This is an in-character game thread from Changeling: In Love and War. (This page is not Creative Commons licenced.)

Storyteller

Ah, home sweet home… Or rather, lab sweet lab.

Or rather, “oh, no…”

What was once your 'creatively organised' laboratory is now creatively disorganised. Or, more to the point, smashed up.

At some point in the last few years, some invading army or other must
have decided that the lab would be a good place to loot, and a couple
of soldiers clearly set about looking for interesting and valuable
things. Common idiots that they were, of course, they didn't
realise the genius of many of your creations and merely broke them
instead. Still, at least the technology didn't fall into enemy
hands.

Not for long, anyway.

The reason for it being likely that it was a couple of soldiers who
ransacked the place is that there are currently two soldiers passed out
on the floor. Their close proximity to a bunch of iron spikes
suggests that they will probably not return from this state. As
does the puddle of dried blood around them.

At least you can be thankful that your security system worked.
The good old faithful, the big red button entitled “Do Not Press”, is
still depressed by the weight of one of the soldiers' now limp hands.


Gustafssen

“Mein Got! You step outside for a breath of fresh air…”

Looking around his once beautiful lab Gustafssen slowly takes
stock. His prototype glamourificator was smashed beyond repair,
the automated bath-bed appeared to be only mildly dented, but then it
had never worked anyway…

Stuck by a sudden rememberance of those last days in the castle he
cried, “My Baby!” as he rushed to one of his work benches.
Shifting aside piles of broken piping and shattered glass he saw a
small crack in the stones behind. Slipping in his little finger
he flicked open the pannel, the sight than greated him was one the
greatly saddened him, instead of the healthy green glow of his hidden
freshenator he found only the dull greyness of its crumpled form. 'So,'
he thought, 'Someone has found it and taken it.' Stalking over to
the innert bodies on the floor he begins to inspect them, idley and
without thought his hand slips into the breast pocket of his lab coat
pulling out his note book and begins to take notes…

…'Hmmmmm the look of terror and pain upon their faces indicates to me that they died slowly and in pain, which is good.

Subject A appears to have taken most of his damage from the spikes,
this is indicated by the multiple penetration marks that are obvious on
both his body and armour. A classic example of the style of death
happily refered to by those in the know as 'Well and truly Nailed'

Subject B appears to be clutching some form of food stuff which is in
an advanced stage of decomposition, and has only taken minor damage
from the spikes; but whilst to the brief viewing these seem only to be
the minorest of wounds anyone with an ounce of inteligence or knowledge
would know that, whilst painful, they would not be enough to over come
such a creature. Which suggests that that something else has
caused the fatality… Ahhh yes, a very close inspection of subject B
shows that their skin, clothes and armour are all pockmarked with
minute perferations; and as expected the areas of penetration a
surrounded with slight scorch marks. In all I conclude that
Subject B fell victim to the FerusInfernum device. It should be
noted that this previously untested device appears to function within
its peramiters and cause extream torment to its victims, as can be
noted by the twisted nature of the victims limbs, the large amounts of
dried blood on the floor and the scrape marks that can be seen in the
broken objects surounding the body. The subject also
appeared to have taken a beating as there are a number of broken bones
and his armour is dented, I surmise that these dents and breaks were
administered some time after the demise of Subject B. The exact
number of these wounds is hard to tell as they seem to increase with
each count, perhaps this is something that requires further study.'…

… “Who took it, where is it! Which unknowing oaf has taken my
baby!!!” Bending over the fairy scientist pears closly at the
bodies of the dead. “Ahhh ha! You card! you bounder!
You absalout moron. How dare you steal it how dare you take it.
Do you know how long i've been looking forward to seeing that
again! It was an item of pure genius, a delight to saver and
experiance. But you had to find its hiding place and take
it. And then you had the gaul to go and get killed before eating
it leaving it to rot here, untasted, unloved unexperianced. That
was much lunch you 'Sandwich, das bastard stiehlt!!!'” witheach new
pronuncment a vicious metal reinforced boot was applied to one of the
recumberant bodies…

…'N.B. In conclusion,' finished the notes, 'the FerusInfernum
device seems to be the ideal item for dealing with sandwich stealing
scum.

N.B. Suggest a scaled down versions, a field defence version, a larder
defence version and a lunchbox sized version for issue to soldiers on
campaign. This should prevent any unauthorised aquisition of
field rations from both the quarter master and fellow soldiers.

N.B. Perhaps it might be worth doing a tiny sweet packet sized
version. Might help find out who has been stealing my mint
humbugs…'

…Rant concluded Gustaffsen calls over his shoulder
“Runciblespoon! Schrodinger! Heisenberg! Errrr what
ever your name is…! Come here and clean up this mess up.
Take them to the EM room and if it is still in working order remove any
residual iron and and once you've got every last micro scopic piece out
of them then dump these dumb bastards somewhere, the dung heap, the
game reserve, the kitchen larder, I don't care where just get them out
of my lab!”

With that done he set about tidying his laboratory.


Storyteller

As the long, slow tidying process gets underway, helped on-and-off by
Schrodinger and to some unfathomable extent by Heisenberg, the most
truly disastrous result of the lab's sacking becomes apparent.

The potato cage lies twisted and mangled on the ground behind one of
the benches, its wire frame splayed open and its former contents no
longer present. Thick trails pierce the dust on the floor in a
curved line between the cage and a mouse-hole in the skirting
board. A mouse-hole that seems to have been hollowed out with the
use of heavy-duty tools that still lie discarded near to the hole.

It looks like pretty good workmanship. For a potato, at least.

Still, an impressive craftsman on the loose isn't the problem.
There's an entire tribe of potatoes on the loose, and they could be
anywhere!


Gustafssen

Suddenly from the depths of the lad a sound echos forth… “OH- golly
Mann! Der Kartoffel haben diesem ist ein Unfall! entgangen!!!!!”
Swiftly followed by the loud thunk of a head hitting solid oak.
“Bummeln Sie!”

After quietly sitting on the lab floor for a few minutes whilst
furiously rubbing his head Gustaffsen takes out his note book and
starts writing…

…'The potato cage was obviously broken sometime ago, probably during
the general ransacking that the two deceased soldiers gave the place,
which means that they could be anywhere.

The loss of these potato's puts a sevear strain upon resources, I only
have a small supply of potatoes left from those I managed to take with
me during the evacuation. I will have to initiate a cultivation
program quickly to rectify this matter. I do hope the hydroponics
beds are undamaged.

On the other hand this escape provides an interesting research
opportunity, how have the potato's evolved and adapted in their new
environments. No vegetable has ever been seen outside their
natural surroundings of the Lab, I should form a research and
investigation unit to tack and find this lost group.

As it stands these evolved potato's or EP's seem to have become quite
the craftsmen. They appear to have utilised the equipment, tools
and resources in the lab to fashion some forms of advanced
technologies. The examples of the tools left by the hole suggest
refinement in craftsmanship and some thought of forward planning.
There is evidence within the hole that the walls have been shored up
with boards and ever decorated to an extent.

This makes the forming of a research party all the more
necessary. Now I could possibly employ some of the smaller fair
folk. Perhaps some of the more stable minded pictzies might
do. But then they're more likely to attack the watch and
observe. Obviously the only solution is to use vegetables,
they're reliable, inteligent and highly useful things. Not to
mention chock full of vitamins and minerals. Yes, the group
should consist of 2 potatoes, 3 carrots, 3 sprouts and a full pod of
peas to act as sherpa's'…

…returning his note book to his pocket the Fae professor heads into
the deeper sections of his laboratory to retrieve the necessary
exploration and adventure dream serums from cold storage. “Errrr
what ever your name is…! Run down to the kitchen and see if
Hugh can spare a pod of peas and 3 or 4 sprouts all raw
obviously. No don't ask why just run.”

[Private to GM: Original before babel fish took hold of it:
1)Oh golly gosh! The potato's have escaped this is a disaster!!!!!
2) Bugger
]


Storyteller

A few minutes later, Whatever-his-name-is returns at a run and out of breath.

“Sorry,” he pants. “It's the macroscopic deterministic nature of
my journey duration, it gets me every time!” The man stops for a
few more lungfuls of air, before holding out the contents of his hands
to the Professor.

“I've not had an awful lot of luck, I'm afraid. No carrots, you
see, and apparently there haven't been peas for years! But
luckily for us, there's still the stuff that nobody in their right mind would eat!”

So saying, he hands Gustaffsen four sprouts, a fairly sorry-looking floret of cauliflower, and most of an aubergine.

“I hope that's okay, Professor. It might have to do, though,
because the kitchen up there in in uproar! There's potatoes
running all over the place!”

“Mein Gott!” Gustaffsen replies. “Zey haff already got zat
far? Right, take zese vegetables, and power up ze Super Fast
Evolve-o-Matic Ray!”

[Private to
Gustafssen: Guessed at Gustaffsen's reaction, just so you know you do
have a super-fast whatever. If Gustaffsen'd do something
different, let me know and I'll edit.
]


Gustafssen

“Kommt zu, kein korrektes Versorgungsmaterial Gem¸se, was die ist Welt,
die wenn eine Fee nicht die lebenswichtigen Versorgungsmaterialien f¸r
ein Experiment erhalten kann. Wenn ich nicht achtgebe, mu? ich jemand
zum Gem¸seflecken heraus schicken, um einiges zur¸ckzuholen und wohl
wissen wir, was letztes Mal geschah, das erfolgt war.”

Muttering to himself Gustaffsen finds the appropriate painting, a still
life bowl of fruit, and gently depresses the tomato whilst making sure
to keep his fingers out of reach of the bunch of grapes. 'I really
should create a new locking painting this one never seemed to work
quite right. I mean it was supposed to be a landscape…' he
thinks to himself idly as the picture swings open revealing the smoking
depths of a deep freeze.

After selecting the correct vials of serum the scientist moves to one
of the few potato cages that he had managed to take with him in the
evacuation. The cage contained a rumbling mass covered by a piece
of heavy sacking, which as he approached quietened down and stopped
moving. As he opened the cage many small starch filled eyes
stared up at him expectantly. “I am looking for two volunteers to
lead an expedition into the very bowls of the castle in search of your
lost kin who were left behind. They have been living wild within
the castle and I wish to find them, study them and make contact.
You will of course be augmented and equipped appropriately for the
expedition. So could any who are willing please make themselves
known.”

Slowly and with very little fuss two potatoes embraced those around
them and stepped to the fore of the cage to signal their willingness to
participate. “Ahhh thank you Meine Freunde.” Then scooping
up the potatoes and depositing them in the deep pockets of his lab coat
he closed the cage and headed for the Super Fast Evolve-o-Matic Ray
room.

Placing the potatoes down next to the other vegetables retrieved from
the kitchen Gustaffsen removes a set of syringes from his breast pocket
and proceeds to inject each of them with a precise cocktail of dream
serums. A heavy dose of adventure, a small spot of investigation,
a tad of egotism, a good dollop of dress sense and of course lashings
and lashings of exploration with a slight hint of caution and cunning.

This done the Fae scientist places the vegetables underneath the giant
spiky point of the Super Fast Evolve-o-Matic Ray and steps back
lowering his goggles.
“Errr What ever your name is. Raise the lightning rods! Fire up
the sonic occilators!! Crank the Newtonian compensators 3
notches!!! Initiate the Pseudoscientific sprocket field!!!! And
throw the switch on my mark!!!!!

5…
As he started the countdown a wining started to build within the lab.
4…
Multi coloured lightning began to flash around the room, grounding on
various objects and leaving blackend scorch marks and in their wake.
3…
As the noise built up objects started to bounce about the tables
clattering and occasionally a beaker would crash to the floor in a
crystalline tinkle.
2…
As the light and sound crashed around the room the flashed of thousands
of tiny eyes that were watching from the cracks in the floor walls and
ceiling.
1…MARK!!!!!!

As Whatever-his-name-is slammed down the switch there was a great
roaring noise and suddenly the world flashed and pulsated
monochrome. A giant explosion of wind rushed through the room,
out through the lab blowing dust and small creatures out and down
through the corridors of the castle. Through it all Gustaffsen
stands there arms crossed intently watching through his protective
goggles and cackling like a madman.

As the power once more subsided he removed his goggles and approached the vegetables. “Now let us see the results…”

[Private to Storyteller:

What he's actually saying:
No proper supply of vegetables, what is the world coming to when a
fairy can't get the vital supplies for an experiment. If I'm not
careful I'll have to send someone out to the vegetable patch to
retrieve some and well we know what happened last time that was done.

OKies I was thinking that the potatoes should come out something like
Indiana Jones, they can even have developed the hat, jacket and whip
already. The Sprouts are intended to be the muscle and the guys
with the recording and transmitting equipment. The other two i'm
not too sure so feel free to let your imagination run.]


Storyteller

To most of the civilised world, the concept of a sprout saluting is not
a concept that comes readily to mind or one that is easily visualised.

To Gustaffsen, of course, this is an almost everyday occurrence.

The potatoes both emerge sporting leather hats and whips, and one of
them has already set to experimenting by using its whip to swing from
apparata around the lab. The sprouts, for their part, line up and
– yes – salute. Even without arms. Arms are so passe these
days.

They are followed slowly from the Evolve-o-Matic equipment by the two
remaining vegetables: An aubergine that seems to be tattooed with
symbols that Gustaffsen fails to recognise as anything but 'probably
eldritch, unless that means sort-of-oblong', and the floret of
cauliflower – now adorned with a belt of explosives, several grenades
and a backback full of dynamite.

Now he examines the aubergine closer, it appears to be holding a staff with a knob on the end nonchalantly behind his back.

The experiment seems to have been a success, although a predictably
unpredictable one. Gustaffsen's version 2 private army is ready
and waiting to march!


Gustafssen

“Begr¸?en Sie meine kleinen Gem¸sefreunde.” Says the Fae as he
addresses the assembled vegetables, subconsciously ripping off a
perfect salute in reply to the sprouts. “I am glad to see that
the process has once more worked out perfectly. Now if you could
gather round I will inform you of the reason for this assembly”

Quickly the vegetables gather on the workbench in front of their
creator, the Potatoes quickly moving to the front whilst the aubergine
seeming to hang back slightly. From somewhere about its person
the cauliflower produces a cigar, leaning across it strikes a match of
the knob of the aubergine's staff and lights the tightly rolled
tobacco. As the eldritch clad vegetable edges away the cauli
blows a cloud of smoke from its tightly packed white buds into its face
causing the aubergine to cough and splutter in a way that only a
vegetable can.

“Now, now that is enough larking about you two. It is time I gave
your mission briefing.” This said the Professor pulls out a
clipboard before continuing. “Now the mission which you have so
gallantly chosen to accept is a simple one, you will travel into the
deepest darkest recesses of the castle in search of…” Suddenly
a loud squeak issues forth from the pack of vegetable matter. All
that remains of the aubergine is a pair of wooden sandals, a staff
still spinning in the air and a quickly retreating dust cloud heading
out into the laboratory. “…Stop that vegetable!!!”

For five minutes the aubergine continues its escape, twisting and
dodging between equipment and table legs, never once looking back
towards those following it only forward, before eventually being
brought down by a well placed whip. Whereupon it was jumped on by
the sprouts and frog marched back to the workbench.

Picking up the reluctant vegetable Gustaffsen examines it
closely. “It is nice to see that you are so eager to get on with
the missions, but perhaps you should wait for the rest of the
briefing. That way you will know exactly what it is that you must
do and what dangers you will be facing.” At these words the
purple creature starts struggling and squeaking. “You are an over
excited one are you not.” Placing the purple fruit back on the
wooded surface he turns to the potatoes, “You will have to keep a close
eye on him, for I fear that otherwise he will hare off in search of
adventure without you.” Nodding the potatoes signal to two of the
sprouts who march forward and place themselves in close proximity to
their ‘eager’ friend.

“Now where was I? Ahhhh yes, once you have entered the tunnel network
that runs through the castle you must seek out and research a tribe of
potatoes who have been living wild within these walls these past
years. My initial notes will be programmed into the data slates
that you will all be issued with, as well as some hypothesises as to
what might have occurred to them. Once you have conducted some
initial research you should make friendly contact and then bring
delegation back here to talk with me.” Moving to another part of
the bench he picks up a small pile of satchels and backpacks, here is
your equipment. Inside you will find your data slates, recording
and transmission equipment, supplies and some methods of protection;
these are a selection of both lethal and non-lethal, I request only
non-lethal means be used against the potatoes and then only at extreme
need. Should you need instant evacuation activate your homing
beacons and I will transport you back to the lab, but once more these
should only be used in direst need. As the technology still has
one or two bugs that need working out. Now I believe that is all
for now, it is time for the mission to get underway. Gentleveg,
that mission that you are undertaking is of vital importance to both
Vegetable and Faekind. Gottgeschwindigkeit”

As they marched off into the enlarged mouse hole each vegetable saluted
their creator in their own way, and it seemed to the Fae scientist that
the aubergine got a little over excited, squeaking and thrashing about,
but luckily the sprouts kindly helped it through the opening.
Though unfortunately their grip seemed to fail at the last moment and
the eggplant was sent flying into the darkness beyond.

As Gustaffsen turned away from the mouse hole he thought to himself,
‘How strange, I could have sworn that those sigils when in the half
light almost spelt something, but then ‘Wizzard’ isn’t a real
word. I must be imagining things in my old age.’ And then
putting such thoughts from his mind he moved off into his lab to work.

[Private to Storyteller:
German translation:

1) Welcome my little vegetable friends.
2) God Speed ]


Storyteller

As Gustaffsen settles down to work, a series of resounding clangs, one
heavy thump and the sounds of arguing vegetables echo from various
parts of the walls as the vitamin-rich army begins to get to grips with
its new surroundings.

Eventually, though, the noises fade and are gone, the vegetables having begun their mission in earnest.


Gustafssen

Satisfied that the V team, as he thought of them, were well underway
Gustaffsen turned his mind to more important scientific matters.
Such as where exactly in the deep storage vaults had he stored the case
of stout he had planned to give to Hugh for his ‘birthday’ and whether
its armour plating of augmented cabbage leaves had withstood the test
of time. As he moved off towards the vaults his hands reached
into his pockets to withdraw his note book, and started to write.


Storyteller

Gustaffsen walked on autopilot in the direction of the cellars, barely
looking up from his notebook as he traversed the familiar route.
There were fewer servants down here than there ought to be, what with
the steadily mounting potato hunt upstairs, and the scientist past only
two on his way.

However, just as he turned the last corner before the vault he was
heading for, he all but collided with a girl whose attention was fixed
firmly on a notebook of her own.

The black-haired girl looked up, stunned for a moment, then flicked quickly through her book.

“Ah,” she said, with a voice that sounded as adorned with lace as her dress was, “Gustaffsen, yes?”

Without waiting for the scientist's confirmation or otherwise, she
continued. “I don't suppose you could point me in the direction
of the throne room, could you? I seem to be a little lost…”

[The girl's picture is the one backed with purple-to-black on the character roster.]


Gustafssen

“Hmmm what was that you say? Throne room?” Even as he spoke his hands were once more moving across his note book…

'Notes concerning young fairy encounters in the vaults:

– Interesting taste in clothing, dark purples, blues and blacks. Perhaps she's sad, or perhaps it's some new fashion.

– Seems confused, wasn't looking where she was going. Most probably day dreaming over some young fellow me lad or another.

– Carries an umbrella, useful item. Though could be improved
through used of lettuce. Keeps the rain off whilst also providing
a renewable and healthy snack into the bargain. – Must consider this
later…'

“Young lady Might I enquire why you decide to bother a man of science
with such mundane things as directions. There are servants about
somewhere for such things as this you know. If not there are the
little Arrows that I placed all over the castle before the evacuation
for help in locations.”

This said he reached out and touched a little red arrow that was
attached to a wall. Suddenly the arrow sprang into 3D and pointed
directly at Gustaffsen's feet before saying in the most happy, bouncy
and helpful voice 'Greetings. You are here! Thank you for
using the location finder mark 3 arrow. Have a nice day.'

“See it tells you all that you can ever want to know if you are
lost. Still I guess not everyone knows about them. But if
you must know the Throne room is down the hall, up the second stairs on
your left and straight on. At which point you must pass through
the hall of moons, take the ladder of suns up two floors at which point
you will come to one of the main corridors, from where I think someone
should be able to assist you further. Obviously you'd have been
able to get there much quicker is the Duchess had allowed me to fit the
'Uber sucko tube hyper speed transportation system' but apparently it
was two dangerous. I mean it had only turned 5 test subjects into
pancakes, the vegetable testing stage had gone perfectly well, and I'm
sure I'd have had it fully fixed before it was 100% operational.
Still some people just don't understand the genius of some objects.”

Finally as he stopped talking he looked down at his note book where a
perfect sketch of the girl had somehow appeared on the paper along with
various anatomical notations, “Oh my. Still I hope that answers
your question?”


Storyteller

One flick of Gustaffsen's eyes down to his notebook, then up again –
and the girl was gone. A faint whisper of a “Thank You” hangs in
the air, but there is no sign of the girl herself besides the patterns
in the dust on the floor.


Gustafssen

“Who? What? Hmmmm? Oh ok.” Gustaffsen said to the empty space in front of him. “Well that was fun.”

And then he was off again, the whole incident completely
forgotten. Finally he reached the vault that he required but as
he tried to stop he found that his legs just carried straight on past
it and started carrying him back out of the vaults. “How
peculiar,” he said to himself as he found himself once more standing at
the spot he had briefly stopped at a few minutes before. “Well I
guess this means I’ve got something on my mind. Go on, what is
it?”

Then his hands brought his note book up to his face and scribbled, ‘Who was she?’

“Who was who?” he replied to the pad.

‘That girl who you spoke to here.’ His hands scribbled on the pad, then
the page flicked backwards to the picture and note he’d sketched at the
time.

“Well what about her?”

‘Doesn’t it strike you as odd to find her wandering lost about down here?’ His hands continued.

“No not really, the servants are always getting lost down here. I
even once heard that some even starved to death before finding their
way out. Silly really cause some of the mould that grows down
here is rather tasty, and very good for you too. In fact I once
made a rather nice chutn…” With a sudden thump, his note pad hit
him on the nose.

‘Stop digressing and CONCENTRATE’. Demanded his hands on the note pad
once it had returned from its brief journey to his face. ‘She wasn’t a
servant, you know all the servants in the castle by sight, and pretty
much all the nobles too. So think about it, Who was she?
And what was she doing here?’

“Mein Gott, haben Sie Recht! I think perhaps we should go and
investigate, or at least tell someone. It would also give me a
chance to pick up something to eat from the kitchen too.” And
with that he marches off to the upper floors of the castle, pausing on
his journey briefly to shout back down in to the vaults.
“Schrodinger! Heisenberg! Can one of you take that case out
of the vault for me! Thank you!”

[Private to
Storyteller: Well I thought i'd go for a wander. I hope you dont
mind about the obvious concious and subconcious sepperation. I
thought it would be quite amusing.

German originally meant, My god, you’re right!]


Storyteller

Gustaffsen headed up through the castle, following the directions he'd
given the girl. Up staircases and along corridors he raced in an
attempt to catch her, but even after several minutes of running he had
still not seen hide nor hair of her.

Pausing by a window to catch his breath, the old scientist gazed out
across the courtyard and took in the sights of the evening sunlight,
the green hills stretching to the horizon, the angry mob at the bottom
of the tower…

…Angry mob?

A group of nobles and a hundred or so servants were gathered at the
bottom of one of the castle's towers, some carrying weapons and some
carrying signs and placards. One enterprising youth even seemed
to be carrying one of House Poppy's battle standards.

Gustaffsen scanned up the tower itself until he noticed the window
three floors up – where two potatoes stood on the windowsill, trying to
reload a crossbow. At the moment he saw them, they must have seen
him too. They shared a guilty look for a fraction of a second,
and disappeared from the windowsill leaving their crossbow behind.

A few seconds later, a tiny potatoey arm reached up and pulled the crossbow back inside the room as well.


Storyteller

As you watch the crowd down below try without success to beat down the
door, a moment's silence falls. Then, with a terribly slow
stone-against-stone creak, the top of the tower *unfurls*. The
stone walls peeled away, the topmost floor of the tower is now open to
the sky.

The room's contents, unidentifiably weird to those in the mob below who
now stand with their eyes fixed upwards, are well-known enough to
you. That tower, being the tallest in the castle, had always been
the obvious choice of location for the Mk. 4 Wettersteuervorrichtung…

From your high vantage point, you can see the lone potato standing on the control panel. It's grinning.

OOC: Wettersteuervorrichtung = Weather Control Device


Gustafssen

As the tower opens and the Mk. 4 Wettersteuervorrichtung unfolds in all
its glory Gustaffsen mutters to himself, “Das is wonderful, the
mechanism is still working after all this time. It just goes to
show that when the oil is impregnated with all the vitamin and juicy
goodness of the garden wonders will never cease.” Suddenly down
below the crowd started to scatter in varying directions like scared
mice.

“Ahhh it is nice to see that people a so interested in my work that
they move off to get a better look at it. It gives one a feeling
of ‰u?ern Sie Contentment, der durch Ihren Kasten wie eine warme
Sommerbrise verbreitet.”

It was then that the small movement caught his eye, a small potatoe
standing at the control panel. “OH- lieb, OH- lieb. Dieses kann
nicht an allen gut, nicht gut sein. Doesn’t the little thing know
that the vortex gear coupling was weak, activating that device could
cause no end of trouble.” Stammered the scientist.

…‘Exactly!’ Concurred the writing on his note pad. ‘And due to
the solari-wind collector panels none of the unenlightened below will
know that something is seriously wrong. This can mean only one
thing…’

“Yes, yes that is correct. One great mind must combine…”

‘…and become One great mind!’ And with that the notebook and pencil
flew into his top pocket, and there stood the noted fairy scientist;
his hair its normal wild and unkempt self and then at the exact
centre of his head it was as if it were another head entirely.
The long white hair sat all neatly cleaned and combed back and a slight
scent of hair oil pervaded the air about it. Then his hands
started rummaging about the many pockets of his coat.

“We must get over to the tower as soon as possible,” ‘Yes, it is a pity
we do not have time to head back to the lab.’ “Yes that is true, still
I think we have what we need.” Gustaffsen discussed with himself, his
voice somehow different yet the same.

Quickly a small pile was established on the sill in front of him.
With over exaggerated care he removed a small vile of liquid from a
reinforced leather wallet and emptied the contents into a bottle of
carrot juice. ‘Yes the refined Sportyness from that vile will
combine nicely with the pure healthy goodness in the juice.’ “Yes but
there needs to be a catalyst to kick start the process, this isn’t
optical physics you know. This is actually hard,” Then a
hand snaked out to the pile and removed a brightly shining sliver
liberty dollar coin which he then proceeds to crumble the coin into the
juice. ‘Ahhhh you read your mind…’ Suddenly the bottle starts to
jump and thrash about madly giving off a energetic glowing light.

“Well here” ‘goes nothing.’ He says before snatching up the juice and swilling it back in one smooth swallow.

Suddenly a sweatband appeared upon Gustaffsens weathered brow, a piece
of paper with the number 275 pins itself to the front of his lab coat,
and under his coat his shirt and trousers morph into shorts and a light
t-shirt.

“Well that was interesting” ‘yes it was, still here goes
nothing.’ And with that he launches himself off of the windowsill
in a perfect vault and soars out into the open air over the courtyard;
all the time his eyes focused on the window in the tower where the
archers had been short moments. Then with a gentle thump his foot
connects with its target and he rolls forward inside the tower, shortly
coming to his feet and ready to run.

OOC: Wayfare + Fae

[Private to Storyteller:

There we go, I completed the jump as you said I didn’t have to roll and
thought I’d leave it there fore you. My intentions are to run to
the top of the tower and the potato.

Original English:

1) utter contentment that spreads through your chest like a warm summer breeze.

2) Oh dear, oh dear. This cannot be good, not good at all.]


Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall

OOC: This thread looks much more interesting. Think I'll join you over here.

Laurel and Hardy look up in amazement as the old man soars over their
head. Two fingers, one fat, one thin point up towards the sky.

“Is it a bird?”
“Nah, definitely a bat.”
“Bloody big for a bat. Sure it wasn't a dinosaur?”
“You idiot, how could it be a dinosaur? Everyone knows they don't have wings.”
“Nor did that.”
“Good point. All right then…
Is it a dinosaur?”
“No! It's … wait. Who was it?”
“Superman?”
“Couldn't be. No underwear on the outside”
“OK, well I'm stumped then.”
And the thin finger moves across to one of the black heads of hair and gives it a good scratch.

Meanwhile, in the artillery room, a crucial report is delivered to the captain.

“Sir, the ostritch egg made no impact.”
“Aah no! Well, there is ernly one thing fre it.”
“Er… Look sir, me and the lads have been talking…”
“What are yee taakin aboot?”
“It's the incomprehensible accent sir. We just don't have any idea what you're trying to say.”
“I've ne time fre tha now! There's ernly one way te defeat a machine
tha can tyek a direct dunsh frem an ostritch egg an remain standing!
One hundred an fifty pounds of narked Geordie!”
“… What?”

And shortly after that, 150lbs of “narked Geordie” were flung from the
upstairs window of an innocuous looking tower, over the amazed people
amassed on the courtyard to land on the tower with the weather control
device, within hailing distance of Gustaff.


Storyteller

Gustaffsen barrel-rolls in through the window of the tower two storeys
below the new roof level, the perfect figure of supple agility and
athletic prowess – for another three seconds, before the effect of the
potion wears off and returns him to his normal self. Ahead of
him, the door to the stairwell is being rapidly pulled shut by a dozen
or so potatoes who are squeaking in alarm. In their haste to
escape they have left their crossbow lying on the windowsill.

And, as Gustaffsen notices this, he also notices what's beyond the
windowsill – one very large Geordie, following a neat ballistic arc
across the courtyard. With a shout of something barely
pronouncable and almost certainly unrepeatable, the man lands with a
crash inside the room, bringing the stone edges of the window with him
and raising a plume of dust from the floor.

When Gustaffsen stops coughing and looks up again, the door has already
been closed by the potatoes. The new arrival is already standing
and looking around. He focusses on Gustaffsen.

“Reet then,” he says, “wha' them buggers go?”

OOC: Mark, feel free to play the Geordie for a bit if you like, since Hugh's still down on the ground.


Storyteller

From the top of the tower a loud throbbing sound starts to make itself
heard, first through the feet, then through the ears, then seemingly
directly into the brain.

As the pitch and frequency of the noise rises, the air begins to take
on a strange consistency – still air-like, but consisting of tiny
independent vibrations that feel odd against the skin. Kind of
like standing in gaseous facial scrub soap, in fact.


Gustafssen

“Mein Got!” ’That was one very interesting flight you’ve had.’
The Scientist says in his strangly two toned voice. “Yes though it
would have done better had you utilised a lettuce cabbage hybrid leaf
to…” ‘We don’t have time for that now you know. Those
wonderful little creatures will blow the castle to gooseberry sized
pieces. I do hope the ‘Vorrichtung, zum der Fliegen-Vˆgel vom
Nisten auf meiner Ausr¸stung und vom Veranlassen zu zu halten zu stˆren
und das Schlo? und jeder in ihm zu zerstˆren, weil ihr genetischer Code
aus irgendeinem Grund die vollst‰ndige Energie und das Steuersystem
durchgedreht gehen l‰?t’ is still working otherwise who knows how badly
things might have gotten up there since our absence.

Turning towards the door Gustaffsen motions towards the Geordie, “If
you would be so kind” ‘as to try and open that door whilst I think of
some way to assist my passege to the roof’ “as quickly as possible.”
‘There’s a nice chap.’ That said he starts patting at his pockets
and looking about the room. All the while seemingly oblivious to
the rising noise and odd tingly feeling emanating from the roof.

[Private to GM:
OOC: Original English ‘Device to keep Flying Birds from nesting on my
equipment and causing to to malfunction and destroy the castle and
everyone in it because their genetic code for some reason makes the
whole power and control system go haywire’
I though it would be amusing to escalate it a little. That and
they’re supposed to be weak verses odd things. *grins*
]


Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall

The Geordie shakes himself, creating another cloud of dust and then
gives the jabbering scientist the instants contemplation it takes to
realise that he's talking rubbish. Foriegn sounding rubbish at that.

Taking a good look around the room, he grabs the small crossbow and
gives it a good hard eyeballing, before declaring tossing it to one
side and, finding nothing else of interest in the room, heading over to
the only door out of the room.

Meanwhile, down below on the courtyard, Laurel and Hardy continue to
debate the possible existence of a flying geordie superdinosaur – with
optional wings. They've just reached the point where Laurel had
finished a masterful explanation of why a superdinosaur would be
impossible “Because they're all colourblind, see, so wouldn't know
whether it was a yellow sun or not!” when the potatocrossbow strikes
him forcefully on the head in a highly slapstick – but definitely
nonlethal – fashion. And then fires, as he reaches up to rub himself
ruefully on the head.

The Goerdie, having ascertained that the door is locked, turns to his
companion in the room who seems to have stopped talking for the moment.

“Reet, ahm ganin tuh open this heor door. yee wark yeut wot is happenin tuh the choonched air, alreet? Canny sonny.”

He then devotes a moments study to the door, then informs it in a
bright and breezy tone that “You'd bettor git yeut iv me wa yee huckle
piece iv wud!”, steps back to the windowsill and charges full pelt at
it, one shoulder held menacingly high as he gathers momentum.


Gustafssen

As the strange fairy charges towards the door Gustaffsen’s eyes
suddenly glow as an idea forms within the melting pot of his dual
minds. “It is an interesting solution.” ‘To an interesting
problem. We can also test.’ “Out our theory of
transposition at the same time.” The old fairy mutters to
himselves. “We also should prepare for what might be on the other
side.” ‘Yes, we have not mapped this part before and things over
there can always be interesting.’ As he speaks the
Scientists clothes change, where once there was lab coat, boots and
scorched clothes there was now an immaculately tailored suit, highly
polished shoes and a briefcase all finished off with a bright yellow
high visibility jacket. There as one thing that Gustaffsen had
noticed in his time among mortals, if there was anything that made
people think you were supposed to be somewhere it was wearing smart
clothes, looking like you were supposed to be there and an eye
scotchingly bright yellow high visibility jacket.

With the transformation complete Gustaffsen slipped from one world to
the next, with nothing to show he had been in the corridor other than a
set of foot prints and a residual yellowing effect in the air where the
jacket had been.

OOC: Bang goes one temp glamour point.


Storyteller

As Gustaffsen switched worlds, it took him a few moments to adjust to
his new surroundings. Whilst there were still walls around him –
on two sides, at least – and a door in front of him, it was all a
lot… pinker than Castle Poppy's tower had been. And more plasticky.

In fact, the lack of walls on two sides began to be quite
alarming. It was a long drop to the ground below, and that ground
was crowded with people. Most of whom were staring up at him, and
those that weren't seemed young and distracted by some variety of giant
malformed animals.

A few staffish-looking humans on the ground seemed to be trying to
convince the others that Gustaffsen was supposed to be there and not
crazy or suicidal, but they were not having much success.

Still, regardless of the strange and somewhat cartoonish new settings,
the door was ahead of him as before. It was blue, hollow and
plastic and, above all, not locked.


Gustafssen

“Mein” 'Got!' Exclaimed the fairy scientist, “So this is
where the tower currently resides.” 'Yes, I will make a note of
it and we can investigate after we have stopped Das Schlo?, das
explodiert und vielleicht eine Bohrung im Gewebe des Reichs f¸r
¸berhaupt durchbrennt.' “But first! Now where did I put that
modified Gustaffsen, kein Beutel so kein Verlust des Saugens. Die
patentierte Turbulenz wird durch die uniquie Qualit‰ten der Letuce und
Kohlbl‰tter verursacht, w‰hrend sie in die Mitte von diesem
ordentlichen und handlich Aktenkoffer sortierte Vorrichtung spinnen.”

This said the eye jaringly dressed fairy rests his briefcase against a
small ledge and flicks open the catches whilst simulatiously
deactivating the boobie traps. Lifting the lid he removes what
once in a previous and less vegetable based life have been a dust
buster. With a flick of a small switch he turns the device on and
starts making hoovering motions in the air towards the gathering croud.

After a short time a small green light appears. Smiling happily
to himself he turns and flicks another switch before starting to hoover
the ledge and the general area of the castle around him. When a
small red light, tinged with green, appears on the device he raises a
shaggy white eyebrow. “Interesting!” 'Yes, the background
banaility it tinged with glamour.' “Yes we must study this more
at a later date. But now we must away on business. But not
before…”

As the crowd below watched the strange man in the amazingly bright
yellow jacket steps through the tower door seeming to fade from view,
an obvious trick of the light and distance, leaving behind him an empty
castle and a 30 foot sign saying 'Your message here! Call 4878
233736 for more info'

[7 blank lines suppressed]
[Private to GM: Original English translation:

The hoovering device is to collect blackground glammour and
banality. And I had a feeling that any banailty found in disney
land would have a small hint of glamour mixed in just cause well it's
disney. Oh and I've gone back to the other side of the door now.

1)The castle exploding and possibly blowing a hole in the fabric of the realm for ever.

2) No bag so no loss of suction. The patented vortex is created
by the uniquie qualities of the Letuce and cabbage blades as they spin
in the center of this neat and handily briefcase sized device .

The phone number is infact Gustaffsen writen as a phone number *grins*
I wonder what happens if you anyone tried to call it. Should I
have a mobile phone cucumber?
]


Storyteller

As the magic science
magic fades, Gustaffsen finds himself once more in the dusty old
Northwest tower of Castle Poppy. Dust scatters from under his
feet – and so do vegetables. Abandoning their now fruitless quest
to barricade the door they scamper off as fast as they can, sometimes
clambering over dozens of their kin in their effort to flee.

Just as the dust finally settles, bringing a cough to Gustaffsen's
throat, a strange bleeping sound emanates from the old scientist's
pocket…


Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall

A moment later, the dust is distinctly unsettled again as the now
incandescant Geordie explodes through the door in a bizarre horizontal
shower of splinters, woodchips and fine misty sawdust. The momentum
from the charge hardly reduced, he continues onwards ploughing through
the tiny starch-covered attempt at a barricade and crashing full tilt
into the opposite wall.

With a muttered “Gan canny”, the Geordie staggers back, shakes himself
and twists his dazed head around, scenting for the unnatural
vegetables, utterly oblivious of the white haired scientist standing by
him.

Finally, catching the distinct odour of a vegetable in need of boiling
for several hours, he charge off up the stairs after the vegetables.


Gustafssen

The dust settles and the Potatoes scatter about Gustaffsen's feet the
beeping sound from his pocket ceases and music starts to play. As
the highly annoying and strangly pitched music drifts over the potatoes
tiny hands are raised to their heads to cover the sound and up at the
top of the tower roosting bats scatter from their nests in fear.

Reaching into his pocket the Fae scientist quicky removes two strangly
metalic vegetative items. Firstly he places the small cucumber
like device over his ear, where it grip itself in place with a small
set of blueish coloured teeth. This done he quickly runs his
thumb over a large darkpurple aggragate fruit, carfully depressing
various drupelets which have faintly glowing symbols on them.

In a very composed but still slightly two tone voice he says,
“Hello? You have reached Gustaffsen how can I be of service to
you today?”

At that moment a resounding crash utters from the door, and then the
opposite wall, as a strangly accented Fae burst into the hallway
sending potatoes and dust everywhere. As the strange recovers and
tears off up the stairs Gustaffsent mutters “Ein moment please” and
depresses the 'hold call' drupelet on the large black berry in his hand.

“This is” 'Not good is it.' He says to himself. “Too many
things to do” 'and only one genius to go round.' “Look you go
after him” and 'you stay and take the call?' “Yes, I'll meet up
with you” 'As soon as you can?' “Exactly.”

Then with a sound akin to the tearing of velcro there seemed to be, to
anyone who was actually paying attention, two Gustaffsen's standing in
the room though both subtly differant. The next moment the air
stirred and there was the slightest impression of a smartly dressed and
well groomed scientist dashing away up the stiars, popping bits of
bannana into his mouth as he went.

Gusstaffsen once more lifted the berry and started depressing dupelets
as if nothing strange had happened, which obviously not thing had as he
knew exactly what was going on, and spoke into the blue toothed
cucumber. “Sorry about that, there was a slight altercation with
a Northerner and a wall. What can I do fo you Mein Freund?”

OOC: Wayfare + Fae for split travel. And
Wayfare + Fae for speedy travel from the extra energy the bananna is
giving.

[Private to GM:
Okies there you go, I think wayfare and Fae works for both the things I
wish to do. The split is basically him splitting off one of the
parts of his conciousness and sending that off, kinda like astral
projection but not quite, when they decide to the two bits will refore
at eaither location. I guess he developed it for when he had a
project he needed to get on with but had to still attent functions or
travel places.

As for the Bananna thing, well didn't you know that bananna's are high
in sugars and great for giving you energy on the move. Thus
enabling you to move faster and travel great distances… 😉
He'll keep the bananna skin though, might come in hand.

Now this is where you roll and it all fucks up :D]


Storyteller

With a sound not un-akin to reality fraying around the edges, where
once there was but one scientist, now there were two. As
Gustafssen stayed behind to answer his PVA (Personal Vegetable
Assistant), the other Gustafssen sprinted upstairs to join the Geordie
as he emerged at the current top of the tower.

The two of them blinked until their eyes adjusted to the abnormal
light. No usual weather was this; the sky lit itself almost
constantly with lightning flashes that poured into the weather control
device and with the green coruscating fire that flared up and down the
spire.

Time seemed to slow, the air became thicker and lighter. The
Geordie levelled his crossbow. Gustafssen slipped and jumped
forward, his arms outstretched. A potato, larger than the others,
jumped from atop the control console.

The crossbow fired.

Gustafssen grabbed the potato from mid-air.

The potatoes looked upwards in anticipation.

The scientist collided with the controls, landing heavily against the biggest of the levers.

The crossbow bolt ceased its flight.

Time stopped.

The world became electric.

And then the lightning bolt hit.

As if wound on a spring, the tension in the world released.
Gustafssen crashed to the ground, potato in hand. His special ops
vegetables burst from their hiding places and set about the assembled
tubers. The crossbow bolt smashed into the core of the giant
device, scattering sparks and cogs.

The lightning bolt reversed itself, arcing up into the sky and
spreading out across the clouds, boiling them away, until the weather
control device had inflicted upon the land…

“Ah,” remarked Hugh from the base of the tower. “Bright with sunny spells. Good-o!”