Slightly past dawn, Wednesday 10th April, 1906. Quickly build a makeshift (rope?) ladder out of the wreckage debris and climb down to Smith, using my modicum of knowledge to tend his wounds.
"Why", shouts von Fersen up to the others, "I think we might want to explore this little cave Smith was so kind as to find for us, seeming as the Norwegians might not be as friendly after all. Rank that revolutionary spirit! We should have put them in place before it became a bother. Now look! Viking anarchists at our doorstep! Why I never!"
After quickly building a makeshift rope ladder out of the debris scattering the island,
von Fersen realises the urgency of the situation. A fellow gentleman is bleeding heavily! It looks for all the world as if he is about to sacrifice his smashing coat! No! Good gosh! He appears to be about to tear his finest suit into so many fine woolen bandages! Von Fersen dives head first into Smith’s rocky hole, desperate to avert this sartorial catastrophe.
Wound Acquired! Light Bleeding!
Try to stop the bleeding with my smashing coat, and get up the rope of noble von Fersen. They might not have seen me fall, though, so try to blow on bagpipes while waiting.
Aware that, in the dim light of a North Sea dawn, his companions may not have seen his unfortunate accident,
Mr Smith looks about his person for something to signal for their attention. Of course! Mysterious bagpipes! Alas, for his ribs ache mightily, and he is unable to blow hard enough to produce sufficient sound to be heard over the approaching din of Viking war drums.
And so Smith – a man of action if ever there was one – decides to shrug off his musical disappointment and act! He tears off all his clothes and wraps them tightly around his face to stop the bleeding. The bleeding stops! Everything goes dark!
Suddenly something jumps onto him from above. A snake! A long, two-bodied snake with strange wooden arms; yet Smith is a wounded man: he cannot fight such a beast! He flees desperately but manfully into the darkness, tripping on a blasted rock as he narrowly escapes the very jaws of death itself.
Narrowly escapes? No! For Smith can hear the heavy footsteps and heavier breathing of the approaching snake-fiend, and scrabbles backwards in blind terror. He draws his walking
bat stick! The beast is upon him!
“I saw, steady on old chap,” remarks von Fersen.
“I just want to take a look at you, that was a rather nasty fall you know.” Von Fersen manages to massage Smith’s broken rib back into place!
Ready a disc and wait for diplomacy.
Patrolling the perimeter of the strategic rocky pit whilst von Fersen descends to aid his stricken colleague,
Mr Wellington prepares for the approach of the Viking’s diplomatic delegation.
It is important that we exaggerate the strength of our position! he correctly surmises,
I shall ready my projectiles and give a manly display of stre-arrrrghhhhhh! “Oh. I say.” Wellington tips his hat in the direction of first one gentleman and then the other.
”Morning Smith. Von Fersen. Ah. I seem to be experiencing a mild pain in my arm. Blast.” Wound Acquired! Fractured Left Arm!!
Offer the vikings tea.
As the Viking longboat rushes forth towards the rocky island, the intrepid
Henry McGeenyton strides forth upon the stony beach to meet them. Drums beat; oars heave; a sail firmly flaps: the longboat storms through the frothy edge of the angry sea and a dozen Viking warriors leap from either side of the majestic ship into the ankle-deep spume.
Blonde braids dangling and swinging furiously beneath their steel skullcaps as they charge forward, every angry Viking is carrying a shield and gripping an axe till their knuckles whiten. Several of them have commendably impressive moustaches; but nearly all have unkempt beards. The rage of the beserker feels closer with every glance into one of their eyes. They storm ceaselessly up the beach towards McGeenyton.
“Tea, gentlemen?”
“Øh, I såy! That’s a bløødy good idea, what! Wåit. Tea?”
... ... ... ... ... ...
A short interval of time passes; the brewed pot moves from one brave warrior to the next, spilling its precious liquid into each delicate china cup it meets. Biscuits, from somewhere, are produced. A pair of Vikings are sent back to the longboat to fetch a table and some armchairs, the better to appreciate the fine aroma of McGeenyton's finely brewed tea. A relaxed atmosphere descends upon the party. McGeenyton leans back in his armchair, a connoisseur of fine tea-based moments. His eyes begin to close. His mind begins to drift.
Suddenly he is awoken, hard! His eyelids burst apart! He is encircled by more than twenty Vikings!
They seem to be quite sweaty. Some of them seem to be shaking. They appear to be getting anxious and irritable! They... They appear to have become tea-fiends!
“Yøn tea! We require more! You vill come with us to our homelænd, and brew the tea for åll of us! Come along! Into our boat!”
The Viking horde draw their axes. They look menacingly towards McGeenyton!
Current Gentlemen
Player: areyoua
Name: Winston Smith, American
BioStatus: Everything’s gone dark!
Inventory: A Walking
Bat Stick Capable of Serious Bodily Harm, an Umbrella, a Fine German Sword,
Masterwork Top Hat,
Mysterious Ancient Bagpipes, French-English Dictionary, Smashing Coat (extra warm).
Wounds: [HP:99/100] |
Broken Rib! |
Heavy BleedingSkills: We Carry Large Sticks,
Knowledge of the English Gentleman,
Walking Bat Stick Deflection,
A little more expertise in the art of walking bat stick deflection,
Baseball Cricket Fatality!,
We Never Lost a War! (yet),
Fallible Pedant!,
Fatally Bad Doctor!,
Not a Zoologist!Gentlemanliness: 9.Caddishness: 4.
Player: _DivideByZero_
Name: William Wellington, Gentleman
BioStatus: In a hole somewhere off the Scandinavian coast.
Inventory: Two Fine Dueling Pistols, Stone Throwing Discs.
Wounds: [HP:100/100] |
Fractured Left Arm!Skills: A Quite Talented Salesman,
Natural Born Top Hat Wearer,
Top Hat Black Belt,
Airship Pilotage,
Top Hat Acquisition,
Extraordinarily Convincing.
Gentlemanliness: 11.
Caddishness: 0.
Player: Geen
Name: Henry McGeenyton, Gentleman
BioStatus: Being kidnapped by Vikings.
Inventory: Monocle, Double Barreled Walking Stick With Tartan Trim, Grappling Hook Wristwatch, Tin of Loose Tea Leaves.
Wounds: [HP:100/100]Skills: Graceful combat,
Monocles,
Refined Accent,
Particularly Calm,
Tedious Oratory!Gentlemanliness: 13.Caddishness: 2.
Player: scriver
Name: Sir August von Fersen, Noble Young Swede
BioStatus: In a hole somewhere off the glorious Scandinavian coast.
Inventory: Umbrella-Sword, Copy of Gentleman Hunter’s Weekly, Fine Hunting Rifle,
Masterwork Gold Eye Patch, Finely Crafted Pipe, a Magnum Revolver, Exquisitely Crafted Letter of Apology, Forster's Norwegian-Swedish Dictionary (24/24).
Wounds: [HP:99/100] |
Left Eye Blown Clean Off |
Light Bleeding!
Skills: Enthusiastic Hunter,
Well-Versed with Pipes,
Tremendous Orator,
Masterful Pipe Holding,
Fleetfooted Tenacity of the Swedish Elk,
It Runs in the Family,
Knowledge of the Elk,
a Modicum of Knowledge in the Area of Medicine, Published Poet,
Dangerous Misfires.
Gentlemanliness: 16.
Caddishness: 2.
Edit: forgot to update status with Wellington's wound.
Author
Topic: Roll to Be a Gentleman Spy - Chapter Three Part Twenty One. (Read 74870 times)