Hmm. Ornamental. I wonder what I shall make ornamental....
Ornamental At the edge of the mown patch was a thin line of white concrete which bordered a metal hatch that looked a lot like a man-hole cover with a handle attached to it. “See, they stopped mowing as soon as they found it,” said Ethel, though it was obvious to them all. “Out here like this, near but away from the buildings, you’d expect it to be a maintenance hatch. Normally you’d open it and find water pipes or maybe some electrical boxes.” He reached down and heaved the hatch open: it moved slowly as though it was very heavy, but when the hinges passed ninety degrees it continued moving with the same ponderous pace and Collins realised that the hinges must be hydraulic somehow. “Instead we have… metal rungs set into the side of a suspiciously deep concrete oubliette,” said Ethel. “They have a certain brutalist chic, but I doubt they’re ornamental.” “Escape tunnel,” said the Inspectral. “Comes up at the airfield where they would have had a plane waiting, if anything went wrong.” “Could be an evacuation route for the airfield,” said Ethel. He grinned at the Inspectral. “But your idea is more likely given what we know of the history of this place. So, we have a ghost-proofed hangar and we have a mysterious tunnel. Which one shall we investigate first?” “I vote mysterious tunnel,” said Adams. Neither the Inspectral nor Ethel looked at her, and so Collins quickly turned his gaze back to Timothy, who was now sitting down and letting the soldier-ghosts converge on him and then darting past through, or through their legs, to a nearby spot and sitting down again. He appeared to be completely happy. “There are guards here,” said the Inspectral as though Adams hadn’t spoken. “so there must be something of interest in the hangars.” “Oh come on,” said Ethel. “Spit it out, Harold. You think this tunnel leads back to the Crisis centre.” “Don’t you?” Collins could have sworn that the grass around the Inspectral briefly frosted over with those two words. “We could split up and investigate both,” said Adams, and again the silence into which her words fell was deafening. “The soldiers are getting fed up chasing Timothy,” said Collins quietly. The ghosts were indeed slowing down now, and two of them were already confering. “Down the hatch!” said Ethel sounding far too cheerful for a man faced with the prospect of stepping into the dark unknown. Collins, you have to come last or the ghosts might spot us.” “Timothy—” “Will have to stay out here,” said the Inspectral. “Although he seems to like you; he might find his own way to follow you.” Collins started to smile, and then thought about those words harder, wondering if they were approval or censure. Was it a good thing to be liked by a Garmr? “Adams, you lead the way.”
Ordinarily Dr. Harkness didn’t usually come to the back door of the House of Esoteric Matters, but there was a problem with the front door—or rather, there was a problem with what was beside the front door. He knocked, to no reply.
“Professor!” he called. “Would you come out back, please?”
"One moment, Doctor!" came the singsong reply from above as Dr. Voynich poked her head out a second story window. "What seems to be the matter?”
“Would you be ever so kind,” he asked evenly, “and explain what’s on your front porch?”
She frowned, curious. “Whatever do you mean?”
Harkness sighed—his usual means of exhaling when talking with Voynich—and shook his head. “Can you just come down, please?”
She rolled her eyes, only for show. “Alright, alright, one moment.” And in short order Isolde Voynich appeared at the back door. “What’s this matter about the front door?”
At first Harkness leaned to glance over her shoulder, but paused—as long as she was doing her job and folks weren’t dropping like flies, the less he knew about the inside of her practice, the better. Plausible deniability was less frustrating than worry. So instead he motioned for her to follow him around the side of the building, between the House and the Company Clinic next door. “I was wondering,” he explained patiently, “if you could explain what that is doing—”
“Oh, goodness!” she exclaimed as they rounded the corner.
“Yes. I was hoping y’all might be able to explain why, exactly, there's a scuddler on your porch.”
Taking up most of the porch was an enormous insect, an ant in a bear’s skin & scaled up to fit that skin. The creature was crouched & looked poised to strike, though it remained still—but even though it was motionless, its arm-length mandibles looked dangerous.
But where Harkness was bemused and concerned, Voynich was delighted.
“Oh, goodness!” she said again, grinning broadly, & went to mount the porch.
Harkness followed her, but only came as far as the second step. “So what’s it doing here?”
“I have no idea!” She was leaned in to inspect the front of the head. “Doctor, come look.”
“I’m all right here, thank you.”
“Oh come now,” she teased. “No stomach for insects?”
“I’ve plenty of stomach for bugs. My concern is that there’s a giant predatory one on the front porch of a medical establishment.”
Around the base of one of the antennae was tied an envelope. Voynich carefully untied it to look it over: Doc V.—Your help pulling our little family back from the edge of a bad turn can’t be overstated, there’s no thanks enough. But we hope we can show our appreciation of your sterling work with some other sterling work—Mr. Swanson was only too happy to help! Cheers, Elbert & Birdie Knowles, the Knowles clan, & the hamlet of Sureshot
“Oh, Birdie, you spoil me,” she sighed, folding the note back up & beaming. “Never fear, Dr. Harkness, she’s a gift of thanks from the good people of nearby Sureshot.”
“She?”
“Let’s call her… Zepto! Yes, Zepto’s a wonderful name.”
“And these people gave you a scuddler.”
“Preserved as only Honor Swanson can preserve a creature and its magnificence. Look here.” She waved Harkness closer, more vigorously until he finally, tentatively, acquiesced. “Look at these eyes—those are her original eyes, kept in resin. And all the facets are intact, truly magnificent.”
“That is mighty impressive, I’ll grant that,” he reluctantly admitted. “It is a bit much for the front, though. These critters usually make folk jumpy. And as your supervisor, technically I’d have to discourage it.”
Her face fell. “Come now Doctor, surely you of all people can appreciate—”
“I’m sayin’ technically I’d have to.” He took a deep breath, as if to brace himself. “But… if it’ll fit out back, I’m don’t see why you can’t—”
“Oh, marvelous, thank you, Doctor!”
"Just don't- don't try to bring it back to life or nothing."
She laughed. "This display of taxidermical mastery? I wouldn't dream of it." She scurried around to the back of it. “Here, you take the front, let’s get take her around to the back.”
Harkness sighed. “Should let me me stretch out these older bones first, Professor." === If your group is playing with a space-Western setting, sometimes you'll create a maverick scientist made up of good cheer and chaos.
Hmm, down the hatch they go. Hoping for the best, but starting to worry just a little about this group's continued well being. Relatively speaking, obviously.
And I hope Timothy isn't gone for long!
g2 - hello! Lovely to hear from you again. Hope you're keeping well?
And this is delightful, and only made better by your note at the end there. Good cheer and chaos are pretty much always a win.
4 comments:
Hmm. Ornamental. I wonder what I shall make ornamental....
Ornamental
At the edge of the mown patch was a thin line of white concrete which bordered a metal hatch that looked a lot like a man-hole cover with a handle attached to it.
“See, they stopped mowing as soon as they found it,” said Ethel, though it was obvious to them all. “Out here like this, near but away from the buildings, you’d expect it to be a maintenance hatch. Normally you’d open it and find water pipes or maybe some electrical boxes.” He reached down and heaved the hatch open: it moved slowly as though it was very heavy, but when the hinges passed ninety degrees it continued moving with the same ponderous pace and Collins realised that the hinges must be hydraulic somehow. “Instead we have… metal rungs set into the side of a suspiciously deep concrete oubliette,” said Ethel. “They have a certain brutalist chic, but I doubt they’re ornamental.”
“Escape tunnel,” said the Inspectral. “Comes up at the airfield where they would have had a plane waiting, if anything went wrong.”
“Could be an evacuation route for the airfield,” said Ethel. He grinned at the Inspectral. “But your idea is more likely given what we know of the history of this place. So, we have a ghost-proofed hangar and we have a mysterious tunnel. Which one shall we investigate first?”
“I vote mysterious tunnel,” said Adams. Neither the Inspectral nor Ethel looked at her, and so Collins quickly turned his gaze back to Timothy, who was now sitting down and letting the soldier-ghosts converge on him and then darting past through, or through their legs, to a nearby spot and sitting down again. He appeared to be completely happy.
“There are guards here,” said the Inspectral as though Adams hadn’t spoken. “so there must be something of interest in the hangars.”
“Oh come on,” said Ethel. “Spit it out, Harold. You think this tunnel leads back to the Crisis centre.”
“Don’t you?” Collins could have sworn that the grass around the Inspectral briefly frosted over with those two words.
“We could split up and investigate both,” said Adams, and again the silence into which her words fell was deafening.
“The soldiers are getting fed up chasing Timothy,” said Collins quietly. The ghosts were indeed slowing down now, and two of them were already confering.
“Down the hatch!” said Ethel sounding far too cheerful for a man faced with the prospect of stepping into the dark unknown. Collins, you have to come last or the ghosts might spot us.”
“Timothy—”
“Will have to stay out here,” said the Inspectral. “Although he seems to like you; he might find his own way to follow you.” Collins started to smile, and then thought about those words harder, wondering if they were approval or censure. Was it a good thing to be liked by a Garmr? “Adams, you lead the way.”
Ordinarily Dr. Harkness didn’t usually come to the back door of the House of Esoteric Matters, but there was a problem with the front door—or rather, there was a problem with what was beside the front door. He knocked, to no reply.
“Professor!” he called. “Would you come out back, please?”
"One moment, Doctor!" came the singsong reply from above as Dr. Voynich poked her head out a second story window. "What seems to be the matter?”
“Would you be ever so kind,” he asked evenly, “and explain what’s on your front porch?”
She frowned, curious. “Whatever do you mean?”
Harkness sighed—his usual means of exhaling when talking with Voynich—and shook his head. “Can you just come down, please?”
She rolled her eyes, only for show. “Alright, alright, one moment.” And in short order Isolde Voynich appeared at the back door. “What’s this matter about the front door?”
At first Harkness leaned to glance over her shoulder, but paused—as long as she was doing her job and folks weren’t dropping like flies, the less he knew about the inside of her practice, the better. Plausible deniability was less frustrating than worry. So instead he motioned for her to follow him around the side of the building, between the House and the Company Clinic next door.
“I was wondering,” he explained patiently, “if you could explain what that is doing—”
“Oh, goodness!” she exclaimed as they rounded the corner.
“Yes. I was hoping y’all might be able to explain why, exactly, there's a scuddler on your porch.”
Taking up most of the porch was an enormous insect, an ant in a bear’s skin & scaled up to fit that skin. The creature was crouched & looked poised to strike, though it remained still—but even though it was motionless, its arm-length mandibles looked dangerous.
But where Harkness was bemused and concerned, Voynich was delighted.
“Oh, goodness!” she said again, grinning broadly, & went to mount the porch.
Harkness followed her, but only came as far as the second step. “So what’s it doing here?”
“I have no idea!” She was leaned in to inspect the front of the head. “Doctor, come look.”
“I’m all right here, thank you.”
“Oh come now,” she teased. “No stomach for insects?”
“I’ve plenty of stomach for bugs. My concern is that there’s a giant predatory one on the front porch of a medical establishment.”
Around the base of one of the antennae was tied an envelope. Voynich carefully untied it to look it over:
Doc V.—Your help pulling our little family back from the edge of a bad turn can’t be overstated, there’s no thanks enough. But we hope we can show our appreciation of your sterling work with some other sterling work—Mr. Swanson was only too happy to help!
Cheers,
Elbert & Birdie Knowles, the Knowles clan, & the hamlet of Sureshot
“Oh, Birdie, you spoil me,” she sighed, folding the note back up & beaming. “Never fear, Dr. Harkness, she’s a gift of thanks from the good people of nearby Sureshot.”
“She?”
“Let’s call her… Zepto! Yes, Zepto’s a wonderful name.”
“And these people gave you a scuddler.”
“Preserved as only Honor Swanson can preserve a creature and its magnificence. Look here.” She waved Harkness closer, more vigorously until he finally, tentatively, acquiesced. “Look at these eyes—those are her original eyes, kept in resin. And all the facets are intact, truly magnificent.”
“That is mighty impressive, I’ll grant that,” he reluctantly admitted. “It is a bit much for the front, though. These critters usually make folk jumpy. And as your supervisor, technically I’d have to discourage it.”
Her face fell. “Come now Doctor, surely you of all people can appreciate—”
“I’m sayin’ technically I’d have to.” He took a deep breath, as if to brace himself. “But… if it’ll fit out back, I’m don’t see why you can’t—”
“Oh, marvelous, thank you, Doctor!”
"Just don't- don't try to bring it back to life or nothing."
She laughed. "This display of taxidermical mastery? I wouldn't dream of it." She scurried around to the back of it. “Here, you take the front, let’s get take her around to the back.”
Harkness sighed. “Should let me me stretch out these older bones first, Professor."
===
If your group is playing with a space-Western setting, sometimes you'll create a maverick scientist made up of good cheer and chaos.
Greg - I knew you'd come up with something!
Hmm, down the hatch they go. Hoping for the best, but starting to worry just a little about this group's continued well being. Relatively speaking, obviously.
And I hope Timothy isn't gone for long!
g2 - hello! Lovely to hear from you again. Hope you're keeping well?
And this is delightful, and only made better by your note at the end there. Good cheer and chaos are pretty much always a win.
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