The Chronicles of Sebastian J. Reynolds

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Journal of an English Lord...

Post by Keeper » Mon Feb 07, 2011 12:09 pm

Journal of an English Lord...

6th Day of February, 1984.

It all started when, whilst I was breaking fast, Sam carried in an ethergram from one Lord Percival Smythe, requesting my attendance at a very important meeting .
Intrigued, I attended the meeting at a gentleman's club not far from Parliament.
There Smythe introduced me to a fellow who named himself Lord Pevancy.
Despite both mine own and Sam's best endeavours we have been unable to unearth any details on this gentleman, leading me to believe that he has adopted a pseudonym.

This Lord Pevancy knew too damned much about me, or more specifically my extra-curricula talents.

I felt sure that I would have noticed someone following me, it would have been difficult, given my widespread use of those talents for someone to have maintained such an observation unnoticed for such a time. That said, however, my confidence was dented a little.

Another idea did come to me later, much after our meeting had concluded. Perhaps Pevancy knew nothing of the specifics of my talents, only that I possessed some.
If he was a man who knew my father, or rather my father's pre-parliament days, then it was possible and a logical opinion, that he could have taught me much of what he knew.

Either way, Pevancy laid a task before me with a veiled threat as the incentive. I had no real choice if I was to maintain the secret of alternate vocation.

This meeting I realised, was indeed the beginning of a new chapter in my life...

****


The task seemed simple enough; acquire some sensitive documents from a man who was in the habit of getting his hands on such secrets. This man was an old adversary of Pevancy who had recently revealed his terminal illness.
This did initially give me cause for concern, how to gain the man's confidence to the point where he will reveal the whereabouts of said documents in such a short amount of time?

Pevancy provided the names of two fellows who might be able to aid me in my endeavours.
Of course I believed the men to be of use as they held some sort of knowledge on the specifics of the task, however it became clear that both men were 'volunteered' because of their talents only as a secondary factor. I soon came to believe that the primary reason for Pevancy naming them was because, like me, he held some degree of sway over them.

The first gentleman was known as JP. He was a man who provided certain legal and not-so-legal recreational activities for those that could pay.
He could be found in various public houses in and around Shaftsbury Avenue. His clientèle were mostly middle to upper class folks, theatre goers and Thespians alike.

I had Sam return home and try to dig up some background information on my two assistants, whilst I caught a Zep-cab down to Shaftsbury.

Lady Luck was with me that early evening as I found the man in The Shaftsbury Inn, the first such establishment I'd looked in.
The barmaid was a gamely sort and quite friendly too and she guided me to the back room where I discovered JP surrounded by a bevy of beauties!
I understood then why his clientèle were from the more discerning side of life.

Getting JP on board was surprisingly simple. I thought I might have to bribe the gentleman myself, however, after laying the truth on the table and explaining that Pevancy would effectively turn JP over to the law with enough evidence to send him down for a long time, the fellow just shrugged and accepted the task.
Upon revealing the second name on my list we were both concerned as to how to bring him on board.

Harry Lacott was not known for being the most personable of fellows, and certainly would not command the title of gentleman.
Lacott was a bare knuckle fighter of whom I had seen in a fight or two in the past. In fact upon my last visit to the ring as 'Jimmy Ambrose' I made the mistake of betting against him.

JP and I decided to head over to The Marquis of Queensbury pub where we were informed he would be fighting.
As it happens, JP was waylaid by a business acquaintance so I ventured on alone.

I had only been to the Queensbury a couple of times but I felt I should be fine despite my well-to-do attire.

The fight went as I expected, Lacott's protestations of ill health to the contrary.
It was afterwards, when I approached the man with a view to discussing a matter of urgency that I discovered what a foul-mouthed and rather uncouth individual he was.
Although I explained what Pevancy had offered, he didn't seem to understand.
To me it seemed a simple enough concept; Pevancy knew of some sort of difficulty Lacott was having with the local and rival sewer gangs and was offering to make those problems go away. I did however embellish the offer by informing Lacott that to refuse would have the opposite effect.
Even after I offered over my rather tidy winnings of £300, a sum the youth whom had accompanied Lacott could hardly believe, the bad tempered fighter still couldn't get in into his stupid head why he should help me.

Sam was at the pub by now, playing cards or something, and I have to admit that I was somewhat vexed by my lack of progress with the dolt, so his interruption was most welcome.
Lacott, who had already revealed the rather large chip on his shoulder about people he regarded as 'toffs', was immediately suspicious of Sam. When I revealed that Sam was my butler, the information seemed to spark some sort of flame within the ruffian, as he damned well near launched himself across the table at him.
I must admit that I was not really ready for it and was rather slow. Luckily Sam's reaction were not as dull as Lacott's wits, and I guess now that he must have been expecting a negative response as he had my walking cane up and pressing into the man's throat before he'd gone too far.
It certainly gave Lacott pause for thought and this was enough time for me to have drawn my revolver and have it pressing securely into the beastly fellow's temple.

Well, I had a feeling things were about to get steadily worse, but Lacott surprised me, I fact he seemed to warm to us. Perhaps our actions may have revealed us to be more than a couple of toffs after all.

As I studied the gruff fellow I wondered why someone like Pevancy would think this sort would be any use to me. What a fool I had been, I realised, to think that I would not need someone like Lacott. Obviously Pevancy was expecting us to encounter some trouble, I only had to wait and see in what form that trouble would come.

Lacott however had suddenly got the wind up him and despite the late hour we ventured off to Peckham to find our terminally ill Edison Greywall.

The old man was up, and upon hearing my surname he seemed to relax, as though he was expecting me, and his question, “What does the son of Lord Reynolds want with me?” took me a little by surprise.

Greywall explained that he and his working partner had in the course of their work come across certain information in one form or another, that was sensitive to it's owner or a third party. It became a bit of a challenge – collecting secrets. It seems the motive was simply the chase, for if the secrets had been used to blackmail their targets, then I felt sure that the ex-police inspector would not be spending his final days in this flea pit.
The documents that Lord Pevancy sought were not in fact discovered by Greywall but by his partner. Despite their little contest, neither spoke in any detail of the secrets they discovered. Best that way should someone decide to try to for the information from one or the other. However, it seems Greywalls partner was concerned enough with the contents of this particular document that he did leave a cryptic clue with Greywall as to the documents whereabouts, should Greywall ever find himself in a situation where he needed to retrieve them.

This clue, Edison gave to us, admitting that he really was too old and weary to go gallivanting off on some treasure hunt.

The clue: the location was written on the back of the mirror above the bar in Walkers Pub. Sounded simple enough except that the pub was in the Scope!

Our meeting concluded I invited Lacott back to mine where he could have one of the spare rooms.
I thought of mentioning that perhaps he could take a bath whilst we were there, however self preservation prevented me from saying it aloud.

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Re: Journal of an English Lord...

Post by Keeper » Mon Feb 07, 2011 12:12 pm

Journal of an English Lord...

7th Day of February, 1984.

I arose this morning after a fitful sleep and was terribly tired for it.
Was this because I had been unnerved by Pevancy's knowledge and, well, I have no better way of putting it; blackmail?

Actually, I think not, even in our meeting I felt no worry. I guess that to reveal me might in some way draw attention upon himself.
It wasn't until I headed downstairs to the kitchen to see Mrs Morris that I realised the source of my anxiety; Lacotte.
I passed young Paige and Georgina upon the upper landing, both seemed to be hovering near one of the guest room with their cleaning gear and they seemed pensive.
I instructed them to leave that room until later and to stay away from our loutish guest.

I had arranged to meet JP at the Shaftsbury Inn at midday, and was pleased that our late night had meant a late rise and therefore I had little time to waste with Lacotte.
Initially the man seemed once more put out by his association with what he termed toffs, however he soon resigned to our acquaintance.

I spoke to JP at some length about the events of the previous day and of our new found quest.
He told me that he had never heard of this 'Walker's Pub' in the scope and from his inflection I gathered that he was a regular tab-jammer.
After some searching I turned up one of my contacts with ether-tabs to the location of Walker's within the New London Scope.
We decided to head to the pub straight away, to much scoffing from Lacotte.
Returning to Knightsbridge I managed to dupe Lacotte into taking the tab and we were all whisked off to a little known part of New London.

The pub looked quaint enough, a little old-world and rural perhaps for the shining glass towers and neon signs of the Scope city. However, tucked away as it was it could claim the title of discreet.
The landlord and barman, Mr Pink, was a friendly enough chap and seemed eager and not a little intrigued when we asked if we could look on the back of the huge mirror behind the bar.

My experience of the scope showed me that this place was special, the 'construction' was detailed and solid. The odd thing is, this was the scope. There was only the bar, no other rooms. There was no way to get behind the mirror and de-code the wall.
The barman surprised me then, for as he reached for the huge mirror it shrank to a manageable size. Such programming 'on-the-fly' showed that this man was not only the land-lord but was a very skilled architect too.

What we discovered on the back of the mirror was both disappointing and unsurprising. A series of numbers rather than a straight "The document is hidden here..."

We had quite a lengthy discussion as to thee meaning of this and a number of theories were formulated.
It was decided that we would cross New London to the etherscape version of the National Library.
Of course it struck me as this was probably yet another place Lacotte wouldn't be interested in, and was about to say so when I noticed the grim fellow was nowhere to be seen.
The barman informed us the only the two of us had entered the pub.

Where the hell had he gone? Probably for the best in the end – we were a might better off without his rude manner upsetting folks.

JP and I made our way with haste to the library where we found out that the first part of the number, as we'd guessed was a co-ordinate relating to the Ordnance Survey maps of Great Britain.

It looked as though we were going to be heading north to the Great Metropolis; No.7 London Road, the Bradford & Barclays Bank no less.
The final set of numbers? A safety deposit box of all things.

Well, I was ready to leave but I had to hang on for JP's tab to wear off, so we visited a place he knew about.
Great Scott! The man even had girls working for him in the scope.
Of course it would have been rude of me to turn down his kind offer, and a wonderful ride she was too!

**

Back in the Prime at last I discovered that there was an express heading for the 'Big Smoke' a four in the afternoon so I had Sam make arrangements for my rail-car to be booked onto that train.

The journey north was uneventful. Lacotte was not with us as he had left my house earlier that afternoon and had not returned by the time we departed.
Pity! If we ran into a spot of bother up in the Black Country he would have been a handy chap to have around. Not all the ruffians in the Metropolis know or care how to deal with those of superior upbringing, which of course someone in my position would strike them as.

On our journey I lay upon my bed and pondered just how we were going to get our hands on the contents of that damned box.
So far, with the exception of a small remote place in Morocco (but that's another story entirely), I have managed to refrain from robbing banks, even breaking into them and stealing some papers would bring the law down pretty quick and hard should I be discovered.
Still, with Pevancy's concealed threat I figured i'd have the law to face if I didn't try. Despite the tension I felt, I managed to sleep well.

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Journal of an English Lord

Post by Keeper » Thu Mar 10, 2011 11:40 am

Journal of an English Lord

8th February 1984

A bloody cold morning! Punishment for the mild winter we'd been having in London.

JP and I took a cab from the station to the bank and I studied both the route and the possible alternate methods and approaches to the bank, should we require a stealthy retreat.

I decided, once we were outside of the bank that perhaps I ought to scope it out some more, get a look inside, even go so far as opening an account or renting a deposit box of my own.

JP, in his flamboyant and bohemian suit was of course not conservative enough for a bank so our first priority was to get him new, less noteworthy attire.
With the crass and obnoxious Lacotte still fresh in my memory I half expected JP the dandy to object, but he quite understood and I found the level of intellect and general common sense reassuring.

It was whilst we were at the tailors, and he was making some final adjustments to JP's suit that an officer of the law approached us. This plain clothes detective, a sergeant, requested that we accompany him to the local station.
At first my guard was up, after all I was aware of no crime that could be committed by the purchase of new clothing, however I saw no point in creating a scene and so we accompanied him as requested.

At the station we were taken into an interview room where eventually a rather broad fellow entered. His bulk was impressive, his arms and legs hissed ever so quiety as he moved belying their cybernaughtic nature. I was unsure but at least two of his four limbs had been replaced.

Dressed well in a fashion often shown on ex military men when they return to civilian life, he had the addition of an authoritative forbearing.
His name was von Stauffenberg, an Englishman long descended from German stock. His speech and mannerisms confirmed my original suspicions towards his soldiering background.
He revealed that he had been sent to us by Lord Pevancy.
Really? Was that to aid us, or to spy on us? Or perhaps both?
Was this man another upon whom Pevancy had some illicit knowledge and was using that to force the man into service? I hoped so. That way at least, he would be a little more trustworthy than if he was one of the peers goons. Another option of course was that Pevancy was desperate for us to succeed and seeing that our erstwhile bodyguard had gone awol, then he'd pulled some strings to get someone here who could offer us some genuine protection.
If that were the case then he was a better choice than the other fellow!

Now, I'm not normally a snob, my other vocation means I deal with all walks of life and Jimmy Ambrose and Sebastian Reynolds count many a lower class person amongst their friends. In fact some certainly rate higher than many of my upper class friends.
Like I say, I'm not normally a snob but Lacotte really had pissed me off.

That aside we eventually made it to the bank, von Stauffenberg in tow.
I took out a lease on a deposit box in which I place a few trivial items and my pistol. You never knew when something like that would come in handy.

Whilst the clerk was out I located the box number that the clue hinted at. Out of interest I entered the same number into the combination lock and hey-presto – one open box. Inside was a briefcase, which I took.
Whatever was in that case was going to have to wait until I was back in my rail-car.

Our journey back to the station was more convenient thanks to von Stauffenberg's steam-car and was spiced up thanks to our discovery that we were being followed. JP seems to have some uncanny sixth sense.
It was a zep-car with some sort of ether connection. JP, in a rather hasty move took a tab and managed to chase them off. Unfortunately we then had to wait for him to wake up. We put him in one of the small guest rooms upon my rail car.

Whilst we waited for the train that would take us back to London I perused the documents.
At first glance they were essentially a family tree pointing out evidence that Eddison Greywall was in fact the twentieth in line to the thrown.
An eyebrow was raised, but the I looked closer at the documents and found them to be a forgery. In fact the documents contained scientific notes and studies by a Dr Sullivan Bennet on the production and operation of a device known as an ether prime-converter.

Essentially it was a machine that could manipulate ether into any form and then convert it into prime reality substance.

By God! The potential was huge! The ether was essentially the stuff of dreams, yet here was a way of making those dreams a reality.

I couldn't help the cold shudder that ran through me. Whoever got their hands on a device like this would have untold power.
You could make anything from nothing. Bloody Hell! The Luddites would have a heart attack over something like this.

Here we were, in the heart of the Empire's industrial capital, and I held in my hand a document that could take British industry to a level beyond anyone's dreams, but at the same time it would ruin the lives of so many who relied on those labour intensive industries for their very survival.

This was of course not to mention the military applications of this device.

I decided there and then that this was too much ppower for any one man, or even any one nation.
Instantly I set about replicating some of the pages with much of the details changed. I slipped these excellent forgeries into the document and hid the originals behind a panel on the train.

It took me a long night's work but I got there.

We arrived in London somewhere around two in the morning.

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Re: The Chronicles of Sebastian J. Reynolds

Post by Keeper » Mon Mar 14, 2011 11:58 am

Journal of an English Lord

9th February 1984


I was dog tired when we arrived in Paddington having only had a few hours sleep.

We found that there were several unsavoury types hanging around and paying particular attention to my rail car.
I had Sam create a diversion whilst we slipped away, however the thugs were covering that exit too.
Saffenburg then took diplomacy to the next level and confronted the men head on.
A third man waiting further down the platform scampered and that made me nervous of heading out that way.
In the end, once von Staffenburg had rejoined us we nipped in through the Royal Mail office in the hope that this route was not being watched.

We thought of heading to my town house but in another of JP's miraculous 'feelings' he believed Greywall to be in danger so it was decided that we should make for Peckham forthwith.

Well our arrival there in the small hours was none too soon.
The locals were remarkably quiet this evening with the exception of a few ladies of the night and their 'managers'.
Staffenburg had an altercation with one of these fellows, I know not why, and so JP and I proceeded on to Greywall's place.

There was a number of rough looking individuals outside the main door obviously standing guard, so JP and I approached from an oblique direction.

I scaled the pipework to an accessible balcony, however JP was less adept at this and brought upon himself some unwanted attention from these unsavoury characters.

Luckily for me I managed to remain out of sight, hidden above them despite my near bungled attempt at gaining the aforementioned balcony.

I have to say that as far as stealthy entrances to places I should not be going, this was not my finest performance.

JP unfortunately tried to bluff his way out but was called out and a confrontation ensued.
Well, I had one thing to be grateful for; late night gunfire in Peckham rarely brought the police in until after the sun had come up.
The fight was frantic and I could tell that JP was, like me, not one for open conflict of this sort.
Now, it struck me with irony, would have been a good moment to have had Lacotte around.

It was lucky then, that JP was armed!

Well, with the ructions potentially waking the neighbourhood and potentially calling reinforcements from whichever gang these men were affiliated with, I proceeded into the apartments.
Once more I found luck, in that the resident of my particular entranceway remained sound asleep. I did wonder for a brief moment if, with all the noise outside, whether he might not be dead!
I was still several floors below Greywall's rooms and so I made there with all the haste that stealth would allow, slowing only as I came to that level.

There was a man just to one side of Graywall's door, he seemed pre-occupied. I used this to my advantage and made a stealthy approach.
Knowing these men had a propensity for violence I struck first, from behind, plunging a fat bladed screwdriver into the man's throat, penetrating his voice box and thus preventing him from yelling.
Surprisingly he struggled very little and I managed to get him to the ground quietly.

The sight inside Greywall's apartment was not good to see. The gentleman himself was laying on the floor, a bloodied corpse, whilst a brutish thug of a man was rooting through his belongings. He was taken aback by my arrival and very cautious as he stared at the business end of my pistol.
Our conversation was short and unproductive and so, with thoughts of my own security in mind I shot the man dead.

It was then that I heard the faintest of groans from Greywall. He was not dead despite appearances.
By now JP and von Stauffenberg had arrived and they had some of the gang behind them.

An almighty gunfight broke out as our mechanical man (had I not mentioned that Stauffenberg was an ex-military man who for reasons I can only guess were caused during some conflict, now has cybernaughtic limbs?) held them at bay despite becoming severly wounded himself.

I hefted Greywall's beaten form into my arms and carried him out, having already called for rescue!

Having little stomach for the continued fight the gang ran, no doubt having performed enough to justify their withdrawal so they could report the event to their master – some fellow of nasty reputation down near the river.

Sam turned up in good time and I exchanged places with him, driving the steam car back to Knightsbridge while he used his first-aid knowledge on the injured.

On the way I rang Dr Chase, requesting he meet us at my home. Thankfully the cheerful ex-navy surgeon was more than willing to be of assistance.

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Re: The Chronicles of Sebastian J. Reynolds

Post by Keeper » Mon Mar 14, 2011 9:59 pm

Journal of an English Lord

10th February 1984

It was a late start this morning and I don't mind admitting (in the pages of this journal at least) that I was feeling stiff and aching.
Despite my alternate lifestyle I feel the luxuries of my public life are making me soft.

It was for this reason, I believe, that I found last night's activities so invigorating. I was glad of the action.

Dr Chase informed me that Greywall was doing fine, as was the hardy von Stauffenberg, or Bull to his friends.

I sat with JP and Greywall towards lunchtime and discussed our options.
It would seem the documents were sought by not only Pevancy, but other unsavoury types too. Someone thought the were valuable enough to kill Greywall for too.

We decided that none of us were comfortable with the thought of this device falling into anyone's hands, let alone the enemies of Britain.
We would instead turn this document into the ultimate practical joke.
Instead of plans and calculations for the Prime Converter, we would create a forgery which would contain a complex series of Ether Programs, each more dubious than the next and culminating in two figures, identical to Greywall and Art, essentially mooning whoever went to the expense of creating the Ether domain from the code!

Greywall seemed to like the idea saying it would have been right up Art's street.

At this point it seemed the day would be a busy one, and none of us were wrong on that account.

JP and I returned once more to Walkers and were successful in enlisting the Mr Pink's assistance with the etherscope programming. He informed us that he would have the code to us in two days.

After this we travelled to see Carter Brookman, a forger of great repute.
This involved a trip through the sewers for JP and myself in my Jimmy Ambrose guise.
Carter was, like pink, keen to assist, and £700 and four days was all that was required.

Four Days... there was nothing for it! A trip to sunny Spain should do it.

JP called Pevency to inform him of our journey and I tried to trace the call through the etherscope. Good Lord! It was an extremely rough ride and I got dumped out with nothing but a thunderous headache for my efforts.
Four days in Spain, I suspected, would heal those hurts.

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Re: The Chronicles of Sebastian J. Reynolds

Post by Keeper » Mon Mar 14, 2011 10:04 pm

Journal of an English Lord

11th - 16th February 1984

Of course, four days in Spain means six days away from good old Blighty, as I hadn't factored travelling time into my original calculations.
I guess Pevancy must have been pacing a groove in the carpet waiting for us to contact him again.

I must admit that I was half expecting trouble on our trip, but having told Pevancy that we were going to Barcelona and in fact going to Madrid, things seemed to go very smoothly.

JP and Bull had a good time I believe, with Bull wooing a few Spanish ladies with his war stories and I dread to think how JP managed, although judging by his stable back home he seems to have a way with the ladies.

It was whilst I was over there that I came to review my own outlook.
Women had always seemed to me to be an annoying distraction. Don't get me wrong, I'm no whoopsy, and have often partaken of the pleasures of a woman's flesh, but in the long term I have had no desire to settle.
I suppose I must, to stop tongues wagging, and it is expected of a man in my position to provide an heir to my station.
My biggest concern would be on finding a woman of suitable stature who would accept my 'other' side.
It was going to be hard enough keeping my nocturnal activities from an overly nosey society, and bringing a woman into the equation, especially a society woman, would make the subterfuge even harder.
Yet my father did it, hence my existence, and his father before him. I figured that I'd have to look in that direction soon enough if I was to pass my skills on.

However, my young sister has a small boy, my nephew, I could always fall back on him. I'm sure sis would be delighted!

After four rather productive days in Spain, during which I renewed some old acquaintances and forged new ones, as did Jimmy Ambrose, it was time to return to England.
This was a mixed blessing as both JP and myself were as pink as freshly cooked lobster!
Having our own chemist along with us certainly had its benefits, as he concocted a slave that soothed the skin and took away the sting.
He's like a twentieth century alchemist.

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Re: The Chronicles of Sebastian J. Reynolds

Post by Keeper » Mon Mar 14, 2011 10:10 pm

Journal of an English Lord

17th February 1984.

Upon our return to England we discovered that the code and the forged documents had all been delivered to my Knightsbridge address.

We took our time and I arranged for a meeting with Pevancy at the SEP QORUM Club, one of my regular haunts. Actually it was my father's haunt really and he took me there on occasion.
When he passed away I was invited to take his place on the members list.
It's not a bad place to go if you want to get things done without all that annoying bureaucracy the civil servants insist on generating.

We arranged the meeting place carefully and I was fully expecting trouble. However the meeting went well and Pevancy seemed pleased with our efforts.
There were three things to come from today that struck me as things upon which to ponder...

Firstly Pevancy seemed not to have, or at least showed no sign of any knowledge of our deception, which brings me to thinking he might not be as omnipotent as I had built him up to be in my own mind.
I suppose, upon reflection, that being as discreet a fellow as Lord Pevancy is, means he has to act discreetly.

Another thing, which Bull hinted at, is that he might not actually be acting wholly in an official capacity, in which case he'd have to think carefully on whom it was he brought into the game.
Food for thought.

Secondly, Pevancy mentioned, almost in an off handed manner, like he wanted it said so he could profess to being open about it, and almost so's we wouldn't notice, that he might have future use of me.

Like bloody hell, he will! If the pumped up bastard thinks he's going to use me as his whipping boy then he's got another damned thing coming.
It has been a few years since i've had to resort to such devices but i'm not afraid to remove someone if I find the necessity for it.
Lest he forgets, I am a damned good thief and the only difference between me and an assassin is the fact that I tend to take a man's property, not his life. But I could be persuaded.

Perhaps a polite inquiry with the palace might not go amiss in my endeavours to uncover the man's true identity.

**

after our dealings with Pevancy were over, we went our separate ways, each with our own agenda's it would seem.
Von Stauffenberg wanted to do some digging on this Brom character, in fact I think he was itching for a fight. JP wanted to check in with his girls and I wanted to find out what had happened to the good doctor and creator of the dreadful Prime converter. It would seem a waste of my effort in keeping the plans for such a device hidden if someone had already made a working model.

I also wanted to track down Pevancy and make sure one way or another that I wasn't going to have him bothering me again.

I ran a bath and was relaxing nicely when Sam knocked with my ether-comm.

It was JP. He informed me solemnly that one of his girls had met with an untimely demise in the early hours of this morning and that he believed this to be a message to him.
He feared that Brom, whose men we had had a run in with almost a week ago, had come looking for him.

Brom? Maybe...
if it was him then, so far, I have managed to avoid witness from his men and I considered it safer, for the time being, that Lord Reynolds remained out of this.

Jimmy Ambrose arrived in the Shaftsbury Inn, his nails dirty, coal dust smeared upon his face and his clothes those of an 'honest' working man.
The barman showed me through to where JP was performing an analysis on the victim's blood with some very clever and expensive looking equipment.

After a brief explanation of the woman's murder he led me to the body.
She had been strangled yet there was in addition to the bruising on her throat, a pair of puncture marks on her neck, as though she had received injections.
JP remarked that he had found some unexpected markers in her blood.

I checked her body for other signs of violence – there were none.
I asked about a necklace, as woman tended to wear them these days. Yes, she had worn one, a locket. It was not on her body when she was found.
I suggested that perhaps JP should get one of the local urchins to look around the local pawn brokers and see if it had turned up.

Then looking at the late hour I suggested that after our long day it might be an idea for us to sleep.

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Re: The Chronicles of Sebastian J. Reynolds

Post by Keeper » Wed Mar 30, 2011 9:55 pm

Journal of an English Lord

18th February 1984

It was in the early hours of the morning that I awoke, long before the sun broke over the horizon.
I ventured downstairs in the hope of finding the kitchen and making myself some breakfast. It seemed I was not the only early riser.
Jody, one of JP's more reliable girls had been out scouring the local pawn shops for the murdered Lilly's missing necklace.

What she returned with surprised us.

The necklace had apparently been placed into an envelope by the man who deposited it with the pawn broker, with the instruction not to open it and to hand it over to whoever came looking for the necklace. Alongside the jewellery was a piece of mistletoe. Significance? There was much conjecture but we were unable to come up with an explanation.

Of course this new development got us all rather jumpy, I must say. I considered it a good idea to pay an unannounced visit to the pawn brokers.

The directions Jody gave me were were easy to follow and I found myself in the street without incident.
Suspicious of being observed by our perpetrator I was cautious, employing as many of the surveillance-countermeasures my father had taught me as I could.

Breaking in was easy, in comparison to some places I have tried, although my shoulder still ached from my near miss in trying to get onto Greywall's apartment block.

I startled the old fellow who was the proprietor of that establishment and although I felt slightly guilty at rocking his faith in what he believed to be his secure fortress, it was a good lesson to him.

From the broker's I procured some moving images via the rather crude and basic scope imagers, of a tall man in a long coat with the collar turned up high and wearing a wide brimmed hat so that his features were always removed from the view of the camera, like he knew where the devices were.

As we viewed the ether images back at the Shaftsbury, von Stauffenberg and Lacotte turned up. Lacotte? Good of him to put in an appearance I suppose.

JP and I were briefing the pair on recent events when we were interrupted by a man from the police. It seemed that despite JP's efforts to keep Lilly's death quiet, news was getting out.
Then the delectable Jody came in, her face ashen white.
The mere gravity of her expression was enough to alert is to the horror about which she then informed us.
My first thoughts were that another of JP's girls had been murdered but alas, it was nothing so mundane.

The young street urchins, to whom JP had spoken just the previous evening about the whore's death, had themselves been killed in a most hideous manner; tied by their ankles and beaten to death whist fighting off the blows with their bare hands.

My god how my stomach churned at the sight of it. I felt sure that it was an image I would never be able to rid myself of.

From our crude investigations we were unable to identify their assailant(s), however, more and more the conversation was steered towards Brom and his gang. Upon reflection I now realise that it was mostly von Stauffenberg who seemed most eager to be confronting the crime boss.

And so it was then that by night fall I found myself, against my better judgement and being carried along by reactionary reasoning, a few streets away from the Foraging Ferret, a well known haunt for some of Brom's lieutenants.

We had a plan, of sorts, to capture one of Brom's men and extort information from him.

Unsurprisingly, von Stauffenberg announced that he would go in thee front door and create a scene.
Lacotte would be waiting out back for anyone coming out that way, whilst JP was in the car waiting to pump untold chemicals into our captive in order to force his responsiveness.
I in the mean time was to approach from some way off and linger to run down any attempt to call in reinforcements or capture any that got away.

Things seemed to be going smoothly until I noticed a sentry in the alleyway beside the pub.
He only needed to spot the car to grow suspicious and off he'd go and fetch back-up.
I decided to try and take him down quietly. When I got close I realised that he was a big bugger. There was no way I'd get the better of this one in a fair fight.
I coaxed him into a better situation for myself, with the intention of bopping him on the head with the axe handle I have strapped to my shoulder pack.
It was a good ploy and would have worked perfectly had I not missed him entirely.

He pulled a knife and I knew I was for it. Nervous speed guided my actions as I dropped the handle and drew my pistol.
This was a new one, given me just before we came here. A silenced revolver no less. How von Stauffenberg had obtained two such items intrigued me.
I wasted no time in dispatching the man. The gun itself is more deadly than it appears.
So close to his head was I that the shot damned well blew the entire back of his head out.
There was just the dull click of the hammer striking the pin to announce the discharge and the man's bodily fluids splattering the alley floor behind him made more noise.
When the body had crumpled to the ground, the remains of his head striking the cobbles with a sound akin to a soaked towel dropped from an upper window onto a hard floor, I had to turn away as the bile rose and I expelled my lunch upon the pavement.

It took me a moment or two to recover my wits. This was the second time in as many weeks I had killed a man, and although I felt guilt, I also felt justified in my actions. Then, I suppose ones does when one's own life is in the balance.

No sooner than I had removed the corpse from general view then Von Stauffenberg was outside looking rather discombobulated.
He had, it turns out, received a call upon his ether-comm from his superiors informing him of Lord Pevancy's dispatch of a team to the Great Metropolis and also to tell him to “stop horsing around with the locals”.

A day or so previous we had discovered that the good Dr Sullivan Bennett had moved from his London address up to the Great Metropolis. It could have been nothing, or it could have been Pevancy chasing after a prototype of the doctor's device.

I admit that I was relieved. I was yet to be convinced of Brom's part in the murders of JP's whore and the children. Although I wanted justice I wanted it to be enacted upon the right culprit.

Lacotte, I knew, was to the rear of the pub, so I made to warn him of our withdrawal.
Not yards from the end of the alleyway I heard his distinctive voice below out a profane challenge to someone I had not yet seen.

As I neared the end, still enshrouded in darkness and hidden from their view I saw the thugs and what must have been a lieutenant of Brom's in the road beyond.

The cat was well and truly out of the bag now. I heard a scuffle and saw the expression on their faces change from indignant outrage to fear.
One of the men made a move that appeared to be him going for a gun.
The silenced pistol, a remarkably accurate weapon by the way, was employed again.
The man fell. His colleagues, not knowing from whence the shot had come bolted in panic down the alley towards me.

They had seen Lacotte. They were about to stumble across a grotesque corpse.
If I let them go now would reach Brom. Lacotte's description would therefore reach him, and how long would it be then before he was willing to pay the big brute a visit? How many of the youngsters that Lacotte had in his care at our original meeting would be hurt or worse because of this? There had been enough killing of children to my mind.
And what of myself? My household as yet has remained outside of event, unknown. What if Lord Reynolds was somehow connected to Lacotte, or of course the big oaf were to 'dob' me in? I wouldn't blame him, if it meant saving the little ones.
However it would put my own household in danger. Yes there would be my good name, but it would be unlikely Brom would try anything against a peer, however he would be less worried about striking at my staff.

No, for the sake of a few scum-bag peasants there was too much at risk. So I shot them as they passed, their bodies mounting up in the dark, cobbled alley.

Again it is not something I considered to be a pleasant course of action, but given the alternative, what choice was there?

By now the lieutenant, unaware of the fate of his thugs, was in conversation with Lacotte. He had recognised the fighter and was trying to diffuse the situation.

The man had recognised Lacotte? Sweet Jesus, what a mess!
Now that the initial conversation was over and Lacotte's temper had ebbed he declared that he could not bring himself to kill the man.

Well given my previous concerns, I had no such qualms about removing all witnesses.

Lacotte seemed much aggrieved by my actions. I could not blame him, the poor uneducated fool could only see the here and now. The bigger picture was probably too much for him to comprehend.
Big and strong and honourable to and extent he may be, but it is a good job I have intellect and wit enough for the both of us.

Meeting up with von Stauffenberg and JP we returned to Knightsbridge where we decided it might be prudent to leave the capital for a while. We had another possible fight elsewhere.

After ensuring the JP's girls were removed to a secure hotel, we booked passage to the Great Metropolis.

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Re: The Chronicles of Sebastian J. Reynolds

Post by Keeper » Mon Apr 04, 2011 8:20 pm

Journal of an English Lord

19th February 1984

With the decision to head north, I was relieved. I had been uncomfortable about “taking the fight” to Brom in case that man had nothing to do with our problems.

However, from von Stauffenberg's news I gathered that Pevancy's mission in the Metropolis was 'official' business.
We would ave to tread carefully up there if we were going to interfere with official business.

Well. I happened upon a perfectly legitimate reason for heading to the metropolis myself.

Having a rail car is fine on its own, but I have to rely on the posted services. What I really wanted was a locomotive with matching rolling stock. The design I looked for was being manufactured up in the Metropolis, somewhere between the Manchester and Liverpool districts.
I placed an order through the correct channels with a view to inspecting their examples and deciding on the finishing touches when I arrived in a few days.

For something of this nature then, it would be completely plausible that Lord Reynolds would be going north. And why would he not take his latest acquaintances along too. After all, there's nothing the aristocracy likes more than showing their superiority to their peers!

**

JP having booked passage upon an airship for us all, we relaxed.
There was some concern that our high-collared adversary might have agents or himself be persuing us and following us aboard.
Alternatively there could have been someone from Pevancy's crowd.

Although expecting trouble we in fact had a sedate flight until Greywall called me.

The elderly gentleman remains a guest at Knightsbridge and has been using his convalescence to look through Art's old things.
He came across something strange and contacted my ether-comm.
What he had for us was a domain co-ordinate within the scope.
JP was able to craft a tab to take him there and so I joined him. Or so I thought...

I appeared alone in a hallway of some old stately home by the looks of it. The alone part concerned me.
I could hear voices, as of children, perhaps? I made in the direction of those voices.
Now I entered a large room I which suits of armour stood like silent sentries and other artefacts were displayed on shelves and in cases.
My eye was drawn towards a singular looking long-knife in one of the display cases.
It looked valuable, and my awareness of the scope around me revealed that this was more than just a superficial value.
As soon as I touched the weapon it bound itself to my avatar. I knew then that my suspicions were correct. Time would tell if this was a good ting or not.

I could hear the voices again but this time some distance away. I also sensed JP's presence.

Breaking through the architecture itself I came to a dark lounge.
JP was there, seated in front of a blazing fire... and so too was 'High Collar Man'.

Upon seeing me he was gone in an instant, and all that remained was a crown made of mistletoe upon the chair beside JP.

Again I heard the voices but JP said he heard nothing and seemed more interested in this place. He seemed to think it was familiar.
We moved out of the room, further into the house and Jp finally hit on it – this was one of the orphanages in which he stayed when he was a child.
We wondered if this place had been built to high collar man's design? If so then there was a very good chance that High Collar Man (whom I shall henceforth denote as HCM, or at least until such time as we discover his true identity) could have resided at the same establishment.

I said nothing to JP at the time and as an educated man I would like to think that he would have come to the same conclusion, but if this was the case then HCM's motives were likely aimed directly at JP and not as the ultimate plans of a Peckham crime boss.

I wanted to find this place secret and asked JP where they would have kept things securely within the orphanage. He told me of the safe within the study and led me there.

I found the safe behind a large picture mounted on the wall. After disarming the traps and alarms I then concentrated on the safe. It took a while but I managed to get the door open.
Inside the safe was a solitary item. A very singular photograph of a group of the orphanages previous residents. I asked if there was a chance that he would recognise any of them. His response surprised me – he was one of them.

I heard the young one's voices again and this time wasted no time in rushing out into the corridor. JP declared that he heard nothing, and once in the hallway, saw nothing.
I on the other hand saw something that disturbed me greatly.
There was one of the young lads we had discovered yesterday morning, dead and beaten upon a London rooftop, yet his quite obviously alive form was here now, yet only I could see him? That meant that he wasn't some sort of scope program thrown in here by HCM to give us the heeby-geebies. This was my own personal delusional.
This was strange, yes, but also begged the question – was I creating this form in my own psyche, as some sort of projection, in fact had I helped create this place and those in it?
No. it could not be that. This was a place from JP's past, not mine.
It would certainly be a very outstanding piece of scope-geneering indeed to have a place form and shape the ether from one's own mind and memories.
But that's not how the scope works, is it?

It was about now that JP's tab wore off and he faded away. Just as another thought came to my mind, one of rumours and superstition that I had heard and dismissed heartily before. The thought of ghosts.
I decided that it was probably best not to stay here alone and so I jacked out.

What we saw upon waking within our cabin aboard the airsip caused us some alarm and sent a chill down my spine.
Lacotte, the who should have been watching over our prone forms was fast asleep in a chair. Upon the chair beside him lay a crown formed from Mistletoe!

Good Lord! That meant the HCM had been in here.
After admonishing Lacotte there was little else we could do.

Oddlly I felt a little bit better about the affair. If HCM had wanted to kill us the opportunity had been there for him to do just that, yet he hadn't – why?

There was nothing more to be done at this point so I decided to slep for the rest of the journey.

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Intrusion

Post by arcanus » Sat Apr 30, 2011 6:52 pm

The Baron of Roboroughs London Townhouse
Inspector Giles of Scotland Yard graciously accepted the brandy brought for him by Sam, Reynolds butler was in a foul mood.

They were learning the darker consequence of The Game, whilst away in The Great Metropolis Lord Reynolds Townhouse had been burgled, in itself upsetting
but nothing that couldn't be replaced.
The grievous issues were that his gardener had been beaten and knocked out, his cook scared out of her wits and Edison Greywall stolen away in the night.

However unbeknowst to the Inspector the Blue Prints were safe, although Reynolds was unsure whether that had been their intent.
Wearily he finished providing the Inspector with any and all details that he could and commited to retiring to Maristow House to recuperate and regroup.

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