Between the threads Book II: Under the Cobbles Part I

[MWBailey]

Author's fatuous and probably unnecessary blurb:
Hello again. Yeah, I really did do this. The two stories in the same post were beginning to make things move veeeeeerrrrrryyyyyy sssssllllooowwwwlllyyy, and were a cast-iron expletive to edit and add on to, so I've split the second from the first and put it here. Mr. Corsair, I'm not quite finished doing this, so please don't delete this story from the other thread yet. Thanks in advance!

Thanks to my readers who've kept going back and reading this and hoping I'd add along to it.. I know there have to be a couple or few, since there are far more views than I would be able to rack up on my own .

Thanks, folks.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________


Between the Threads
-or-
what came after the Cold One Queen
And Before
The Search for George

-------------------------------------------------------------
Book II
Under the Cobbles






Book II: Under the Cobbles

Prelude: Landfall
White Island turned out to be a massive pumice, bauxite, and sulphur-mining operation, coupled with a gunpowder mill, in the middle of the South China Sea. The whole thing was a volcanic flyspeck of an island that was barely large enough to hold the entirety of the mountain itself, the miniscule fishing town, and the mining operation, along with a surprisingly good hospital and a small contingent of Sepoy troops to guard the mill. There was a fisherman's harbor, where a large ferry-type boat also docked, and an aerodrome, where three or four heavier-than- and two lighter-than-air ships were parked and moored.

The St. Elmo was moored to a mast, then the mast , mounted on odd-looking, gear-toothed rails and powered by a small steam locomotive integrated into the tower's construction, towed the St. Elmo over to a berth, and a crew lashed her down and detached her from the mast. The odd thing about the tracks, Jock noted as he helped the Commodore and a certain singularly truculent third person disembark, was that the geared teeth were located at the inside bottom of a folded-over top edge of the rails, apparently an attempt to build a system that could not simply be blown  off the tracks in a gale.

They disembarked onto the bit of dock, Irene dressed in roughly a Texian airshipman's uniform, her colts belted on about her waist and her sword at her left hip. She glared dourly all around as if looking for something to slash or shoot full of holes, and had to be held onto by either Dreyfuss or Jock to keep her from decking several of the officers and men who saw only the unveiled part of her face and assumed the rest of her was equally comely. If they only knew how well-protected the rest of her is, and what t' other 'alf o' her face looks like, Jock thought wryly, most of 'em'd piss themselves.

That was often the case when an unsuspecting 'prospective suitor,' As Dreyfuss chose to call them, was confronted by Irene's guns, and her attitude -- which at the best of times bordered on absolutely psycotically murderous. In the worst of times, and when her blood was boiling for any number of a myriad of reasons, and in battle, she was uncaringly lethal; she literally did not care about anyone beyond Dreyfuss, Jock, or, apparently, herself. She would tolerate Ishmael, their new nominal 'captain,' and Tim, loudly proclaiming she spared Tim only to protect their payroll; but anyone else, including their immediate superior Sir Charles, she would just as soon shoot as look at. Dreyfuss secretly hoped she would never be given an award by the Queen; he feared regicide, or any one of a number of equally horrifying possibilities, should such an event take place.

"Idiots, I hate idiots.' Irene grumbled, at almost a low shout, "All idiots should be dragged out and shot."

"You keep calling me an idiot, does that --" Dreyfuss began, before Irene cut him off with a glare and a low growl, then barked back,

"I do not! I say you do idiotic things. There's a difference. Besides, you're Family."

"Well, thanks," Dreyfuss said, not without a slight tang of sarcasm, and then added, "just make sure you're not the one does the dragging out, or the shooting."

"Oi, remind me ta go look up me cousins fer the 'oliday,s when 'ey come, Commodore, sah." Jock said, jovially, earning an ill-tempered glance from their resident harridan, and a slightly perplexed and rather jaundiced one from Dreyfuss.

They had left Captain Ishmael aboard the ship, with instructions to keep up the boiler pressure and instructions for how to do so. Tim , who had jumped ship in Shanghai just as his airship was about to depart and managed to leap aboard the Elmo, had accompanied them to Silver Cavern, then left with them after a duel with two large pirate airships and an aeronef, now went off in search of the local "airpark bar" to see about posting a letter home. Dreyfuss supected the firefight, and the storm they flew through to get to White Island, had put him off of 'globetrotting' for the present.

"what're you implying, you dirty-sashed lout?" Irene barked at Jock.

"Why, nothin' me li'l passionflower," Jock said, getting a boot in the shin from Irene in response. "OI! That 'urt, Irene," Jock said. He was also laughing a little too hard for it to have been too bad. The two could go on for hours, Jock baiting the veiled young immortal harridan mercilessly and she right back at him, seasoning her responses with blows and horrific insults that would cause someone not in the know to think there was a lethal situation developing.

But, both seemed to enjoy the sparring, and they kept at it out of an apparent liking for the pastime, and in a rather twisted way, one another, so as long as Irene didn't hurt Jock permanently (He doubted either would ever admit it out in the open, but Dreyfuss suspected that there was a sort of bond, dysfunctional and twisted though it might be, developing between the burly, ebullient fireman and Dreyfuss' wasp-waisted, wasp-tempered deathless hairtriggered autopistol of a cousin and ward), he usually did little more than scold them in response.

"OK, you two, pipe down," he said not unkindly, as they were approached by a toppered, official-looking fellow and a uniformed assistant.



->|Book 2|<-

Critiques/comments/suggestions are appreciated!
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« Last Edit: November 27, 2011, 01:41:21 am by MWBailey »   Report to moderator    75.53.110.222
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Re: Between the Threads(WIP)
« Reply #18 on: September 26, 2011, 11:01:36 pm »
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Between the Threads
-or-
what came after the Cold One Queen
And Before
The Search for George

-------------------------------------------------------------
Book II
Under the Cobbles






Book II: Under the Cobbles

Chapter 2: An Odd Assignment

"Another foppish idiot," Irene growled as the betoppered youngfellow approached.

"I happen to agree, Irene, but lets keep civil tongues in our heads for now, at least until we find out what the fop wants; he might just be important --" Dreyfuss cut off as the tophat with attached greenhorn diplomatic type stopped a couple of feet away and offered his hand, saying, "Ah, Commodore Dreyfuss and crew, I presume? I am Clapham Foulshire, Aide to the Director. Right this way, if you please."

A horsedrawn landau with the folding top raised drew up alongside the little group as the fellow spoke, and they all climbed aboard, Irene somewhat uncharacteristically allowing the young gentleman to hand he rinto the vehicle. What a name! Let's hope he doesn't get any ideas, or we may have a vacant tophat to deal with, Dreyfuss fumed to himself. He glared at Irene warningly as her hand ghosted to one of her pistols. Whatever he did, Cher cousin, pray let it be 'til after the meeting, he thought. Irene looked up at him suddenly, as if having heard his thoughts. Such might come in handy, Dreyfuss thought, but dismissed the idea immediately. Uncle Caractacus'd have his hide if he found out.

The ride through the (rather few) streets of the island town was like a trip to several corners of teh Orient at once; the nose alone reported the scents of a hundred different cultures. unnumbered stenches and fragrances, aromas and miasmas made themselves apparent, while coliors of saris, kinonos, business suits and robes clothing brown bodies, white bodies or black or yellow, sometimes in succession and sometimes all at once in a nearly overpowering assault on the senses.




->|Book 2|<-

Critiques/comments/suggestions are appreciated!
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« Last Edit: November 27, 2011, 01:38:35 am by MWBailey »   Report to moderator    76.195.204.5
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Re: Between the Threads(WIP)
« Reply #19 on: November 27, 2011, 01:28:54 am »
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Between the Threads
-or-
what came after the Cold One Queen
And Before
The Search for George

-------------------------------------------------------------
Book II
Under the Cobbles

They pulled up before very long at all in front of a wooden edifice that was obviously built to resemble the stone becolumned pile that the Home Office resided in in London -- though very much smaller. They were ushered within, up the central Stairway, and into a second-floor flat resplendent with decor and objects and gadgets typical to a British South Asian diplomat's demesne, right down to the huge waving carpet-tapestry overhead, providing what was supposedly a cooling breeze.

The fop had left them upon entering the building, and they had been conducted to the apartment by a young Sepoy in a satin uniform, who now went to the far end of the room, opened  a door, and spoke to the person within. He stepped out and back, then to the side, and out the room stepped  a familiar figure: Sir Charles Tayle, Head Minister of Her Majesty's Secret Service. "Good show in Shanghai, Sir Jaisen, he addressed Dreyfuss, "and also in that Silver Cavern affair, but I feel I should caution you to be careful whom you ram with your fierce little aerial man o' war; it's not always as simple as sinking the ship that attacks a liaison."

"I was  only doing my duty as I saw fit,  Charles," Dreyfuss said, "and I did follow your advice in sending Irene and Jock as boarding party, much though I would have preferred to go along as well. My boat gun itches for a good battle."

"You might have such an opportunity in the near future, Jaisen," Charles said matter-of-factly. "We have for you what you might at first see as rather an odd little assignment. Tell me, you do know about vampires, do you not?"

Dreyfuss put down the cup of Earl Grey that he had had handed to him, lest his reaction cause him to drop it -- or to use it as a hurled weapon of indignation. "Do I know about vampires?" he said hoarsely, his southern American accent coming out strong and thick, "Come on, now, your intelligence is so very good on everything else, I cannot believe that you, sir, do not know of my history in that area. I had to, with my own hand --!"

"shoot with six rounds of silver your fiancee Miss Morganthe De La Vigo, because she had become a most powerful vampiress and held your younger sisters in a glamour, preparatory to turning them," Charles interrupted in a slightly singsong voice. "Yes, I do know, and I also know several other things." His voice took on a harder edge as he proceeded. "Including your duel with Miss Harper-Chen over Shanghai Harbor, for example. You seem to be awfully free with  your fire-throwing, Jaisen. It gets a bit hard to explain away after several incidents. That fireball you cut loose with in the Aether League airpark will live in dubious fame for many long years, I fear, as an example of an utterly impossible-to-explain incident."

" I also have a bit of news that, to you, may be a bit of a shock, but first, here's a milder one. You remember, of course, that sensational bit of a diplomatic fiasco involving a certain Transylvanian  count a while back? Well, he is certainly utterly destroyed, thank the heavens, but his ... heiress, shall we say ... has relapsed from Dr. Van Helsing's cure, and now leads a an entire coven, hundreds, maybe even thousands strong, in the tunnels, sewers, and other underground complexes beneath London Proper."

"But the war, the Battles of London, and the Cold Ones, surely they wiped out all o' the underground nasties!" Jock exclaimed, "The 'ole city were devastated!"

"Aye, Jock, many were destroyed, and some were our allies --but now they've been joined by Miss Harker's ... offspring ... And those of another, one who has recently arrived from the New World, and yes, Jaisen, we know who Miss Harper-Chen's Sire was," Charles said, before Dreyfuss could blurt it out, "They are one and the same, the Newcomer and the Sire. I am sorry to inform you of this, Jaisen, but the one you thought you had destroyed in fact survived. Your Morganthe is in London's Underground at this very moment."

"Your assignment, should you accept it, is to
1. locate and ally our government with Miss Harker's coven. Failing that, destroy, with fire, silver, salt and acid the entire coven or as near to it as can be managed without destroying the city.
2. Destroy utterly the new coven being raised by Morganthe -- and her new lieutenant: Miss Harper-Chen."

"That's..." Dreyfuss sighed, seeming to almost, but not quite, sob in grief and grievous foreboding, "gonna take one helluva lot of silver, Charlie."



->|Book 2|<-

Critiques/comments/suggestions are appreciated!
PM me, or send to
mwbailey@hotmail.com
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« Last Edit: November 27, 2011, 01:39:07 am by MWBailey »   Report to moderator    75.53.101.183
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Re: Between the Threads(WIP)
« Reply #20 on: November 28, 2011, 01:43:17 am »
Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify
Between the Threads
-or-
what came after the Cold One Queen
And Before
The Search for George

-------------------------------------------------------------
Book II
Under the Cobbles


Chapter 3: Will we, Nil We


"Not so fast," Charles had said, when Dreyfuss recovered and stood up, proclaiming there was no time like the present to "Hit London like a salvo of artillery" and "Root out Morganthe and her damned minions."

"First, return to your new berth at Tinker's Row, and receive delivery of a special weapon designed and prepared for the St. Elmo by Our mutual friend Ms. Emma Lewistine. After reprovisioning and briefly (and I stress the term briefly) laying over for same, we need for you and your crew, and a picked squad of Service operatives, to go to Grimpen Ward on the Dartmoor Heath, and determine what, if any, connection the recent disturbances there have to events in London; If anything hellish is going on, destroy or at least drive out those responsible. Suspicious activity has also been reported in Land's End, but seems oddly disconnected from these other incidents, or at any rate is not as pressing for investigation.

Charles handed Dreyfuss a thick pasteboard file bound with a gutta percha band, and said, "in there you'll find all pertinent information on the Squad; they are Blacksuits all, I assure you. Their commander is one Leftenant Watson."

An hour later, Dreyfuss, Jock, Irene and Tim had rejoined Captain Ishmael aboard the St. Elmo and departed for Kathmandu; from there they would set forth for Points West and Finally the Dock at Tinker's Row, London. Dreyfuss sat at the command console in the steering room in the bow of the gunboat section of the St. Elmo, staring into the sunset dead ahead as he thought back to the events of his past, in particular the chase and (he had thought at the time) final confrontation with his fomer and undead fiancee Morganthe. It's odd, he thought, looking into the Indian sun, What will come to be, will we, nil we...






->|Book 2|<-

Critiques/comments/suggestions are appreciated!
PM me, or send to
mwbailey@hotmail.com
---=====<[[/{{"<(|)>")}\]]>=====---

[MWBailey]

« Last Edit: November 28, 2011, 02:00:44 am by MWBailey »   Report to moderator    75.53.107.132
MWBailey
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"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

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Re: Between the Threads(WIP)
« Reply #21 on: November 28, 2011, 11:06:41 am »
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Between the Threads
-or-
what came after the Cold One Queen
And Before
The Search for George

-------------------------------------------------------------
Book II
Under the Cobbles


Chapter 3: Will we, Nil We


The arrival of the St. Elmo at Kathmandu was relatively uneventful. so too was the refueling and the forage trip to the city's market for supplies for the return trip to England, save for a trackside fortune teller at the railway station who took one look at Dreyfuss and Irene standing on the platform waiting for the Special Express to the Aerodrome and airdock, and started prophesying at the top of her lungs that "The Bright Ones will come again, and other "apparent arrant nonsense," as Irene put it.

Neither saw the slight, furtive form that watched their departure from the cool shadows beside the ticket kiosk, and then bought a ticket for the next Special Express; Nor did they mark the takeoff of a dirty little tramp semirigid ship just after the St. Elmo's Liftoff later that evening. It was not until their execution of a traverse of the Caucasus Mountains (in order to avoid a massive stormfront that spanned the Eastern Mediterranean and Turkey) that they noticed the ship in the moonlit upper air a good distance behind -- but closing fast.

What had looked like a suspended-ship blimp that had seen better days was revealed as a gunship of the old 'flying frigate' type, the gunports open and guns protruding as sudden lightning from the storm they were skirting threw weird light and shadows over both ships. Dreyfuss had climbed through the inside of both gunboat and envelope, up to the observation deck atop the ship, and saw through his spyglass that the envelope and rigging of the 'tramp' was swarming with strangely-moving and untethered would-be boarders, waving swords and smallarms. Bloody idiots, he swore to himself, Nobody's Boarded that way in a hundred years or more. He stepped over to the speaking tube rack and blew into the direct tube to the bridge. "Ishmael here," the Captain answered.

"Cap'n Ishmael, we have sword-waving company off starboard stern, about a mile and closing," Dreyfuss said. "I'll give 'em a warnin' shot with the deck gun. if they answer in kind, speed up, turn the broadside to 'em and give'em a good salvo in the face, will you?"

"Aye, Commodore Sir. Awaiting outcome of warning shot." Dreyfuss strode over to the ammo chute, and waited for the round that was coming up; he could hear and feel the munitions lift laboring away. A quiet squeal of metal on metal, and the ammo hatch opened, depositing the twopounder's brass cartridge in the hopper. Dreyfuss picked up the shell and carried it over to the deck gun, levered open the breech, loaded in the round, and shut the breech, and then aimed the gun at the pirate (apparently) vessel , which had gotten a bit closer in the interim, such that Dreyfuss could see the would-be boarderswithout the spyglass, and read the ship's particulars on the stained and patched canvas of her envelope: SS Demeter. He noticed with a start that some of the boarders looked like they were not only not tethered to the envelope of the Demeter, but actually floating above or alongside it! He shuddered and told himself that it was just a trick of the light, and aimed at the enemy ship, and then just ahead of it, cocked the firing mechanism, and fired the gun. The round passed within a hairsbreadth of the nose of the Demeter's envelope, and then blew a chunk out of a rockface far below.





->|Book 2|<-

Critiques/comments/suggestions are appreciated!
PM me, or send to
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« Last Edit: December 04, 2011, 09:19:47 pm by MWBailey »   Report to moderator    75.53.104.222
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"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

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Re: Between the Threads(WIP)
« Reply #22 on: November 28, 2011, 06:24:55 pm »
Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify
Between the Threads
-or-
what came after the Cold One Queen
And Before
The Search for George

-------------------------------------------------------------
Book II
Under the Cobbles


Chapter 3: Will we, Nil We


The boarders of the Demeter Jeered loudly, egging Dreyfuss on to "make another shot, maybe you'll hit us this time," etc., and several other imprecations in Hindi, several Chinese dialects, and a few too obscure to identify. The pirate vessel rose in altitude and then returned a single shot that WHOOOSHHH'd  past Dreyfuss and over the nose of the St. Elmo's envelope, and struck a cliff on the other side -- and smashed to fragments, obviously a stone ball. "!-- Stone ball?!" Dreyfuss yelled in surprise as Ishmael gunned the engines and the twin centrifugal ducted fans drove the St. Elmo far ahead of the Pirate craft, and then turned to starboard as ordered, and opened up with all seven half-turretted casemates, the automatic guns' staccato reports deafening to hear, even up on the obs deck. The Demeter seemed to vanish for a moment in the midst of a cloud of cordite, flame, and shrapnel.

Dreyfuss yelled in triumph -- but the cry died in his throat as the Demeter pushed ahead, and the cloud of debris and smoke cleared away. There was damage to the Demeter, no doubt; gaping holes in hull and envelope, and dismembered bodies littered the craft... and then the bodies began to move, and the Demeter came on again at great speed. There in the bows of the suspended frigate stood a beautiful, and somehow palpably sinister, figure that Dreyfuss was loath to behold: Merovingia Harper-Chen, healed and in new robes, two katanas in her hands, screaming something barely intellible at him as the Demeter advanced: "You're DOOMED Commodore! I'm Coming for YOU!" Dreyfuss opened up the bridge tube again, and shouted down, "Get Irene and Jock up here in full battle kit, pronto! And make sure Tim's heavily armed, and stays in the engine room just in case! We're about to be boarded!" He fired the deck gun again at the oncoming vessel, and scored a hit that should have dropped the battered derelict, but on she came, anyway. He heard the others pound up the stairway and out on deck, and he yanked out his saber and the Paterson, saluted Merovingia sarcastically, and called out,"Now for it! HAVE AT 'EM!"




->|Book 2|<-

Critiques/comments/suggestions are appreciated!
PM me, or send to
mwbailey@hotmail.com
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« Last Edit: Today at 02:30:49 am by MWBailey »   Report to moderator    76.195.205.118
MWBailey
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"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

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Re: Between the Threads(WIP)
« Reply #23 on: December 04, 2011, 10:22:16 pm »
Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify
Between the Threads
-or-
what came after the Cold One Queen
And Before
The Search for George

-------------------------------------------------------------
Book II
Under the Cobbles


Chapter 3: Will we, Nil We
It was impossible, but the Demeter, blasted apart and her envelope full of holes, her stacks holed and spreading smoke more than shunting it away, her engines spouting steam from a hundred leaks, came on like a courser overtaking a farm cob. She forged ahead, even as the wind of the St. Elmo's passage nearly ripped Dreyfuss' Peaked cap off as he grabbed one of the boarding grapnels from the rack on the stair house, as did Irene and Jock, and ran pell-mell down the deck and leapt the railing, the grapnel-line reels spinning and shrieking like railway carriage wheels on an incredibly-tight turn in the track.

He began to swing the grapnel in the familiar old way, and as the Demeter hove in close and bullets and other missiles pelted the St. Elmo's aeroarmor around him. He, Irene, and Jock all threw their lines and yanked down hard when they struck. The grapnels dug in hard; they'd have to cut the lines to cast off, but that didn't matter now, as the fiends began to drop from above. Dreyfuss fired the paterson 'til the cylinder was empty and switched cylinders; Irene unloaded both of her colts twice, switching her own cylinders in a frantic rush, as jock and Dreyfuss covered, Jock with a spanner and his peppermill, and Dreyfuss with saber and occasional blats of whitefire.

The vampires were mostly of a low level; had to be, since the whitefire blasted them back to life and then to pieces. And, they died and fell away from simple lead bullets, or when the saber or the spanner took off their heads. Captain Ishmael apparently finally noticed the grapnel telltales, and stopped hauling in the lines. Then Irene's pistols were spent, and there was no time to reload, as a fresh wave of fiends dropped from above -- and for the second time in a month Dreyfuss faced Miss Harper-Chen, she with her two long swords, and Dreyfuss with his saber and newly-reacquired Bowie knife, it's wicked weight a familiar reassurance in his left hand.

Irene and Jock nearly disappeared under a rush of blood-thralls, and Dreyfuss and Merovingia closed. There began a rush of swordplay bvetween the half-Chinese vampiress and the  commordore almost too fast for the eye to follow, as Merovingia spun her swords and fairly danced in her efforts to cut Dreyfuss down. He didn't spare a glance for Irene or Jock; he couldn't, not with Merovingia pressing so hard. He bled superficially from a dozen minor, nearly-inconsequential wounds, and impossibly, Merovingia found the time to lick the blood from one blade while she slashed away at Dreyfuss with the other. Irene screamed in rage, then; Dreyfuss could spare no time to look, but he roared, "KEEP FIGHTIN'! REMEMBER YA CAN'T DIE!"

"DON'T BLOODY REMIND ME!!" he heard her shout back, her voice a bewildering mixture of rage and almost ecstatic joy.

"Oh? Whats...this? --uh!" Merovingia grunted as Dreyfuss got in a telling hit that nonetheless healed up just in time to keep him from hacking that limb off. "Nice try, Dreyf, you've got quite an arm! Is your little niece already tainted? My, my, you don't protect your women very well, do you?"

"She's my ... cousin, you --bloodsucking ---harridan!" Dreyfuss shot back, "And she's plenty capable of defendin' herself, or hadn't you --NOTICED!" he yelled as he drove the saber halfway to the hilt in the middle of his opponent's chest. Merovingia screamed-- and then spat blood as she pulled herself off of the blade.

"Fool..." she panted, as Dreyfuss callously came for her, saber descending swiftly. "Old, AH! fool," she spat as he nearly took her in the neck, "...can't kill me...yet...I'm already --UH! Oh, you know..."

Dreyfuss' Blade sang as he delivered a further cut with the saber, a wicked slashing blow to the head, and for the second time, Merovingia Harper-Chen fell and slid away off of the envelope of the St. Elmo, falling through the clouds below. He murmured almost to himself, "Dead?" He remembered how hard it had been to kill Brian, and how the fiend's separated alter ego had finally been the only one who could do it.

With the departure of their leader, the other vampires lost their will to fight; some even fell apart, as if Harper-Chen's fighting spirit, or perhaps her consciousness, were all that had kept them whole -- but others stayed imtact, and swarmed back aboard their impossibly- tattered shyip -- which had begun to sink, straining on the three grapnel lines that held her close. "CUT 'EM!" Jock yelled to Irene, who was standing dazed after the sudden cessation of the onslaught. "CUT THE GRAPNEL LINES!"

Jock and Irene's swords severed the connections to the tenacious derelict, and it began to fall, slowly catching more and more aflame as it descended, finally disappearing into the scuddy cloud cover below, lighting it from underneath, and then that light slowly fading away below and behind.

"Well, I'll say one thing for you, Cos," Irene said saucily, "life with you and Jock sure isn't boring!"

"I'll take that as a compliment." Dreyfuss was tired, and his stomach rumbled. "Let's go down and see what we can scare up for a late supper, shall we? Then, on to Dartmoor."

« Last Edit: Today at 02:49:07 am by MWBailey »   Report to moderator    76.195.204.158
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Re: Between the Threads(WIP)
« Reply #24 on: December 03, 2013, 11:44:16 pm »
Reply with quoteQuote Modify messageModify
Between the Threads
-or-
what came after the Cold One Queen
And Before
The Search for George

-------------------------------------------------------------
Book II
Under the Cobbles