The Curious Tale of Panache and the League of the Moderators

[Panache]

The Curious Tale of Panache and the League of the Moderators

A Victorian Tale of High Adventure related in Chapters

Chapter 1

A Subtle Message

The sun’s rays had just broke over the eastern horizon as I rose for the day. I made my toilet and dressed before heading to the kitchen to prepare that invigorating brew of rich dark coffee that would be certain to chase the last vestiges of slumber from my sluggish brain. I as perambulated down the hallway to the foyer, striving unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn, I was stopped suddenly by a hard blow to the forehead.

So unexpected was this strike to my cranium that my balance was lost and I stumbled and fell to the floor. My forehead reeled with pain; truth be told I perhaps should more precisely note, with additional pain being that I had made quite merry the previous evening and found myself perhaps enjoying that delightful “scotch drink” that so inspired the Scotland’s greatest poet more than I ought. The dull throb at the base of my skull that I had awoken to was now joined by a sharper pounding from above the brige of my nose. I grimly noted that the syncopated beat would be most suitable for a rhumba. Rubbing my head I noted the long metal object I had had the misfortune to collide with. Muttering an oath I ducked my head and went under the object and continued my way to the kitchen.

A short time later with my preparations completed I made well sure to duck again as I made my way to my library with a pot of steaming coffee with toast and marmalade. I settled in a corner nook in the comfort of my favorite chair and enjoyed this simple meal in the quiet of the morning. Sometime later I heard the dainty steps of my beloved Flame-Haired Celtic Amazon Goddess as she glided down the hall to stop just before the foyer. Save my earlier cry, her gentle voice was the first sound to break the silence of the new day.

She exclaimed, “Panache what the blazes is this note doing pinned to the wall? I was confused at this and did inquire politely to what message she referred to. She responded “the large piece of parchment that is attached to the wall…with a claymore!” Putting on my spectacles I observed her accusing finger pointing at the large sword inserted into the plaster of the wall and the large heavy parchment that it pinned there.
“Ah that! Well that must have been the metal thing I had the misfortune to run into this morning” I feebly noted. The F-H.C.A.G. wondered aloud that perhaps I should take a slightly more…engaged interest in large pieces of medieval weaponry inserted into the partitions of our domicile. I began “Well dear I hadn’t yet consumed my morning coffee and…” before she cut off my stammering excuse and began to read the message aloud:

Panache,

You have been selected to receive the high honor of being allowed to present your credentials and prove your worth to join the exalted ranks of the Moderators of our most beloved forum. Take the 9:30 Express Eastward bound to South Carolina. Bring the sword as it is your pass into the Great Hall of X Marks the Scot.

The League of the Moderators

My beloved Flame-Haired Celtic Amazon Goddess noted that it was almost the hour of 9. With haste I quickly packed a bag and kissed the cheek of my lady and fled to the station with the large Scottish blade in hand.

To be continued...