny him the honour.
All in attempted German.
On top of the southernmost train carriage,
von Fersen and von Gruber are face to face. The Swede compliments the German's eyepatch, developing, as he is, a connoisseur's appreciation of the finer art of eyepatchery. The German snorts a non-committal reply, whereupon von Fersen asks for his surrender [3+1 pipe bonus]
"Surrender? Never! What is the English
pigdog expression? Testicles? Bah well! Zat is mein answer! Testicles! En garde! Consider this a request for a duel!"
Von Fersen can hardly refuse.
The air itself is
audibly sliced as the Swede draws his British Government engineered Umbrella-Sword; with an evil laugh von Gruber reaches into his evening jacket and retrieves a large and powerful looking revolver.
"Ahahahahaha! You thought you would stop me that easily! Ahahahahaha! We will be passing under my Zeppelin in mere minutes - I have only to kill you and I will be free!"
He turns to look over his shoulder and as he does so von Fersen realises the train is rushing due south to a point where it should, in a few minutes, pass under the spot where a presumably German airship is floating above the rails.
"You fiendish cad," he remarks. "This, sir, is not on." The German turns back to face him, and cocks his gun.
"Ahahahahah," he begins, "you Englishers always fall for this trick! Ahahahahah! You and your silly gentlemanlylike ways!"
Gentlemanliness Increased! Fighting a duel!
Fight some then get down, as at this point there is always a tunnel or something like that.
A carriage further to the north,
McGeenyton is facing the apologetic German armed with a rapier. The freezing wind rushes past them as both men advance to within striking distance, only too aware that room for manoeuvre is limited on the cold, unsteady carriage roof; there'll be no dramatic circling this night.
The German strikes first; wanting to sidestep to avoid the blow McGeenyton nearly slips and loses his balance, falling slightly back. As the German rains down a second strike, McGeenyton manages neatly to parry the blow with his blade forcefully enough to push the German back a short distance. He steadies himself.
The Englishman moves forwards and aims a blow at the German; the blow is a feeble one! His adversary catches the rapier with his own; steel slides down steel and with a flick of the German's wrist McGeenyton is disarmed! The sword goes flying off into the night sky.
As McGeenyton backs away and the German advances, the Englishman's mind is suddenly filled with visions. Despite his not having been there, his mind is flooded with memories of Corunna; with flashes from Quatre Bras; tales of heroism from the Crimea; legends and myths from the misty beginnings of time in the rain-sodden mountains. His spirit is taken over with explosions of images he has never seen or imagined, from places far away, and as the German advances upon him and strikes his rapier towards his heart, in a fit of tartan wrath the Englishman captures the blade between his two bare hands and in a single fluid movement turns the rapier and thrusts it full into the German's heart.
The German falls; McGeenyton, seemingly exhausted, collapses to his knees. His hand fumbles about in his evening jacket pockets, searching blindly for his hip flask of fine vintage brandy.
"I say, " he says, as he stumbles forwards upon the carriage roof. "How very strange."
Gentlemanliness Increased! Fighting another duel!
Gentlemanliness Increased! Winning another duel!
Some fifty feet further south,
von Gruber is still laughing at his impending and cunning victory.
"Foolish, foolish Englisher! Ahaha! I hope you have written a last vill and testament! Ahahah!"
He raises his revolver to aim, he prepares his finger to squeeze, at which point a surprised and bewildered expression crosses his venally featured face. The revolver falls to his side; his gaze drops to the floor; his hands come up to his chest and, specifically, the thrown Umbrella-Sword protruding from it.
"Swedisher, schweinhund," corrects von Fersen, as the German topples over.
Gentlemanliness Increased! Winning a duel!
In carriage 1 are Smith, two astonished Germans, and an unconscious "G".
On top of carriage 2 is an apparently unconscious McGeenyton (and a dead German).
On top of carriage 3 is von Fersen (and a dead von Gruber who has an Umbrella-Sword sticking out of his chest)
At the end of carriage 3 Link and Wellington are looking (perhaps through their fingers, imagining the Black Knight)
Author
Topic: Roll to Be a Gentleman Spy - Chapter Three Part Twenty One. (Read 75132 times)