Jackson Point, Chicago Shoreline – Lake Michigan
The building was a huge star shaped arrangement standing on the shore of Lake Michigan to the north of Chicago, each point or arm a wing.
Positioned on top of the most easterly wing stood a four story building, contained within which was an office, a typical Victorian affair, worthy of any Railroad Baron or magnate.
The man who stood looking out upon the fog shrouded waters of Lake Michigan was neither, something altogether greater and yet in a way a prisoner of his own power.
His only living companion was a young man assigned by the Pinkertons to protect him, a man who now understood far more of the Universe than any detective.
The Pinkerton Barton watched as the clouds raced past, this continuing for several minutes before relative normality settled, in the 5 years at the museum he’d learned to wait such things out and that they had a significance.
The third thing he had learned was not to talk to the curator during such events.
“The balance has shifted?” he enquired
The curator was a man of anywhere above late forties, dressed in a smart black suit of 1870s period, dark brown hair greased neatly to one side, a well-trimmed moustache gave him authenticity and bright intense black eyes revealed the intellect within.
A faint smile played across his lips “Very astute Mr Barton” he replied without mocking
“Raven has called a great one across the void”
“That’s good isn’t it, well not good what he’s done but an opportunity!” fumbled Barton
“Yes, however I have already had to intervene, they acted unexpectedly”
“So things are even stevens” replied Barton, another knowing smile in response
“No the balance technically lies within us, however the Reckoners influence is strong, we must wait for them to act in our stead, Raven however no longer cares about the balance his gambit is all or nothing, death for the world or his own destruction”
“Damn, this feels real helpless” cursed the Pinkerton
“Yes it is frustrating, however to intervene further weakens our defences here and they must not gain access, let us hope they continue on their path and find the equation before it is too late”
The Interdimensional Campaign of The Third Snowdon Fusiliers
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arcanus
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arcanus
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The Interdimensional Campaign of The Third Snowdon Fusiliers
New York - October 11th 1876
The events which occurred upon the night of October 11th 1876 will be forever etched upon my mind.
Having shared my concerns by means of correspondence with Lord Roborough Sir Jennings and myself nether the less set upon our task of enlisting aid with stalwart determination.
Jennings would have nothing my concerns despite my best attempts at showing him evidence of the night time visitations, truthfully I thought him in denial as the rather cheap upholstery had been slashed by some demented knifeman.
I was however successful in persuading that we may have more opportunity in Chicago, he required little further discussion and we made haste to the Union Blue East Coast line, I swear upon all I hold dear the very shadows of New York seemed to follow us.
The events which occurred upon the night of October 11th 1876 will be forever etched upon my mind.
Having shared my concerns by means of correspondence with Lord Roborough Sir Jennings and myself nether the less set upon our task of enlisting aid with stalwart determination.
Jennings would have nothing my concerns despite my best attempts at showing him evidence of the night time visitations, truthfully I thought him in denial as the rather cheap upholstery had been slashed by some demented knifeman.
I was however successful in persuading that we may have more opportunity in Chicago, he required little further discussion and we made haste to the Union Blue East Coast line, I swear upon all I hold dear the very shadows of New York seemed to follow us.
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arcanus
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The Interdimensional Campaign of The Third Snowdon Fusiliers
Dark Powers - Reynolds
The clipped tones of the butcher, melted away as Sebastian Reynolds was consumed by a crushing cloying darkness as if suddenly submerged in treacle, he silently screamed as tendrils struck into his temples squirming around in his head.
He found himself standing before an old arched stone bridge, each octagonal stone tile bearing a mark or glyph, the night sky was illuminated by the flickering orange of flames below, peering over the walls of the bridge revealed an ocean of liquid lava below.
Behind him the bridge seemed to be built out of nothing or infinity 'No way to go back' he thought to himself, beyond the bridge he could see movement although the stinging particles of debris prevented any close inspection or detail to be revealed.
Within the front of his mind he could hear the whimpering of a terrified man, a man whom he considered a close friend George Canarvon
The clipped tones of the butcher, melted away as Sebastian Reynolds was consumed by a crushing cloying darkness as if suddenly submerged in treacle, he silently screamed as tendrils struck into his temples squirming around in his head.
He found himself standing before an old arched stone bridge, each octagonal stone tile bearing a mark or glyph, the night sky was illuminated by the flickering orange of flames below, peering over the walls of the bridge revealed an ocean of liquid lava below.
Behind him the bridge seemed to be built out of nothing or infinity 'No way to go back' he thought to himself, beyond the bridge he could see movement although the stinging particles of debris prevented any close inspection or detail to be revealed.
Within the front of his mind he could hear the whimpering of a terrified man, a man whom he considered a close friend George Canarvon
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arcanus
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The Interdimensional Campaign of The Third Snowdon Fusiliers
Dark Powers - Raz
The patronising dialogue of the butcher, melted away as Raz'real Sephirol surrounded by utter darkness and silence, he felt the floor beneath his feet drop away and he plummeted into the void, he tried to sing then scream a verse to stop his descent however nothing came.
He landed with a tremendous thud on a forest floor, several ribs shattering in the process.
Painfully climbing to his feet, his acute hearing picking up a distant braying a sense of panic settled over him, uncharacteristic considering his usual confidence and resoluteness, as the braying grew closer.
He tried to sing once again, his mouth painful he reached up with his hand only to find it stitched closed.
The patronising dialogue of the butcher, melted away as Raz'real Sephirol surrounded by utter darkness and silence, he felt the floor beneath his feet drop away and he plummeted into the void, he tried to sing then scream a verse to stop his descent however nothing came.
He landed with a tremendous thud on a forest floor, several ribs shattering in the process.
Painfully climbing to his feet, his acute hearing picking up a distant braying a sense of panic settled over him, uncharacteristic considering his usual confidence and resoluteness, as the braying grew closer.
He tried to sing once again, his mouth painful he reached up with his hand only to find it stitched closed.
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arcanus
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Re: The Interdimensional Campaign of The Third Snowdon Fusil
Dark Powers - Tiley
Mistrustful of the butchers tone Xavier Tiley stood fast as whirling forms of dark smoke hurtled at him from each corner of the room, he tumbled head over heels, his motion and orientation completely bewildered as if caught in some oily tide.
He quickly awoke, pain hit him from several dozen cuts and lacerations he stood before a horde of black skeletal creatures, each carrying a blade and wearing the remnant uniform of some forgotten army, behind him lay the unconscious possible dead form of Nirie, Tileys heart leapt and his anger rose.
Mistrustful of the butchers tone Xavier Tiley stood fast as whirling forms of dark smoke hurtled at him from each corner of the room, he tumbled head over heels, his motion and orientation completely bewildered as if caught in some oily tide.
He quickly awoke, pain hit him from several dozen cuts and lacerations he stood before a horde of black skeletal creatures, each carrying a blade and wearing the remnant uniform of some forgotten army, behind him lay the unconscious possible dead form of Nirie, Tileys heart leapt and his anger rose.
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arcanus
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The Interdimensional Campaign of The Third Snowdon Fusiliers
The Final Countdown
Collectively they could all sense the convergence, dark clouds gathered upon the horizon from their vantage point of the Church they could see the dark shapes circling the sky above the fort.
The flotilla was but an hour from Shellyville, the Union Blue dirigible squadron having turned West after following the safer coastal waters.
Raz grinned in anticipation, it always amazed Reynolds that a musician should relish the prospect of battle so much, indeed he himself always one to avoid open conflict now felt his blood being up, the thrill of the hunt.
Otto had completed the trebuchet let battle be joined.
***
In the wee small hours of the morning Raz awoke, it had been many lonely months since he'd last heard the symphony of his Queen, his Goddess he had thought himself forsaken, then finally he caught the note, her note and smiled, he knew the way.
The time was at hand
Collectively they could all sense the convergence, dark clouds gathered upon the horizon from their vantage point of the Church they could see the dark shapes circling the sky above the fort.
The flotilla was but an hour from Shellyville, the Union Blue dirigible squadron having turned West after following the safer coastal waters.
Raz grinned in anticipation, it always amazed Reynolds that a musician should relish the prospect of battle so much, indeed he himself always one to avoid open conflict now felt his blood being up, the thrill of the hunt.
Otto had completed the trebuchet let battle be joined.
***
In the wee small hours of the morning Raz awoke, it had been many lonely months since he'd last heard the symphony of his Queen, his Goddess he had thought himself forsaken, then finally he caught the note, her note and smiled, he knew the way.
The time was at hand
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arcanus
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The Interdimensional Campaign of The Third Snowdon Fusiliers
La Brujah Gorda, New Mexico
Night fell upon Shellyville and a wagon train of trebuchet trundled from the north of the town.
Deputy Preston nodded to Sheriff Darp and the pair headed in opposite directions dragging the siege engines and their missiles out onto the Coyote Plain separating the town and the ominous fort.
Otto watched from his vantage point at the top of the bell tower, his beyond human eyes gave him telescopic and daylight clear sight of the posse’s movement.
Behind the hill upon which the church stood floated the Union Blue dirigible, at Otto’s request a Gatling gun had been dismounted from the ship and installed on the roof of the church.
For an uncharacteristic moment Raz’eal Sephiroth was rather serious, it had taken a considerable amount of persuading to bypass Mary Foster’s grandmother, a of drenching, being threatened with a shotgun before he’d sung her to sleep.
Now he and Reynolds stood with Mary who for a small girl was incredibly calm, waiting for the signal, Raz felt a dark curtain fall across the land.
***
The Posse winced at every creak made by the trebuchets and wagons, until they finally reached their positions, each nervously watched the fort.
Otto concentrated his skitter floated at a height of a thousand feet above the fort, loaded with its digital payload ready to make its descent and deliver its bomb.
He frowned waves of entropic energy coursed across the Coyote Plain, he scanned the walls noting the shadowy figures and their orchestration of the energy.
***
Deputy Preston waited for the signal, his men were jittery collectively their fear was palatable, then he noticed the shapes so dark they were almost invisible as they shuffled across the ground towards them, to their right the ground crumbled and broke a hand clawing its way into the night.
“God have mercy on our souls” he whispered, “ALRIGHT BOYS WE STOP EM REACHIN THE CATAPULTS!”
Night fell upon Shellyville and a wagon train of trebuchet trundled from the north of the town.
Deputy Preston nodded to Sheriff Darp and the pair headed in opposite directions dragging the siege engines and their missiles out onto the Coyote Plain separating the town and the ominous fort.
Otto watched from his vantage point at the top of the bell tower, his beyond human eyes gave him telescopic and daylight clear sight of the posse’s movement.
Behind the hill upon which the church stood floated the Union Blue dirigible, at Otto’s request a Gatling gun had been dismounted from the ship and installed on the roof of the church.
For an uncharacteristic moment Raz’eal Sephiroth was rather serious, it had taken a considerable amount of persuading to bypass Mary Foster’s grandmother, a of drenching, being threatened with a shotgun before he’d sung her to sleep.
Now he and Reynolds stood with Mary who for a small girl was incredibly calm, waiting for the signal, Raz felt a dark curtain fall across the land.
***
The Posse winced at every creak made by the trebuchets and wagons, until they finally reached their positions, each nervously watched the fort.
Otto concentrated his skitter floated at a height of a thousand feet above the fort, loaded with its digital payload ready to make its descent and deliver its bomb.
He frowned waves of entropic energy coursed across the Coyote Plain, he scanned the walls noting the shadowy figures and their orchestration of the energy.
***
Deputy Preston waited for the signal, his men were jittery collectively their fear was palatable, then he noticed the shapes so dark they were almost invisible as they shuffled across the ground towards them, to their right the ground crumbled and broke a hand clawing its way into the night.
“God have mercy on our souls” he whispered, “ALRIGHT BOYS WE STOP EM REACHIN THE CATAPULTS!”
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arcanus
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Re: The Interdimensional Campaign of The Third Snowdon Fusil
The Bastion of Whitehall, London - 1905
The Bastion was a towering edifice of reinforced stone, rapidly constructed in the wake of the initial assault as much to wall out the scavengers as keep the remaining Martians from destroying what was left of the government and nobility.
A tall gentleman stood looking between the steel slatted windows out across the wreckage of South London, the first assault had brought the invaders north from Woking and Horsham Common.
They had boiled the Thames and then rained horror upon Lambeth and Southwall, relatively useless artillery exchanges had wrought more damage upon the city than the Martians.
The second assault had brought further misery, a cylinder cruising in from the east and smashing a path through Whitechapel, some satisfaction might have been gained if the invaders had perished in the impact however tripods soon emerged to add to the massacre.
Now some two years on the majority of the Martians were dead from Terras germs, however not all and the invaders had left other unpleasant surprises within the wreckage.
The Bastion was a towering edifice of reinforced stone, rapidly constructed in the wake of the initial assault as much to wall out the scavengers as keep the remaining Martians from destroying what was left of the government and nobility.
A tall gentleman stood looking between the steel slatted windows out across the wreckage of South London, the first assault had brought the invaders north from Woking and Horsham Common.
They had boiled the Thames and then rained horror upon Lambeth and Southwall, relatively useless artillery exchanges had wrought more damage upon the city than the Martians.
The second assault had brought further misery, a cylinder cruising in from the east and smashing a path through Whitechapel, some satisfaction might have been gained if the invaders had perished in the impact however tripods soon emerged to add to the massacre.
Now some two years on the majority of the Martians were dead from Terras germs, however not all and the invaders had left other unpleasant surprises within the wreckage.