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AGELESS Campaign Episode 2 - Temple of the Cat-Goddess
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<blockquote data-quote="Silver Moon" data-source="post: 4666340" data-attributes="member: 8530"><p><strong>Chapter Three, “Passengers on the Second Train”, September 1st, 1882, 10:30 A.M.</strong></p><p></p><p>Roy stood up on the seat and waved at the ogre, trying to get his attention. "Get your big butt over here, Doc!" he yelled out. "Stop making that poor man piss himself." Roy chuckled as he said this. Roy made a seat for Doc Crane. "So what have you been up to, Doc?" </p><p></p><p>Nonplussed by the all-too-familiar routine of contempt and discrimination towards ogres (not allayed in the slightest on part of the offenders by his mixed human-ogre heritage), Thomas smiles fondly at his diminutive friend as he strides the length of the car in a few steps, passing by the gaping mouths and shocked expressions of the other passengers.</p><p></p><p>"Ah, my dear Huggins, it is good to see you again, my friend. I see that little has changed with you: you seem rather healthy and hale, and your penchant for the use of the vernacular of the gutter has obviously locked your sense of propriety in mortal combat and dispatched it with aplomb."</p><p></p><p>Thomas sets his intricately and elaborately carved walking stick, taller than Roy, against the car's bulkhead, dropping his carpetbag to the floor in front of the gnome, and pushes it beneath the seat bench. He sits down upon the seat across from Roy, the wooden and iron frame creaking loudly from the weight and bulk of the half-ogre. He pulls his spectacles off, examines them for dust, wipes them deftly with a handkerchief, sets them back upon his face, and looks down at Roy (whose face is still well below his despite both being seated) flashing a smile that splits his deeply-brown ogrish face wide.</p><p></p><p>"It really is good to see you again, Huggins. As to what I've been "up to", as you put it, I suppose the answer you would be expecting in your parlance would be... shall we say, a little of this and a little of that? Since the Turkish affair when we last met, I've spent a great deal of time on my estate in Bermuda, studying the old philosophers and their brilliant musings, which appear to us as simple as a infant's first steps, into the realm of the physical sciences, particularly Heraclitus' theories on the immutability of change itself. </p><p></p><p>I can see you have absolutely NO idea what I'm talking about. No matter! Let's see... oh yes, there was that bit of business with young Watson and the Ogre soccer team in Scotland, which would have been the last time I saw James and Miss Mina ... sorry... Madam Parker. I must confess that does take a bit of getting used to, don't you think? And then..."</p><p></p><p>Thomas will continue on for so long as Roy will let him, as he always relishes the opportunity to converse at length with an old friend, oblivious to whether or not he's retaining the interest of said friend. His near solitary existence on Bermuda provides him little in the way of good conversation, and his excitement at being reunited with his companions again has given him plenty of enthusiasm to fuel his musings and ramblings. </p><p></p><p>Roy listened to Doc drone on and on about his theories and such. He was used to the Doctor talking over his head, usually more figuratively than literally. Roy always thought it interesting that Doc, especially in the situation of obvious racism that was taking place on the train, would still consider Roy intellectually inferior. You would think the Doc would have learned a thing or two about judging a book by its cover.</p><p></p><p>The first time it happened, Roy had told the Doc to go **** himself. However, after years of working together, Roy realized the Doc didn't do it on purpose. Roy always assumed it was his years alone in Bermuda that made it difficult for Doc to talk to others. Regardless, they had quickly become good friends and made a very "interesting" team, to say the least.</p><p></p><p>As it stood, Roy just let the Doc be Doc and nodded his head at the appropriate times as he half listened to him. He was more interested in what Mr. Parker had in store for them. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's great Doc," Roy said to the hulking brute after 10 minutes of non-stop talking. "So what do you think Mr. Parker is gonna show us?" </p><p></p><p>Sensing that Roy probably wasn't interested in an extended discussion of Pre-Socratic theories of epistemology and being, Thomas leaned down and pulled his carpetbag up to root around for one of the many texts he was devouring of late, picking out a particularly interesting one on the unique alchemical properties of the soils, plants, substrata, and mineral composition of northeastern England. He settled back in his seat, and looked up and around to catch the attention of a porter.</p><p></p><p>"I am a bit hazy on the details from Parker's communiqué, other than something about a pre-colonial archaeological find of some import. Drat! I do believe that porter is deliberately ignoring me." Sensing his temper on the edge of fraying, Thomas lets out a deep calming sigh, somewhat frustrated by the continued contempt being shown to him by the train's staff. </p><p></p><p>"Huggins, do us a favor, if you will. I could really stand a spot of tea and a biscuit or three to take the edge off my appetite -- perhaps a loaf of bread as well, and several apples. Could you catch that fellow's attention and see if you can make any headway towards service for us? I've neither the energy nor the inclination to continue to make a fuss with these benighted souls who seem rather determined to keep alive the attitudes of a bygone era. I don't really think it would be productive for any of us if I get any more irritated by the current situation, and as I am quite hungry, I am growing more likely to lose my temper ... which would be most unfortunate." </p><p></p><p>Roy chuckled at the mention of Doc's temper. It's what made them a good team. Both were working hard on controlling their tempers. Doc seemed to have a better handle on it than Roy does, though, so Roy knew Doc must have been really upset to ask Roy to handle it. Roy stood and made his way to the closest employee on the train. "Excuse me, where can I get something to eat on this train?" he said as politely as possible. </p><p></p><p>The First Class Concierge tells him "Er, um, well, yes sir. I believe that we have available for the main entree a seared line-caught cod in a Beaujolais-and-rosemary sauce and served with freshly baked twelve-grain whole wheat roll and a side of a sliced fruit medley which includes both empire apples and freshly picked Florida oranges. For dessert we have available a delightfully made French pastry of a vanilla-chocolate pyramid with a subtle topping that hints of an impeccably creamy crèmes brûlées. A fine Italian red wine comes with that as the beverage. Does that meet with your approval sir?" </p><p></p><p>Roy grins slightly and decides to press the man a bit and says, "And if it doesn't?" He replies, "Then I can recommend to you a number of restaurants in the Jacksonville area that you can visit upon your arrival...Sir." Roy kept grinning. He had seen the Concierge's type before. Since the guy worked in the first-class, he decided that he was first class as well. Roy decided to play with this one a little bit.</p><p></p><p>"Look here son, I know that being the First Class concierge is a hard job. You have to make sure that everyone is happy. See that woman over there?" Roy pointed to the older woman with the large brimmed hat. "I'm sure she's happy." "And that guy?" Roy will then point to the younger gentleman who was, at the moment, trying to make the acquaintance of an obviously uninterested young blonde woman. "He seems really happy."</p><p></p><p>"Now look over there." Roy pointed at the Doc. "He's not happy; not one bit. He's tired, grumpy, and hungry. It's really not a good combination." "And now look down here." Roy pointed at himself. "I'm not happy. Now, why am I not happy? I'm glad you asked." </p><p></p><p>Roy's grin faded and he spoke quietly but firmly. "Here's what you're going to do to make me happy. You're going to bring two of the full course meals over to where my friend and I are sitting. One for me and one for him. Then you're going to bring me a whiskey and a beer. And then you are going to apologize to my friend for keeping him waiting for his meal. In that order." Roy's eyes narrowed. "Because, if you don't, I won't be happy. And you don't want to make me unhappy." Roy's fingers twitched as they always did in these situations.</p><p></p><p>The man replies, "Yes Sir, the dinner for both you and your servant. Now is your beverage request a substitution for the wine or in addition to it?" "Wine. Then whiskey. Then beer." Roy smiled broadly and good-naturedly slapped the man on the arm. "We'll be waiting patiently for your arrival." Roy made his way back to his seat and plopped down across from Doc. "We shall be fed shortly. And try to look somewhat menacing when we are, okay Doc?" Roy said with a wink. </p><p>Puzzled at Roy's insistence at why he needs to be menacing, Thomas returns to his book, thankful that sustenance was on the way, in no small part to Roy's directness and amazing ability to always convince people to see things his way. Thomas believed Huggins to be, without a doubt, one of the most fascinating people that he'd ever met in all of his travels and dealings, and despite his sometime crude bearing and quick temper, he knew him to be one of the most decent and upstanding men he'd ever know.</p><p></p><p>The man heads to the rear of the First Class Compartment to a three-by-five foot section to the left of the aisle. He spends ten minutes banging around and then emerges, pushing a sliding cart upon which are two silver platters with lids, a glass and a mug. He reaches where the two adventurers are seated and attempts to place a pair of thin wooden platforms with folding legs over the laps of the two men, but the frames were made for humans so Doctor Crane's is too small with him having to place it directly atop the half-ogre's knees. Roy's on the other hand is too large and so he hurries off, soon returning with a pillow to better prop the platform above Roy's lap.</p><p></p><p>He then places a frosty-mug of beer and a double-sized shot glass of whiskey in front of Roy on the platform side and then places the two trays on the platforms. The lids are removed to reveal the food, which doesn't exactly live up to the five-star descriptions. It consists of an open-faced fish sandwich with a thin slightly warm filet on one piece of slightly warm bread with a teaspoon-sized amount of a red jelly on the other piece. Beside that on each platter are half-an-apple and half-an-orange with the core and peelings removed, and a glass half-filled with a grape juice that barely smells of alcohol. </p><p></p><p>Looking up from his book when the food arrived, Thomas did his best to put a menacing frown on his face, but given Roy's smile and shake of the head, and the apparent lack of concern on part of the steward as he walked away, Thomas figured that the glance, without any real meanness behind it, probably made him look more constipated than intimidating. Honest to a fault, Thomas simply didn't do guile and deception well. Thomas politely acknowledged the arrival of the steward, deeply absorbed in his book, absentmindedly lifting it as the steward fussed with the pillow on his lap. He muttered a quiet "thank you ever so much" without lifting his eyes from the book.</p><p></p><p>Roy looks at his tray and starts laughing. "Holy ****, boy. This is the food you got all snooty about? My mother can cook better food than this and she's a horrible cook!" Roy reaches out, grabs the whiskey, and downs it. He stops laughing and looks at the concierge. "Ain't you forgettin' somethin'?" The man says, "I will bring out the French pastries at the completion of your meal Sir". He then points to the now empty shot glass and asks, "Would you care for a refill?"</p><p></p><p>Hearing Roy's laughter, Thomas looked up, set the book down, and lifted his platter cover. Seeing the quality (or obvious lack thereof) of the food being served, Thomas' equanimity turned quickly to cold anger. He knew that the mediocre-at-best fare before was not the customary standard for first-class dining in the American rail system. "Oh no," he said quietly, with real menace in his voice, "this will not do. This will NOT do." </p><p></p><p>The Concierge looks towards the half-ogre and with a slight quiver to his lip and a bead of perspiration appearing on his brow states, "I'm truly sorry, but this is all that we have remaining. The First Class meal was served to those in this car back while we were traveling between Atlanta and Macon, Georgia" Gesturing towards Roy he states, "I believe that your employer was napping at that time. For you to have received one of those meals you would have needed to board the train earlier than Lake City, Florida." </p><p></p><p>Roy just sat back to watch the show. "This should be good," he thought to himself. "Employer? Oh yeah, this'll be great." Roy kicked his legs out, put his hands behind his head, and smiled grandly. </p><p></p><p>Thomas gave the Concierge a hard look, his anger rising. Seeing the obvious discomfort of the man, a hint of fear in his eyes, Thomas decided that the man was likely telling the truth. If not, Thomas thought to himself, well, as the esteemed Orc philosopher Sun Tzu once wrote, "He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight." Thomas had spent his entire life fighting a war to preserve his dignity and honor in the face so much public contempt and hatred for his kind, and sometimes it was difficult to remember which battles were the truly important ones, and which ones were not.</p><p></p><p>This one, Thomas thought, was not. "Fine, fine," Thomas said, nodding dismissively at the man's pleas. "Firstly, Mr. Huggins is no more my employer than I his. We are peers and travelling companions, as hard as that might be for you to understand. With respect to the disappointing meal before us, I am not ungrateful for your efforts in preparing what you did have available for us. Perhaps an additional loaf of bread and a few more apples might make the difference, and we can only hope that the next time I travel First Class on this line will see a marked improvement in how I am served." With that, Thomas continued to hold the man in his stern gaze, awaiting his response. </p><p></p><p>Without a second's hesitation at being dismissed without any bodily harm the man hurries back to the rear of the car as quickly as he can, and from the sounds heard, is rapidly preparing the food. He rushes back within three-minutes of his departure with a very full wooden tray atop which are twelve cored apples, seven pealed oranges, nine pieces of bread, a small ceramic bowl with the red jelly, a plate with butter and two butter knives, and nine small sugar cookies each with three dabs of different sauces atop (those apparently being the aforementioned French pastries). Also on the tray is the whiskey refill. </p><p></p><p>Before the concierge put the tray down, Roy helped himself to a handful of cookies. "I know you're trying to watch your sugar intake," Roy said through a mouthful of cookie. "And you know I'm always happy to help you resist temptation." Thomas barely suppresses a smile at the rapidity with which the concierge retreated, followed by his near-immediate return with the abundantly filled tray. The ancient wisdom of the Orc warlord rang true: sometimes victory is won by avoiding the battle altogether. </p><p></p><p>"Top notch, top notch, my good man!", Thomas said to the man, reaching into his large vest pocket for the customary tip, placing it into the concierge's hand as he set the tray down, raising a bemused eyebrow as Huggins quickly pilfered a handful of the cookies. Roy swallowed big and rinsed his mouth with the fresh whiskey, gulping it down as well. "Aaaaah! I really do love our time together, Doc. There's always somethin' goin' on that'll make a great story to tell," Roy said with a wink. </p><p></p><p>Thomas replies, "Indeed, indeed, Huggins. But where are my manners? Here I've been, going on about my studies and myself. Tell me what you have been ... what was the expression -- 'up to?' -- since we last met. I am sure whatever it was, that is also a great story." As Roy listened to the question, he noticed, over Doc's shoulder, the young woman get up and start walking in their direction. "We'll catch up later, Doc. Besides, you know me," Roy said as he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "Nothing like living in the present."</p><p></p><p>A few seats behind the oddly matched pair having a late lunch a young woman had fallen asleep reading a small book. The racket made by the concierge finally managed to wake her; wide blue eyes blinking behind the spectacles that had gone askew when her head had lolled against the window. Abigail straightened the spectacles, patted her hair and closed the book. As far as she could tell there was only one person in that seat up ahead, and he was the man she had been looking for. Walking forward she heard him speaking to someone else, then saw his diminutive companion.</p><p></p><p>"Dr. Crane," she said with a smile, making free with one of his cookies. "How lovely to see you again." To the surprise and even horror of some of the other passengers, she then leaned forward and kissed the ogre on the cheek. "I'm sure you'll introduce me to your companion who I'm also sure has a fascinating story to tell." Roy slid over to make space for the young woman. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ma'am. My name's Roy Huggins. And you are?" He took the woman's hand as she sat down and kissed it lightly. He then held it gently between his hands, as if it needed protecting. </p><p></p><p>"Abigail!" Thomas sputtered in surprise, completely taken aback, and flushed from the kiss. He turned, rising abruptly out of courtesy, almost knocking over the tray of food, and rammed his head into the low bulkhead of the car, designed for those less than seven feet tall. "Ow!" He sat down just as quickly, rubbing his head, struggling to recover his poise in order to make an introduction of Huggins to Abigail ... a useless effort, it seemed, as the two were already engaged in conversation, completely unaware of (or too polite to note) his pratfall.</p><p></p><p>She replies, "Abigail Marsters. But you were about to tell a fascinating story. I love stories, especially ones that tell me a bit about my new companions. You are coming with us to meet the Parkers, aren't you? New companions and a mysterious quest sound just about right to me." "Oh indeed it does Abigail," Roy says, still holding on to her hand. "As for my tale, it's nothing special. Have you ever heard of a place called... Katmandu?"</p><p></p><p>And once again, Thomas marveled at his complete dumbfoundedness and outright clumsiness whenever he found himself in the presence of a beautiful and genteel woman ... and most particularly THIS woman, Miss Abigail Marsters. It was as if he was anything BUT an Oxford-educated doctor of natural sciences and archaeology, seasoned by decades of world travel, intrigue and war, as experienced in the ways of the world as one could be. </p><p></p><p>Instead, he became a shy, bumbling, fumbling near adolescent, variably incapable of the most basic discourse and rational behavior whenever he was anywhere near Abigail Marsters. By great Zeus' beard, Thomas was thankful that Abigail's attention was turned completely away from him, as Huggins related his wondrous tales of his adventures in Katmandu. Although his skin was as brown as his mahogany cane, he was sure, despairingly so, that his embarrassed blushing must be patently and horrifically obvious. </p><p></p><p>Even as Roy began his story, Abby used her free hand to help right the Doctor's tray, putting cookies and fruit to rights. In the process she stole an apple and leveled a smile at him, continuing to make occasional eye contact as Roy spoke, not wanting him to feel she was ignoring him in favor of his companion. The gnome Roy says, "Well, it's beautiful country and I'd love to visit there someday, but I'm talking about the Katmandu trading company based out of Chinatown in New York. "</p><p></p><p>"It all started last year, when I was contacted by one Lo Feng. He had heard that I had a good eye for reading people, so he asked me to join him on an upcoming business transaction with this Russian trading group called the Muscovy Company. So I'm sitting there, in this dingy office in some dockside warehouse, when this huge bear of a man walks in. Now when I say "bear of a man" I mean that literally. The man was as hairy as I'd ever seen and his nose was a bit longer than it should have been. I also noticed his fingernails were really claws. I asked later what the hell he was and was told he was a "lycan." Apparently they're some kind of half-man, half-animal critter."</p><p></p><p>"Anyway, so the bear sat down and didn't say a word. He just stared at Lo Feng and me. A lesser gnome would have been nervous in a situation like that, but not me. I never broke eye contact. I think I made him sweat a bit. Five minutes later, this older man in a suit, this one was normal looking, comes walking in and Lo Feng got up and shook his hand. This guy was named Yuri and he apologized if Ivan, the bear, had startled us. Lo Feng said it was not a problem and that they should get down to business."</p><p></p><p>"For the next few hours, Yuri and Lo Feng discussed everything under the sun, from family to shipping rates. If I hadn't known any better, I would have thought the two had been friends for years. To tell you the truth, the only thing that kept me from falling asleep was that I was so fascinated by Ivan. You see, he had an interesting tell. Every time Lo Feng would bring up money, whether talking about dock fees or bribes to local officials, Yuri's left foot would silently tap the floor twice. Not in a big way, mind you, but very subtly. I'm sure it wasn't a conscious decision on his part but then tells usually aren't. I knew something was wrong but I kept my mouth shut."</p><p></p><p>"Anyway, when it was all done, Yuri and Ivan got up and left, Yuri thanking Lo Feng for his time. After they were gone, I told Lo Feng what I saw and told him that I thought Yuri was planning on cheating him somehow. Lo Feng was grateful for my assistance and told me that he'd be in contact. I had pretty much forgotten about the whole deal until about a month later when I received a package. In it was a very nice pocket watch and a letter. The package was from Lo Feng and the letter was extremely interesting. It seems that, since our meeting, Lo Feng had kept tabs on Ivan. Ivan eventually led Lo Feng to a plot by Yuri to try to take over all of the trading business currently done by Katmandu."</p><p></p><p>"In his letter, Lo Feng said that he took care of them and that they would not bother him again and that the watch was a token of appreciation for my work." Roy let go of Abby's hand and pulled out a nice pocket watch he was currently wearing. "Not bad for a couple hours work, eh?" She replies, "Not bad at all. So is that your work? Reading and understanding people? I noticed you working the concierge a bit. I suppose whatever the Parkers need us for requires people of unusual talents. Do you have others?" </p><p></p><p>"It's not the only thing I do. I'm also an excellent card player. And my reflexes are second to none. I can usually outdraw any man, or woman, if they try to pull a weapon on me. Ask the Doc; he'll tell ya." Roy nodded at Doc as he said this, hoping he'd remember the mission in Turkey and how he'd thrown up the silver platter just in time to stop the bullet aimed at the Russian ambassador. "So how do you two know each oth..." Roy trailed off as he glanced at Doc. Something was obviously wrong with him.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Silver Moon, post: 4666340, member: 8530"] [B]Chapter Three, “Passengers on the Second Train”, September 1st, 1882, 10:30 A.M.[/B] Roy stood up on the seat and waved at the ogre, trying to get his attention. "Get your big butt over here, Doc!" he yelled out. "Stop making that poor man piss himself." Roy chuckled as he said this. Roy made a seat for Doc Crane. "So what have you been up to, Doc?" Nonplussed by the all-too-familiar routine of contempt and discrimination towards ogres (not allayed in the slightest on part of the offenders by his mixed human-ogre heritage), Thomas smiles fondly at his diminutive friend as he strides the length of the car in a few steps, passing by the gaping mouths and shocked expressions of the other passengers. "Ah, my dear Huggins, it is good to see you again, my friend. I see that little has changed with you: you seem rather healthy and hale, and your penchant for the use of the vernacular of the gutter has obviously locked your sense of propriety in mortal combat and dispatched it with aplomb." Thomas sets his intricately and elaborately carved walking stick, taller than Roy, against the car's bulkhead, dropping his carpetbag to the floor in front of the gnome, and pushes it beneath the seat bench. He sits down upon the seat across from Roy, the wooden and iron frame creaking loudly from the weight and bulk of the half-ogre. He pulls his spectacles off, examines them for dust, wipes them deftly with a handkerchief, sets them back upon his face, and looks down at Roy (whose face is still well below his despite both being seated) flashing a smile that splits his deeply-brown ogrish face wide. "It really is good to see you again, Huggins. As to what I've been "up to", as you put it, I suppose the answer you would be expecting in your parlance would be... shall we say, a little of this and a little of that? Since the Turkish affair when we last met, I've spent a great deal of time on my estate in Bermuda, studying the old philosophers and their brilliant musings, which appear to us as simple as a infant's first steps, into the realm of the physical sciences, particularly Heraclitus' theories on the immutability of change itself. I can see you have absolutely NO idea what I'm talking about. No matter! Let's see... oh yes, there was that bit of business with young Watson and the Ogre soccer team in Scotland, which would have been the last time I saw James and Miss Mina ... sorry... Madam Parker. I must confess that does take a bit of getting used to, don't you think? And then..." Thomas will continue on for so long as Roy will let him, as he always relishes the opportunity to converse at length with an old friend, oblivious to whether or not he's retaining the interest of said friend. His near solitary existence on Bermuda provides him little in the way of good conversation, and his excitement at being reunited with his companions again has given him plenty of enthusiasm to fuel his musings and ramblings. Roy listened to Doc drone on and on about his theories and such. He was used to the Doctor talking over his head, usually more figuratively than literally. Roy always thought it interesting that Doc, especially in the situation of obvious racism that was taking place on the train, would still consider Roy intellectually inferior. You would think the Doc would have learned a thing or two about judging a book by its cover. The first time it happened, Roy had told the Doc to go **** himself. However, after years of working together, Roy realized the Doc didn't do it on purpose. Roy always assumed it was his years alone in Bermuda that made it difficult for Doc to talk to others. Regardless, they had quickly become good friends and made a very "interesting" team, to say the least. As it stood, Roy just let the Doc be Doc and nodded his head at the appropriate times as he half listened to him. He was more interested in what Mr. Parker had in store for them. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, that's great Doc," Roy said to the hulking brute after 10 minutes of non-stop talking. "So what do you think Mr. Parker is gonna show us?" Sensing that Roy probably wasn't interested in an extended discussion of Pre-Socratic theories of epistemology and being, Thomas leaned down and pulled his carpetbag up to root around for one of the many texts he was devouring of late, picking out a particularly interesting one on the unique alchemical properties of the soils, plants, substrata, and mineral composition of northeastern England. He settled back in his seat, and looked up and around to catch the attention of a porter. "I am a bit hazy on the details from Parker's communiqué, other than something about a pre-colonial archaeological find of some import. Drat! I do believe that porter is deliberately ignoring me." Sensing his temper on the edge of fraying, Thomas lets out a deep calming sigh, somewhat frustrated by the continued contempt being shown to him by the train's staff. "Huggins, do us a favor, if you will. I could really stand a spot of tea and a biscuit or three to take the edge off my appetite -- perhaps a loaf of bread as well, and several apples. Could you catch that fellow's attention and see if you can make any headway towards service for us? I've neither the energy nor the inclination to continue to make a fuss with these benighted souls who seem rather determined to keep alive the attitudes of a bygone era. I don't really think it would be productive for any of us if I get any more irritated by the current situation, and as I am quite hungry, I am growing more likely to lose my temper ... which would be most unfortunate." Roy chuckled at the mention of Doc's temper. It's what made them a good team. Both were working hard on controlling their tempers. Doc seemed to have a better handle on it than Roy does, though, so Roy knew Doc must have been really upset to ask Roy to handle it. Roy stood and made his way to the closest employee on the train. "Excuse me, where can I get something to eat on this train?" he said as politely as possible. The First Class Concierge tells him "Er, um, well, yes sir. I believe that we have available for the main entree a seared line-caught cod in a Beaujolais-and-rosemary sauce and served with freshly baked twelve-grain whole wheat roll and a side of a sliced fruit medley which includes both empire apples and freshly picked Florida oranges. For dessert we have available a delightfully made French pastry of a vanilla-chocolate pyramid with a subtle topping that hints of an impeccably creamy crèmes brûlées. A fine Italian red wine comes with that as the beverage. Does that meet with your approval sir?" Roy grins slightly and decides to press the man a bit and says, "And if it doesn't?" He replies, "Then I can recommend to you a number of restaurants in the Jacksonville area that you can visit upon your arrival...Sir." Roy kept grinning. He had seen the Concierge's type before. Since the guy worked in the first-class, he decided that he was first class as well. Roy decided to play with this one a little bit. "Look here son, I know that being the First Class concierge is a hard job. You have to make sure that everyone is happy. See that woman over there?" Roy pointed to the older woman with the large brimmed hat. "I'm sure she's happy." "And that guy?" Roy will then point to the younger gentleman who was, at the moment, trying to make the acquaintance of an obviously uninterested young blonde woman. "He seems really happy." "Now look over there." Roy pointed at the Doc. "He's not happy; not one bit. He's tired, grumpy, and hungry. It's really not a good combination." "And now look down here." Roy pointed at himself. "I'm not happy. Now, why am I not happy? I'm glad you asked." Roy's grin faded and he spoke quietly but firmly. "Here's what you're going to do to make me happy. You're going to bring two of the full course meals over to where my friend and I are sitting. One for me and one for him. Then you're going to bring me a whiskey and a beer. And then you are going to apologize to my friend for keeping him waiting for his meal. In that order." Roy's eyes narrowed. "Because, if you don't, I won't be happy. And you don't want to make me unhappy." Roy's fingers twitched as they always did in these situations. The man replies, "Yes Sir, the dinner for both you and your servant. Now is your beverage request a substitution for the wine or in addition to it?" "Wine. Then whiskey. Then beer." Roy smiled broadly and good-naturedly slapped the man on the arm. "We'll be waiting patiently for your arrival." Roy made his way back to his seat and plopped down across from Doc. "We shall be fed shortly. And try to look somewhat menacing when we are, okay Doc?" Roy said with a wink. Puzzled at Roy's insistence at why he needs to be menacing, Thomas returns to his book, thankful that sustenance was on the way, in no small part to Roy's directness and amazing ability to always convince people to see things his way. Thomas believed Huggins to be, without a doubt, one of the most fascinating people that he'd ever met in all of his travels and dealings, and despite his sometime crude bearing and quick temper, he knew him to be one of the most decent and upstanding men he'd ever know. The man heads to the rear of the First Class Compartment to a three-by-five foot section to the left of the aisle. He spends ten minutes banging around and then emerges, pushing a sliding cart upon which are two silver platters with lids, a glass and a mug. He reaches where the two adventurers are seated and attempts to place a pair of thin wooden platforms with folding legs over the laps of the two men, but the frames were made for humans so Doctor Crane's is too small with him having to place it directly atop the half-ogre's knees. Roy's on the other hand is too large and so he hurries off, soon returning with a pillow to better prop the platform above Roy's lap. He then places a frosty-mug of beer and a double-sized shot glass of whiskey in front of Roy on the platform side and then places the two trays on the platforms. The lids are removed to reveal the food, which doesn't exactly live up to the five-star descriptions. It consists of an open-faced fish sandwich with a thin slightly warm filet on one piece of slightly warm bread with a teaspoon-sized amount of a red jelly on the other piece. Beside that on each platter are half-an-apple and half-an-orange with the core and peelings removed, and a glass half-filled with a grape juice that barely smells of alcohol. Looking up from his book when the food arrived, Thomas did his best to put a menacing frown on his face, but given Roy's smile and shake of the head, and the apparent lack of concern on part of the steward as he walked away, Thomas figured that the glance, without any real meanness behind it, probably made him look more constipated than intimidating. Honest to a fault, Thomas simply didn't do guile and deception well. Thomas politely acknowledged the arrival of the steward, deeply absorbed in his book, absentmindedly lifting it as the steward fussed with the pillow on his lap. He muttered a quiet "thank you ever so much" without lifting his eyes from the book. Roy looks at his tray and starts laughing. "Holy ****, boy. This is the food you got all snooty about? My mother can cook better food than this and she's a horrible cook!" Roy reaches out, grabs the whiskey, and downs it. He stops laughing and looks at the concierge. "Ain't you forgettin' somethin'?" The man says, "I will bring out the French pastries at the completion of your meal Sir". He then points to the now empty shot glass and asks, "Would you care for a refill?" Hearing Roy's laughter, Thomas looked up, set the book down, and lifted his platter cover. Seeing the quality (or obvious lack thereof) of the food being served, Thomas' equanimity turned quickly to cold anger. He knew that the mediocre-at-best fare before was not the customary standard for first-class dining in the American rail system. "Oh no," he said quietly, with real menace in his voice, "this will not do. This will NOT do." The Concierge looks towards the half-ogre and with a slight quiver to his lip and a bead of perspiration appearing on his brow states, "I'm truly sorry, but this is all that we have remaining. The First Class meal was served to those in this car back while we were traveling between Atlanta and Macon, Georgia" Gesturing towards Roy he states, "I believe that your employer was napping at that time. For you to have received one of those meals you would have needed to board the train earlier than Lake City, Florida." Roy just sat back to watch the show. "This should be good," he thought to himself. "Employer? Oh yeah, this'll be great." Roy kicked his legs out, put his hands behind his head, and smiled grandly. Thomas gave the Concierge a hard look, his anger rising. Seeing the obvious discomfort of the man, a hint of fear in his eyes, Thomas decided that the man was likely telling the truth. If not, Thomas thought to himself, well, as the esteemed Orc philosopher Sun Tzu once wrote, "He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight." Thomas had spent his entire life fighting a war to preserve his dignity and honor in the face so much public contempt and hatred for his kind, and sometimes it was difficult to remember which battles were the truly important ones, and which ones were not. This one, Thomas thought, was not. "Fine, fine," Thomas said, nodding dismissively at the man's pleas. "Firstly, Mr. Huggins is no more my employer than I his. We are peers and travelling companions, as hard as that might be for you to understand. With respect to the disappointing meal before us, I am not ungrateful for your efforts in preparing what you did have available for us. Perhaps an additional loaf of bread and a few more apples might make the difference, and we can only hope that the next time I travel First Class on this line will see a marked improvement in how I am served." With that, Thomas continued to hold the man in his stern gaze, awaiting his response. Without a second's hesitation at being dismissed without any bodily harm the man hurries back to the rear of the car as quickly as he can, and from the sounds heard, is rapidly preparing the food. He rushes back within three-minutes of his departure with a very full wooden tray atop which are twelve cored apples, seven pealed oranges, nine pieces of bread, a small ceramic bowl with the red jelly, a plate with butter and two butter knives, and nine small sugar cookies each with three dabs of different sauces atop (those apparently being the aforementioned French pastries). Also on the tray is the whiskey refill. Before the concierge put the tray down, Roy helped himself to a handful of cookies. "I know you're trying to watch your sugar intake," Roy said through a mouthful of cookie. "And you know I'm always happy to help you resist temptation." Thomas barely suppresses a smile at the rapidity with which the concierge retreated, followed by his near-immediate return with the abundantly filled tray. The ancient wisdom of the Orc warlord rang true: sometimes victory is won by avoiding the battle altogether. "Top notch, top notch, my good man!", Thomas said to the man, reaching into his large vest pocket for the customary tip, placing it into the concierge's hand as he set the tray down, raising a bemused eyebrow as Huggins quickly pilfered a handful of the cookies. Roy swallowed big and rinsed his mouth with the fresh whiskey, gulping it down as well. "Aaaaah! I really do love our time together, Doc. There's always somethin' goin' on that'll make a great story to tell," Roy said with a wink. Thomas replies, "Indeed, indeed, Huggins. But where are my manners? Here I've been, going on about my studies and myself. Tell me what you have been ... what was the expression -- 'up to?' -- since we last met. I am sure whatever it was, that is also a great story." As Roy listened to the question, he noticed, over Doc's shoulder, the young woman get up and start walking in their direction. "We'll catch up later, Doc. Besides, you know me," Roy said as he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "Nothing like living in the present." A few seats behind the oddly matched pair having a late lunch a young woman had fallen asleep reading a small book. The racket made by the concierge finally managed to wake her; wide blue eyes blinking behind the spectacles that had gone askew when her head had lolled against the window. Abigail straightened the spectacles, patted her hair and closed the book. As far as she could tell there was only one person in that seat up ahead, and he was the man she had been looking for. Walking forward she heard him speaking to someone else, then saw his diminutive companion. "Dr. Crane," she said with a smile, making free with one of his cookies. "How lovely to see you again." To the surprise and even horror of some of the other passengers, she then leaned forward and kissed the ogre on the cheek. "I'm sure you'll introduce me to your companion who I'm also sure has a fascinating story to tell." Roy slid over to make space for the young woman. "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ma'am. My name's Roy Huggins. And you are?" He took the woman's hand as she sat down and kissed it lightly. He then held it gently between his hands, as if it needed protecting. "Abigail!" Thomas sputtered in surprise, completely taken aback, and flushed from the kiss. He turned, rising abruptly out of courtesy, almost knocking over the tray of food, and rammed his head into the low bulkhead of the car, designed for those less than seven feet tall. "Ow!" He sat down just as quickly, rubbing his head, struggling to recover his poise in order to make an introduction of Huggins to Abigail ... a useless effort, it seemed, as the two were already engaged in conversation, completely unaware of (or too polite to note) his pratfall. She replies, "Abigail Marsters. But you were about to tell a fascinating story. I love stories, especially ones that tell me a bit about my new companions. You are coming with us to meet the Parkers, aren't you? New companions and a mysterious quest sound just about right to me." "Oh indeed it does Abigail," Roy says, still holding on to her hand. "As for my tale, it's nothing special. Have you ever heard of a place called... Katmandu?" And once again, Thomas marveled at his complete dumbfoundedness and outright clumsiness whenever he found himself in the presence of a beautiful and genteel woman ... and most particularly THIS woman, Miss Abigail Marsters. It was as if he was anything BUT an Oxford-educated doctor of natural sciences and archaeology, seasoned by decades of world travel, intrigue and war, as experienced in the ways of the world as one could be. Instead, he became a shy, bumbling, fumbling near adolescent, variably incapable of the most basic discourse and rational behavior whenever he was anywhere near Abigail Marsters. By great Zeus' beard, Thomas was thankful that Abigail's attention was turned completely away from him, as Huggins related his wondrous tales of his adventures in Katmandu. Although his skin was as brown as his mahogany cane, he was sure, despairingly so, that his embarrassed blushing must be patently and horrifically obvious. Even as Roy began his story, Abby used her free hand to help right the Doctor's tray, putting cookies and fruit to rights. In the process she stole an apple and leveled a smile at him, continuing to make occasional eye contact as Roy spoke, not wanting him to feel she was ignoring him in favor of his companion. The gnome Roy says, "Well, it's beautiful country and I'd love to visit there someday, but I'm talking about the Katmandu trading company based out of Chinatown in New York. " "It all started last year, when I was contacted by one Lo Feng. He had heard that I had a good eye for reading people, so he asked me to join him on an upcoming business transaction with this Russian trading group called the Muscovy Company. So I'm sitting there, in this dingy office in some dockside warehouse, when this huge bear of a man walks in. Now when I say "bear of a man" I mean that literally. The man was as hairy as I'd ever seen and his nose was a bit longer than it should have been. I also noticed his fingernails were really claws. I asked later what the hell he was and was told he was a "lycan." Apparently they're some kind of half-man, half-animal critter." "Anyway, so the bear sat down and didn't say a word. He just stared at Lo Feng and me. A lesser gnome would have been nervous in a situation like that, but not me. I never broke eye contact. I think I made him sweat a bit. Five minutes later, this older man in a suit, this one was normal looking, comes walking in and Lo Feng got up and shook his hand. This guy was named Yuri and he apologized if Ivan, the bear, had startled us. Lo Feng said it was not a problem and that they should get down to business." "For the next few hours, Yuri and Lo Feng discussed everything under the sun, from family to shipping rates. If I hadn't known any better, I would have thought the two had been friends for years. To tell you the truth, the only thing that kept me from falling asleep was that I was so fascinated by Ivan. You see, he had an interesting tell. Every time Lo Feng would bring up money, whether talking about dock fees or bribes to local officials, Yuri's left foot would silently tap the floor twice. Not in a big way, mind you, but very subtly. I'm sure it wasn't a conscious decision on his part but then tells usually aren't. I knew something was wrong but I kept my mouth shut." "Anyway, when it was all done, Yuri and Ivan got up and left, Yuri thanking Lo Feng for his time. After they were gone, I told Lo Feng what I saw and told him that I thought Yuri was planning on cheating him somehow. Lo Feng was grateful for my assistance and told me that he'd be in contact. I had pretty much forgotten about the whole deal until about a month later when I received a package. In it was a very nice pocket watch and a letter. The package was from Lo Feng and the letter was extremely interesting. It seems that, since our meeting, Lo Feng had kept tabs on Ivan. Ivan eventually led Lo Feng to a plot by Yuri to try to take over all of the trading business currently done by Katmandu." "In his letter, Lo Feng said that he took care of them and that they would not bother him again and that the watch was a token of appreciation for my work." Roy let go of Abby's hand and pulled out a nice pocket watch he was currently wearing. "Not bad for a couple hours work, eh?" She replies, "Not bad at all. So is that your work? Reading and understanding people? I noticed you working the concierge a bit. I suppose whatever the Parkers need us for requires people of unusual talents. Do you have others?" "It's not the only thing I do. I'm also an excellent card player. And my reflexes are second to none. I can usually outdraw any man, or woman, if they try to pull a weapon on me. Ask the Doc; he'll tell ya." Roy nodded at Doc as he said this, hoping he'd remember the mission in Turkey and how he'd thrown up the silver platter just in time to stop the bullet aimed at the Russian ambassador. "So how do you two know each oth..." Roy trailed off as he glanced at Doc. Something was obviously wrong with him. [/QUOTE]
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