Post by kerl on Feb 15, 2011 22:15:50 GMT
As promised:
Kerl's Journal Part 4
Day 12 in Malta
I could not have predicted this. Lying in my hospital bed, I'd contemplated the perils of working for Mr Stokes but I'd never have thought of my employment with him ending in quite such a spectacular fashion. What happened immediately after was fairly unexpected to boot.
As I mentioned in my previous entry, I was getting heartily tired of the hospital and being poked by doctors. Seriously, I don't think they encounter many of my kind so they were taking the opportunity to investigate whilst they could, despite the fairly light damage I'd taken. Having heard news about Mr Stokes on the grapevine compared to the usual tight silence I collected JimLad and headed out of the building this morning. He was telling me about some odd dreams he'd been having lately, about some form of combat taking place in an ring wearing some odd costumes. That's strange in itself but organised fights have been heard of. It was when the squirrels and the Man-Bear-Pig got involved in his retelling I zoned out. I know I'm a hybrid, but I don't think a Man-Bear-Pig would ever exist. At least, I hope not- what JimLad put across seemed to be a fearsome and bizzarre being.
Anyway, I'm drifting. Despite the ongoing conversation, we arrived at Mr Stokes's office fairly early in the afternoon. I suspect everyone else must have heard that something was in the air as I could pick out the forms of the people I'd worked alongside previously dotted around outside the building. I could also pick up several shades of musk emanating from a chirpy look Riff, who began talking to me with some enthusiasm and a little too much detail about his trip to "The Old Country in Malta". For me, this only bought up a few painful memories but I wasn't about to be granted time to consider them.
All at once, I noticed another smell in the air- the sharp tang of aniseed. Now this wouldn't usually be suspicious, but it was everywhere. To a human reader, this still lacks significance but it's an old canine trick to block and muddle scents when you don't want to be followed. This meant that someone knew that canines (i.e. Riff and Myself) operated for Mr Stoke and didn't want to be followed. Not wanting to be followed meant something nefarious which meant.. Well, almost before the words "Everybody Down!" could escape my muzzle, the building detonated with an almighty crump, knocking those that had been standing outside to the floor and liberally peppering everyone with brick and plaster dust. By some minor miracle, everyone outside escaped relatively unscathed and were able to pick themselves up, staring in shock. The first to react was Lady Elizabeth, who emitted a heart-rending scream and ran to the pile of burning debris, beginning to try and dig into it, looking for her beloved uncle. Second to react were Riff and JimLad, who started a rapid conversation about the potential loot within the building. For once, the Commander was speechless and the taciturn Jakub was also fairly motionless, torn by indecision.
Noting a crowd of onlookers beginning to gather and the sound of bells and whistles rising in the distance as new spread, I moved to try and get Lady Elizabeth away, as being found at a site like this could be bad for health and possibly reputation if the police. Unfortunately, she was not to be dissuaded from her fruitless task, despite my best efforts to convince her to leave. I was beginning to contemplate using the same technique I had on the Commander (which would have saddened me, as everyone deserves time to recover from what has been lost) when the Cat made his move. His actions are probably going to puzzle me for the rest of my days, unless I should see him again. Rather then trying to merely drag her away, he instead began to choke her, to my everlasting shock. Part of me suspects this was the beginning of revenge for her mistreatment of him on the docks but I doubt I shall know as the police who'd begun to arrive at the scene of the explosion promptly dragged him off her. Whereupon, he promptly began to protest a mix of innocence, self defence or that "it was her own good, I was only trying to render he unconscious to get her away from potential harm". Whether any of the former may have worked, as the Commander, for reasons unbeknownst to me (beyond a "covering his own backside" attempt) picked this point at which to call out "That's him, he's the one you want!" before melting into the crowed. I looked around, noticing that the others that had been present for the explosion had also mostly melted away. I considered helping the Cat, but the police had acted to swiftly into loading him into a van. Anyway, they might have been told about me from their friends at the docks and getting myself dragged of wouldn't help anyone's case, so I was forced to stand down and watch from the sidelines as the van carried him away. I then took myself away, back to my digs to write this update and await further occurrence. Part of me can't believe a man like Mr Stoke's could die, he seemed like a darker version of Reynard in being almost an idea rather than a person so I shall close to base the next couple of days to see if further correspondence arrives. If not, it's time to start travelling again. I shan't say I'll miss Malta, but it definitely had its moments of colour!
Entry ends.
Out of charachter, I beleive there is a weeks gap between the explosion and our meeting at the Lawyers office. Should anyone wish to meet with my charachter during that time I would be willing to chat, it would give something to act as filler in the journal!
All the best!
P.S. To Merc1987/The voice in the sky/ Oy, You! -A few questions: Was the boat timber or iron hulled? Also, where did you want the cannons located, also in what arc? And finally, can I add a front-loading hatch in the style of the Fire Nation ships in Avatar. I just think it might be easier to load-unload compared to the traditional top-hatch where the balloon would get in the way.
Kerl's Journal Part 4
Day 12 in Malta
I could not have predicted this. Lying in my hospital bed, I'd contemplated the perils of working for Mr Stokes but I'd never have thought of my employment with him ending in quite such a spectacular fashion. What happened immediately after was fairly unexpected to boot.
As I mentioned in my previous entry, I was getting heartily tired of the hospital and being poked by doctors. Seriously, I don't think they encounter many of my kind so they were taking the opportunity to investigate whilst they could, despite the fairly light damage I'd taken. Having heard news about Mr Stokes on the grapevine compared to the usual tight silence I collected JimLad and headed out of the building this morning. He was telling me about some odd dreams he'd been having lately, about some form of combat taking place in an ring wearing some odd costumes. That's strange in itself but organised fights have been heard of. It was when the squirrels and the Man-Bear-Pig got involved in his retelling I zoned out. I know I'm a hybrid, but I don't think a Man-Bear-Pig would ever exist. At least, I hope not- what JimLad put across seemed to be a fearsome and bizzarre being.
Anyway, I'm drifting. Despite the ongoing conversation, we arrived at Mr Stokes's office fairly early in the afternoon. I suspect everyone else must have heard that something was in the air as I could pick out the forms of the people I'd worked alongside previously dotted around outside the building. I could also pick up several shades of musk emanating from a chirpy look Riff, who began talking to me with some enthusiasm and a little too much detail about his trip to "The Old Country in Malta". For me, this only bought up a few painful memories but I wasn't about to be granted time to consider them.
All at once, I noticed another smell in the air- the sharp tang of aniseed. Now this wouldn't usually be suspicious, but it was everywhere. To a human reader, this still lacks significance but it's an old canine trick to block and muddle scents when you don't want to be followed. This meant that someone knew that canines (i.e. Riff and Myself) operated for Mr Stoke and didn't want to be followed. Not wanting to be followed meant something nefarious which meant.. Well, almost before the words "Everybody Down!" could escape my muzzle, the building detonated with an almighty crump, knocking those that had been standing outside to the floor and liberally peppering everyone with brick and plaster dust. By some minor miracle, everyone outside escaped relatively unscathed and were able to pick themselves up, staring in shock. The first to react was Lady Elizabeth, who emitted a heart-rending scream and ran to the pile of burning debris, beginning to try and dig into it, looking for her beloved uncle. Second to react were Riff and JimLad, who started a rapid conversation about the potential loot within the building. For once, the Commander was speechless and the taciturn Jakub was also fairly motionless, torn by indecision.
Noting a crowd of onlookers beginning to gather and the sound of bells and whistles rising in the distance as new spread, I moved to try and get Lady Elizabeth away, as being found at a site like this could be bad for health and possibly reputation if the police. Unfortunately, she was not to be dissuaded from her fruitless task, despite my best efforts to convince her to leave. I was beginning to contemplate using the same technique I had on the Commander (which would have saddened me, as everyone deserves time to recover from what has been lost) when the Cat made his move. His actions are probably going to puzzle me for the rest of my days, unless I should see him again. Rather then trying to merely drag her away, he instead began to choke her, to my everlasting shock. Part of me suspects this was the beginning of revenge for her mistreatment of him on the docks but I doubt I shall know as the police who'd begun to arrive at the scene of the explosion promptly dragged him off her. Whereupon, he promptly began to protest a mix of innocence, self defence or that "it was her own good, I was only trying to render he unconscious to get her away from potential harm". Whether any of the former may have worked, as the Commander, for reasons unbeknownst to me (beyond a "covering his own backside" attempt) picked this point at which to call out "That's him, he's the one you want!" before melting into the crowed. I looked around, noticing that the others that had been present for the explosion had also mostly melted away. I considered helping the Cat, but the police had acted to swiftly into loading him into a van. Anyway, they might have been told about me from their friends at the docks and getting myself dragged of wouldn't help anyone's case, so I was forced to stand down and watch from the sidelines as the van carried him away. I then took myself away, back to my digs to write this update and await further occurrence. Part of me can't believe a man like Mr Stoke's could die, he seemed like a darker version of Reynard in being almost an idea rather than a person so I shall close to base the next couple of days to see if further correspondence arrives. If not, it's time to start travelling again. I shan't say I'll miss Malta, but it definitely had its moments of colour!
Entry ends.
Out of charachter, I beleive there is a weeks gap between the explosion and our meeting at the Lawyers office. Should anyone wish to meet with my charachter during that time I would be willing to chat, it would give something to act as filler in the journal!
All the best!
P.S. To Merc1987/The voice in the sky/ Oy, You! -A few questions: Was the boat timber or iron hulled? Also, where did you want the cannons located, also in what arc? And finally, can I add a front-loading hatch in the style of the Fire Nation ships in Avatar. I just think it might be easier to load-unload compared to the traditional top-hatch where the balloon would get in the way.