Panache and the Great Hunt for the Acryli-Beast

[ccga3359]

But Grant, Panache is indicating by this misspelling not grammatical error, but the way in which McMurdo made the statement - the hesitation while searching for the correct word to sum your character in its entirety; the word of course, being "wanker."

Mr Ompet, we both know that McMurdo does not speak with a southern drawl, so he would have pronouced "well" sharply like "well" and not "welll". And since you continue to berate this subject might I point out that Wanker should be capitalized.
Then again let us ask who is THE true Wanker. Let us examine the evidence. Could Panache's new lap dog McMurdo really a spy? Does he not hold membership in SOKS?




Messers Splash, Mender & BEEDEE, what make you of this revelation?

[BEEDEE]

WANKER - Wearing A New Kilt Expects Results!

Grant - what did you think wanker meant?

Ens BEEDEE XMAS Saltire Security

[ccga3359]

WANKER - Wearing A New Kilt Expects Results!

Grant - what did you think wanker meant?

Ens BEEDEE XMAS Saltire Security

Or in french,

WALKEKC

Wearing Leather Kilt Expect Kilt Checks

Different names same results...

Cue Gilbert O'Sullivan

"Alone again, naturally..."

[Panache]

Panache and the Great Hunt for the Acryli-Beast

A Victorian Tale of Horror told in Chapters

Chapter 18

”PUT THE CREW ON FULL ALERT! EVERYONE TO THEIR STATIONS! TODD TAKE EVASIVE MANEUVERS!" I commanded.

A klaxon alarm sounded throughout the Saltire. On her various decks coffee pipes and fittings were dropped, music stands were knocked over, and sheet music scattered in the wild scramble of our musician crew to get to their posts.

“Excuse me, where are the parachutes?” asked Jake. We all ignored the kilted reporter.

The Saltire, already a large and ponderous vessel, now made more sluggish with the lack of half of her engine power, moved with painful slowness. Todd’s hands were clenched on his controls and he muttered to himself through clenched teeth “rasantere, rasantere, rasantere” as if by sheer force of will he could enable the great airship to get out of harm’s way.

Our zeppelin turned starboard just barely in time to avoid collision with the Maple Leaf and her deadly spar. As the blimp passed us on our port side I caught a glimpse of a determined looking clean shaven man with thick glasses at the helm still grimly trying to wheel his airship to strike us.

“Well done Todd, now gain us some altitude! Perhaps we can out-climb Grant‘s blimp” said I.

“Ja Kaptain!” the sandy haired moderator answered.

“The Maple Leaf is turning away. She is circling and climbing. Looks like she is going to come at us from starboard side!” reported McMurdo staring out our gondola’s window. We watched in horror as the blimp again was headed straight at us.

“Excuse me, where are the parachutes?” asked Jake.

“Todd, take us hard to port and keep climbing!” I instructed.

A shudder rocked through the zeppelin as we abruptly changed course. Again we narrowly avoided the blimp’s weapon. This time we were close enough to our opponent’s gondola that I could clearly see Grant behind his pilot screaming and waving his rubber chicken at us with one hand whilst the other gestured wildly and pointed to his hair and posterior.

“We can’t escape her on half power!” Todd declared from the helm.

“Grant’s blimp is circling and climbing again. It looks like she is going to try and ram us from behind” cried McMurdo again from the window. The red and white blimp was racing behind us and the gap between the airships was slowly but surely shrinking.

“Err… folks, could someone please tell me where the parachutes are?” asked Jake again.

In the mass of concerned faces on the bridge one shone with almost childlike delight. David’s eyes gleamed and he rubbed his hands together with glee. He grinned evilly as he said “Well, then, Captain, with your permission, I’ll have the gunners blow this stupid balloon right out of the sky.” With this he turned to the intercom speaking tube and began “All gunners to…”

“NO” I cut him off and covered the mouth of the tube with my hand.

“Oh, you want the planes to shoot him down. I’ll get the pilots to the hangar”, David tried to move my hand away from the intercom.

“NO, we are not going to kill those people aboard the Maple Leaf!”

“WHAT! That maniac is trying to kill US! Fair’s fair! He had his turn and now it’s MINE”, David cackled.

“A sporran is not worth a human life.” I stated simply.

“Well Grant seems to think so!” said an exasperated David in a fit of disbelief.

“Yes, but Grant is a wanker”, piped in McMurdo.

“That’s a very noble sentiment Captain. Now if it’s not too much trouble, could someone direct me where the parachutes are?” asked Jake.

I thought quickly. We couldn’t outrun him in our current shape and the blimp was far more maneuverable than we were. “Doesn’t that idiot realize we could blow him from the sky?” I murmured in frustration.

“I know an exceptionally good way to illustrate this to him.” offered David helpfully.

“I don’t want to destroy his ship midair, I just need to let the wind out of his sails a little!” I snapped back. Then my eyes came to rest on a piece of sheet music that had floated down to the command gondola from the interior of the zeppelin. Looking at it gave me a sudden inspiration.

“Todd maintain course! Keep climbing!” I directed. Grabbing the intercom tube from David’s hand I ordered “ENSIGN MENDER REPORT TO THE AFT GUN BATTERY! ALL CELLISTS REPORT TO AFT GUN BATTERY WITH YOUR INTSTUMENTS " I called for Todd that he had the bridge and ran to the ladder. Todd asked “What are you going to do?”

It was my turn to smile evilly “I’m going to let the air out of Grant’s balloon”.

I dashed through the very, very long interior of the Saltire with great haste. A small observation deck had been intended for the very rear end of the zeppelin. To my dismay David had altered my plans during the ship’s construction and turned the observation deck into a gun battery with two sets of deadly machine guns. While I had no intention of using David’s weapons, the movable windscreen there would offer an ideal firing range for mine.

Arriving at the small semi-circular room I found the massive Mr. Mender already there standing next to the still tarp-covered Vickers guns, as usual he was bristling with his personal arsenal of weaponry. The large man saluted “Ensign Mender reporting for duty sir!” he snapped to attention.

“Mr. Mender I need a volley of arrows to damage, but not destroy the gas bag of the blimp that is following us.” I stated.

“With apologies Captain, I have skill with a bow, but for a volley of arrows I would require multiple archers.” he apologized.

“Then you shall have them” I nodded as the cellists began to enter the room.

“Sir, I have but the one bow…”

“I think you shall find these good gentlemen and ladies suitably equipped. If you would distribute your arrows”.

At this this, as one, all my all my erstwhile musicians held up their cellos with pride.

Mr. Mender suddenly understood. He began passing out arrows to the cellists “The A string, I should think” he advised them.

“Open the windscreen!” I ordered. The screen was folded and moved aside and the cold wind whipped around us. The droning of our engines and the thrumming of Grant’s filled our ears. Behind us the Maple Leaf was closing fast on our position. The lethal spar pointed directly at us. If my plan failed that spike would pierce through the blue canvas covering the Saltire and tear apart the thin aluminum shell beneath. It didn’t matter if Grant destroyed one of our major helium cells or simply gave us enough structural damage to cause us to be ripped apart in the wind… the end would be the same. I would only get one chance. If we fired too soon we would miss, too late and it wouldn’t make a difference.

“Notch arrows!” I yelled.

Mr. Mender put his arrow to his bow string while the cellists about him did the same with a string from their cellos.

The Maple Leaf drew closer.

“Draw!”

The strings were pulled back.

The red and white blimp was almost in range.

“AIM”

It was now or never.

“FIRE!”

There was a dull strumming sound as the arrows were released. They flew true and landed into the top of the Maple Leaf’s gas bag. While there was no sound to be heard over the wind and the engines, the effect of the multiple shafts protruding from the blimp was remarkable. The blimp ceased rising though the Saltire continued upwards. Closer drew the blimp yet the spar’s point began to aim lower and lower as the blimp began to slowly descend. As the SOKS airship finally closed with ours we were a scant 15 feet above her. But it was enough to avoid collision. We watched as she continued on a slight downward angle. I was sure that the blimp would have just enough gas to make an emergency landing. I bade my crew to shut the screens and thanked them all for their efforts in saving the ship.

I returned to the gondola as quickly as possible. “Good work everyone!” I thanked our bridge crew and especially our skilled helmsman (who was sitting and wiping the sweat from his brow). I looked at everyone and spoke very seriously.

“Grant and his crew may be out of the picture, or they might not. It will take time to repair that blimp, if it can be repaired. Meanwhile we need to get to that Inuit tribe and get to the pole as quickly as we can. There is no time to lose!”



To Be Continued

[ccga3359]

Curses, foiled again. You'll see my point soon enough Panache! Big Mikey drop the ballast, Mr MacHummel aim for that clearing two points off the port bow.

[McMurdo]

A most enjoyable tale, I look forward to Chapter 19

[ccga3359]

A most enjoyable tale, I look forward to Chapter 19

Fear not Traitor the mighty Maple Leaf shall set sail again...
...You have not heard the last of SOKS, Now Big Mikey please remove your foot from my...

[Panache]

Panache and the Great Hunt for the Acryli-Beast

A Victorian Tale of Horror told in Chapters

Chapter 19

Ensigns Splash, BEEDEE, and Mender were successful in implementing the Wizard’s modifications and restored the remainder of the ship’s engines online by nightfall. With full power restored and steaming hot coffee plentiful we headed Nor East at maximum speed.

Whilst our journey West to British Columbia had been a leisurely one, in the many days needed to cross back over the vast expanse of Canada there was an air of anticipation and wariness over the ship. Knowing that we had an adversary dedicated to beating us to our goal and willing to destroy us to do so had set the crew and myself on edge. Below us there were trees as far as the eye could see in all directions. It was if we floated above a tranquil ocean of green, yet even this great beauty below my gaze kept returning to the airship’s compass and clock. I studied our charts again and again, as if I would uncover some vital new information as I charted our course. When I was off shift I slept fitfully. The thought that haunted me was of Grant repairing his damaged blimp and beating us to our prize. In my dreams I could see his crazed face laughing at me as he sailed away on the Maple Leaf with the Acryli-beast’s pelt (and his rubber chicken) in his hands. When I awoke there was nothing to be done but shake my head and hold to our course.

We met a fair amount of turbulence this time when we took the Saltire to the altitudes needed to surmount the Rocky Mountains again. In Canada the Rockies are almost twice as tall as in the United States. Where in our last passage I had seen them as awe inspiring, this time they filled my heart with dread. In spite of the heavy rocking of the airship Todd brought us over the mountain range safely.

Next we traversed over Alberta for another 800 miles. These northern plains were crisscrossed with rivers and narrow hard wood forests that flanked them to look like spider webs of green lain across the large flat expanses of almost nothing . After Alberta we passed over corners of the Saskatchewan and North West Territories. The temperature began to drop rapidly and we watched the thick Canadian forests thin and gradually disappear. I was thankful for my foresight in ordering special heavy winter kilts from the Wizard of B.C. These were issued to the crew who found them not only warm and well constructed, but quite handsome. The crotchety old kilt maker had chosen a solid color of rich, masculine, bold maroon for the kilts and everyone thought them quite splendid. The only exceptions being Mr. Splash, Mr. BEEDEE, and Mr. Mender as their new kilts clashed rather badly with their red security tunics, and Todd who insisted on wearing an authentic World War One era German leather flying suit. Even these four had to agree on the handsomeness and extreme masculinity of the maroon color.

Then came the Nunavut Territory as the Saltire entered the Arctic Circle. Monitoring the weather reports on our wireless set, Todd had become very concerned at the possibility of a major storms. As there wasn’t any suitable shelter within several hundred miles for our great airship there was little that we could do in the event of being caught in one save to ride it out. We hoped that Dame Fortune smiled at us and gave us a window of clear skies to complete our quest. Bellow us was stretched a blank wasteland of Tundra and increasing permanent ice. After many days over an almost frozen Arctic Ocean we sighted the shores of Ellesmere Island off our Starboard bow. Which was the third largest island in Canada and our last stop before the final leg of our journey.


McMurdo suggested that the sudden appearance of a huge dirigible over a tiny Inuit village might prove greatly alarming to its inhabitants. Given the high winds that swept over the barren ice covered ground of the North Shore, Todd was very hesitant to bring the zeppelin down low enough to moor her. I decided that this would be a perfect opportunity to utilize our small complement of Sparrowhawk light biplanes . We held 4 such craft in a hanger located on the underside of the zeppelin amidships. Each could carry one pilot and a single passenger. These compact biplanes had a hook located on their top wing, this hook could attach to a sturdy cross-bar (which was in turn attached to a crane arm). The cross-bar could then be lowered below the hangar bay. Once safely clear of the airship the cross-bar was retracted and the airplane would free-fall away from the ship. To recover our squadron the cross-bar was again lowered and the pilot would fly close enough to catch the plane’s hook on it, thus allowing the smaller craft to be lifted back into the hangar, one by one. We were fortunate in that a large percentage of our woodwind section were certified pilots.

With my ribs finally healed from their previous protection, I decided that I would forgo the services of my security detail in speaking with the Inuit Chief. I also thought it for the best to have Todd remain aboard the Saltire with his competent hand at her helm. For my landing party I chose McMurdo whose services were required as a translator. Jake, mainly because he refused to be left behind again (and secretly I hoped would be devoured by a polar bear or better yet a band of vicious though very lost penguins ). And David I brought for the simple fact that I didn’t trust him aboard my zeppelin without my watchful eye.

We all proceeded to the hangar where we took our cramped places in the compact blue biplanes behind the pilots. My personal aircraft (#3) was adorned with a simple pattern of two gold and two silver stars on its top wing, in honor of my beautiful wife, The Flame-Haired Celtic Amazon Goddess. I nodded to signal the sousaphone player in charge of the operation of the crane. One by one the planes were hoisted up and lowered into the freezing wind below. I held on tight to my seat as we were lifted aloft and then descended through the hangar bay opening. We hung there below the belly of the great dirigible as my pilot (a clarinetist) gunned the small plane’s engine. She gave the crane operator a thumbs up and suddenly the aircraft plummeted downward (though it felt as if my stomach was strangely left above) . Soon we were zooming forward and chasing after the rest of our small squadron. Behind us the Saltire appeared smaller and smaller as we drew close to the shore.

It wasn’t long before that we spotted a small collection of some forty Igloos grouped together. I signaled my pilot to land. The rest of the planes followed us in our descent. The Sparrowhawks had been outfitted with skies for landing gear so the flat snowy ground proved no trouble (though a bit bumpy) for us to land on. My clarinetist chose a spot to the West side of the village. There was a light snowfall and as we came to a stop and though we were no more than a couple of hundred yards away from the nearest dwelling, I could see no one emerging from the village to investigate our arrival. I waited for the others to land and disembark. Bidding the pilots to remain with the planes I also advised them to keep the motors warm in case a quick withdrawal became necessary.

As we walked to the closest igloo a large fuzzy form with a slavering maw exploded from beneath a small bank of snow. Before any of us had a chance to react it had charged from its hiding place, knocked McMurdo down, and pounced on him!

In the distance I heard a man yell in disapproval “Wompet! Wompet!”





To Be Continued

[Wompet]

As we walked to the closest igloo a large fuzzy form with a slavering maw exploded from beneath a small bank of snow. Before any of us had a chance to react it had charged from its hiding place and knocked McMurdo down and pounced on him!

In the distance I heard a man yell in disapproval “Wompet! Wompet!”

Well, this ought to be good.

[pdcorlis]

...The crotchety old kilt maker had chosen a solid color of rich, masculine, bold maroon for the kilts and everyone thought them quite splendid....

Nice try Jamie!!!!!!!!