Supercape

ok: They would all have sufficient strength to commit the deed, being men of at least average build and prowess. However, Lord Willowbreak is in particularly good shape (even though more elderly). Baron Ramstein is in exceptional shape (even stronger) being a sportsman. All of them have the scent of Sir Crane on them - in Donald, Willowbreak and Ramsteins case this is not unusual as they were probably together in the Lounge Carriage. It dosen't explain why the Sikh men have that scent on them. With that Theology knowledge, sure, the men are definately dressed as Sikhs, including carrying the traditional Sikn knife, the Kirpan.

"Guess we are going in blind then..." sighed Supercape as he descended into the Midst. The dense fog was no match for his extraordinary senses, and he could soon find the device: a 3 metre high, thin, metal construction. Every now and again it pulsed with a huge arc of electricity, the water around the lake steaming as it did - presumable that was the cause of the fog? The device itself seemed to be built on a relatively shallow part of the lake, in the middle. Fairly crude support structures at the base elevated it to its current position. "Some kind of mechanical contraption..." yelled Supercape at Giain above. "I don't know what it is, or does, but I am inclined to disable it..."

"Zut alors" exclaimed Rene, nearly dropping his brush in amazement. "Pardon, pardon! I have never seen this before! Ze pictures, come alive!" Its not possible! he thought, briefly. Its magic. Anything is possible he corrected himself after a moment. Rene brought himself back to the moment, and looked once again at his Easel. The doppelgangers didn't belong in the real world. They belonged back in his picture. He took his magic paintbrush to the canvas, whispering "Back to where you belong!" as he furiously painted. What was this? there was no effect at all!

Morgan Clone: 1d20+12=16 not intimidated!

The shards of crystal parted neatly, allowing a clear descent path for the Ship. The landing itself was hardly easy, but the combinatino of Victory at the controls, the clear descent path, and the superior engineering of the ship itself made it straightforward. A slight bump signalled the Ship had landed in the microgravity. "Steady on!" joked Supercape. In fact, the Landing was textbook and once again he found himself marvelling at the Pilot's skill. At least his uncanny senses operated locally. He could feel the mass of the meteor below him. "Microgravity here. Have to be very careful. Ship might float off if we aren't careful, probably best to Tether it or something..." and fortunately, the Ship did have such an anchor, and the Meteor had plenty of nooks and crannies in which to attach it.

"It sounds a splendid Idea" replied Ms. Wells, who was still rather dejected and emotional. Carrie's kind words had sparked her back to some kind of life, however, and she was no longer a slave to her despair. She listened to Jubatus' description of the five scents. The two in the second class carriage she didn't recognise. Sikh men, lower caste probably, with somewhat ill fitting poor quality clothes. She recognised the description of the three in First Carriage. "I can't say for sure, but from what your description, I'd say the first was Mr. Donald Drumbridge, a very wealthy businessman, produces a lot of the machines we develop. He decided to come along to our presentation. The second is Lord Willowbreak, elderly chap, reknowned as a hunter, probably here to shoot some elephants or something. The final man is Baron Ramstein, curious fellow, half German, half Englishman, sportsman and hit with the ladies - or so I hear on the grapevine. "

"Stay back, ma'am!" said Lord Steam, leaping in front of Carrie with his hands in a protective gesture. Some glass and debris scattered of the floor, and through the air, but not enough to cause serious injury to either of them. "Danger is afoot!" Lord Steam examined the lady, and the weapon. There was something magnificent about her, for sure - he couldn't quite place it, but the way she spoke and move was pure aristocratic confidence. He could only presume she was someone deranged in the cranium, however. Firing a rocket launcher in an art museum? He whispered to Carrie. "Errr... who is she? one of your Freedom City heroes? she seems frightfully insane, by the way. "

"Don't stray too far then" smiled Supercape. "From what you say, you can probably shout loud enough for half the continent to hear, or burst my eardrums. Talking back to you might be more tricky!" The two heroes swooped towards the centre of the lake. As they approached, from their respective angles, an intemittent flashing light could be seen through the fog. "Well, look at that!" shouted Supercape. The electrical discharge was bright enough to see, and his extraordinary senses could easily pick up the massive arc that was being unleashed. If he had to guess, it was some kind of metal spire on the ground that was pulsing with power. He could understand most physics, but he was no engineer. Building these devices was largely theoretical for him. "Cant see much more..." he shouted at Gabriel. "I think we need to get down closer to have a look. Any way to clear the fog?"

"His name was Sir Crane" she said in sad tones. "A rather elderly, yet still brilliant man. He has been magnificently inventive and industrious throughout his life. Earned the animosity of several Luddites. They tried to kill him last year on a Zepplin, he barely survived. " She paused, and spoke in more hushed tones. "I understand he has been developing a lot of weaponry for the Empire. Steam powered Gatling Guns targetted with analytical difference engines. All cutting edge stuff. Even some work on directed electrical current..." "As far as I know, he has no other enemies - from a personal perspective anyway. One wife, three children, on good terms with them all. They will be crushed..." she held her head in her hands.

Arcane Knowledge rolls: DC 20: Its magical, something to do with Rene's abilities. DC 25: Its the effect of the house. There are powerful paintings in the Hotel, and paintings contain magic. DC 30: The paintings are a representation of your unconscious. Possibly activated by the psionic hero in your midst...

The air filled with an uneasy chill, quite out of keeping with the pleasant clime of the day so far. Perhaps most would have passed it off, but the Mystical heroes were wiser. The atmosphere was subtly charged. Everywhere one looked, things seemed to be either clearer, or murkier, or both at the same time. It was nothing tangible, but there was something that whispered to the sixth sense of all present. The painting moved, quite clearly this time. Quite how it happened would be impossible to describe in purely visual terms - the effect was like that of a dream. One could say the three figures crawled out of the painting, and that would be the best approximation. But the way it happened was that simply one moment the figures were in the painting, and the next, they were outside, gazing at their surroundings...

"I don't know myself" answered Ms. Wells, "although I have heard rumours" She sat down, somewhat deflated. The strain was getting to her, and her eyes were wet. She was clearly doing her best to keep herself together, but after all one of her friends had been brutally murdered. The stiff upper lip of the English gentleman (or gentlewoman) would only go so far. "You remember the Luddites? fanatic uneducated rabble who think that smashing up all technology is good for the empire?" she clearly had contempt in her voice. "Well they have their own little counterpart in India. A quasi mystical one, even more violent and dangerous. They don't just smash up machines, the smash up people. Hate the empire, well.. hate everything apparently. The thugee they call themselves. Nasty penchant for knives. And strangulation, for that matter. "

It does. The middle of the carriage carries three scents you recognise, as does the lounge. The three people are currently all in the Lounge (with Constable Singh). The other two scents are in the carriage next to you. For References the train is thus: [ Engine / Driver ] [servants quarters / bed ] [Kitchen / Scullery ] [Lounge] - 3 Scents in here [1st Class cabiins] [2nd class cabins] [2nd class cabins] 2 scents in here. [brit Machine equipment, murder scene] - you are here at the moment. [brit Machine itself]

"Good thinking" replied Supercape, hovering. There was no wind, and to his mild vexation, his cape hung limply and without splendour. "I'll keep close to the ground myself. If you take the higher ground, so to speak, that might suit you better. " "How far though?" he said, drifting off. "I mean, if we get to parted how do we communicate? do you have any radio or something? I can transmit quite easily if I concentrate. " He paused. "And whilst we are about it - what can you do, other than talk with a tounge made from solid silver?" He still remembered Gabriels lilting tones. Politicians around the world would kill for half of Garbriels presence. And if they did, they could probably get away with the killing...

Supercape strode down the hall and into the Kitchen. It was well equipped, and well organised. It took only a moment for him to find the Kettle and the Tea bags. Noting the lack of Early Grey, he took a swift look around to check he was not being spied on, and opened up the pouch at his belt. Dropping one of the Earl Grey tea bags into the mug, he secreted the rest of them into the tea bag tin. Wont hurt anybody he told himself. And you never know if I might drop in again. He poured water into the cup and with a glance, nudged a few atoms around to flood the cup with microwaves, bringing it to the boil instantly. As an afterthought, he made another cup for Warder, whom he thought could do with a beverage herself. With steaming tea in each hand, he wandered back to see how she was doing.

"Excellent! and how is your vision? regular or super?" I think I will need reading glasses myself soon sprang the idle thought as he asked. He didn't need good eyesight himself of course, but all his super senses would not help him read. The fog was not only dense, but huge. It covered the entire Lake, and beyond. It was a good thirty feet from the ground before it showed any signs of thinning, and twice that before a reasonable line of sight could be had. He surveyed the vast ocean of fog in front of them. Nothing evident from this point, but he could still pick up the energy discharge near the centre. "Over there" he pointed once Gabriel had risen. "Its in the centre, if we get closer maybe we can see..."

"What's that? Thunder?" Supercape strained his hearing, but couldn't detect anything but the gentle lapping of the Lake. There was some peculiar energy structure in the middle of the Lake, although not something he was familiar with. Powerful electricity - it wasn't a thunderstorm (that would be impossible on a lake.. but it could potentially sound like one. "No, I can't hear anything..." he replied. "But I can sense something powerful in the middle of the lake. Electrical, and very powerful. Perhaps that's what you heard?" he tapped his head knowingly at Gabriel "the old noddle is full of stuff, I can pick up energy readings".

1d20+7=20 for Supercape.

Lord Steam hung onto his bedsheets, now smeared with mud, and shivered with the cold winter air. Not his best of days, he reflected. And he wasn't out of the woods yet. He could hear Bellowforth screaming and running out of the room - no doubt to give chase from the front door of the mansion. With a few strides, he reached out and flung open the door of the carriage. The chauffeur was already rather startled by the Sound of his Lordship hitting the roof of the horseless cart. He was halfway out of the vehicle when Lord Steam helped him with a shove, forcing him out and landing face down in the mud. Seizing the initiative, Lord Steam leapt into the Car and started her up. The engine kicked into life, and steam poured from the bonnet pipes. "Au revoir!" waved Lord Steam to the enraged Lord Bellowforth, who ran till his lungs gave up in pursuit of the car, and fired an ineffective round of shot from his gun in fury.

Lord Steam dashed out of bed. Realising his state of dress (or rather, lack of any dress) he quickly whipped off the bedsheets to preserve some modesty. In doing so, he did of course deprive Lady Bellowforth of any such modesty. "Apologies dear Lady!" he stuttered, as he wrapped the sheets around his torso. "I fear I must depart. Such sweet sorrow. And oh do give my regards to your husband!" "You can give them yourself" smiled Lady Bellowforth, to the tune of the bedroom door splintering and an enraged Lord of the Land bursting forth, armed with an elephant gun and three burly manservants. "Toodle pip" was Lord Steams only words as he launched himself to the window, crashing through it, and bouncing off the carriage belwo to land face down in the mud. "LOCKWOOD!" screamed Bellowforth, firing a massive blast out of the broken window just to appease himself - for the Lord of Steam had landed out of his field of view.

Steamy crashing through the window and dropping two floors! 20 foot drop, DC 17 1d20+7=20

Previously... The knock on the door was furious, urgent, and swiftly followed by a thunderous roar. "Lockwood! Come out you rascal, I know you are in there!" The door jolted with the force of men ramming it. Sturdy as it was, there was little doubt it would not hold up long. Lord Lucien Lockwood pulled back the bed sheets on the bed and sat bolt upright. "My!" he exclaimed. "What a pickle!" he added, fully realising that he was, indeed, in something of a pickle. Next to him, Lady Bellowforth sat up next to him, equally afraid. Lady Bellowforth was a society beauty, and no mistake. Along with her grace, charm, and looks, had come a slightly rebellious and wild streak. Combined with a failing marriage to the rather stiff Lord Bellowforth (a marriage arranged by the respective families), it was little wonder that she was known for a menagerie of illicit affairs within London Society. Of course, Lord Steam could hardly resist when the good Lady threw herself at her. Perhaps he had one or two too many glasses of port that evening. And now, Lord Bellowforth, a man of ferocious temperament, was knocking down the doors to beat the daylights out of him...

Other heroes? Ah! some good news! one of Freedom Cities heroes already here. "Good to hear your voice" he replied. "I am actually one of aforementioned heroes" he said. I guess I am by now he thought to himself. It wasn't long before he floated up to Gabriel. The guy had to be wearing white didn't he? perfect camouflage for the fog. Well, that might help them, he supposed. When they were close enough to bang heads, Gabriel's face swam into view. Damn that fog is thick he mused - nothing natural about that. The head in front of him was noble, elegant and somehow reassuring. The speaker no doubt. "The names Supercape" he said, grasping his comrades hand and shaking it warmly. "Can you see through this fog?"

NOt much at the moment - the distant sound of thunder!

Back at MI7 "Yes not a bad show if I say so myself" smiled Lord Steam at "V", "everyone safe and sound. Well, not completely sound. A few broken bones and broken spirits, but nothing that won't heal..." "Indeed" replied V, refilling his pipe and inhaling deeply. The man has an impressive aura of pipe smoke curling around him now. He looked like an affable, slightly portly old man, but there was no mistaking the fierce intelligence behind his eyes. One didn't get to be head of MI7, and one of the most important men in the running of the Empire, without a formidable intellect. "Well, Sir Crane gave a rather complimentary spiel to the Royal Academy about your performance. Said you were a bit of a whizz in a pinch, both piloting and repairing the Zepplin, and fighting off two Luddites. Quite impressive. " He paused. "To be honest, your reputation and your evident capability had initially put us in the mind to give you a high position in MI7" He paused again. "Potentially very high". He sighed and gave Lord Lockwood a fierce Scowl. "Then there was that incident..."