The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Details and a record of the characters exploits, successes and failures within the Parallel Worlds.

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The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Sat Oct 01, 2011 9:36 pm

Etheria - 1987
Divergence Point: Robert Boyle discovers luminiferous aether is a conduit for raw elemental forces in 1689.
This enhances the progress of science and the British Crown and Empires of Europe for the next three Centuries,
continuing the Victorian Empire towards the 21st Century.
Lord Sebastian Reynolds turned from the distressed form laying in the bed, momentarily distracted by the sounds of Saturday night in the Crown capital.
Neon signs illuminated the sides of the hotels, theatres and music halls opposite the grand spectacle that was the Magdalene Theatre complex.

Three years in the making the three owners had a year ago purchased several neighbouring buildings on both sides of the old Theatre.
His contacts in Infinity had proved very resourceful following his using his formidable persuasive powers to explain that the complex would make an excellent home base of operations.

Jonathan Pope looked up from his perch upon the side of the bed, concern written across his chocolate coloured face, Doctor Nathaniel Chase calmly adjusted the twin drips that ran one into each arm.
One that drew a curious yellowy plasm out of the sweat covered girl whilst the other pumped her full of fortifying compounds.

Finally satisfied with his ministrations Chases turned to the Baron “And now all we can do is wait”
Reynolds nodded, strolled back to his baroque embroidered wing back chair, through the Magdalene's great attic windows he watched as a monolithic airship sailed majestically over North London before settling in for his night’s vigil.

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The Chronicle of Reynolds

Post by arcanus » Tue Oct 18, 2011 9:22 am

Etheria - 1987
The Grand Lounge, Magdalene Theatre Complex, Shaftesbury Avenue, The Crown Capital.

"He said what" blustered Lord Roborough, whereabouts Jillian Mammott had elected not to pass on the Infinity agents comments his staff were less discreet.
"I think all things considered we were the height of discretion" he grumbled to no one in particular.
Doctor Chase remained silent, while Sam merely regarded his employer calmly, he knew that Sebastian would seethe for a while, rationalise the matter as the comments
of someone of lower breeding and move on.

It was Kitty who broke his tirade "Anyways, what a'bout Moire?"
Reynold spun upon his heel, his face darkening then logic reasserting itself "Yes, of course"
Chase smiled, then frowned casting a suspicious look in JPs direction, the half coloured man merely replied through an enormous grin
"She is through the worst, the Plasm has now drained and her strength seems to be returning!" he said confidently
'Returning a little too quickly' he thought

Surveying the assembled players Sam once again allowed a momentary unnoticed smile before returning to stoic resolve.
"Wotz zat!" said Kitty, each of the party looked at the large glass canister sitting upon the lounge table.

The ectoplasm held within was swirling of its own violition, a sphere of fluid curling in upon itself
It was Jonny Pope who saw more than the others, a sensitive he saw within the sphere a pulse of faint light, tentatively stepping forwards
he placed his hand upon the canister, the others held their collective breaths.

Closing his eyes his minds eye he saw an old ornate bridge, there was a sense of familiarity, yes it was somewhere in the Capital, but what did it mean?

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The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Tue Nov 08, 2011 1:30 pm

Etheria - 1987
Maristow House, Lord Roboroughs Country Estate, The Tamar Valley.

Standing upon the side steps of the tradesman’s entrance to Maristow House, Danvers cast a baleful eye at the Aether Car as it circled in over the estates woodland.
Impeccably attired in his dress suit, he watched as the strange sail like blades sprouting from the undercarriage tilted and turned as if capturing some invisible force allowing a steady angle of descent.

Danvers was a no nonsense man, a lifelong faithful servant of the Reynolds family, particularly the current Lord Roboroughs late father, the latest turn up for the books had for the first time in living memory caused a considerable furore within Maristow House's servants quarters.
It wasn’t acceptable for the servants to be distracted and down below was a hotbed of idle titter tatter if they were allowed to get away with it, that was without the news that had arrived from Knightsbridge a week ago.

The Aether or Zepcar swung into a stop, hovering some ten feet above the gravel courtyard, its nose drifting up slightly as its driver then adjusted the fins, allowing a gradual descent to the floor.
Danvers wrinkled his nose at the ungodly machine and then equally at its driver.

Samuel Brocklesby powered down the car and smiled to himself in satisfaction he was starting to get the hang of flying it, he gave Danvers a small friendly wave which wasn’t returned, and in fact the Butler of Maristow House had gone from his normal stoic self to looking very unhappy, very unhappy indeed.

A quizzical look crossed Sam’s face, opening the door he stepped out, “Morning Danver’s”
“Morning Mr Brocklesby” replied the older man stiffly, Danvers never called him Mr, only ever a disdainful Brocklesby, Sam smiled, still confused and trudged around to the boot, promptly pulling out his luggage.

“His Lordship is travelling separately?” Danvers asked
“Yes, coming down on his train, you know how he loves his train and I see the station is coming on” he quipped back
“I’d rather you didn’t speak of Lord Roborough in such familiar terms” responded Danvers stonily
Sam frowned, it was irritating him that this man was trying to put him in a bad mood
“Alright man, out with it, whats wrong?” Sam’s true West Country accent bled to the fore
Danvers merely returned a glare
“Of course!" he exclaimed "The promotion, got your knickers in a twist have you!” Sam scolded shaking his head
A week ago Lord Reynolds had promoted him to Head of Household, a sort of senior Butler position, not that he could tell Danvers, but the real reason he’d done it was so that Sam wasn’t answerable to any of the servants within the Reynold’s family households.

With Sam’s increasing role of accompanying Reynolds on his little trips and the recent agent situation he’d wanted to close any loose ends, but Sam could see how this would upset Danvers.
“Look its gone nothing to do with Maristow, that’s your territory not mine, I’ve got no say here, Lord Roborough was quite clear on this!”
“We shall see Mr Brocklesby, we shall see!” and with that Danvers marched off leaving Sam with his luggage.
Shaking his head ‘It’s a pity you can’t see what goes on in London you stupid old bugger, then you’d realise I haven’t got time to deal with this as well as everything else’ he thought, looking up at the stony edifice of the great house.

It was going to be an interesting few days.

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The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Sat Nov 26, 2011 10:28 am

The Babbage Net - New London
Divergence Point: Robert Boyle discovers luminiferous Aether is a conduit for raw elemental forces in 1689.
Fuelled by scientific progress Charles Babbage aided by Ada Lovelace creates his Difference Engine, Lovelaces Paradigms develop into an entire virtual world.

The Babbage Net.
The usual orange sky suddenly changed, a lime green cast spread quickly across the heavens, deep dark green streaks forming the facsimile of clouds.
Sirens sounded across Babbage, most of its visitors were unconcerned nothing in the realms virtual could really hurt them, death here only dumped people unceremoniously back into the land of the living.

The Britannic Tower towered over the glittering jewel that was Babbages New London, Great Britannia had always enjoyed the most cutting edge Paradigms, it was only right that the birthplace of its creators should enjoy such prestige.
The tower extended thousands of feet above the virtual city, sculpted in the likeness of Britannia herself, with a hint of Queen Victoria drawn or carved into the facial features.
The Defender of the Crowns head slowly turned surveying the elemental territory beyond the walls, inside its head the administrators of New London watched the sky change.

Silvery domes covering the city shimmered into existence and turned opaque, fractions of a second before great waterspouts whipped up from the terrain and extended into the clouds.
Elemental storms were an unpleasant part of existence within Babbage.

The Hammond House Collection
Officers of the Charles Babbage Special Constabulary had more pressing concerns than the water elemental storm raging above, a bizarre side effect was that it had started to rain within the virtual grounds of the Collections Domain.

Non programmed weather was the least of their worries, great mechanical spiders carried marbled black columns and were slowly planting them in a circular perimeter surrounding the domain.
Inside the internal paradigms of the hall had been taken offline, something that had almost taken an act of Parliament to effect, however Lord Roborough’s voice carried more weight than one would have thought.

Babbage Constabulary Agent Hopkins barked at the government drones <MOVE, MOVE, MOVE>

[Why were Government Paradigms so damned slow] he thought
The Domains own perimeter defences were also activating, the picture perfect green lawn complete with stripes rippled and large maze like hedgerows springing up forming a perimeter wall.
Large stone dais rose from the ground, animated stone dragons stretched their wings and growled at the unseen invaders.

<Come on, come on> he buzzed in frustration, the Constabulary Agents all turned as the lights illuminating the outer hedgerow wall blinked out, followed by the next row.
<MOVE IT> they collectively bellowed, the black suited government avatars moved at an unhurried pace, as the huge mechanical spider drone drove the last column down into the ground.
As soon as this occurred the columns shuddered and transformed into solid black trees, the branches intertwining and then covering the Domain.

The lights completely died across the grounds, a dragon statue exploded and the darkness illuminated by the flickering of flames as a flight of butterflies created entirely of fire flowed through the defences.
The government avatars vanished, [Cowards] mentally swore Hopkins, who grew his Hardcode pistol and joined the barrage now cascading from his fellow agents, who were now retreating into the domain.

Razor edged clockwork cogs spat from their weapons, tearing into the column of fiery insects.
However the agents onslaught failed to prevent the insect code from reaching the foliage defences and setting them ablaze, the intertwined trees flaring.
The Agents stood fast, this was Government code it didn’t get much stronger, his attention drawn from the fire now raging across the defences surface, to the dozens upon dozens of small dark shapes hopping and leaping through the darkness of the grounds.

Hopkins nor his fellow Agents had never seen anything like them and prayed they never would again
<Control, inform the Yard we are besieged, the enemy force is a bloody great army>

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The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Thu Dec 01, 2011 8:48 pm

Etheria - 1987
Divergence Point: Robert Boyle discovers luminiferous aether is a conduit for raw elemental forces in 1689.
This enhances the progress of science and the British Crown and Empires of Europe for the next three Centuries,
continuing the Victorian Empire towards the 21st Century.
11 Tanners Row – Tower Hamlets, The Crown Capital.
The Drapery and Haberdashery warehouse of Foxbury and Farouk Limited, bustled with fabrics and linens of all descriptions.
Huge steam powered looms rolled yard upon yard of home woven and exotic fabric for a huge variety of customers, beneath the surface of the enterprise operated Infinity Corporations Etheria II headquarters.
Despite the megacorporations scale and the sheer number of people who worked for it, its operations were usually small or run by its subsiduaries such as White Star Trading.

Etheria II warranted a full scale covert facility for several reasons, the first was its position as a British Hegmony Worldline where Infinity had secured significant government influence ahead of Centrum.
The second was that raw elemental power could be tapped via magnetically influenced gateways, the raw materials that could be produced were unique and of immense interest to Homelines scientists, third the basement of 11 Tanners Row had a Nexus gate from Homeline situated within it and required a sufficient level of security.

The Infinity facility was co-operated by White Star Trading and the Infinity Terra Management division with offices maintained by its Intervention Service or I-Cops.
Julian Mamott was the divisional head of Terra Managment, who were widely regarded as nothing more than paperpushers and beancounters, the factor that erked its more adventurous partners was the fact that it controlled the Gate and Parachronic Projectors.

Six pm was a time that Julian had made his way home and finished for the day, allowing his subordinate shift managers to deal with the over night drudgery, however events within the Capital had priqued his interest and he’d decided to sit in on the six thirty divisional call.

Sweating he made his way through the mill factory warehouse and through the offices at the rear of the expansive space, the vast majority of workers were ignorant of the true nature of their employers, however Infinity had bent the rules in staffing the station by recruiting a number of natives from this Worldline.
It was widely known the consequences of revealing the Secret, Infinity also had proprietry rights in the Bedlum Asylum, loose talk about other worlds would lead to discreditation and swift incarceration.
The fact that the Corporation paid three times the going rate to its workers meant that most had a vested interest in discretion.

Mamott was one such native recruited for his knowledge of business and contacts within society, as a former banker he was one of the few people who’s social standing didn’t affect his connections with members of upper society, that and he was very good at financial investments made him a useful acquisition.

He’d risen quickly through the ranks to facility head and had embraced both Etherian and Homeline technology and administative practice, making his way through the offices, producing his swipecard he uncovered a hidden reader concealed within the panelling of a wall, the card swipe in turn revealing a retinal scanner, this completed the office door automatically locked and a concealed door slid open.
The true Infinity base took up the Victorian basement, with more recently built sublevels and chambers, retaining a shadowy atmosphere under halogen tubes.

Julian arrived at the Babbage room, his day had been pleasantly interupted by an extended lunch at Gatti’s with some prominent bank managers, having had some time off he didn’t begrudge extending his day, anyway recent events were proving very interesting.
He had an hour before the call, more than enough time to take a look for himself.

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The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Fri Dec 02, 2011 9:40 pm

Etheria - 1987
Maristow House, Lord Roboroughs Country Estate, The Tamar Valley.

Miss Elizabeth Reynolds stood within the main lounge of the house, Regency portraits and landscapes surrounded them, floral settees and chaise longue positioned strategically amongst period antique wooden furniture.

The lady of the house was not in the mood for discourtesy nor interruptions, a fact that the usually opinionated and domineering Aunt Catherine took into full account and remained silent.
Elizabeth had first received the news a week ago, however Samuel Brocklesbury’s arrival ahead of her brother had reminded her of questionable decision making on his part, namely the promotion of Samuel to Head of Household, which effectively made him the most senior member of staff within the Reynolds Family estates.

She had no issue with Sam, in fact he was a childhood friend of their middle brother Jonathan and had looked out for Lizzy in her more wayward days of rebelling against High Society.
The issue, the very principle was that the decision had been made without consulting her, the fact that struck her harder than anything was that she fully understood that her eldest Brother was Lord Roborough and that he ultimately had authority over all of the estates, it was just that he usually involved her in such things.

Samuels arrival earlier today had provoked the anticipated consternation amongst the servants, the fact that Sebastian had also arrogantly ignored her communiqués to discuss the matter had riled her even further.

She spun fiercely as Aunt Catherine finally broke the silence “Tea my dear” she asked and before Lizzy could snap she discreetly looked in Lady Amelia Cheshire, the daughter of the Baroness of Tavistock’s direction.
Lizzy quite liked Amelia she was easy to deal with, being quite considerably dizzy, Aunt Catherine had as usual cultivated the acquaintance in further effort to ensnare Sebastian, as comely as she was, she presented little mental challenge for her eldest brother and therefore was greeted with dazzlingly charming indifference.

Lady Catherine was particularly committed to Lord Roborough finding a suitable spouse, like Lizzy her society position was purely through association with Sebastian’s Barony, in reality it held no formal standing and had been arranged purely by virtue of her late Brother in Laws persuasion and Influence.
Although Aunt Catherine was permitted to title herself Lady amongst society, something that Lizzy could only do within the confines of Maristow House.
Should Sebastian die unwed or without issue, her position vanished, something that the indomitable Lady Catherine simply would not allow.

Composing herself Lizzy smiled as Lady Amelia looked up, she stifled a look of horror at the feathered monstrosity that constituted Amelia’s hairpiece, Devonshire fashion certainly had much to learn from London or was it that Amelia thought it looked good.
Something would have to be done, this coupled with Amelia’s floral dress was an absolute disaster, today was proving challenging to say the least.

Sebastian had a considerable amount of explaining to do when he finally arrived.

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The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Wed Dec 07, 2011 9:53 pm

Etheria - 1987
Divergence Point: Robert Boyle discovers Luminiferous Aether is a conduit for raw elemental forces in 1689.
This enhances the progress of science and the British Crown and Empires of Europe for the next three Centuries, continuing the Victorian Empire towards the 21st Century.
11 Tanners Row – Tower Hamlets, The Crown Capital.
The usual means of entering the Babbage Net was either through cybernautic interface or chemical means, a little advance tech meant that the facility had induction booths, resembling suspended animation pods from a sci-fi movie. The pod stood upon two squat legs suspended at a 35 degree angle, allowing its occupant to recline at a gentle repose, Mamott climbed inside, laying his head back between the induction pads and closed his eyes.

The Babbage Net - New London.
Momentarily the inside of the booth was overlaid with the high resolution of the virtual world, a world formed from mankind imprinting domains and artifice upon the Aetherial limbo through programming. He stood upon a tower constructed of obsidian bricks, as he materialised he saw a Constabulary Agent waiting for him.
<Agent Tremaine, how goes it?>
<Badly Mr Mamott, considerable forces are arrayed against two Domains, a concentrated effort>
<Shall we have a look> he replied
The Infinity Hacker working amongst the Babbage Constabulary, nodded and the pair where lifted into the air and onto a bulbous brass contraption complete with rotor blades on its top.
The laws of physics or the trifles of gravity were of little concern in Babbage, so the impossibly bulging machine accelerated at a pace and swept them across the skies of New London and over the grounds of The Hammond House Domain.

The constabulary had constructed a encompassing dome of trees which had completely enshrouded the domain, however their defences were under attack from small agile figures and some larger ones, each cloaked in darkness.
Balls of guttering fire launched from the attackers exploding into the floral defence, in return streams of metallic shards strafed the intruders.
Julian pursed his lips <A determined assault>
<Yes, sir, the biggest concern is that the code being deployed is as every bit adept as Whitechapels!>
<Really that is a turn up for the books, I thought the establishment had the monopoly on such matters>
<Until such a point some either replicates it or steals it> replied Tremane <It was only a matter of time>
<There is that, does this present us any threat?>
<No although a big kerfuffle it’s a local event, I’m sure Lord Reynolds with keep everything in order>
Mamott turned and regarded the angular Imperial Blue representation of a British Peeler
<Lord Reynolds is involved>
<Yes he’s assisting Special Branch>
<How vexing> grumbled Mamott
<If you don’t mind me asking sir, how so>
<Lord Reynolds provides us with a useful route into High Society, if he meets an untimely demise we’ll have to go through all the trouble of vetting another individual without compromising The Secret>
<His safety is a concern then sir>
<Well yes that as well, however I can already hear the Committee, if it’s a local affair then we let it play out, is there any threat in Prime Reality?>
<There is an assault in physicality as well> responded Tremane
Taking a final look at the battle, Mamott directed the Agent to return him back to Infinity’s Domain.

Prime Reality.
Shaking the fuzziness from his head Julian, paused before heading to the kitchen for his cup of Blue Mountain coffee, he activating his Aethercom.
“Maxwell, I want you to get over to the Hammond House Collection, I have a delivery for you to make!”

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The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Mon Jan 23, 2012 3:00 pm

Etheria - 1987
Morcombe Avenue – Kensington, The Crown Capital.

Agent Maxwell drew his cloak around himself, warding off the winter chill.
From his vantage point upon the slate rooftop of the six story Kensington townhouses he watched London burn.

The droids had run amok, Lord Reynolds prediction had been received that little bit too late to stop the advance, panic had yet to spread, homeowners still remained within their dwellings and had not yet opted to flee.
However the roads into the gilded streets of Kensington had a substantial police and private security presence.

His comm chimed within his inner ear “Sir!”
Julian Mammott sounded a little harried “What’s the situation on the ground?”
“The Armies joined in, so the tide is turning, however it’s going to take hours to put a stop to it!”

Maxwell knew full well the reason for the call Etheria provided a pipeline of elemental energies to certain Homeline Colony worlds where the laws of physics allowed such things to interact and more importantly be used.
Mammotts Infinity Masters would be stamping hard for situation reports and ultimately a decision as to whether to intercede, it was all about the bottom line.
The cost of interfering versus the escalating costs of whatever projects where powered by the elemental fuels and how they were being affected.

“Reynold’s is convinced that there’s Out-World interference, they’ve uncovered some odd relic from some shady fellow connected with the automatons, this Podmore character says the language isn’t from Etheria?”
Maxwell sighed, he be damned if he made the decision for Mammott, it wasn’t on his paygrade

“Not sure I follow you sir!”
“Well do you think their right” replied Mammot with no small degree of exasperation
“I’ve seen no sign of Out Time involvement, sir”
A breath of relief “That’s all right then”
Maxwell smiled “That’s not to say Lord Reynolds is wrong, just that I haven’t seen any signs”
A stony silence descended across the comm until finally “Very well, thankyou agent Maxwell” and the comm went dead.

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Re: The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Mon Jan 23, 2012 10:39 pm

Etheria - 1987
11 Tanners Row – Tower Hamlets, The Crown Capital.
Julian Mammot stared balefully at the conveyer aperture, a miniature portal designed to allow communication between World Lines.
The device resembled a thick steel polo mint set into a panel of machinery upon the wall, the central hole filled with a metal sphere which rolled aside.
A mechanism arm raised, aligned itself with the aperture and then fired a boom through, after several moments a video link came online.
As the image synchronized with the audio with ear splitting feedback, Julian looked through the bottle green window, the chamber below him contained the main conveyors.

He watched the technicians scurry around, security twitch with uneasiness, the circumstances outside had put the entire base on edge.

<Echo relay, to Forever Queen, Quantum wormhole link stabilise in T-minus 5 seconds, 4, 3, 2, 1, Mrs Trentmost, Mr Mammott your online>
<Mr Mammot, reports indicate the civil unrest within E4167Q is being brought under control by native authorities>
“Yes ma’am, that is correct”
<The initial reports make suggestion of Out World interference, is this correct?>
“Yes ma’am, however our general view is that this is the work of talented local forces”
<So the point of this call is!>
“To reassure The Centre that matters are in hand and that the Patrol are not needed”
Ominous silence ensued, Mammot’s discomfort crystallized into annoyance
<Mr Mammot, while Intervention Strategic Operations agree with your assessment, other information has come to our attention for this reason an agent will arrive shortly to investigate the situation>
“May I ask who this agent is ma’am”
Again silence descended until <Yes, an agent with some familiarity with E4167Q, Agent Black>
‘Great’ mentally muttered Mammot, his day was going from bad to worse, the communication ended, the boom retracting and the sphere rolling back into place.

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The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Sun Feb 05, 2012 6:41 pm

Etheria - 1987
Knightsbridge, The Crown Capital.
The door bell sounded like a great gong that shook the sleepy foundations of 21A Knightbridge Road.
Samual Brocklesbury almost appeared from the subterranean servants quarters, striding along the Persian hall runner toward the ornate arched front door.
Opening said door with an air of calm indifference as was customery amongst butlers, he raised an eyebrow when confronted by a figure quite out of place.
Out of place in that he wore a long black leather coat and sunglasses that were certainly not the height of Victorian 1987 Spring fashion.
The figure regarded Sam for a second longer than was comfortable, not that this preturbed him, he'd met worse from appearances, Sam stood quietly and expectantly.
"Is Lord Reynolds at home?" the visitor finally asked
"The nature of your enquiry sir?" Sam responded
"Infinity business"
Sam allowed the figure to enter and step into the guest drawing room

Lord Reynolds Knightsbridge abode was smaller than his Country estates, however the single largest room bar the dining room, was his interconnected Lounge and study, separated by a set of wooden double doors, Sam found his master sat within his study a room piled with curios collected by three generations of Lord Reynolds.
He hadn't quite anticipated his masters reaction
"Here, now" snarled Sebastian Reynolds
"Yes sir" replied Sam
"Did he say what he wanted"
"Only that he's here on Infinity business"
Sebastian's face darkened further

Caleb Black took in the features of the guest drawing room, the quintessential William Morris style wallpaper, the settee and chaise longue, arching mirrors over the mantelpiece and oriental rug.
He noted that the house seemed to have escaped the worst of last nights attack, however the automatons had made it this far West, the road leading into Knightsbridge shared mechanical remnants with bloodstains
He turned as another gong from the doorbell reverberated through the house, his sense automatically swept out however puzzlingly he found nothing.

Sam grumbled as having received Lord Roborough’s ire he was drawn once more to the front door, it would seem that he had recently been very wicked as he was receiving little in the way of rest
Opening the door his eyebrow found new heights upon his forehead, if his previous visitor was out of place, this one was just weird.
An almost effeminate man of height and slight build loitered upon the doorstep, his blonde hair a riot fanning out like some outrageous peacock, his clothes consisted of lots of leather and chains.

He leaned forward and tapped his nose “Infinity Business”
Sam sighed “Isn’t everyone, so much for this Secret”
The blonde figure looked around furtively “It’s a secret”
“Come in” said Sam with a degree of resignation
As the new arrival strolled into the guest room Black gave Raz a long look, then he too rolled his eyebrows, oblivious Raz cheerfully turned to Sam “Two sugars and a slice of cake, you shouldn’t have”

After finishing his main business of ensuring that the house and most importantly his staff were in good order and relatively unaffected by the automaton rebellion.
Lord Reynolds had spent the morning calling in favours to help and try to located one of his Chamber maids missing brother, infuriatingly he’d uncovered nothing, the authorities inundated by enquiries for the lost.

Straightening himself up, having made the irksome I-Cop wait he made his way down the staircase and entered the guest drawing room.
Reynolds staring at the other unexpected guest, a dandy who seemed to be single handily demolishing a plate of Victoria sponge cake.
“Lord Reynold’s thank you for seeing us” the agent started “We need to know anything you know about a person called Winthrop!”
“Yes, Winthrop” mumbled the blonde dandy through a mouthful of cake

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Re: The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by Keeper » Mon Apr 23, 2012 11:07 am

Etheria - 1987
Shaftsbury Avenue, The Crown Capital.


The midday sunshine glared in through the tall arched windows creating sharp-edged stripes of brightness across the deep blue carpet and dark oak furnishings.
The sunshine was a deception though, for outside the temperature was below freezing and the people in the street four storeys below were wrapped in heavy coats, scarves and gloves.

A large shadow crossed the windows as a zep-car drifted swiftly passed the office’s windows.

Inside the office, aside from the crackle of a burning log in the open hearth, the only sound came from the man-behemoth standing in the centre of the room, a deep frown on his round, heavily moustached face. It was a hissing sound, a combination of the man’s breathing and the hiss of hydraulics as the giant mechanically enhanced man fidgeted angrily.

“Well?” the huge man demanded vehemently.

The man to whom the anger was directed was sitting behind a large oak desk, the top of which was inlaid with a deep blue leather that matched the colour of the carpet.
Startlingly slighter than the suited giant, this man was by no means rake-thin. His posture was well held and not remotely reacting to the ferociousness of the giant’s tone. He had blond hair, cut and combed immaculately, his expensive suit was equally immaculate.
He had been going through several very tedious documents when the cyborg had arrived unannounced. He was not however going to let the gentleman before him know their unexciting nature and had adopted the attitude of someone who was most put out to be interrupted.
He carefully placed the pen he had been holding down onto the desktop and met the man’s fierce gaze.
“Well, what?” he asked in a calm, well-spoken manner.
“Well what?” the big man repeated in apparent outrage. “Well what do you say about the situation?” he added as though it were glaringly obvious.
“Well my first thoughts are; don’t you go taking that attitude with me, Commander.” The gentleman raised his eyebrows in way of admonishment.
There was an audible hiss as the tension eased in the big man’s hydraulic limbs.
“Sorry, Lord Reynolds. I’m just so damned frustrated,” Commander von Stauffenberg said stiffly.
“And you can drop the formal crap too!”
“Sorry Seb.” Von Stauffenberg said to his business partner. “So, what do you think?”
Lord Sebastian Reynolds stood silently and walked over to a cabinet on top of which were several tumblers and a decanter containing a singular scotch to which he knew the big British secret Service man was rather partial.
He filled a glass to the top and passed it to the big man who grinned appreciatively and took a giant swig.
“Better?” the Baron of Roborough asked.
“Better!” von Stauffenberg agreed.
“So let me get this straight,” Reynolds said, pausing to pour himself a drink.
“Your agency caught a man stealing secret papers from Whitehall. Your investigation has uncovered his contact, who is none other than Herr Greiger, the German consulate’s Chief of Staff.”
“Yes!” von Stauffenberg confirmed.
“And you know that this man whom you have caught has already passed on official British documents to Herr Greiger?”
Again von Stauffenberg answered in the affirmative.
“And you have petitioned the home secretary to grant you permission to arrest the German, but he won’t do it purely on the evidence of your caught spy, because of the already unsteady relationship between our two countries.”
Von Stauffenberg nodded. “Yes. He says we need to get actual proof that he’s the contact before he’ll start any sort of diplomatic proceedings. Trouble is, we need that permission before we can go into the embassy and get any of that evidence in the first place.”
“An awkward catch-twenty-two scenario you have there my friend,” Reynolds said.
“And the Krauts aren’t happy about my accusations, or the fact that they think I am harassing their staff, so I’m getting it in the ear now from the Home Office and my boss,” von Stauffenberg moaned.
“Well I wouldn’t worry too much old boy!” Reynolds said flippantly.
“Don’t worry?” von Stauffenberg would have spat out his scotch if it wasn’t for the fact that that would be an awful waste of god whiskey. “It’s national bloody secrets we’re talking about. Not the sort of information we want the Kaiser to be getting his hands on.”
Reynolds nodded I agreement. “I’m not sure I’d call it a national secret, but I know she doesn’t like to spread it around much,” he said.
Von Stauffenberg gave the Baron a quizzical look. “What? Who doesn’t like to spread what around? What are you talking about?”
“Mrs Morris,” came the reply.
“Morris?” von Stauffenberg asked bemused. He knew her to be Reynolds’ cook at his Knightsbridge town-house.
“Still,” Reynolds went on, “I think she will be the least upset person when the German Secret Police discover they have gone to great lengths to acquire, what is arguably one of the best recipes for home-made Cornish pasties this side of the Tamar!”
Von Stauffenberg turned on Reynolds. “Are you mad?”
“Debateable,” Reynolds replied with a grin. “However, not as mad as the consulate Chief of Staff will be when you hand the Home Secretary this….”
Reynolds extracted a large brown envelope from his desk drawer and handed it to his friend.
“Your missing documents, and one or two others that I think more than implicate your suspect.”
Von Stauffenberg stood mouth agape for quite some time as he flicked through the papers.
“I don’t believe it!” he muttered. “How the hell did you?.....”
“There’s ways and means, old boy, ways and means. Of course, I shall remain anonymous in this whole affair, I expect.”
The British agent nodded, “Of course, sir, of course!”
He turned to leave then remembered himself and turned back on his friend.
“Thank you, Sebastian.”
Reynolds shrugged nonchalantly. “You’d better get those to Parliament before someone notices my little exchange and skips the country.”
“Right you are!” von Stauffenberg said boisterously and walked away, his mechanical legs carrying him in great strides that shook the floor and made the glasses on the drinks cabinet chink.

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Re: The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by Keeper » Wed Apr 25, 2012 11:13 am

Lord Reynolds stared blankly at an equally empty page. By God, there was only so much tedium he could take in one afternoon.
He put his suit coat and hat on and closed his office door behind him.
It was just after four in the afternoon and already the Magdalene’s doors were open and people of all walks of life were visiting one of three different venues within the old building.
The cabaret hall was always the most popular place this early in the day with various local ‘warm-up’ acts providing the entertainment before the main event later in the evening.
The cabaret was good, but what Sebastian Reynolds was looking forward to tonight was a performance of Swan Lake by the Royal Moscow Ballet Company.
The Czar’s great-niece would be performing as Odette, which was a great privilege to see.
Reynolds had extended an invitation to the daughter of the Earl of Falmouth to join him for the performance, but the train had been delayed leaving Plymouth and so far no word had come from Emma.
Reynolds didn’t want to go home to Knightsbridge, for that would thrust him into the clutches of his Aunt Catherine and the ghastly, sallow faced, Imelda Partingdon-Smythe, whom Catherine seemed determined to set him up with this week.
It seemed the infernal woman had now made it her sole task in ensuring that the Reynolds line had an heir.
It was a sentiment that Sebastian whole-heartedly agreed with, but the mother of said heir would be of his own choosing.
Still, it was easier to let the formidable form of his mother’s sister go about her task unmolested, with him smiling and conversing politely with the plethora of potential mates she brought with her on her many visits to London.
Of course, if she were to learn that he had refrained from returning home that evening because he had a date with the daughter of an Earl, then it was likely that she would whisk Miss Partingdon-Smythe away in the morning and be happy about it.

Reynolds followed a small crowd of sailors into the cabaret hall and made his way back-stage to check on the performers. There was no need really, the stage manager had it covered.

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Re: The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by Keeper » Wed Apr 25, 2012 11:14 am

Paige Holt walked up the steps to the grand, ornate doors into the Magdalene Theatre.
The door man gave the young woman dressed in a maids uniform under her thick woollen coat an odd sort of look as though he were surprised to see someone like her here. She felt a little insulted as there were all sorts of people frequenting the various establishments on Shaftsbury Avenue.
Ignoring his stare she pressed on into the foyer and pushed through to the ticket booths.
“Which show miss?” the teller asked.
“I’m sorry, I don’t want to see a show, I’m here to see Lord Reynolds,” Paige told the attendant.
“So are a great many people, honey. He’s a busy man.”
“I’m sorry but I must see him, now,” Paige said.
The woman frowned, mistaking Paige’s Canadian accent for American. She didn’t like Americans; brash, vulgar, obnoxious and full of their own piss and importance, in her opinion.
“No chance tonight, missy!” the woman said, creases of amusement forming in the corners of her eyes.
“I must insist,” Paige implored.
“And I still say no. now, if you want to buy a ticket, pay up, else get out of line.” She gave Paige a wide but very false smile that pretty much told Paige where to go without saying so many words.
Paige bristled. Her hand shot through the opening in the teller’s window and grabbed the collar of the woman’s uniform. She yanked with all her might, smashing the woman’s face against the glass.
The teller screamed, the couple in the queue behind Paige gasped and someone in the crowd yelled for help.
“Stuck up bitch!” Paige hissed, ignoring the furore developing around her.

Whistles blew and men in the deep red liver of the Magdalene rushed in from one side, while two men in the dark blue of London’s constabulary approached from the other.

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Re: The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by Keeper » Wed Apr 25, 2012 11:15 am

Baron Roborough shook hands once more with the Moscow Royal Ballet’s manger and the choreographer and bade them to ‘break a leg’, to which both men smiled humorously and nodded.
As Reynolds moved swiftly towards the door he noticed one of his ushers trying to get his attention.
“My Lord!” the usher announced as Reynolds approached. “There has been an altercation at the ticket booths, sir. A young lady has assaulted one of our tellers. Apparently she wanted to see you but wouldn’t buy a ticket.”
“Wanted to see me, specifically?” Reynolds asked.
“I believe so sir.”
“Does this young lady have a name?”
“No, sir,” the usher replied, then thought how stupid that sounded so corrected himself. “Well yes, sir, probably, but not one I know, sir.”
“And where is she now, Hornby?”
“In the foyer sir. Two of our doormen and a couple bobbies have her.”
“And the teller is hurt?”
The man shrugged. “More her pride than anything else by the looks of her.”
“Very well, Hornby. Let them know I shall be there shortly.”
The usher nodded and turned away whilst Reynolds headed for the toilets.

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Re: The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by Keeper » Wed Apr 25, 2012 9:41 pm

Reynolds came to the top of the stairs that led from the upper hall level down to the foyer and spotted the small group instantly.
There were two very stern looking policemen and two slightly bored looking doormen, all four of whom were casting pitying glances at the angry young woman in their midst.
The was nineteen years old, tall and slender and with an innocent purity to her beauty. Her long deep red hair was tied up in a bun and tucked neatly into her maid’s cap.
Reynolds gave a small chuckle.
If anyone was going to get into a scuffle with one of his tellers, it would be Paige Holt.
He stopped, unnoticed by the group and watched her.
Most teenage girls, still in their employer’s uniforms would be a little demure and humble, apologising to anyone who would hear her, but not this one. She had adopted a defiant posture, scowling, arms folded defensively across her chest.
Paige Holt was a capable girl, and it wouldn’t surprise Reynolds to see if she were to suddenly launch herself at one of these men and wrestle them to the ground.
What Paige lacked in physical size and strength she made up for in sheer tenacity.

If Reynolds was not the person he was, if he was just plain old Jimmy Ambrose; thief, then Paige Holt would be the sort of girl he’d go for.
But he wasn’t, he was Lord Sebastian Reynolds, the Baron of Roborough; gentleman thief!
Even so, she was one hell of an attractive woman, and the two had been through a few scrapes together, which meant he cared for Paige immensely, and sometimes found it difficult to be completely fair with his household staff!

Making his way down the stairs he approached the constables.
“Gentlemen!” he said amiably. “What seems to be the problem?”
Paige brightened at the sound of his voice. “Lord Reynolds!” She moved towards him and one of the doormen grabbed her.
“Get off me!” Paige said trying to push the man away.
“It’s all right, Paige,” Reynolds said and she calmed instantly, as did the doorman.
“You know the young miss, sir?” asked one of the policemen.
“I do. She’s from my household staff, constable.”
“Ah!” the policemen said a degree of understanding settling in. “Well sir,” he went on, “there has been an altercation between your maid here and one of your tellers.”
Reynolds nodded sharply and turned to face the young woman. “What happened Paige?”
“I asked to see you and she wouldn’t let me in,” Paige explained pointing to a member of the theatre staff that Reynolds hadn’t noticed before.
“Why didn’t you let her in to see me?” Reynolds asked the teller who looked suddenly nervous.
“Well sir, lots of people tries that, and just come in without paying. I dint know who she was.”
“You didn’t ask?” Paige objected.
“You dint tell!” the teller retorted back.
“Enough!” Reynolds said sternly to both women. Christ, he thought, I shouldn’t need to be babysitting my bloody staff. If he thought objectively about Paige then she could be a little fire cracker when she wanted to be, however she was normally good at reading a situation and behaving accordingly.
He called for the front office manager to come over and as he waited he said to the policemen, “Thank you, constables, there will be no charges pressed on this occasion.”
“Right you are, sir!” one of the bobbies said and both departed.

He spent a few minutes reiterating how he expected his staff to behave no matter who they were talking to.

Once he had dealt with that issue, Reynolds turned to Paige and asked her what brought her across London on a cold winter’s night.

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Re: The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by Keeper » Tue May 01, 2012 6:31 am

It had been two things that had forced Paige out of a nice warm house and into the still, but bitterly cold early evening.
Both had been letters.
The first was marked ‘URGENT’, and had been telegraphed from Plymouth.
Before he even read it, Reynolds’ heart sank.
Sure enough, it was a message from Emma saying that the line had been damaged by a falling tree, therefore she wouldn’t be in London this weekend.
Damn it, he thought silently. He’d have to go home and spend the evening with Aunt Catherine and the abomination she’d brought with her.

The second letter changed that. It was from an old friend, Damien van Locke, a man of Dutch South African descent and whose illicit occupation paralleled that of Reynolds’ secretive life.
Van Locke had more than once enlisted the help of Jimmy Ambrose, the last time being a massive bullion heist several years back. The heist went south when one of their team double-crossed them.
In the end it had been a big pay-out and had left the Reynolds family sitting pretty beyond even their already massive wealth.
Initially though the episode had left Reynolds on the run and massively out of pocket, and van Locke languishing in an African prison minus the bottom half of his right leg.
It taken a few weeks of planning but Reynolds had returned, at great personal risk, to break van Locke out. He then went on to track down the double-crossing bastard and stole back the gold, leaving the culprit in no position to come calling for it again.

Van Locke wanted to meet in a pub in town at ten-thirty, which meant there was little point returning to Knightsbridge now.
Reynolds remembered Paige and saw her standing a little way off trying not to make her interest look too obvious.
“Do you have plans for this evening?” he asked.
“Me?” she said surprised. “No, just dust around a few of the guest bedrooms and take the clean linen upstairs.”
“Good,” Reynolds smiled. “Would you care to accompany me to the ballet this evening?”
Paige beamed. “Really?”
Reynolds shrugged. “Of course. But you probably won’t want to wear your work clothes. I’m sure Violet will have something more appropriate for you down in the wardrobe. Pick something nice and expensive.”
“Wow!” was all the young woman could muster.

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Re: The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by Keeper » Tue May 01, 2012 6:32 am

The performance from the Royal Moscow Ballet was, of course, as exemplary as Reynolds had known it would be, and his company for the evening was equally as charming.
She scrubbed up well, as the slightly vulgar saying went.
The few times he had seen her outside of his household environment had been on board her father’s vessel, the Waterwitch.
There she lived the same rugged lifestyle her shipmates di, albeit with the advantage of being the captains daughter.
Then in Knightsbridge she was very respectful and grown-up and quite serious for one so young.
But seat in the darkened theatre, watching swan lake, she had been no more than a little girl, staring in abject fascination, laughing , crying, and utterly captivated with the performance.
Reynolds spent most of the time watching her expressions as he did the dancing and in fact got the greater pleasure from putting the smile on her face.

After the show she had been so grateful that she’d thrown her arms around his and kissed his cheek.
Moments later she’d nearly died of embarrassment and couldn’t apologise enough.
He shrugged it off, complaining that not nearly enough pretty women kissed his cheeks these days, which just threw her into further hysterics.

He sent her home in a Zep-Cab, another thrill for her.

Later that night a man dressed in old grubby clothes, a frayed bowler hat and a thick woollen working coat slipped unnoticed from a rear door of the theatre.
The man went by the alias of Jimmy Ambrose took a ground cab to the Stargazer’s Rest.
He was there for a little over ten minutes before the hobbling form of van Locke entered the busy pub and found his old friend.
He sat heavily on the bench seat opposite Reynolds and groaned. The wooden prosthetic was very heavy and uncomfortable compared to the stainless, aluminium and latex one he normally wore.
“It’s so damned backwards here,” van Locke complained.
“You are a little far from home,” Reynolds commented, knowing that although the dates were not too far apart, technology was a whole different story on the South-African’s homeworld; cities of steel, glass and chrome.
Reynolds bought van Locke a beer.

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Re: The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by Keeper » Tue May 01, 2012 6:33 am

The pub was crowded despite the late hour, which suited both men well – less of their conversation would be overheard due to the general din.
“So why the visit, Damien?” Reynolds asked after a little more small talk.
“I have a job you might be interested in,” van Locke replied.
Reynolds shook his head. “I work alone these days, Damien, you know that.”
“You will be. Hear me out Jimmy please.”
There was something in the way he said it that caught the gentleman-thief’s attention.
“okay,” he said.
“There’s a gut who lives elsewhere. He’s a huge fan of memorabilia and collectables. Right now there’s a document he wants to add to his collection, badly.”
“How badly?”
“Oh make you sick badly!” van Locke replied.
Reynolds sighed, a pensive look upon his face. “I work alone and for me only on this kind of job.”
“You haven’t heard me out yet, my friend.”
Reynolds conceded.
“This collector has hired a man who has a reputation for knowing people who can acquire things. That man’s name is Sciven.”
Reynolds sat up at this. Sciven had been the man who van Locke had used to put together a crew for their nearly failed gold heist.
The turncoat was someone Sciven had brought in, someone no one else on the crew knew, but the fixer had vouched for him.
Although neither man could prove it, they both believed Sciven was in on the double-cross, it just didn’t make sense else.
“Sciven has hired some folks to try to get hold of it. One lot have failed already. I suggest we go get it ourselves. Well, you anyway. Interested?” van Locke asked.
“I am now. I’m always interested in a little pay-back.”
“Well, this is me paying you back a little for saving my arse, mate. Should be a nice little earner.”
“I take it you’ve worked this one up already?” the baron asked.
Van Locke looked sheepish.
“Kinda!” he said with a pained expression.
“Explain,” Reynolds said.
“Well, it’s the timing really, well that and the location.”
“Why does it sound like the two major factors affecting this job are an issue?”
“That’ll be cos the are!”
Reynolds sat back and folded his arms in mock annoyance, making van Locke squirm even more.
“Right, we know from history where the papers will be on a certain date, after that they disappear. It’s their rarity that makes them valuable, co after 1945 no one sees them again.”
Despit it being 1986 on Etheria, as the Infinity types had labelled this Earth, Reynolds was very aware that his world didn’t follow the Earth-normal timeline and history recorded by Infinity and their Homeline.
What he wasn’t so sure on was Earth-normal history post the 1870’s.
“Remind me what happened in 1945?”
Reynolds listened quietly as van Locke gave him an overview of the early to mid-twentieth century and the two major wars that dominated that history.
“Okay, so where do I find these papers?” the peer asked.
Van Locke grinned sheepishly once more. “Berlin, just as the Russians are attacking. It’s the dying days of the German’s war effort, but boy is it brutal. And it’s also in three days time.”
“Three!” Reynolds almost shouted, momentarily attracting the attention of most of the pub, but the patrons went back to their own business when they realised there wasn’t going to be a punch-up.
“Are we good?” van Locke probed.
“Yes,” Reynolds replied, though he wasn’t really sure he was.
“Good, cos I know this Russian swagman…..”

Three days later Sebastian Reynolds and Samuel Brocklesby were in hell, or Berlin, neither of them could be one hundred per cent sure.

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The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Sun May 13, 2012 10:32 am

Etheria II 1986 – The Crown Capital
The Lambeth Rookery hadn’t changed in two centuries, in reality it had stagnated in its own filth, buildings had grown to accommodate the dispossessed.
The Crown had cleared the Central East End including White Chapel, extending the City whilst purging the physical taint of the murderous Nineteenth Century, however the poor couldn't be entirely shipped off to the Metropolis.

Hence the Rookery had sprang up South of the river in Lambeth.

Samuel Brocklesbury looked distinctly uncomfortable, they'd left the Rolls in safer streets and caught a Hanson as far as it would take them, the Lambeth line started where the peelers stopped being Flesh and Blood and became armored Cogs.

He surveyed the streets, noting the dozen or so shadowy figures, dealers, Toms and worse plying their degenerate trade, Jimmy knocked upon the buttoned wooden door again, Sam noticed that his foot was beginning to tap impatiently.

Finally the ramshackle door opened cautiously, a quiet exchange and the door opened quickly to admit them, closing just as rapidly.
The figure before them was dressed far too smartly for Lambeth, certainly not Savile Row but a cut above the locals, a mop of jet black hair atop Latin features.
They followed him down a flight of spiraling stone stairs into the bowels of the building, entering a sanctum through a large steel door, Sam noted the interlaced faint blue lines of light that warded the entrance.

The chamber before them was a circular workshop, containing an array of workbenches and Babbage consoles, the walls of the chamber lined by wooden gantry’s leading to makeshift libraries.

The figure busied himself for some moments, before Jimmy Ambrose became impatient again.
“Horatio, what have you got”
The latin figure almost stood to attention, grinning from ear to ear
“Certamente” He replied with a bow
Horatio sat at a console, allowing Jimmy to step in behind him.
In a deep Florentine accent he began

“It was a, slightly complicated, your request – however A came up with theese”
Jimmy leaned closer and looked the green cathode screen, the thief may not have understood what he looked at, but the Educated personality beneath fully comprehended the Babbage Code to a point.
That point being where Jimmy frowned
“Ah, I see your perplexment” Horatio said with a degree of satisfaction
“Perhaps a demonstration will serve better!”
He stood ejecting a small case from the gilt edged console, opening it to reveal a small rectangular tab, which he extended to Jimmy on an open palm.

“Be a warned, once you’ve taken it you’re a English will be not good for a time and you will ave a eadache”
Jimmy looked warily at the Italian programmer, before popping the tab into his mouth, he shuddered as moments later it took effect, sending a jolt of pain through his temple
For the next five minutes Jimmy rambled on in accented German.

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The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Sun May 13, 2012 12:55 pm

Etheria II 1986 – St Petersburg, Tsarist Russian Empire
It occurred to Sam that it seemed the pair of them spent a considerable amount of time beneath the ground these days.
The following morning they stood within the deepest vaults of the St Petersburg catacombs, the trip had been gut wrenching flown by one of the new Portal Jets across Europe in under 7 hours, they’d slept the day and assembled in the evening for shipping out.

Jimmy stood on the upper gallery beside the man who Sam thought was the organiser of this trip, he turned his attention to the brass sphere encapsulated within a series of concentric rings, ominously venting green gasses which were fortunately sucked away by extraction fans.

Van Horn turned to Ambrose, who was dressed in rugged outdoor attire complete with a trilby, he’d just given him a run down on the local situation, following providing him with a very brief written summary this morning.
“I checked with the techs, there not sure whether the Tabs will work on the other side, their Etherian science and may require Luminescent Ether to function”
Ambrose grunted “Their best guess?”
“They think that it depends on the amount of native Ether within your system, and could have unpredictable although not harmful side effects”
“I take it the duration may be hit and miss” Ambrose required thoughtfully
“Yes, the body’s ability to absorb and process Ether is relatively misunderstood”
One of the techs gave the thumbs up to the pair of them, the sphere now rotating slowly
“It’ll have to do” replied Ambrose as he hoisted the cylinder given to him by Van Horn,
The Swagman didn’t wish him luck, they’d need more than that.

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The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Mon Jun 11, 2012 10:03 pm

Etheria II - 1987
Divergence Point: Robert Boyle discovers luminiferous aether is a conduit for raw elemental forces in 1689.
This enhances the progress of science and the British Crown and Empires of Europe for the next three Centuries,
continuing the Victorian Empire towards the 21st Century.
High Manor Golf Course, Wiltshire
Gentle rolling greens adorned by sand bunkers, woodland and pristine ponds, made the picturesque grounds of the High Manor course an escape for the landed and rich.

Upon the fifth hole two dapper gentlemen surveyed the next challenge, the older man stepping up to his tee and poising himself to swing, a tall man, with a tight head of silver white hair, everything about him was sharp he sported none of the fluffy mains of his society peers even his mutton chops were neat and trimmed close.
His companion a younger man, who from his body language was deferential to the older, waited for the swing, again he had a conservative air about him, his hazel brown hair brushed neatly across and an equally tidy beard, completed the ensemble.
His eyes narrowed as the older man drew back and swung, the golf ball launched into an upward arc, a powerful shot that unfortunately overshot the hole by easily a hundred yards.

“Damn, should have used the Five Wood” muttered the old man, handing his Eight wood back to his caddy while delivering the poor man a baleful look.
Fortunately the caddy had wisely neglected to advise the gentleman on his choice, but undoubtedly was still to blame for not doing so.
“A stout shot nether the less” commented the younger
“Fawning and supplication are akin to begging” said the older man “Tools of the weak and underclassed!”
The younger man allowed himself a discreet smile, his companion was on the whole impossible, so any comment would have suffered rebuke.
He stepped forward drawing his Six Wood, a broad swing and send the ball promptly onto the green adjacent to the fifth hole, the older man grunted, the caddies gathered their tees and they strolled down towards their respective balls.

“How proceeds our plans in Cornwall?” asked the Older man
“They proceed slowly, Falmouth’s influence with the farmers is more persuasive than we imagined!” the younger man replied
“He was underestimated?” sneered the older man
“Without being impertinent you said that he would not prove difficult” retorted the younger
“Fair enough” replied the older man
“It seems his knowledge of farming and mud grants him influence, the yokels respect him”
“Hmmmph” grunted the older “Then we’ll orchestrate from the Capital, more than one committee that we can use to our advantage, we can easily strip Triganorin’s land advantage through our grasp of the law”

As the pair arrived at the hole, they spied Sir Tristan Triganorin or Lord Falmouth stroll over the top of the fairway, accompanied by his Caddie.
The two men silently awaited him until he arrived, Falmouth looked puzzled
“Morning chaps, thought we started at nine sharp?”
The older man smiled “You really must talk to your secretary Tristan, my man called last week changed to eight” he patted Falmouth on the shoulder
“Still all here now, you’ll soon catch up”

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The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Sun Jun 24, 2012 10:16 pm

Maristow House, Devon
The Rolls Royce Phantom trundled up the winding drive of the Devonshire estate, Lady Catherine narrowed her eyes as she thought she saw a building deep beyond within the woodland.
‘Curious’ she thought ‘There was never any building there before’
She turned back to the drive, eyeing the house up as it loomed towards them.

This evening she hadn’t brought a young suitor for her infuriating nephew, of late the spoiled offspring of her late brother had suddenly become quite headstrong and refused albeit politely to entertain any of the young suitable ladies.

Lady Catherine was not one to be dissuaded but she needed to get to the bottom of this resistance, she had deliberately chosen pretty if not beautiful girls as was Sebastian’s preference, but he had subtly rebuffed them all.
So what was going on she’d even considered whether he had preferences elsewhere, but no he’d shown a avid interest in the fair sex, it was something else and by god she would get to the bottom of it.

The car drove through the gate house and into the main courtyard, her visit unexpected Turner wasn’t waiting upon the door, she stepped from the car, waving her chauffeur off from opening the door for her.
Straight back, she stalked toward the house however before she reached the steps, Turner opened the door, the hour was late and he was dressed in his dressing gown.
“I see your sixth sense hasn’t dulled with your eyesight!” she hissed, annoyed that he’d spotted her
“No madam, it has not, Her Ladyship is waiting for you in the Ladies Lounge!”
Lady Catherine frowned she had wanted the element of surprise

Lady Rebecca Reynolds also stood beside the expansive mantelpiece beneath a mirthful portrait of her father, dressed in her evening gown and shrouded for the sake of propriety shrouded by a luxurious cape.
“Evening aunty” she smiled “The hour is late”
“My dear worry about the lateness of hour when your old and grey, which neither of us are, most fortunately, pray where is your brother I would speak with him?”
“Is he not in London?” Rebecca replied mildly
“No he is not, not even in that den of iniquity” she retorted as Turner appeared with a tray of tea and coffee
“The Magdellen you mean”
“Yes, a theatre of all things, what was he thinking, Society visits the theatre it does not own them”
“Oh aunt why ever not, where are these silly rules written down”
Aunt Catherine looked thunderous, but it seemed that Sebastian’s new vein of steel had infected his younger sister, although to be fair she’d always been sassy
“Rebecca your very young and may not appreciate the sordid goings on in such places and the depths that one must sink to run one, it is a good job you have me to provide you the moral compass and I absolutely forbid you to visit it!”
Rebecca pursed her lips and mentally noted that a visit to the Magdellen would warrant a visit.
“So you’ve no idea where your brother is!” Aunt Catherine asked whilst sipping her tea
“No idea, however he has been extremely busy of late!” she responded
“Doing what!” snapped Aunt Catherine a little too sharply
If Rebecca had noticed the tone she didn’t rise to it “I don’t know aunt, however I’m absolutely confident that its entirely in the interests of furthering the estate!”
Aunt Catherine fell silent, there was little she could say to contradict that noble enterprise
Turner once again appeared “Lady Catherine’s suite is ready mil lady”
Rebecca smiled “Thank you Turner, that will be all”
“Very good mil lady”
The two women retired as the hour approached half eleven

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The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Fri Oct 12, 2012 1:26 pm

A Letter awaits Sir Reynolds within his Epping Cottage study
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The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Mon Mar 24, 2014 10:26 pm

Maristow House, Devon
It was late afternoon, although the slate grey sky and perpetual drizzle made the time of day and year immaterial.
Rebecca Reynolds stood in the grand conservatory looking across the expansive grounds, however her gaze ran along the side of the great house to the guest study.

Aunt Catherine had descended two days ago on Maristow House and literally set up camp, now one of the families solicitors Mr Stanley Goldman had arrived, Rebecca was far from happy her aunt was up to no good.

‘What would Sebastian do?’ she thought, ‘Dawn you older brother where the hell are you!’

The Chronius Mons Mountains, Noctis Regis – Mars
The Cloud Galley slew to its starboard, strong hot winds inflating its sails and driving her downward.
The passengers and crew were a mix of canal Martians and earthmen, most hardy folk accustomed to the merciless Martian winds, the passenger stood upon the galleys forecastle his weather beaten face belaying a relatively young age.

He closed his natural left eye, allowing the metal lens housed within the socket of his right to focus.
The mechanical apparatus scanned the mountains until he found them, great lounging lizards, huge bat like wings folded beneath them sunning themselves thousands of feet above the desert.

William Reynolds sucked air through his teeth in exhilaration “Parrook” he shouted, the tall hill Martian harrumphed and stood, his four arms lifting a canvas sack, containing rifles and a number of rods.

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The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Sun May 11, 2014 6:52 pm

Etheria III - Mahanadi, India
The Zep Freighter violently shuddered as an explosion tore upwards across its dorsal superstructure and forwards until it enveloped the bridge, destroying it.

Elemental aether having broken its containment chambers mixed with oxygen with explosive results, far below on the lower decks Lord Sebastian Reynolds looked at an uncharacteristically apprehensive Samuel Brocklesbury.
“Bridges gone” shouted Tiley over the roar as he dropped down a gantry ladder
“That presents a problem” muttered Reynolds who turned and looked expectantly at Van Locke, the fixer for his part was staring avidly at the green screen of a portable Babbage terminal.

The compartment they were situated in led out to an external walkway, meaning it’s was exposed to the elements, Sam swung out onto the gantry bracing himself against the violent convulsions that rang through the ship.
Hull plates were popped from their rivets as aether burst from pipes and sought escape, fires burned along the hull, Sam snapped from his awe, bending backwards to avoid a wrench swung to take his head off.
Sam’s foot snapped up crunching heavily with the crew man’s groin, he followed in with a forceful jab smashing the man in the face, several more laid the man out cold.
He swung back into the compartment “SHE’S COMING APART, WE NEED TO GET OFF FAST”

Reynolds looked to Van Locke, the fixer typed in a command via the consoles brass keys “LAST GATES DOWN ITS ALL YOURS” he shouted to Sebastian
Sam grabbed Reynold’s arm “I don’t think we have time sir”, the Lord nodded, thought for a brief moment and stepped over to Van Lockes console and plugged himself into the port recessed in its metal casing.
Sam lowered him down to the steel floor, “HOW LONG” shouted Tiley
Van Locke looked at his chronometer “ONCE HE’s THROUGH THE PERIMETER, WE GO” the older mans eyes widened, Tiley turned, wincing as something whistled pat his face.

The airmans hand snapped to his holster, firing wild west style from the hip he caught the intruding crew man on his forehead, the stun round flattening him against the safety railing.
Tiley peeked around the bulkhead, the telltale tings of bullets bouncing off metal betrayed more crew “WHY THE HELL AREN’T THESE IDIOTS ABANDONING SHIP” he bellowed as he unleashed a volley of stun rounds in their direction.

The Zep Freighter shuddered again, the group were flung to the floor as a further explosion ripped along the port side, the ship listed to the side and started to lose altitude.

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The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Sun May 11, 2014 6:54 pm

Babbage - Northern Raj Domain
<BLOODY HELL> roared Reynolds, the virtual world of Babbage was a maelstrom, destructive aetheric energies lashed around the construct, a ribbon of energy striking his Vendetta mask.
He threw his cloak up expanded it too encapsulate him, he took a single bound and vaulted several hundred feet into an alcove of the scope ship.
<Right where’s this vault>

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The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Wed May 14, 2014 10:28 am

Maristow House – Etheria III
Rebecca Reynolds looked out of the north window of her Ladies study, she refused to cry instead allowing a cold anger to settle over her.
Sebastian’s solicitors Goldman, Meddler and Twist had outright refused her request in ascertaining the nature of her aunt’s recent meetings with Mr Goldman.

A knock came at the door and Danver’s peered around the Georgian woodwork “Lady Reynolds would like to see you in the reception room my lady”, Rebecca scowled however a curiously warning look from Maristow’s butler gave her pause.
Getting dressed Rebecca made her way down before throwing the doors open, her aunt dressed in conservative blue started as did a tall man sitting near her, the man composed himself standing respectfully.

Aunt Catherine glowered with subdued anger before her veneer of pleasantness settled once gain “Rebecca my dear, you look enchanting, we have some matters to discuss, please come sit!”
“Aunt I’ll remind you I am the Lady of Maristow house, please do not invite me to sit in my own home!” Rebecca instead made her way to the sideboard and poured herself tea.
“The youth of today Mr Devin so spirited” Aunt Catherine laughed
“And what is the purpose of Mr Devins visit Aunt”
“Mr Devin has been appointed Financial Manager for the estates my dear!”
“By whom?” replied Rebecca without turning
“By me with the legal authority of the Family solicitor”
Before she reacted Rebecca spied Danver’s through a crack in the door, he merely nodded at her unseen from his vantage point in the hallway, she took a deep breath, put a smile on and turned.
“It sounds like a very good idea aunt, however could you not have discussed this before springing it upon me” she said sipping her tea
“My dear I didn’t want to trouble your pretty head with such tiresome details, with Sebastian being away so very much and no responsible adult apart from myself to act in his stead I as compelled to act”
“Of course you were aunt, what would we do without your foresight”
Aunt Catherine smiled in victory “Rebecca I’m always impressed with your maturity, I was going to stay tonight however with everything in hand I shall return to London”

Pleasantries were exchanged for a further customary hour or so, before Me Devin was escorted to a suitable office and the footmen had sent Aunt Catherine on her way.

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The Chronicles of a Gentleman

Post by arcanus » Wed May 14, 2014 10:29 am

Maristow House – The Servants Stations
It was after ten at night that Rebecca found Danvers relaxing in his butlers study, he made to stand at her appearance but she shooed him back into his seat before he had the chance.

For a good five minutes Rebecca sat opposite Maristow’s butler before she began
“My lady”
“You rarely talk, however earlier you warned me, why?”
“Did I My Lady” he replied
“Danvers I’m not stupid nor am I going mad, you most certainly did”
The aged Butler merely looked at her noncommittally
Rebecca Sighed “Danvers you can speak to me”
“Yes my lady” he replied, again she scowled, at which point he seemed to relent
“Servants aren’t meant to speak out of turn my lady and only whilst conducting the duties of the house, unlike some!” he finished a little curtly
Rebecca knew he was referring to Samuel Brocklesbury, it was an open secret that Danvers didn’t appreciate Sam’s familiarity and lack of decorum
“Well let’s suppose that this conversation falls under the duties of the house”
“Very well my lady”
“You know what my aunt is up too?” she came to the point
“I’ve a fairly good idea” he replied uncomfortably
“She means to take over Maristow”
“I think she means more than that my lady, I think she means to control the whole estate”
“Really” blustered Rebecca “You really think so, of all the nerve”
“Can’t say I agree with her my lady but I can see why she might seek too”
Rebecca frowned “You can, how so?”
Danvers sighed and looked to his lap “Your father was a rogue, a good man but a rogue nether the less, he wanted respectability for the three of you, that was why you were all properly schooled to grant the family respectability”
Rebecca nodded “You were my fathers butler”
“I was my lady, your aunt was always the proper one, your grandfather brought her up as the face of the family while your father did the wheeling and dealing once he was no longer able, all her life she’s been in society”
“That doesn’t excuse betraying the family” she replied
“Quite so, but she doesn’t see it like that, she misjudged your brother, thinking him a fop, more interesting in chasing skirts and card games, but Lord Sebastian is his fathers son, the streak of ruthlessness runs through him maybe more so, your Aunts just started to see it and it worries her”
“She thinks he's unstable”
“Maybe, my personal opinion she see’s him as risking the family name and fortune so she’s acting to protect it and of course protect her title, if something happens to Sebastian the title is gone and her place in society”
Rebecca thought on this “So she’s been unsuccessful in marrying him off, which would secure an heir so she decides she must take control of the estates”
“That’s the way I see it my lady, I could be wrong”
“Oh Danvers your being modest, I don’t think your wrong at all, what a silly woman she is, so the question remains will you help me?”
“Beg your pardon my lady”
“You anticipated what she was up to earlier, Sebastian is away and not able to defend the estates so will you help me stop her!”

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