Early evening, Wednesday 10th April, 1906.Look around for suits, I shall keep my promise to those fine butlers.
Looking about amongst the enormous herd of Elk for some suits,
Mr Henry McGeenyton soon becomes quite dispirited. There is nary a suit in sight!
There are, however, thousands of Elk, and Mr McGeenyton’s incessant searching soon sets their teeth on edge. Ignoring the warning signs of waving tails and snorting nostrils, McGeenyton searches hither and looks thither, bumbling along and disturbing many an Elk wishing only for to be left uninterrupted on this pleasant Wednesday evening whilst they chew thankfully on some of the lovely frozen grass that is such a speciality of the Norwegian steppe.
“Sorry!” cries out the Englishman, as he bumps the behind of another unfortunate victim.
“Excuse me! Sorry about that!” he continues, as he bounces aimlessly from one Elk to the next.
“Terribly sorry, old girl!”...Alas! This seems to be the final straw that broke the Elk's kindly façade!
“I’m a man!” one of the Elks seems to trumpet in McGeenyton’s face.
“I say,” says the Englishman,
“Steady on, old bean!”“I’m thirty seven!” the Elk seems to reply with a mournful hoot,
“I’m not old!”“Oh, rather!” protests McGeenyton,
“Ouch! Blimey! Hey! Stop that!”“Moooooooooo!” the Elk seems to bleat, in a rather aggressive tone,
“Moooooooooooo!”“Help!” asks McGeenyton,
“Help! I say! Oh! Golly!”“Mooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
“Oh stop th- Leave me al- Oh, good Lord.”
“Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
“Arrg! Oh blast.”
“Mooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”As suddenly as he started, the Elk stops and leaves Mr McGeenyton alone, running off to join his many friends. Bewildered and afraid, McGeenyton stands naked but for a top hat amidst a river of stampeding Elk!
Wound Acquired! Mr McGeenyton:
Heavy Head Bleeding!Item Lost! Mr McGeenyton: Suit.
Lie down in snow. Then repeat last action, though only sickle the pipe without lighting it this time.
Lying down in the snow with all the haste afforded a gentleman by the overriding necessity to keep one’s dignity,
Sir August von Fersen stretches out his legs and gets comfortable. Suddenly a great quantity of snow covers the fellow!
“I say, Mr Smith,” says von Fersen,
“That’s terribly thoughtful of you! Thanks awfully, old chap!”...The fire on the Swede’s arm is extinguished!
“Righty-ho. Time for a comfortable chomp on the old pipe then, eh what. Worry not, Mr Smith, I haven’t the intention of actually lighting the blighter this time, ho ho! Hey, wait for me! I say!”With all the haste and so on and so forth and dignity and such like, von Fersen leaps to his feet as well as his tree-crushed leg permits. He hobbles after Mr Smith!
Throw some snow on the fire to stop it and once again try to proceed along the elk trail.
With his mighty manly hands,
Mr Winston Smith shovels a good square yard of delightfully cold snow onto his companion’s burning arm whilst this latter chap lies down. With such carefully coordinated teamwork, the fire is quickly put out.
“Eureka!” shouts Mr Smith,
“Now, let us head east to find where these maddened Elk were headed. Come, von Fersen, we have no time to lose. Those Elk were surely heading in the same direction as our friends, and they may be in grievous danger! We must get to the bottom of all this!”...Running with amazing manly power, Mr Smith makes excellent time, but suddenly realises he is leaving his broken-legged companion behind. He runs back to the limping Swede, and hefts him onto his back, before turning once more and sprinting off in the direction of the Elk trail. Several minutes later the two brave agents of the King find themselves before a rising mountain cliff-face, behind a herd of many thousand Elk. The Elk seem to be stampeding!
Suddenly there is an enormous explosion at the head of the herd! A vast cloud of dust and debris sprays into the air!
Somehow convince the elk to charge against the door, sacrificing themselves for the greater good of England!
“Help!” Wellington hears a voice cry,
“Help! I say! Oh! Golly!”It’s his gentlemanly companion Mr McGeenyton! He appears to be in quite some distress!
“Mooooooooooooooooooooooo!” hears Wellington, before one last faintly heard call for aid rings out.
“Oh stop th- Leave me al- Oh, good Lord.”“My word!” exclaims Wellington,
“What a magnificent idea! If ever there was a time for harnessing the power of the mighty Elk it must be now!”Leaving Mr McGeenyton to his fate, Mr Wellington climbs atop a nearby rock and addresses the great horde of Elk.
“I say!” he starts,
“Friends! Scandinavians! Elk-folk! Lend me your ears! I come but to open these blasted doors, not to search for suits and thus disturb your rest! The evil Prussians may come after you, so bury not the good Englishmen under a torrent of Elken blows! So let it be thus: direct your Elken rage against these vast and noble stone doors, for they alone stand between you and freedom!”
“Hear hear!” a few Elks seem to murmur. Wellington continues.
“These doors alone stand between you and fresh grass! You did love fresh grass once! And not without cause! ‘Tis better than this frozen rubbish that the Germans force upon you! Yes! ‘Tis all their fault! They love you not! They have not the Englishman’s natural appreciation for your noble beauty! I beg of thee, crush yon door of evil, for the greater good of England!”
“Bloody well said, what!” a few more Elks seem to moo,
“Bloody good show. For England! For the King!”...Suddenly the whole herd of thousands of Elk takes up the rallying call, and moos in unison!
“Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”
“For England!” they seem to hoot!
The Elk circle briefly; they take a short run up; they charge directly at the giant stone doors blocking the Englishman’s path into the underground hideout.
“Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”The doors tumble under the terrific force of the mighty Elk! There is a deafening explosion of sound as the giant doors fall to the ground! A great pile of debris and dust shoots into the air and showers the now re-assembled gentlemen as hundreds upon hundreds of noble beasts rush past into the Viking stronghold!
The way is open!… … … … … …
Item Acquired! Mr McGeenyton: A Promise to Acquire Two New Suits! (eleven turns remaining)
State Acquired! Mr Smith: Tea-powered Super Manliness! (two turns remaining)
Current Gentlemen
Player: areyoua
Name: Winston Smith, American
Bio Status: Scratched face. A hundred yards from an underground lair. Slightly out of breath.
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:100/100] |
Scratched Face!Skills: 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!,
Prone to Embarassing Sartorial Malfunction! Gentlemanliness: 9.Caddishness: 4.
Player: _DivideByZero_
Name: William Wellington, Gentleman
Bio Status: -1 pain penalty. In front of an underground lair.
Inventory: Two Fine Dueling Pistols, Stone Throwing Discs.
Wounds: [HP:100/100] |
Fractured Testicle!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
Bio Status: Naked and bleeding. A hundred yards from an underground lair.
Inventory: Monocle, Double Barreled Walking Stick With Tartan Trim, Grappling Hook Wristwatch, Tin of Loose Tea Leaves, A Promise to Acquire Two New Suits! (eleven turns remaining).
Wounds: [HP:95/100] |
Heavy Head Bleeding!Skills: Graceful combat,
Monocles,
Refined Accent,
Particularly Calm,
Tedious Oratory! Gentlemanliness: 14.Caddishness: 3.
Player: scriver
Name: Sir August von Fersen, Noble Young Swede
Bio Status: -1 left leg penalty. -1 left arm penalty. A hundred yards from an underground lair.
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 (20/24).
Wounds: [HP:84/100] |
Broken Left Arm! |
Heavy Arm Bleeding! |
Broken Left Leg!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.
Author
Topic: Roll to Be a Gentleman Spy - Chapter Three Part Twenty One. (Read 74772 times)