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31st January 07, 05:20 PM
#1
The Curious Tale of Panache and the League of the Moderators
The Curious Tale of Panache and the League of the Moderators
A Victorian Tale of High Adventure related in Chapters
Prologue
(Clipping from the San Jose Mercury News January 31, 2007)
Flying Squirrel Sighted in Cambrian Park
Several children reported seeing some type of flying rodent in a local Cambrian Park Sunday morning.
The children saw a small squirrel-like animal with grey brown fur on top with darker flanks and cream colored belly. The creature had large dark eyes and a flattened tail. It was seen gliding between branches of a large oak tree. A concerned parent contacted Animal Control who in turn asked for assistance from the San Francisco Zoo in identifying the creature. Zoo Veterinarian Dr. Ima Pseudonym arrived at the scene and though unable to find the animal itself did succeed in discovering a recently abandoned nest in the hollow of the oak that may have been the animal’s shelter.
Dr. Pseudonym told this reporter that from the children’s descriptions “the animal would seem to be a a Southern flying Squirrel, Glaucomsoys volans one of two species of the genus Glaucomys, the only flying squirrels found in North America (the other is the somewhat larger Northern flying squirrel, G. sabrinus). It is found in deciduous and mixed woods in the eastern half of North America. It is illegal to bring these animals into California though they are kept as pets in other areas of the country. More curious than the animal’s presence so far west of it’s usual territory is the strange nest it would seem to have made. This animal had lined it’s nest entirely with scraps of wool plaid cloth, specifically the Galbraith and Mcleod of Lewis tartan . Furthermore, and stranger still, deep within the nest was a neatly written manuscript.”
The flying squirrel has not be seen since. It is still unknown how it came to San Jose or why it had a tartan lined nest. The manuscript is a pastiche of a Victorian adventure written in chapters. Such books were referred to as “Chap books” or derogatorily as “Penny Dreadfuls”. The title “The Curious Tale of Panache and the League of the Moderators” sheds little light onto the incident. Anyone sighting the flying squirrel is advised to contact San Jose Animal Control….
To be continued...
Last edited by Panache; 15th February 07 at 09:48 PM.
Reason: Not cryptic enough, my latin was rusty
-See it there, a white plume
Over the battle - A diamond in the ash
Of the ultimate combustion-My panache
Edmond Rostand
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31st January 07, 05:31 PM
#2
oooh, Oooh, Oooh!!! Another story coming on! (pulling popcorn out of the mciro-wave and and lining my shiny bottom in tartan!)
"A veteran, whether active duty, retired, national guard or reserve, is someone who, at one point in his life, wrote a blank check made payable to "The United States of America", for an amount of "up to and including my life." That is honor, and there are way too many people in this country who no longer understand it." anon
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31st January 07, 06:55 PM
#3
Penny Dreadful... I thought I was worth at least a nickle.
**Settles in the chair by the fire with his yarn and hooks**
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31st January 07, 07:01 PM
#4
Great, another story! And by the thread title I thought Panache had a run in with mods and was expressing his dissatisfaction over said run-in!
Methinks Sciuropterus will make an appearance in this story...
The kilt concealed a blaster strapped to his thigh. Lazarus Long
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31st January 07, 07:26 PM
#5
Oh, how exciting! I've heard of your excellent literary tallents!
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31st January 07, 11:11 PM
#6
Panache and the League of the Moderators Chapter 1
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...
Last edited by Panache; 2nd February 07 at 09:56 AM.
Reason: Remove llama reference
-See it there, a white plume
Over the battle - A diamond in the ash
Of the ultimate combustion-My panache
Edmond Rostand
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31st January 07, 11:19 PM
#7
I don't think you could get that past the TSA, or Homeland Security! I think you will be frisked. Maybe you shouldn't have disguised Rocky the flying squirrel as a full mask sporran, either.
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1st February 07, 03:15 AM
#8
Panache, I cannot thank you enough for that wonderful beginning. After the hideous month I have had, the pure entertainment that your story has provided thus far has been a tonic to my soul.
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1st February 07, 06:09 AM
#9
Now reread it with a hefty portion of scotch. How's that for tonic? {only no tonic in the scotch, please!}
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1st February 07, 06:27 AM
#10
If someone will please tell me what key this is written in, I can identify the tonic. Is it a mojor or minor key? (This will draw out the musicians in the rabble.)
Methinks major at this point. Unless he didn't check the claymore (large, two-handed sword with down-swept guard) and tried to carry it through security.
In which case, it will be a minor key as Panache keeps company with a large, mean fellow named Spike at the local constabulary.
Jim Killman
Writer, Philosopher, Teacher of English and Math, Soldier of Fortune, Bon Vivant, Heart Transplant Recipient, Knight of St. Andrew (among other knighthoods)
Freedom is not free, but the US Marine Corps will pay most of your share.
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