Cantr II Discussion Forum

[Narrator] A group of randomly selected ladies and gentlemen meet on an airship, a wonder of modern design, brass and oak everywhere. Clockwork Automata serve them with fine wines and tiny cucumber sandwiches with no crusts. The Captain stands to give a speach, his brass armour is styled to that of a 17th century nobleman, but two small coils on the shoulders suggets it is a Tesla plate. He's just about to say his first word when a cloud of green gas fills the room causing everyone to fall unconcious.

As the group awakes, they find they have been relieved of their weapons and money. Standing up they see most of the crew have had their throats slit, the only other person on board is a scoundrel in a long leather coat and flying goggles, his left sleeve and indeed his arm is missing. A fine copper clockword arm sits where his real arm would be. In his right hand an intricate revolver which is aimed towards the group [/Narrator]

[Unknown Male] I see you are all awake. I should have left, but I couldn't resist a gloat, you're weapons, good Sirs and Madams, have been tossed overboard. I bid you adue [/Unknown Male]

[Narrator] The gentleman jumps out of a side door on the airship, falling into the sky as a pair of steam powered wings unfurl into the dawn sky, providing his escape. The group looks to each other for answers to the various questions springing in their minds, still drowsy from the gas. [/Narrator]

*Slowly stands up, using a chair for balance, and brushes off his tuxedo*
Bloody hell, what was that.
*looks around at the crew, finally noticing that they're all dead*
Well, this is a ghastly sight. *pauses* Wait a second, is anyone here able to fly this ship!?

Joshua Bekkit rubs his forehead and finds his beret's still atop. It's easy
to spot which class he's in, with a plain button shirt dirtied with old blot
stains tucked under aged brown overalls, with matching shoes and
gloves to spare. His only accessory is a falsely gold-tinted wristwatch.

Zanthos wrote:Wait a second, is anyone here able to fly this ship!?

Upon this, he wasted no time to abruptly leave the others with a hint of a
smile and find the control room first.

*A man in a black suit with a white shirt underneath a black tie and black dress pants groans and fumbles around till he finds a black tophat*

Who was that man?

*she groans softly as she grasps the arm of a nearby chair and manages to stand up. Her eyes widen slightly and her full lips part as she gasps in horror at what is around her.*

What...?

*She pulls out a fan that was tucked inside her cleavage, snapping it open while walking over to a window, fanning herself. Her hand sneaks up to her blue-black hair, making sure it was still elaborately coiffed before nervously falling back down to her long black satin skirt which had been slit up to the hips on both sides, showing off her daring red silk thigh-highs and her spiky stilletos, smoothing it over her hips as she looks out the window. Her back is straight though that could only be credited to her sanguine velvet corset, cinched tightly by black velvet ties in the back and sterling silver hooks along the length of the front. Her shoulders are bare and her neck is long and graceful.*

*she turns back and looks at the other gentlemen around her, snapping her fan shut.*

Does anyone understand what is going on here?

*doffs his hat to her* Hello. I am sorry madame but I have no idea about how we got into these dire circumstances *frowns* That man used some kind of knock out gas on us. *scratches chin* Let us hope it is not some fentanyl derivative which could damage our respitory systems.

*she blinks and snaps her fan out again, fanning her face as her eyebrows lift in surprise as she looks to the man.*

I should hope not!

*she takes a few exploratory breaths, her impressive bosom rising and falling before she gives a small smile of relief*

Well, it does not seem that my breathing has been hampered at all.

*she turns away from the men, her hands suddenly snapping down to her legs. Her fingers slide inside the slits of her skirt and her eyes widen*

My weapons! They have taken them!

We need to hurry, although these men have had their throats slit, some may still be saveable. It appears we have someone who can fly this thing, now does anyone have medical background? A ship of this size needs at least a skeleton crew to keep afloat.

*taps a device seemingly implanted in the left side of his face, where his eye would be* I am going to begin searching for clues. That man had pistols, and if pistols are shot, they will leave bullets.

*scans the room for signs of gunfire, including bullet marks and the bodies of the dead crew*

A tall lanky gentleman sits up against a wall. dusting off his tailored frock coat as he stands. He straightens his black derby hat which compliments his Aristocratic flare.

The coat is longer in the back, swooping down to a rounded tail that's pleated and split down the center. Punctuated by two steel decorative buttons on the back. The coat has long sleeves with cuffs, also adorned with two more decorative buttons per cuff. He pulls out a pack of clove cigs from the front slit pocket and pats down his vest for a lighter.

"Does anyone have a light per chance?"

*she continues to fan herself as she glances at all the dead crew*

I do not have any medical background but I can tell you that these men are definitely dead, sir.

*she snaps her fan shut and walks over to the man with the clove, reaching down and removing a slim lighter from her right garter*

Here, allow me, sir.

It is one thing to take a man's weapons, but to swipe his lighter as well is just plain cruel... at least it gave me the opportunity to meet sucj a lovely flower.

Allow me to introduce myself ma'am, I am Sir Newton Buckle.

*he flips a clove in the air and catches it between his lips, leaning his head down and puffs until the cherry is red... then holds the open pack towards the lady*

Join me?

*scratches his chin* Maybe we can retool the Clockwork Automata in some benefical way.

[Narrator] Joshua Bekkit continues running down corridors, past cruder automata and exposed steam pipes, finding most of the doors locked shut until he reaches a small control room where a huge steampowered difference engine is running guiding the ship over a pre-determined course towards a city, just visible over the fields at a river junction. A grey pillar of smoke rising into the sky. A large keyboard sits before the difference engine.

Mean while the others remain in the ball room as flies start to orbit the corpses of the freshly dispatched crew. The walls are strangely devoid of bullet holes or scorch marks, however a small burn is visible in the far corner beside the ship's Captain. [/Narrator]

If you ask me the most beneficial thing that automata can do is get me a drink, something strong.

*walks over to inspect the burn mark by the captain* Interesting. *pauses* Does anyone have any idea how much this captain's armor would be worth? I could buy Lillia a great Souveneer if I sold it off somewhere.

*gets to his feet and scans the room with a look of disdain in his piercing, blue eyes*

I knew nothing good would come from these fancy shenanigans.

*Deftly rolls a small brown cigarette, with surprising skill for such large hands and lights it with a book of matches from his long leather apron*

This ship looks like its about to burn down around us, how do I get off.