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  #1  
Old 09-03-2013, 01:44 AM
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Anthony Cardew briskly shakes Pinnard's hand. "Anthony Cardew, at your service," he says briefly. "A pleasure." His eyes dart discreetly around the study, taking in the furniture and the books. "I'm glad I made it; I was afraid I shouldn't arrive on time, as my train into Calais was delayed". He offers his hand to the other gentleman. "Anthony Cardew, pleased to meet you."
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Old 09-03-2013, 10:29 AM
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The younger man accepts the newcomers hand with grace, giving it a proper and brisk shake, "Pleased to meet you Anthony. I am Alan Petrosian, Luther's nephew." he replies. Luther clasps the young man on the back, his fondness for his nephew is evident. "Yes, I had him shipped from Cairo where he was just lounging about. He will be documenting this adventure for prosperity and science." Luther adds.

Alan smiles broad, "Yes well, I think my uncles real intent is to cure me of any wanderlust and prevent me from turning out like him." he remarks. Luther laughed heartily, "Well, don't mention what I say to your mother, but if you're anything like your old uncle here, there is no cure. But that will be between us, your Mother already has me on her short list. She swears it was my stories that drove you to your current predicament."

Last edited by MonkeyPunk; 09-03-2013 at 10:30 AM.
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Old 09-03-2013, 11:27 AM
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The sleek, silver Austin Twenty rounds the corner slightly faster than it should have, nearly missing the entrance to the estate. The driver stamps hard on the brake pedal, crunches down a gear and yanks the steering wheel left – all in one fluid motion. Shuddering slightly the car threatens to plough on, the situation not helped by the dismal early spring weather making the road slick and slippery. The thin front tyres finally find a small amount of grip, screeching as they start to make the turn and forcing the back end of the car to flick out slightly. The vehicle starts a slow slide graciously around the corner, coming perilously close to the large wrought iron gates that guard the entrance to the estate. As the tarmac runs out the sliding automobile meets the gravel entrance way, crunching and spraying stones in its wake. Suddenly the car flicks back, threatening to fishtail, but the fast reactions of the driver twitch at the steering wheel and the angle of the car rights itself.

Phew, I’m glad that this Austin handles better than the old Mercedes did! Curran breathed to himself, as he pulls the car to a halt outside the front door of the large house. That’s one way of making an entrance, he chuckled to himself However, I don’t suppose it went unnoticed…

Curran shuts off the engine, watching for a moment at the steam rising from the hood, marvelling at the wonders of modern technology contained within it. No more than 24 hours ago had he picked up the new car direct from the plant at Longbridge. He had been eager to drive it at least once before he left for Africa and had directly set out on the long drive back, stopping overnight in Oxford and continuing his journey on to London at first light this morning.

Easing his tall, thin frame out of the car Curran hands the butler his driving goggles, hat, scarf and fur lined bomber jacket and follows the elderly gent into the house. In the hall way he pauses momentarily to brush his dark brown hair away from his brow and back into a neat side parting. He also straightens his tie and, out of habit, brushes down the corners of his neatly trimmed moustache (even though it was short enough not to have been ruffled on the drive over).

“Mr Curran Henry O’Brien” The butler announces and withdraws to allow Curran to present himself.

“What Ho Gents! I don’t suppose there’s a tot of brandy on offer is there? It’s dashed cold out there today!” Curran says cheerfully as enters and sees that there are three men already gathered in the warm study. He scans the room quickly and makes an educated guess that the older gentleman with the crutch is Sir Luther, so steps towards him and extends his hand.

“Awfully pleased to meet you old chap, Curran O’Brien. I guess you must be Sir Luther?”
  #4  
Old 09-04-2013, 01:06 PM
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Luther grins at the exuberance of the young man, taking his hand and shaking it firmly, "I am indeed. A pleasure to meet you Mr. O'Brien." he replies. Turning slightly he indicates a long wooden table set against a wall near the fireplace. Upon it is an assortment of crystal decanters and bottles of various liquors as well as various glasses to use. "Bit of a clammy day eh? Please, help yourself. I would recommend the cognac. I had it shipped in this past week from it's namesake. Really exquisite indeed."

Last edited by MonkeyPunk; 09-04-2013 at 01:07 PM.
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Old 09-04-2013, 02:47 PM
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The taxi driver gave his unusual passenger a bit of a queer look as he pulled into the estate. What would such a fine gentleman want with such a odd looking brute. A foreigner no less! He hesitated a moment and fussed over his shoulder, his cockney drawling on uncomfortably long.

'Listern 'ere, mate. Ain' gonna get me chuffed and stuffed by pullin' in 'ere, nah? I'sno getaway driver, no sir! Yer not gonna be causin' nuffink, roit?
'

It wasn't uncommon, this scene and fussing. Ahdaj had received much more trouble from his neighbors in Whitechapel when he first moved out on his own. He was far from the only man of colour in London, East London least of all, but no matter how friendly he was, suspicion followed. He smiled and let the quirky thought of 'must be the hat' slip unspoken. He shook his head and paid the 2 quid for the service.

The dark-skinned man's voice softly sung his mild mannered reply. 'No sir, I am not here for trouble, merely work. Perhaps you'd be so gracious to let me fetch my luggage from the boot, I do not think I'll be needing you for a return'

The driver shook his head and popped out, throwing the latch for the back. The simple carpet bag stowed within, along with a bed roll and canvas tent, were all that had been brought along. Such light luggage was even stranger for the driver, so he had no qualms about taking his leave shortly after they were retrieved. Ahdaj was left on the front walk, a weary smile on his face, and hope of service ahead of him. He hefted his gear and made for the door.
--------------
Presently ushered from the foyer, the large Sikh kept his manners tight about him. He adjusted his beige, rough cut clothes for a mere moment, made sure his kirpan was tucked nonthreatening behind him, and walked in meekly.
Rather then embarrassing the help with his difficult name, he announced himself.

'I am Ahdaj Dhamaveer Surkett, Son of Nikesh and Leena Surkett'.

He bowed his head in extended greeting and extended his hand to those about. They were all gentlemen, which was enough to put him off of is jovial nature, and keep his deference defense about. He remembered his fathers words, Men with money are often men without duty, be wary and straight forward.
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  #6  
Old 09-05-2013, 10:39 AM
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Upon entering, all three men turn in Ahdaj's direction. There is a minute of awkward silence and Ahdaj momentarily thinks he is unexpected and has ventured into the wrong estate. This is quickly dismissed as a not-as-large as he man on a crutch suddenly smiles wide and approaches him. "Yes, yes! I was hoping you would make it." he remarks as he reaches for the large mans hand.

Luther is sure this is the man, Eastern Indian, large, yes, it is he. "You've come highly recommended by several associates of mine. Perhaps you recall Doctor Thadius Phillips? He praised your work as a porter on his expedition." he says. In Swahili*"And from what he tells me you speak Swahili quite well."

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  #7  
Old 09-05-2013, 09:16 PM
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Ahdaj shakes the elder gentlemen's hand and returns the smile genuienly. The good Doctor's reference was at least good for something, especially considering that expedition turned out poorly. The sleeping sickness had struck, and more than a few of his fellow porters were mauled by hyenas. He politely nods and returns in fair inflection of the tongue. Yes, Dr. Phillips insisted on us all being able to communicate in it. We made very good friends to the local tribe as a result. The language saved us from an even worse fate.
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  #8  
Old 09-06-2013, 10:23 AM
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Luther's smile widens upon hearing the large man speak Swahili, "Excellent! Excellent!" he replies and shakes the mans hand with renewed vigor. Clapping the man on the shoulder he then directs him to the other two standing nearby, "Introductions then. This young man here is my Nephew Alan Petrosian" he says, indicating a younger man who is clean shaven. "He will be documenting this expedition, and as it so happens, will also be the resident archaeologist in my stead."

Luther pats his bad leg, "An unfortunate accident on my last trip has left me with a permanent limp and now unsuitable for such adventures." he remarks as a bit of sadness creeps into his eyes. He seems momentarily distant before he catches himself and directs Ahdaj to the other gentleman, "And this gentleman is Curran O'Brien." he remarks.

Ahdaj had been one of only a few who had received correspondence directly from Luther himself requesting his presence on the expedition, and for particular reason. "I am so glad you decided to come Ahdaj. May I call you Ahdaj? Because I have need for a Porter Master. And I would be grateful if you would fill the role." he clasps his crutch under his arm and makes his way to a table with various decanters and glasses, pouring himself a cognac, "My dear friend Ugana, and as it so happens my go to Porter Master, departed this earth earlier this year. I will miss him dearly, but it also leaves me in a bit of a clutch. So it was Doctor Phillips who recommend I give you consideration." he returns to the group and gives the big man a nod, "So what do you say chap? Are you up to a challenge?"

Last edited by MonkeyPunk; 09-06-2013 at 10:25 AM.
  #9  
Old 09-07-2013, 02:36 AM
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After pouring himself a brandy, Cardew approaches the O'Brien and Ahdaj to greet them. "Gentlemen; Anthony Cardew. Charmed, I'm sure."
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Old 09-07-2013, 05:53 PM
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Ahdaj smiles gently and nods. You may call me Ahdaj if you'd wish, Sir Pinnard. I believe that we will become much more acquainted with this new expedition, after all. I would of course accept, barring any unforeseen complications or objections. I hope I can live up to the expectations set by your departed companion.

I am at your service, gentlemen.


He nods his head in deference before raising it to greet the approaching man, with a little bit on confusion to his indifferent state. He could never quite understand what made englishmen act so aloof to new company, especially when they are to be ones companions on such a dangerous trip. He brushes it off and nods in welcome. Namastē, Mr. Cardew. You seem...well prepared.
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Old 09-08-2013, 12:35 AM
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"Hello, once again, Mr. O'ConnerBonjour, une fois de plus, Monsieur O'Conner."

O'Conner, turned around, and petrified, grabbed for his gun. The tip of a cavalry sword pressed against his neck swayed him into letting it go. "La Folie Implacable? You-you've escaped?!"

"You tink little chains hold me? You judge me too small, O'Conner. Again. Now: is cold here. Your jacket, please?Vorte veste, s'il vous plaît?"

O'Conner looked down at his coat. "Be reasonable, Koenigwarter! This jacket here is a tailor made luxury. It cost me over a hundred pounds, for Christ's sake!"

"Reasonable? Like kidnapping 'animal woman' for all world to see?" Her eyes narrowed. "Axelle cold. Jacket.Veste. Now."

O'Conner sighed painfully, and looked down, pulling his left coat-sleeve off as he did. As he did, he saw a large book on his desk: some book of African lore he had taken with him for reference as he traversed the dark continent. Think you escape that easily?Vous pensez que vous échappez qui facile? Tsk tsk. He tried to hold back a smile, until the moment he lunged for the book with his now free hand and batted the sward from his neck. Simultaneously, his right hand still on the gun, he raised it to Koenigswarter's head and fired. Unfortunately, his movement was too fluid, too fast, and sent the sword into his wrist. The bullet made a tiny leak in the the ship's hull.

"What the hell are you doing you idiot European?!Qu'est-ce que l'enfer faites-vous vous idiot Européenne?!" Axelle cried as she recovered. "Now you get blood on my new jacketveste!"

"GOD DAMN YOU GOD! OH GOD DAMN!" O'Conner cried as blood spilled down his sleeve. "God damn you, Koenigswarter."

"Off with jacket.veste."

"Damn you. I am going to kill you Koenigswarter."

"Empty threat for man who bleeds on floor."

"Oh-ho, no no. We're in my country now." O'Conner smiled cruelly, and with a wink said, "Welcome to England, La Folie Implacable! I'll be happy to introduce you to every copper along the Thames to have heard that gunshot in but a moment..."



Three days later, Axelle Koenigswarter knocked on the front door of the Pinnard Estate, hair damp, and shivering in a long, navy-blue jacket with a rather large bloodstain on it's sleeve.
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Last edited by Thunderscreamer; 09-08-2013 at 12:39 AM.
  #12  
Old 09-09-2013, 05:47 AM
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Cognac in hand Curran returns to the throng in the centre of the room. A few more people have arrived and Curran does the rounds, shaking a few hands and introducing himself around, intrigued by the make-up of the party that will accompany him to Africa. In particular the foreign language Sir Luther and the Indian are conversing in peaks interest with Curran – he can pick out certain words that seem to have Germanic and French influences, and also recognises a strong Arabic influence (a language that Curran has never really picked up). Swahili, hmm, I may have to have a chat with this Indian fella, might be useful to pick up a rough gist of this language… Curran thinks to himself.

Turning back to his host Curran announces;

“So Sir Luther, old boy, I think we all know the sketchy details of what the plan is, any chance you could enlighten us a bit further?”

Just as Curran has finished asking the question, the door opens to reveal a young woman, looking slightly dishevelled and with what appears to be blood stains on her coat.

“Why Sir Luther, you cad, invited a filly along to the party have we? To keep us boys in check no doubt!"


Turning to the new entrant Curran continues;

“What-ho missy, everything alright? You seem a little bushwhacked already!”
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Old 09-09-2013, 08:38 AM
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Koenigswarter looked at him as if an elephant were dancing on his nose. After a beat, she gave up on trying to figure out what on earth the man had said, and asked, "Sir Luthar Pnnard?"
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Old 09-09-2013, 10:28 AM
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Luther turned to Curran and nodded to his question, "Yes, as is so happens..." he begins to respond, however he is cut short as the study door opens and the young woman enters. Her initial appearance leaves the men momentarily silenced as they look upon her. The butler simply shrugs and shakes his head. When asked her name she simply asked him the same as now "Sir Luther Pinnard?". With a look of exasperation that had been perfected over the decades, the butler rolled his eyes and left, closing the door behind him.

Luther cast a frown in Currans direction. The youth of today seemed to have lost their sense of chivalry. He tentatively approached the woman, "Yes. I am Luther Pinnard. A pleasure to meet you young lady." he replied, offering his hand to her. "And who might you be?" he asked her. His gaze briefly travels to the blood stain on her jacket, "Are you injured madam?" he asked her, seeming genuinely concerned for her well being.

Last edited by MonkeyPunk; 09-09-2013 at 10:29 AM.
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Old 09-09-2013, 08:27 PM
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She stared at his hand awkwardly. Why are the English so strange?Pourquoi les gens anglais si étrange? she thought, still knee deep in culture shock. And why do they all have to speak English?Et pourquoi ont-ils avoir tous à parler anglais?

Koenigswarter swallowed, and stood up straight. "No. I am not injured. Man simply bleed on me. Not my fault. He try to damn God. Not good. And he mess with me. Not good. I am Axelle Koenigswarter of the Sahara, but more call me 'La Folie Implacable.' Fourteen month ago we hear of man babbling of Xanadu in Congo. We go and search around the jungle where he stumble from and find nothing. Two month ago we hear of Sir Luther Pinnard funding expedition to find Xanadu, and decide to steal him and use him to find it. But I run in with God damning man and now am in England. I need trip home. If Sir Luther Pinnard take me home to my men, I give you word, men will not attack, and we help you find Xanadu."
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