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The Almost Modern Fantasy

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Re: The Almost Modern Fantasy

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Edge on Sat Jun 09, 2007 1:42 am

Note: Mana in this post is used not as a form of magic, but as a unit of measurement of magical energy much like a gram, ounce, or hertz might be used.


“…So by using the dodecagon, or twelve sided figure, the angle in which power or mana, is allowed to flow is extremely limited. Albert Gaston’s theory ‘the circle cannot not be replaced by any other shape’ still stands on firm grounds. The relation of the dodecagon and the circle is too closely related. But this is not to say that the circle be replaced by this twelve sided polygon, it’s still bound to the rules that Grand Sage Tella instilled back in the Tudor era; ‘A circle is the only line drawn by man that can block or restrict the area of mana flow.’”

Edwin paused to take a breath of air as he continued his summer report to a class of young men nearly four years his senior as the old professor sat in his chair grinning, and smoking his pipe.

“But… It IS possible to break that rule.” Edwin said as he turned and drew a circle and then a triangle all three points reaching beyond the circle. He turned to the class and spoke, “The Sage Tella also spoke of another rule; ‘The triangle is the most powerful outlet of mana.’”

“Why is that Edwin?” The professor said, his eyes alight as he watched this student of Kain think and ponder. Yes, the child was bright, that was to be expected out of any child that Kain raised, but the talent level that Edwin had proven himself to be was by no means ordinary… This child would be sought after by eyes who were watching.

“That is because the triangle is the first shape and strongest shape. While primitive in some respects, it allows for the greatest flow of mana due to three perfect or non perfect angles. It is also the most flexible of all polygon shapes within a circle.”

The bells rung and the students who had been awestruck by Edwin’s lecture were deaf to it. It took the polite cough of the professor to break the spell. Even Edwin was startled by it and the sudden head rush of what he had just done caught up to him. Sinking down into a chair the young man took several gasping breaths trying to clear his head. The professor poured out some water and handed it to the grateful young man. Edwin managed a smile as he looked at his notes marked up in chalk on the large black board.

“In a minute I want you to finish that design… I too want to know how a young man like you figured out how to break one of the oldest rules in the book… And I’m sure Dr. Jo Taylor would want to know as well. Bright mind that woman.”

Edwin smiled and nodded. Getting to his feet he drew on the board, unaware that Professor Russell was already making his move to summon the math professor. Edwin was completely blank in mind as he drew, complex puzzles to one scholar made perfect sense to Edwin. He drew perfect arcs from the tip of each point of the triangle, each line connecting to a smaller circle. By the time Edwin drew the final circle and finished putting his runes in place, he heard the low whistle of amazement.

Spinning around, Professor Russell touched the final circle, one that was in the middle of the triangle, dead center to everything and spoke.
“The Omega effect… is created by…” Fingers traced each arc, “Air…Terra, and Aqua…” Shaking his head he looked to Edwin. “You don’t even know what you created.”

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Re: The Almost Modern Fantasy

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Grimbold Theoman on Sat Jun 09, 2007 3:11 am

Joseph rose early next morning and after a quick breakfast with Atkins he walked the short distance to his office in the magical research building. The office is not particularly large, the walls are crowded with boards covered with pieces of paper with sketches and dimensioned drawings on them. One, by the door has lists though nothing means much to any other than Stewart. There is a slightly odd smell a sort of cross between old oil and paper. The room is roughly square with the door and window in the marginally longer walls. The desk sits beneath the window with Stewart's chair looking into the room. The lower parts of the walls are lined by cupboards with shallow drawers in them and many of them had partly assembled machines on them. He walked in and closing the door he leant his back against it, breathing in the aroma of honest hard work. He amongst the machinery that sat on the cupboard tops a kettle sat on a small gas burner, and behind it a box about a foot on a side. It was connected to an electric socket on the wall, it was an electro magic cooler, new and expensive even for a small one.

He went to the sink and washed the two mugs from yesterday, and made himself some tea, which he took to his desk and continued to work on the rotas and assignments he started the day before. Life was always a little dull at this time of year, there was no proper work required just administration, which Joseph hated with a passion. Once he finished he wandered to the machine shop and posted the notes he had been working on. Then checked on the machinery, cleaned the lathe bed, lubricated the miller slides, cleaned and checked the pillar drill, and did the same with the shaper. Everything was in order as he had left it before the summer.

Joseph returned to his small office and sat looking out of the window thinking.

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Re: The Almost Modern Fantasy

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Lord Saladin on Mon Jun 11, 2007 10:53 pm

Getting out of the car with the assistance of Nils, Arthur returned the hug sincerely, but noted the rather foul stench that permeated from his son-in-law. His nose wrinkled at the mixed scent of smoke and body odour.

Retracting from the hug, Arthur chuckled at Nils' words. As always, there were no luxuries here, in the once thriving estate of the Borden family. A real shame.

"Burned tea will do, I suppose. But, please, son, take a bath. You stink."

He grinned at Nils, knowing that the man would take only slight offense at that comment, despite his expecting the retort. Maze had never had a son, and considered the Borden man as close to a real son as any man could wish for.

"And I would allow our friends for tea at Trickett House, only I am still in the limelight, unlike your lucky self. And the facilities there are far inferior. You know this"

He smiled, walking towards the heavy oaken door, the varnish faded, slight rot on the bottom of the door showed the level of care given to the house. It was certainly a shame that the house was no longer kept in the pristine state it once was.

Taking in a sweeping gaze of the mansion, Arthur saw a slight stir of movement in one of the western ramparts. A frown creased already wrinkled features further, a slight sigh escaping his lips as he averted his gaze once more. Another disappointment for him. So many things were disappointing to the point of sadness.

Arthur know, however, that all would soon be made right. Just a few more attempts, and it would be perfected. That was what tonight was all about. Discussion. But, right now, he would love some tea, even of the burned variety.

Reaching the door of the mansion, Arthur knew that Nils had followed.

"Come one Nils, lets have some tea. I'm rather thirsty after such a tedious day."

In a stark comparison to his usual easy going manner, Arthur Maze seemed somewhat bitter as he spoke. Perhaps it was what he saw at the window. But, then again, not he even he fully knew why.
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Please tell me now what life is, Please tell me now what love is... Again, tell me what life is.

Tiko says: Saladin: Damn it, leave my hole alone.

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Re: The Almost Modern Fantasy

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Nils on Mon Jun 11, 2007 11:53 pm

Borden always held his composure despite his father-in-law's remarks. All he ever let on was a slow grin and perhaps a shake of his head. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he knew it was to be expected. Arthur Maze was the classic rags to riches story. Whereas he, Nils Borden was born into wealth.

Borden observed the old man as he held the door for him. By no means did he look down on his father-in-law; in fact, he was proud and almost humbled to be a partner of Maze Borden Industries. Although Maze had always had to watch his step in his ascendancy to his current wealth and fame, he was damned good at it. At times Borden wondered if he had the determination, ruthlessness, and guile of his father-in-law to battle the odds and come out on top.

Throughout his own life, Nils came to rely on money to slip out of sticky situations, although, by now both he and Maze were starting to realize its limits. They would need more manpower than their money, more than Maze's educated mind and charisma, more than Borden's manufacturing means. And because of this, a close camaraderie--the very one that had been summoned to this "tea party" of sorts--could not have been more important than now.


"Sorry, Arthur," Borden said almost cajolingly. "I don't have a single tea leaf in this house. But I have anticipated you and have asked Mr. Bhatta to bring with him some of his Indian Darjeeling, if you didn't mind."

As they walked through the house, their footsteps were hushed by the layer of dust that coated the hardwood floors. White sheets covered the furniture; at least his wife Clarice had the sense to do so five years ago, but it was as if out of resignation, as if she were closing the open glazed eyes of a dead man. And so, for five years, the interior of the Estate remained this way--silent, dusty, and haunted with the echoes of servants, his wife, his sons, and his daughter. They were part of a past that was now long gone.

Borden lived sparsely now. They other rooms were of no use to him. He lived underground now. Occasionally he ventured to the western ramparts, but only briefly.

Nils' and Arthur's reflections glimmered in the glass frames of rows of picture frames. Most of them were turned face down. Long before, Borden remembered feeling guilty. A sprinkle of glass lay along the floor. After five years, though, the pain had subsided.

At last, they reached the flight of stairs that lead to the lower quarters where Borden resided. When he opened the door, the smell of burnt coffee reached him. He would have to toss the entire kettle of it out.

He allowed his father-in-law to enter first.
"After you, sir."
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Re: The Almost Modern Fantasy

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby miyumi on Sun Jun 17, 2007 5:30 am

Dr. Jo chatted on to her for a good twenty minutes before she excused herself. She talked about the other faculty, staff, the students, and her plans for the year. The entire time, Emily felt like it was too personal, too much like she was being treated as though she were already staff. When she got out of there, Emily went down the hallway a bit, ducked into another, and paused to catch her breath. She had been caught off-guard by the free manner of the conversation. Her mind spun through varying things. How she knew it was wrong, but it had felt so right. How even though this woman dressed like a man and flaunted her independence, she seemed to be a good person.

When her mind stopped spinning, she remembered Mr. Stewart's kindness the previous night. She hadn't been paying much attention to where she went when she ran out of Dr. Jo's office, and she didn't recognize where she was at all. Finding a door number, she brought to mind a mental image of the map that she had studied during the summer, to keep herself occupied while waiting to hear back from the school. It took her about five minutes to match the room number with where she was and orient herself on the quickest way to the office.

Walking along, she turned down one hallway. It had that feel of a hallway that wasn't used very often. She knew that hallways like that, sometimes it was for a reason of danger, and other times it was for a reason of just plain inconvience. In this case, she was fairly certain it was the latter. Just to be sure, she made her way down the hallway slowly, and alert. She didn't jump at every little sound, but she did jump at one loud one, until she identified it as chairs moving in the room over her head. Because of her caution, by the time she reached the office she was aiming for, there was only an hour until lunch. A quick debate sealed it- she held her breath, and knocked the door, counting softly to herself.

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Re: The Almost Modern Fantasy

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Grimbold Theoman on Mon Jun 18, 2007 2:57 pm

Joseph had work that he should be doing but instead he watched out of the window clouds building up over the Pennines away to the west. He must have stared out of the window for more than half an hour, his telephone rang once but he ignored it watching a shower carried past on the northerly wind. It was approaching mid day when a slightly diffident knock disturbed his reverie. He rose from his desk and opened the door, he was rather surprised to see the young woman who had called upon him the previous night there.

Something made him look at her face more closely than usual she seemed faintly distracted almost flustered.


"My goodness, it's Jessica isn't it? I didn't expect you to return so soon. Why don't you come in and take a seat?"

He stood back opening the door fully to allow Jessica to enter. She came in a fraction awkwardly but she took the seat he had offered her. He closed the door and went round the desk and turning his own chair away from the window and back to the desk he sat himself.

They exchanged pleasantries but something still seemed to be disturbing her. He asked her if she was settling in, explained that it was rare for much to happen in the first week of a new university year, sometimes the senior staff tried to force the office to get things moving faster. It never lasted more than a few days when the reality of the university sets in.

Jessica talked about Dr Jo Taylor, Joseph had always liked her but he had no grasp of pure maths so their relationship was always a touch rocky. He joked to Jessica that he and Prof Jo would have got on well had he understood more than the first four minutes of the class. For a moment she didn't notice his smile and was confused. He fell silent for a moment and she asked him how he had got the job and if he enjoyed it.

He took some time to explain the families assumptions that he would either become a priest or an officer. He had been greatly disturbed, as had everyone by the trench warfare of the Great War, even though he had not been born then it was still a shadow behind them. So he had ruled Sandhurst (Officer training college in the south of England) out and he felt that not believing in god also made being a pastor of even the Church of England a bit difficult so he had persuaded them to let him go to university instead and had more or less stayed there at the end of the course. It was, he felt, a more interesting job than the options.


His only real regret and source of irritation with the job was the level of respect that it attracted from the more senior and self important members of the faculty. The engineers were looked on as being rather less important than the porters and cleaners, which since they ensured that many of the lectures and practicals actually took place let alone worked seemed grossly unfair.

They talked more about Prof Jo, Jessica asked if she was open with all students she likes, she blushed a little as she spoke. He told her that Jo does like ti nurture promising pupils, likes to make them feel welcome.

Jessica started to say something and stopped it was as if she wanted to say something but felt she could not. She blushed as she stopped, something made him pause longer and look at her again, something occurred to him


"You are not used to being treated like an equal, are you?" His question was phrased gently. Her eyes got a little wide, and she shook her head

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TAMF and Irc

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Edge on Fri Jun 29, 2007 1:03 am

OOC NOTE FROM MIYUMI:

Ummmm, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry... I tried to send a pm, and accidentally hit edit, and... ::falls to her knees begging forgiveness:: Anyway, you might need to fix the formatting... and feel free to erase this note.

***

There weren’t many who knew exactly how to read Jackstraw Sutton’s face, less so, his how his train of thought worked. Only one idiot had managed it so far and it was amazing he got it right when his other social skills, in Jack' s mind, were lacking. Jackstraw crossed the campus grounds to where the workshops where, his stride swift as he went to the research facility. He wanted answers and he’s damn every last man that would dare to get in his way. His long legs indeed were useful as he made his way. The air was telling him to expect rain soon enough, though it would hold off for awhile yet. Jackstraw didn’t know much about airships, tanks or anything else that required as much metal as the company had been shifting around. Worse was that Jackstraw had some contacts within other companies. Those contacts had to have their mouths sweetened very well to have information pried out.

It wasn’t in Jackstraw’s realm of knowledge to know how airships were made or know the scale of materials needed to make them. All Jackstraw knew was that materials he was sure were used to create airships were being shipped around at a rapid rate. Too rapid for his taste. However to get a feel for how many were being constructed he would have to go to a man who knew what he was talking about... someone that Jackstraw felt was more then who he said he was. Rumors of course flew about the school that some of the noble families that had second sons often would wind up here while their brothers bore more of the responsibilities of running the family estates that one day would be their own.

Jackstraw was more then aware of that, but Jackstraw also was a smart boy. He was determined to never be second to any member of his family save for a select few that held power over him. Nevertheless, Jackstraw knew how to make himself useful to his elders and betters. For the time he had been in school, Jackstraw had collected information with a passion on the noble families; in fact he could nearly identify what family was involved with which society. But there was one girl that continued to baffle Jackstraw…. A girl that Jackstraw’s instincts told him wasn’t normal.

Still, the young student pushed it out of his mind, there were more important things to think over- such as Joseph Stewart, a technician that interested Jackstraw greatly- for there were rumors floating around him too… though those rumors were uttered by empty headed girls who show no breeding or class… Jackstraw had to strain his mind to think of a woman that did. But dismissing his arrogant thoughts on women and their proper place in the world, Jack found himself standing before the very office he needed to be at.

Clutching his book by his side, the blond boy was ready to knock- but a pair of voices within stopped him. … Stewart already had a guest… It was that girl… the one who had eluded Jackstaw’s information sweeps. After standing in front of the door listening in rudely, Jackstraw moved his frame against the wall so not to cast a shadow into anyone’s view. He sighed and leaned against the wall listening in some more. It confirmed some things for Jackstraw to use later.

Perhaps now was not the time. But Jackstraw felt his own worries gnaw at him He paced up and down the hallway a few more times thinking. He had to speak with him, but not with a guest there… Not with some girl he didn’t know. No, no, no… it wasn’t proper at all. Cursing silently Jack looked over the records again, his grey eyes searching for the millionth time for something useful to tell him how many airships were being built. He couldn’t talk about this with just anyone. No, he needed someone to talk with connections and technical understanding…

“Damn Germans.” He muttered to himself, after glancing around to make sure he was alone. The last thing he needed was some sympathizer to scold him.

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Re: The Almost Modern Fantasy

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby miyumi on Fri Jun 29, 2007 8:10 pm

She was terrified. Obviously, she had given something away, and she needed to think fast. How do I get out of this one? Why did I keep coming to see him? Something flashed across her mind.

Not by teachers, no.

Most don't even here, Jo is rather special, but it's not just teachers is it.

She glanced down at her watch, completely on edge now. What did I give away? How... Lunchtime! It was all she could do not to breathe out in relief. She was saved!

It's time for lunch, I'd better go.

Before you hurry off, just bear in mind that nobody here is entirely what they seem to be. Perhaps we can share our secrets, then we will know we are both safe as both of us will know something about the other.

She considered. She did want to eat lunch, but... she really wanted to know more. The idea of sharing secrets was tempting. But she was sure that her sponsor would be mad at her if she found out. Then again, Jack would defend me to her, to his death if need be. And it's not like I haven't missed lunch before. She took a deep breath.

I suppose I'm not all that hungry.

He seemed a little relieved, and visibly relaxed. He hadn't wanted her to go as much as she hadn't wanted to. How did I know that?

I suppose I had better start, I have always gone by my given name of Joseph Stewart, but that is only part of it, there are a collection of other names too but that is not the important bit. The bit that I like to keep quite is the other name the family carries or some of us. My father is the Duke of Rothsay, I am only the third son hence the soldier or clergyman options, I fancied neither, and feel I can't live up to being Lord Ashburton either. That's my own title and lordship.

Her mind spun. I've dared to talk to a lord! But.. but.. no, he doesn't feel like one. She nodded slowly. You don't like all the formalities, do you..

Oh god no anything but that, it's bad enough when I go home and have to put up with it from the estate workers. I couldn't cope with it if people started behaving as if I were something special here too.

The strength of his disgust for that surprised her. Much as Ms. Curzon doesn't like it, she doesn't show any repulsion to it. Her son though... makes me wonder if that's something about what Ms. Curzon calls "the new generation" Despite her surprise, she relaxed a little. Well, I won't.

What could be worse than being a pointless aristocrat, everything that I have made with of my life, has come as a result of hard work, well quite hard work anyway, certainly not as a result of who my parents are.

But don't you want the recognition of your hard work at least?

I have that, I have a degree and a job, I have a small allowance from my father and it would be enough to live on but I don't spend that I try to live off what I earn working here. I have recognition of what I can do amongst my fellows, that is what counts.

I guess he's right about that. It would drive me nutty though, the way the profs treat the techies... Her mind drifted, until he moved, pushing a button. He explained that he would be calling for lunch to be brought. Just as she agreed to it, another person stuck his head in the door and asked what he needed. Mr. Stewart turned down the offer of it being fetched in half an hour, Then he turned back to her and asked her what she was going to say. Oh, I guess it's my turn...

I uh... fair's fair. Well, you told me your secret... my mother is a servant for the Curzon family. They sponsored me to come here.

This must all seem more than a little strange then, I don't know the Curzons, but what I have heard has always upset my father so I have always assumed that they are good people, it looks I was right. He paused for a moment, and smiled. She liked his smile. Well Jessica, I am glad they have supported you getting here. If there is any way that I may help you you have only to ask, anything except help with the maths. Ask Jo how much hair she lost trying to teach me some time.

Jessica grinned at that, and was answered by a smile from joseph. Oh! My real name is Emily.

My real name is Joseph the rest is just, well frippery. A frown crossed his face for just an instant. She could see him trying to figure out how to keep her around for a little longer. Perhaps you would accompany me to the department canteen, we can get something to eat?

She really wanted to, but she was also painfully aware that if she spent much more time in his company, they might be tempted to do some... unsanctioned things. She shook her head regretfully. I'd better not. I might lose track of time, and I do have another class right after lunch.

Well that's a good reason not to get too distracted, perhaps we can save lunch for another day.

He stood. She stood as well, holding out her hand. He shook it as they said their parting words. She slipped out of his office, and looked at her watch. With how long it would take to get to the cafeteria, and then to the class, she had just twenty minutes to eat lunch. She picked up her steps, wanting a little more time than that.

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Re: The Almost Modern Fantasy

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Lord Saladin on Sun Jul 15, 2007 10:09 am

Following Nils through the house, Arthur looked at the covered furniture with dismay. The dark house carried a tone of sadness and depression, pressing down on the old man. He silently wondered at the state of the once fine furnishing, pondering if they were in a simiiar state of disrepair to Nils and the exterior of the mansion.

Reaching the door that was the entrance to the basement, Maze nodded silently as he took a step into the dark, damp smelling basement. The pale light was barely enough to see the vastness of the basement, a great cavernous hole dug under the mansion many years ago.

Most noticeable was the small airship that had been built inside the basement, a hulking structure that dominated the view of the basement with its enormity. The lower part of the airship rested against the concrete floor, a few steps led to the door of that compartment, where tea would later be served between friends. A slight grin adorned the wrinkled face of Arthur as he looked at the 'balloon' part of the airship, knowing well what it contained, but he said nothing on that matter.

Taking in the darkened view, pillars were visible, the massive supports of the hole under the mansion, reaching the ceiling, wide arches of a gothic design could be seen faintly. They ensured that the mansion did not fall upon them when in attendance here. Once, when served as a chapel, long before the Borden family even knew of this great house, the basement would have shone brightly, the arches creating brilliant, picturesque shadows on the ceiling.

As seemed to be the theme for the day, Arthur felt disappointment that the beautiful architecture of this place was hidden, however, he also knew that it was necessary for certain developments that had been in preparation for some years now. Perhaps they could move the operations elsewhere; if they did, it would be some time before they made the transition. Other things were much more important right now.

A wide nose wrinkled as the scent of burning tea filled the air. It would certainly taste rather foul now, Arthur would remake the tea, something he was more proficient in than Nils, or perhaps they just had different tastes. He took a few more steps down the stairs, and the smell was becoming more and more rancid.


"Quite how one can forget to turn off the kettle, Nils, I am unsure. You need to be more careful."

Certainly, Arthur's tone was chastising, and held a slight hint of mocking. However, that was how the old man was, and Nils was now more than used to it. Although, recently, Nils had showed signs of entering a depression, the covering of furniture, the complete lack of occupation of the upper levels of the house, living in this dark, damp cavernous hall. Worry racked the brain and soul of Arthur; what would he do with this man, eh? Arthur made the supposition that the affair with Clarice and Nils' children were wearing down upon his soul. However, Nils could not allow these things to obstruct their desires and long laid plans.

He continued down the rest of the stairs now, approaching the floor, looking forward to some tea that would, hopefully, not be as rancid as the scent filling the air.

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Re: The Almost Modern Fantasy

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Nils on Sun Aug 05, 2007 11:39 am

Through the dim light, Nils Borden followed his father-in-law's eyes toward the massive shape sheathed beneath a tarp that filled an entire section of the Borden Estate's cavernous basement. To his surprise, the edge of the tarp fluttered. Something was moving beneath it. A pair of sandal-ed feet peeked between the space between the cloth and the concrete ground. Borden watched as a brown, swarthy hand lifted the tarp to reveal a familiar bearded face.

"Ah, Mr. Bhatta! Borden exclaimed.

"Ah, Master Borden, Master Maze." A voice slightly lilting with an Indian accent boomed through the cavernous basement. From the gloom of the dim lighting stepped a slight, middle-aged man. His head was adorned with a pure-white turban, which he must have changed since the scuffle at the university. Beneath the man's thick eyebrows gleamed a pair of spritely, intelligent ink-black eyes.

"I must have come down before you, while you were fetching Master Maze," he explained, bowing slightly to Nils Borden's father-in-law.

Borden grinned, clapping him on the shoulders, as one would with a dear brother. Indeed, they almost were brothers, since his time stationed in Bombay in his younger years, learning his Indian customs and ways, collaborating with him with his ideas.

He felt no need to introduce Bhatta to Arthur Maze, because the three of them had met before, brought together by a project. At first it was a free collaboration of ideas. Then it became a reality with Borden's equipment, Maze's money, and Bhatta's technical expertise. But as the project deviated further and further from its blueprints--the ideas so perfect on paper, the reality so distorted and mutilated, it was abandoned.

Borden could have sent Bhatta away, to face this failure, so close to his own flesh and blood, to face it himself. But it was perhaps Borden's own weakness that made him bring a third party when he could not face the secret itself anymore. Bhatta knew too much. The manservant's knowledge could have been a double-edged sword. He could feel his father-in-law's dark eyes boring into the back of his head. Yet, it was a choice Borden was content with; he trusted Bhatta. He trusted Bhatta with what secrets that lay in the western ramparts of the house.

Borden turned to address his father-in-law.
"Don't worry about the tea, Arthur. Bhatta will take care of it. As for us, we will need to discuss our course of action before the others arrive. No doubt Albert will arrive early--nervous fellow."

The hours before the midnight meeting passed pleasantly enough. Gradually, the members of the Herrenvolk--as they deemed their cozy gathering--trickled in, staggering their arrival to avoid the suspicion of any watching eyes. They said the passwords and uttered their oath of secrecy and in silence they gathered.

Just as the hands struck 12 o'clock, the gong from the grandfather clock upstairs echoed into the basement. Six pairs of hands collectively helped to pull the tarp from the expanse of the airship that lay beneath.

A bespectacled man with gray cotton wisps for hair approached Borden from behind. The man was forever wringing his hands as jittery and nervous as a rabbit, but his beady black eyes never missed a detail. His eyes were fixed on the looming airship before them, but Borden knew he was pondering what lay within.


"If it ain't broke, don't fix it, eh Mr. Borden?

Borden looked back at the man with an even gaze. "Not unless it is for the greater good, Dr. Albert. For the greater good."

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Re: The Almost Modern Fantasy

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Edge on Wed Aug 29, 2007 9:24 pm

Jackstraw stood on the outside of the door. He couldn’t believe all he heard from that spot but now with an exchange of information each would feel secure in the knowledge that the secret would travel no further. However that was not so, for what Jackstraw had gotten freely, he intended to root out the source of his troubles. Jackstraw said nothing as the girl came out. He had nothing for her, or she to offer him. Her card had been played and filed into the back of Jackstraw’s mind. Later he would pull that information at his own leisure but for now it was more important that he focus on the goal in front of him.

As Jackstraw waited for the girl to be out of earshot, he knocked politely and entered when Joseph gave permission. The student was sure that Stewart would perhaps note how odd it was to meet with two students so close to one another or perhaps Stewart would know a Sutton on sight. But Jackstraw pushed the doubts and fleeting worries to the back of his mind and entered.

Taking the books and notes painstaking organized by himself, Jackstraw placed the book down on Joseph’s desk.


“I came wanting to ask you something.”
From the plain bound book, Jackstraw pulled out a small pamphlet of his own creation. Within it was the list of all the parts, materials, and supplies that had passed through the Sutton Transport Company without inspection or knowledge. These were the missing accounts that had taken Jackstraw nearly eight months to compile and rewrite.

“With this list, what could you make?”


Hughes set down the tray for afternoon tea as Kain settled into a chair out on a small garden, surrounded by high crumbling stone walls, ivy, and a few blooming flowers, the sight before him a grand view of the land that was so green and healthy. As Hughes poured out the tea, adding several lumps of sugar to Kain (for the mage enjoyed his tea much sweeter then socially allowed) and two to his own.

The servant and long time friend looked to Kain’s passive face. The two of them had a quiet understanding; much of it had come from the Great War. The two had survived in their own ways, Kain coming to age too early, and Hughes through the slaughter of men, women, and children in France. Thirty pieces of pure silver now rested in a chest the chambers so far up, a reminder of the price of human blood.

Hughes transitioned from servant to friend easily as he sat in the chair next to Kain.
Thinking about her again?” he asked after a moment’s pause.

“No…” the mage replied flatly, “I’m thinking about Edwin. He’ll be questioning his origins soon… and I am not willing or ready to arm him with the truth.”

“Who else knows the truth?” Hughes said mildly as he sipped the tea.

“The German Dr. Hoffman, I know he lived. I feel it…”
“Yet all your searching methods have failed throughout the years. The Counsel of Magus surely must be tired of the search given that you never reveal why you took in Edwin.”

“I stand by what I said seventeen years ago, if there is no body, there is no death.”

Hughes looked out over the countryside. “Sometimes we have to accept the truth.”

Kain gave Hughes a rather sharp look, “The day you believe Roskov is dead, will be the day I can accept there is no other that knows of Edwin’s secret.”

Hughes said nothing to that, only coloring slightly at the Russian name and fell to another coughing spasm. Even Magic couldn’t solve every health problem the world held. But Hughes held his ground.

“What IS Edwin? Clearly he’s not a normal child. Nor I suspect actually British if you’re worrying about Germans.”


Kain glared out to the unoffensive greenery below. “Bad things happened in the magic community during the Great War… Very bad things… I didn’t know the arrogance the German Warlocks held extended to thinking themselves above God. Hughes, though you’ve always repressed your talents, Edwin will never be able to do so, half a mind that boy may have but angered and even I and every Merlin out there should take heed to what might happen.”

Nothing more was said. The topic was gently placed aside. For what more could Hughes pry out?

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Re: The Almost Modern Fantasy

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Edge on Sun Sep 02, 2007 7:02 pm

Jackstraw had placed before the technician the result of eight months of wheeling and backhanded dealings. The list of parts that would indeed perhaps reveal the presence of a backstabbing employee or a German sympathizer abusing the trading routes for a rise in German power, or so Jackstraw hoped. In Jackstraw’s own handwriting were the names of reputable companies and their model part numbers, materials from American companies, Asia, and South America, as well as manufactured goods from all over Europe.

If there was anyone who would understand the list of parts, Jackstraw was sure it would be the man before him.


Stewart ran his eyes over the list of parts, and then glanced back up at the young man before him. He shrugged his shoulders.

“This is a list of materials that could be used to manufacture several airships. May I ask where you got this from?” He asked turning the pages over in interest.


Jackstraw studied Stewart for a moment and decided that his exchange for information was important enough. Making sure that the door to the office was closed, Jackstraw sat down in one of the chairs.

“That paper which you are holding is a list of unrecorded transactions for the Sutton Transport Corporation. Naturally I have access to most of the company’s resources and records. But even the most well kept books and records have their corruptions, Mr. Stewart. I am determined to find out how and why these recordings went unnoticed…”

Jackstraw waved the thought of missing money off, every transaction had indeed been paid for- leaving the first clue that cargo was being shifted without notice.

“But it’s not so much the material as to what can be built… Thus why I came to you…”


“Well like I said the only thing that this list, all this list, would be good for is airships. And by some of the quantities a number of them too.” He paused and cast his shrewd eyes at Jack again searching his face. “If this is company business why have you brought it here to me, surely there must be others you could hand this to, better suited to knowing what to do with this.”

He handed the paper back to the youth.


“’Nobody here is entirely what they seem to be…’”
Quoted Jackstraw perfectly, “And nobody knows that better then you… Son of the Duke of Rothsay, the very real Lord Ashburton… no longer mythical in rumor.”

Jackstraw gave it a moment to settle in.


“And because of that, I know you have the right connections. Too many mistakes were made in the Great War, it would not seem unlikely that Germany would be interested in exacting her revenge. Others may close their eyes to the world, my dear Lord, but I do not when it comes to these affairs.”

Joseph’s eyes rose as Jack named him, “So listening at doors is honourable behaviour where you come from? You have no proof of anything just hearsay and as you put it myth. Even were it the case, what contacts do you think I would have. If I had contacts would I be working as a technician even in Durham’s exalted University?” Stewart rose and strode about the room. “Were I to take it to MacMillan, he would not believe that it has anything to do with potential war and I can’t I have no access to power.”

He stood by the door now looking back to Jack by the desk.


Jackstraw understood the signs of an ended conversation.
“What is freely spoken, is freely heard, Mister Stewart.” Jackstraw nearly spat. “I would think that concept should not be lost on you. However it seems I placed too much faith in your loyalties… I shall not make the mistake twice…”

Jackstraw rose, and met Joseph’s eyes without fear. Walking towards the door, Jackstraw gave one last parting shot. “Yes… You would be a technician, because it’s where your passions are. Do you think I would assume less?”

Jackstraw passed into the hallway, leaving the sheet on Joseph’s desk on purpose. Perhaps the man would reconsider… Perhaps not. But for the moment Jack had his fun and part of his answer. A German air fleet?

“Interesting… to say the least…” he said to himself as the mask of a wispy minded young man snugly replaced the sharp true face of Jackstraw Sutton.

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Re: The Almost Modern Fantasy

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Grimbold Theoman on Tue Sep 11, 2007 9:15 am

After Jack left his office, Stewart remained standing by his closed door looking pensively out of the window. Clearly the young man had been listening at the door, well that was not so terrible it was at least in part how his own family had grown so rich and powerful. The family were powerful too, but Joseph was only the third son, not even the spare. That was how it went the heir and the spare, then maybe the others; if there were others they were pretty much left to get on with it. Married off to advantage, sent to the army or the church daughters were different they were always valuable to make family ties. However Joseph had broken the family lore he was making his own way.

He walked slowly the few steps back to his desk and sat looking at the sheet of lists and figures that Jack had left there. He had no idea what he was supposed to do with the information. Okay it may show that the National Socialists in Germany were attempting to build a fleet of airships but as it stood all that could be proved now was that someone was diverting the resources of Sutton Transport Corporation for their own ends. Without being able to prove where the parts ultimate destination was it may be of interest to the Police as it showed fraud, but politicians, even had he the contacts would not take it seriously. They would say that it was at worst merely an internal company matter for Sutton's to sort out for themselves. At best they might recommend taking it to the police to investigate though the power and money in STC meant they might be scared of suggesting that.

No if anything more were to be done more information would be needed. He sat down and took up his pen and wrote a note to Jack Sutton requesting that he call on Stewart at ten the following morning, it seemed that Sutton had no lectures at that time and it was convenient for Stewart too.

He then turned his attention to his own paperwork, to the business of preparing demonstrations and practicals for the new years students.

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Re: The Almost Modern Fantasy

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby miyumi on Fri Dec 07, 2007 3:22 pm

OOC: Okay, so, if anyone has anything to post in the intervening months, I'm going to give you a little over a week to do so. Not this coming Monday, but the following Monday, I will be posting Emily preparing for the winter break, to try to keep the storyline moving. If you want to play out everything between here, or just come to agreements with other players on what has happened and have one of you post a summary, it's your choice. A little over a week guys- go to it!

I hope this storyline doesn't die... it's quite interesting. By tomorrow I hope to have relooked at what I have for Emiiy's history- if I recall correctly I don't think I posted anything about who her father is, so that might be up in the air. I'll have to look at everything again though, to be sure.


EDIT:

I admit it- I've been slacking. I haven't done anything... so, I'm gonna do some pm's, and see who's still interested, and forget the time-jump. This story does not need it. K? K.

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Re: The Almost Modern Fantasy

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby miyumi on Tue Jan 08, 2008 4:15 pm

All replies are in- this story continues... You guys post as you can (meaning once you've got something), and I will do the same.

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Re: The Almost Modern Fantasy

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby miyumi on Wed Jan 09, 2008 3:56 pm

She made it to the lunchroom having gained an extra two minutes by walking fast. Twenty-two minutes wasn't much time, and the press of people made her feel crowded, so she pulled a paper bag and loaded it with an apple, one of those new boxed milks, and a tuna sandwich wrapped in a napkin before heading to her class. She looked at her schedule twice to make sure she was reading right, but she was. It was history, with professor Triole. She snuck in and found a place in the front corner- close enough that she would be able to hear, but out of the way where hopefully she wouldn't be noticed.

She ate the apple first, knowing it was the loudest and least likely to be hidden during study. As she ate, she thought of the disastrous meeting with him the previous day, and contrasted it with what she heard from students previously. She couldn't make the two match up, until Professor Triole surprised her by walking in with his own lunch ten minutes before class was to begin. He smiled and winked at her before proceeding to devour it in all of three minutes, leaving her stomach hurting in sympathy.


You came to my office yesterday. Not many students do that.

I think I know why...

He laughed, a deep, hearty laugh that was completely at odds with the harsh figure he'd been the previous day. You caught me after another meeting with the rest of those in the history department. Those dry old sticks always make my temper flare. Besides, outside these walls, I'm a different person entirely. But then, most of us play double games.

She smiled, and blushed slightly, starting in on her sandwich. He shook his head and prepared his papers while the rest of the eighteen students filed in, talking noisily. As the school's clock chimes boomed across campus, he assumed a pose that left the whole room utterly quiet within two minutes.

Please take your seats, and I will call role before we go forward. You'll find that after the first week, I don't bother with role. On the whole, if you do the assignments and prove to me that you've learned it, I couldn't care less if you learned it by coming to class or just reading the book and borrowing notes. So, if you will, we'll start here with Jessica Curzon.

She gave a meek 'Here' before he moved on. She finished her sandwich quickly, and downed the milk, being careful to make as little noise and mess as possible. He passed out a syllabus that showed a heavy workload, his office hours, and the hours of all meetings. Going over the syllabus, he remarked that he was a bit of a bear after a meeting, so it would be best not to bother him then, but that the official office hours were not the only times he would be available. Just the easiest times to find him. He made sure everyone had the required readings, and the textbook, then passed out student info sheets.

I want to know you. I want to know what's important to you, or what you think is important to you. Anything that might cause a problem later on, put it down. That's why there's all the white space. It will not go anywhere. I give my word to you what you put in the "other information" space will not be shared with any other person without your consent. You can ask any of my former students, I have not broken that yet.

She was surprised, but inclined to like him. She was grateful to learn that they had a week to decide how much or how little to tell him, he just wanted the first part with basic info filled out and returned to him the next class. He would return it to them the third class, and they would write or attach whatever they wished, then pass it back in. She filed it carefully away, and paid attention to what they were expected to bring to class the next meeting. Something that represented their family's history. Or, something that represented their personal history. The class would guess what it meant, so it was important that it be something they were willing to share. Well, I know the Curzon history pretty well; I'll take something from there. She left that class feeling a good deal better about Professor Triole, and about her chances at actually going somewhere in this school.

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