Adventures in Time & Space IC

[Dodgeson]

Professor Calico & Pavilion

With the familiar 'thunk' of the time rotor, the grinding of ancient engines finally fell silent as Professor Calico's TARDIS (the interior of which I will leave to davyjones to describe (unless they want me to roll randomly for it, ooo nested parentheses)) exited the swirling colours of the time vortex to appear again in real space, but where exactly had they arrived?

Unfortunately the time ship's scanners wouldn't be too much of a help, it was the early 21st century and they were on Earth, England of all places and the immediate view from seemed to put them on some kind of village green with houses dotted around beyond that and one other larger building nestled amongst them with a sign hanging above its door. Those were their immediate surroundings but trying to push the sensors any further just resulted in distortion and static, there was just too much interference.

But it wasn't all bad news, whatever was causing this interference had also left the air absolutely soaking in ambient Artron radiation, so at least one of the time travellers was having a good day right?

Miles

So things had kind of gone down hill for Miles since the whole 'tech gremlins' thing, what with losing his job and all his money but let it never be said that every cloud didn't have a silver lining and luckily the former Scotland Yard detective's great uncle Monty was an avid walker and had allowed him to stay in his holiday cottage in Somewhereshire Birchmoor until he got back on his feet.

Once upon a time, Birchmoor had been a thriving mining town but we all know how that went and now all it has is an aging population, a church, a pub, a shop and not a tech gremlin in sight. Though that was mainly because there wasn't much tech in sight either, the cottage's oven was wood-fired and the television got four channels, in black and white.

It was early evening and mist had begun to roll in off the hills but that didn't mean that Miles had to stay in his new leaky home, there was wood to chop, he could amble on down to the pub (he'd already been able to cinnamon roll his way into the local community) or maybe even grab a torch and head out on a walk on the moors, the world was his oyster!

Donald R. Jordan

Truck driving wasn't exactly the most glamorous job in the world but it was the Donald had and given the string of failed careers behind it, it wasn't one he could afford to lose either. Things were going pretty smoothly with no breakdowns or delays to speak off and he only had one more delivery to make for the day to a small rural town called Birchmoor.

The little bell above the door jingled as Donald made his way inside with the first of the delivery and he was greeted by a friendly elderly man who rose to his feet from his chair behind the counter "Just put them anywhere." He said, gesturing to the empty space between the small shelves filled with tinned food and cleaning supplies and other daily essentials. "Do you want a hand with that?"

[Ridai]

It sure has been a period of time.

A good bit of Miles' day has been spent on strategically placing buckets, bins, and whatnot, and sealing some (but hardly all) rather drafty frames shut with what duct tape he had left (very past tense by now). He's feeling very fortunate that great uncle Monty let him stay here for a while, all in all. Could have been a lot worse, and wouldn't want to impose on mum and dad. The leaky part of the place is not so fortunate, especially if you are prone to hear every bit of it, but that can be worked around! Surely!

But, alas, he is rather in need of some firewood, given there is not a bit left next to the oven. So he dons his coat and his hat, thick socks around thinner socks to not get (as) sweaty feet in his boots (nifty little tip from a former colleague), and out he goes into the increasingly misty Birchmoor evening air, to once again swing his still sore arms to make more appropriately-sized chunks of wood from quite more inappropriately-sized ones. Maybe he can swing by the pub soon. Maybe ask about perhaps helping out for a bit of income. Or maybe some tins of food, since those are running low too.

Chin up! A proper (failed) Scotland Yard detective (trainee) makes the most of the day!
His arms try to put in a veto, but they are subsequently convinced by a counter-offer of warming up when inside the hut, instead of getting colder when inside the hut. So they, too, ganbatte.

[Zelphas]

Country driving was always an interesting prospect. Given Donald's less-than-optimally-observant nature, he had been a bit concerned about heading out where the street signs may not be the most visible and obvious, but he had not accounted for one thing: less drivers on the road. So far, as long as no one reported back to the home office about the tire tracks on the sides of the road and he stopped at a place with a hose to wash off the worst of the mud and grass residue from the front of the truck, he might be able to get away without another reprimand on his record! (He wasn't a bad driver, honest; it's just that the difference between "road" and "ditch" got a little hazy the farther out into the country you went.)

With these cheery thoughts in mind, Donald waves off the offer of assistance with a smile. "After making the drive, some movement does the body good," he says agreeably, thumping the first box down with a thud that, on retrospect, might've been a tad heavier than it should be. He flinches and glances down at the box; are the contents fragile? After a moment, he shrugs slightly to himself and straightens again; the damage is done, if there's going to be damage, so he may as well keep working. Turning towards the door (and only clipping the shelf slightly in his turn; nothing fell off, it's a good day!), he turns back to grab the next box, his mind already distracted with an attempt to map out the hazy journey back to the depot.

[NontheistCleric]

"Oh," says Pavilion, pausing to breathe in the irradiated air. She doesn't really need to–she leeches artron energy from her surroundings just by being there–but bodies give you habits.

"Did you feel that?" she asks an apparently empty bit of room (the TARDIS, of course, is all around them), then turns to face Professor Calico. "Look, Professor. Something's got me all charged up."

Her eyes are indeed glowing a bit brighter than they normally do, even after vortex immersion.

"I should get the medkit before we go out there. Just in case."

She bustles off to the sick bay, taking a detour by the wardrobe room to pick up some appropriate attire for the time period. Shirt and trousers, a coat whose red is probably not as vibrant as it used to be, a large pair of green-tinted spectacles, and an old leather suitcase she conceals the advanced medical equipment in.

"Ready!" she says, coming back into the main console room.

[davyjones]

Professor Calico frowns at the interference to his scans, and he begins to check and double check his instruments, only vaguely aware of his companion's demeanor.

"Did you feel that?" she asks an apparently empty bit of room (the TARDIS, of course, is all around them), then turns to face Professor Calico. "Look, Professor. Something's got me all charged up."

"Yes, yes. Positively glowing," he responds, still completely absorbed by the anomaly. He only catches up on the conversation when she appears before him - almost bounding into the control room bedecked in red and green. "Oh. Oh, well, you never know, but it's not like artron energy really interacts with most folks - you're the exception to the rule, my dear.

"That said, I'm not entirely sure where we are, except early 21st Century England...ish. You never know; we could be stuck in Cardiff." He shudders involuntarily, then shakes it off just as quickly.

He looks around the control room for a moment; he's a traditionalist and prefers a more intimate control room, and he developed a love of chestnut and stone during his first "term" at university. So, with a granite baseboard to serve as a good foundation, chestnut paneling provides that cool, dark feel that a cockpit needed. It was comforting...to Calico, at least.

"Right. Let's see what we can see. Maybe we can get our bearings quickly. I wonder what the old girl gave us on the chameleon circuit. Come on," he continues heading for the door, making sure his key is in his pocket...

OOC: I'll have to do a little dimensional architecture when I get back home Tuesday... (oh, and the control room is a slight variation of the Victorian desktop, modified to fit Calico's tastes)

[NontheistCleric]

"Oh. Oh, well, you never know, but it's not like artron energy really interacts with most folks - you're the exception to the rule, my dear.

"That said, I'm not entirely sure where we are, expect early 21st Century England...ish. You never know; we could be stuck in Cardiff."

"Oh, I know, Professor. I just mean–it's unusual, isn't it? At least, if it really is 21st-century England..."

"Right. Let's see what we can see. Maybe we can get our bearings quickly. I wonder what the old girl gave us on the chameleon circuit. Come on," he continues heading for the door, making sure his key is in his pocket...

She trails along in his wake.

[Dodgeson]

Miles

The air was crisp and cold as Miles stepped out into the evening but not to worry, you know what they say about logs. They warm you up twice, once when you cut them and once when you burn them! His little issue with tech might have precluded the use of any sort of electric splitter but the old axe that leaned up against the wood pile would do just as well.

Chop chop chop, as the former Scotland Yard's finest whittled away at the wood pile, he would soon notice another sound beyond the rhythmic sound of metal against wood, the sound of a low growl coming in from just beyond the dry stone wall that marked the boundary of the property. Now Uncle Monty's cottage was on the edge of Birchmoor, all the better for walking across the moors, and after one too many drinks Old Thomas might have let slip about a thing that stalked the hills on misty nights but that was all just superstition.

Wasn't it?

Professor Calico & Pavilion

Walking out of the time ship and on to the grass of the green, the scene that greeted the two time travellers was almost picturesque, from its duck pond to its small rustic play equipment and the red phone booth that the chameleon circuit had decided would be a perfectly inconspicuous disguise just added to the image (it was either that or a hedge), there was even a little shop.

The green was at the centre of what was left of Birchmoor and even with the mist settling in the pair could see plenty of local landmarks, not too far away the larger building that they spotted on the scanner revealed itself to be the village pub, the sign above its door proclaiming it to be 'The Bad Wolf' with the sounds of ructious celebration coming from within. Whilst further on down the street there stood the solemn shadow of a church atop a hill.

Donald R. Jordan

"Bless you." The elderly man returned to his seat to watch Donald work, sharing his flinch when the first box hit the floor but luckily there wasn't much in the way of canned goods and dry food that could shatter and people in small towns were generally more easy going anyway, I'm sure that it'd all be fine. Heading back outside everything seemed perfectly peaceful, even if he couldn't be 100% sure that that phone box had been there when he got here.

By the time all the boxes had been dropped off inside the shop and the paper's signed, he was making great time and even with the long journey home stretching ahead in front of him there was still plenty of opportunity to grab something to eat or just stretch his legs and enjoy the country vibes before he set off.

[Ridai]

A trip across the moor is definitely on Miles' List of Things To Do, right after covering little things like basic necessities. Very scenic and mysterious!

However, as he chops, there is that growl. Miles stops, looks towards where the sound came from (because of course he knows where it came from), trying a "Hello?". Quick look around for any dog owners perhaps walking nearby.

He tries going back to chopping wood, but there it is again. He looks to the wall again, even taking a step or two towards it, slightly adjusting his hat, axe in the other hand. "I can hear you growling, you know?"

Perhaps a stray dog? Or some lad and his pet having a goof? If this keeps up, he might even have to take some inquisitive steps and dispense the standard issue Police adress of the unknown ("Oi!"). On the other hand, that's a pretty deep growl.

Miles looks back at the cottage (still leaky, still drafty). In a weird way, he feels a little safer, since he doubts anyone wants to drive him insane to get at the property (no offense, great uncle Monty, it has its rustic charm). However, that still leaves a very deep growl at the wall. A conundrum.

Sooo... Miles shows what he is made of, namely (former) Scotland Yard material! Detective. Arriving. On the scene! And detectives go and detect! Thus, with a tactical piece of chopped wood in his left hand and the axe still in his right, Miles walks over to the wall to investigate the Probable Yet Mysterious Doggo.

Spoiler: OOC

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Insatiable Curiosity hoooooo!

[Zelphas]

Were some of the boxes "dropped off" somewhat literally? Possibly, but there was no sound of breaking glass, so everything's fine! With the signing finished and carefully stowed back in his truck (too many lost papers along the way, that's something you really do have to keep in mind or people with official-sounding names start to ask concerned questions), Donald takes one more moment to set a timer on his phone, an idea he read... somewhere... and had been trying to use for a while to keep himself on track. He squints at the sky for a moment--there's still daylight, right?--he gives himself half an hour--no, make it a full hour, as a treat--and stows the phone back in his pocket, stretching.

So: the pub, or the countryside? a discarded granola bar wrapper, fallen out of his truck cab, decides him. A good walk is just what's needed to work up an appetite, and if he gets lost and the timer goes, he'll just grab something in the city. patting down his sides and settling everything in place, Donald makes his way towards the outskirts of the town... most likely. It's a small town; if he picks a direction and walks, he'll end up out of it, right? Already, his mind is galaxies away, lost in the hazy pseudo-daydream that always feels like he's pushing at something familiar, but out of reach. Oh well; it kills the time, when he needs it.

[davyjones]

Professor Calico & Pavilion

Walking out of the time ship and on to the grass of the green, the scene that greeted the two time travellers was almost picturesque, from its duck pond to its small rustic play equipment and the red phone booth that the chameleon circuit had decided would be a perfectly inconspicuous disguise just added to the image (it was either that or a hedge), there was even a little shop.

The green was at the centre of what was left of Birchmoor and even with the mist settling in the pair could see plenty of local landmarks, not too far away the larger building that they spotted on the scanner revealed itself to be the village pub, the sign above its door proclaiming it to be 'The Bad Wolf' with the sounds of ructious celebration coming from within. Whilst further on down the street there stood the solemn shadow of a church atop a hill.

Calico takes a moment to appreciate the outer form of the TARDIS, giving a satisfactory nod as he locks the door and whispers, "Good girl. You always know how to blend in at a party." He gives the TARDIS an affectionate pat.

Turning away, he tells Pavilion (for the nth time, in all probability), "My first job on Gallifrey was in the chameleon circuit design & testing facility; the G-7 bloc on the environmental modeling and assessment module on all Type 75 and newer models is my baby. When I inherited the family TARDIS, I made sure I grew it in to her circuit. Vast improvement over the old module, if I say so myself."

The sign above the pub catches his eye, and he shudders briefly, but doesn't know why. Must be the chill in the air. Yes, that's it. "Fancy a pint?" he asks his companion.

[NontheistCleric]

"Nice colour choice," Pavilion tells the TARDIS, looking her up and down. She listens attentively as Calico talks about the chameleon circuit again.

The sign above the pub catches his eye, and he shudders briefly, but doesn't know why. Must be the chill in the air. Yes, that's it. "Fancy a pint?" he asks his companion.

"I was all filled up already," she says, linking her free arm with his. "But I suppose my body could do with a drink too."

[davyjones]

"I was all filled up already," she says, linking her free arm with his. "But I suppose my body could do with a drink too."

"There's so much more to a pub than just being able to imbibe a good ale, beer, or wine, my dear," Calico counters. "Information. Conversations going on around you. Mates catching up on the day, or lovers enjoying a night out, fans catching the match on the telly - you never kn--"

He stops himself, working his lips like he's moving a word around his tongue. "No. No. That won't do. Not going to make it my catch phrase. Much too corny, don't you think?" he declares. "Now, where was I?

"Oh, yes - information. We find ourselves a nice spot in a corner or a table with a view, and listen. Even the most mundane minutiae can provide us clues as to what might be causing this excess artron energy," the professor adds before stopping again, tilting his head and examining the buildings in front of him. "You know, I think we're somewhere in the Midlands."

Just as quickly, he's off again, making a beeline for The Bad Wolf. "And, you might be full up, Pav, but I'm famished. I wonder if they serve a ploughman's lunch this late in the day..."

Spoiler: OOC: Idea for the TARDIS Internals...

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I had this idea for the TARDIS interior. I spelled out Iniex in Gallifreyan script (I have it on a jpg, but I don't know how or if I'm able to attach it here), and I figured that would be a coded way for him to build the internal layout of the ship.

Instead of a circle, the word is built on a sine wave, left to right. All of the lines and circles are the corridors of the ship, and the rooms are connected to them.

The first "I" is a ring that bisects the sine wave, with a spoke that arcs from its lower edge to the sine wave slightly downstream. The control room and dimensional interface are on the terminus of the sine. Crew and guest cabins are in along the spoke, wardrobe is just off the control room.

"NI" are concentric circles just off the inside of the positive arch of the sine wave (just before the inflection point). Both the N and the I have a spoke, and the I (which is the inner of the circles) spoke is a straight corridor that crosses the outer circle to intersect the sine wave. The N spoke is just offset of the I spoke, and intersects the sine wave near the inflection point. The area in the center of the I is the Cloister Room. Next to it, attached to both the N and I rings is the Zero Room. Engineering spaces fill the rest of the circles there.

The E circle intersects the negative part of the sine wave, but has no spokes. The upper side of the E ring (above the sine) are the professor's study, lab, and workshop. The area between the underside of the E ring and the sine wave is Auxiliary Control. Next to that is what the Professor calls the "Storeroom" (but what others might call his "Junk Room"); thanks to dimensional engineering, it's accessible from both control rooms (you just have to remember which side of the door you open from the inside to get to which control space). (The dimensional interface is also accessible from auxiliary control; the TARDIS knows which control room is in operation, so she controls which room you enter when you come in from the outside.)

The X circle intersects the terminus of the wave. It has two spokes, which arc around to meet the two spokes from the NI combo on the sine wave. These corridors house most of the recreational sections of the ship, and they're the most modular spaces. He had a nine-pin bowling alley in there at one point (when he was living in the 19th Century), but that's been replaced by a small movie theater, complete with a 1966 Bell & Howell film projector. It hasn't seem much use lately...in about 50 years or so. The Bath is in this area, of course. And previous companions have had personal recreational facilities over the years. One even wanted a full Athenian gymnasium; they compromised on something less...natural...

[Dodgeson]

Miles

It was a few short steps to the wall and the source of the growl would quickly become clear, there in the mist was the silhouette of some large black beast. It stood on all fours like a dog but it was easily bigger than any canine that Mile's had ever seen with a pair of glowing red eyes that cut through the twilight as they fixed themselves on Miles.

Whatever it was it let out another menacing growl, this time louder, a warning as its enormous body tensed ready to lunge through the fog at the unfortunate detective that had drawn its attention.

Spoiler: OOC

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Time for a Fear Contest! Give me Resolve+Ingenuity vs (2d6+12)[15]

Donald R. Jordan

Wandering through Birchmoor was a world away from the hustle and bustle of the big cities, without all the lights you could actually see the stars for one thing, constellations spreading out in the sky above him as it began to darken, only getting clearer as the his daydreams took him further out towards the edge of the village where even the street lights vanished and only the lights of the occasional cottage lit the way.

Everything was so much quieter too, without cars coming and going there was an air of tranquil calm about the place, that really let the truck driver be alone with his thoughts, at least for the moment.

Professor Calico & Pavilion

Inside the Bad Wolf (And I will apologise to no one for that name) there was a party in full swing, cheerful bunting hung from the wall and one end of the bar had been given over to an array of platters filled with sandwiches, pork pies and little things on cocktail sticks and the second the time travellers stepped through the door, the party stopped.

The man sitting by the fire stopped playing his guitar and looked at them, the two elderly men in the corner playing pool turn away from their game tightening their grip on their cues and the women sitting around the edges of a makeshift dance floor all looked up from their drinks. Silence filled the room for several long seconds until the man behind the bar cheered.

"The more the merrier!" And like that the music returned and everyone went back to their business "What can I get you two? Come and fill your boots!"

[davyjones]

All eyes are on him.

The last time he experienced this, he was giving his final lecture at London Met. He was there for nearly 40 years, and it was getting difficult to hide the fact that he was aging so much more slowly than the folks around him. He was able to pass it off as good genes most of the time, but it would've been a stretch to try to pull off another decade like that. So, there was a big to do - the beloved maths professor going out after a good run and all - including a recital of the history of the uni (in all of its forms and names) from his arrival in 1968 to his departure in 2016, and a presentation here and a gift there, and, after that, he only had a half-hour to get in an hour's worth of lecture. He had to leave his two favorite questions off the final because of that. Disappointing, really.

"The more the merrier!" And like that the music returned and everyone went back to their business "What can I get you two? Come and fill your boots!"

The boisterous welcome breaks him from his reverie, and the professor shoots Pavilion a satisfied grin before bellying up to the bar.

"I'll take a pint of your best and darkest ale, and whatever the young lady wants," he says, loud enough for the publican to understand him. "Oh, and how much for a pork pie?"

[Ridai]

Miles, Scotland Yard's Finest! - Story Points: 11/12 - Status: AAAAAAAAAAAAA

And lo, Scotland Yard's Finest detected. He detected that apparently, his great uncle's cottage was indeed worth much more than he thought. And a gigantic growling red-eyed beast about to pounce on the lone chap. Probably a ton of muscle, fur, and violence. But there is one thing it had not taken into account, for Scotland Yard detectives always come prepared.

Thus, the beast runs headfirst into a wall. Of sound. Created by the scream erupting from Miles' throat, faster than his shadow. I leave it to you, dear reader, to imagine sonic shockwaves racing across the misty landscape, kicking up dew drops and pebbles, blowing back the crowns of nearby trees. Stunned, positively bamboozled by this cunning maneuver, the tentatively named Hound of Birchmoor/Barghest/Black Dog (final pick pending) can only watch for a moment as the detective tactically retreats to a more advantageous position for his inevitable counterattack!

In other words, Miles is confronted with a massive dog, reflexively screams his lungs out like a banshee to the point of confusing the creature (the sound ringing far and wide), and hightails it out of there towards the town proper in sheer panic, axe still in hand and waving through the air. He even throws the piece of wood he held in the hound's general direction, if rather lacking in impact (should it even hit anything at all).

Spoiler: Actions!

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So Miles failed the Fear Contest by one point, thus rendering him a bit out of sorts.

Spending an SP to activate Screamer! After checking in with Dodge about how this interacts with Fear Contest negative results, the ruling for now is that this basically overrides the result of the Fear Contest by scream-stunning everything in the immediate vicinity, followed by some form of panicked skedaddling (as appropriate for the situation).

So in the spirit of just running the hell away, Miles moves at a speed of 5 (Coordination 4, +1 from Run For Your Life!), and here is a check to go faster or cross obstacles.
[roll=Coordination + Athletics (Running)]2d6+9[/roll] Beansed the roll tag, rerolled in OOC with an 18

---

* post roll count doesn't match database

[NontheistCleric]

Did you see those old men, Professor? Pavilion thinks to Calico, following him to the bar. The ones playing the ball game, I mean. You'd think they expected something more threatening than us to come through that door, the way they were acting.

She briefly considers trying to read their minds, but that might have all sorts of possible complications. Just talking is probably a better starter tactic.

"The more the merrier!" And like that the music returned and everyone went back to their business "What can I get you two? Come and fill your boots!"

"I'll have... um... whatever the Professor's having," she tells the bartender. "Nice party. Special occasion?"

[Zelphas]

As usual when left completely to his own thoughts, Donald is struck with an odd sort of melancholy. It's remarkable how the press of mistakes and missed instructions can crowd the mind, papering over the gap that's been there as long as he can remember. Twenty-seven years, gone--or is it twenty-nine, or even thirty one?--and no one to even remark on it; he's a man without a memory, in his own mind or the minds of those around him. Looking up at the stars, the vast expanse stretching above him, with nothing but the chirp of insects and one bloodcurdling scream to shatter the silence of the night, it's easy to feel...

...Wait, one of those things was a bit off, wasn't it? Donald hadn't been out to the country much (that he remembered, anyway), but even he's pretty sure those kind of screams aren't a normal occurrence.

Rising out of his melancholy funk, Donald turns his feet towards the source of the scream, picking up the pace and moving to the side of the path, where the grass is thicker and muffles his footsteps. He's not sure if he can do much--he's not got a thing on him to fight with, and while he's handy enough in a scrap he doesn't want to jump into a situation without knowing what's going on--but he can at least observe the scene and decide where to go from there. And it's better to observe without being observed, to get the right, unbiased information.

Why does that thought seem so fundamentally correct?

Spoiler: OOC

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Donald is moving quickly to the scene, but I want him to ty and sneak there to pop out un-observed. If I'm doing my math right, Sneaking would be a Coordination (4) + Subterfuge Skill (4) + Area of Expertise (Sneaking) (2) = +10, so...

Roll to sneak quickly towards the scream: (2d6+10)[19]

[davyjones]

Did you see those old men, Professor? Pavilion thinks to Calico, following him to the bar. The ones playing the ball game, I mean. You'd think they expected something more threatening than us to come through that door, the way they were acting.

As he waits for his drink, the professor turns around and rests his elbows on the bar, "casually" scanning the room while keeping the billiards players in his peripheral vision.

He isn't a telepath - not all Time Lords are, you know! - so he hopes Pav can read his surface thoughts as he responds, Remember, Earth culture in the 21st Century is largely paranoid, provincial, and self-absorbed; anything outside their so-called 'norms' are cause for suspicion, especially since they haven't evolved beyond the siren's call of their social media obsession. The billiard players may just be suspicious of outsiders, like us.

Spoiler: OOC: Observation Roll

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I'm not sure if this is a passive Awareness + Ingenuity roll, or if you want me to apply a skill instead. Calico is trying to notice if the billiard players are still eyeing them, or if they're still acting suspiciously (holding their cues a little too tightly, etc.)

Awareness (2) + ???
(2d6+2)[8]

If this is Awareness + Ingenuity, then the result is 13.

[Dodgeson]

Professor Calico & Pavilion

With a nod and a smile the landlord pulled a pair of glasses from under the bar and began to pull a pint of the dark liquid from a tap that was labelled 'Miners Old Ale'. "You two aren't from round here are you?" He said with a laugh, gesturing to the food with his other hand as he let the first pint settle "It's a party, help yourself." He was definitely the chatty sort and he was more than happy to keep talking as he placed the two drinks in front of the time travellers, the subject of what exactly the party was for widening his smile even more.

"My Margret only back on her feet!" He announced, drawing a cheer and a clinking of glasses from the assembled "And the doctor said she'd never walk again, it's bloody miracle, tell you what. This round's on me!"

Of course through all this joviality there was still the question of the men in the corner and while they'd gone back to their game once everything had settled down again, the Professor definitely caught them shooting a few glances their way.

Donald R. Jordan & Miles

The darkness around him along with the overgrown hedgerows of the English countryside made it easy enough for Donald to conceal himself as he made his way towards the sound of the scream, though stealth probably wasn't super necessary considering the source of the noise really rather looked like they had more important things to be worrying about right now as they sprinted back towards Birchmoor with an axe in one hand.

Was he running from something? There didn't seem to be anything hot on his heels (the creature was still reeling back by the cottage after all). Was he running towards someone? Only time would tell...

Spoiler: OOC

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I leave it up to you guys whether Donald is going to reveal himself or if Miles is going to roll Ingenuity+Awareness to try and notice him.

[NontheistCleric]

"You two aren't from round here are you?"

"Well, 'here' is relative," says Pavilion, returning his smile. "I'm only visiting England, but my uncle has lived in London for many years."

"My Margret only back on her feet!" He announced, drawing a cheer and a clinking of glasses from the assembled "And the doctor said she'd never walk again, it's bloody miracle, tell you what. This round's on me!"

"My," she says. "That sounds amazing. How exactly did it happen? If it's nothing too private, I'm just professionally curious–you see, I am a surgeon myself."

[Zelphas]

Donald is, as usual, surprised by his own instincts. The man runs past, screaming, holding an axe--and Donald's first reaction is to draw back a little deeper into the shadows, note down the unexpected behavior in some little slot in his mind, and dismiss the terrified person entirely, looking eagerly back the way they came for a new development.

Which... isn't how a person is supposed to react to the sight of one of their fellow humans in obvious terror and armed with a bladed weapon. At least, he thinks that is the improper response, from what he's seen and heard.

By the time he's sorted through his thoughts, the man had blown past him towards the town. Sighing, Donald pulls up another something that isn't normal, as far as he can tell, and projects a shout directly into the man's mind: HEY! Hopefully, the mental blast will jar the man out of his terror for a moment. Moving onto the road, Donald begins jogging after the man, speaking aloud. "Everything all right?" he calls out a bit loudly, hoping to trick the man into thinking that the first 'yell' was aloud, too.

There are a lot of hopefullys in this plan already...

Spoiler: OOC

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Resolve (5) + Ingenuity (2) to telepathically communicate with Miles: (2d6+7)[9]

(I'm not sure if this can fail, so I figured I should roll it)

[davyjones]

With a nod and a smile the landlord pulled a pair of glasses from under the bar and began to pull a pint of the dark liquid from a tap that was labelled 'Miners Old Ale'. "You two aren't from round here are you?" He said with a laugh, gesturing to the food with his other hand as he let the first pint settle "It's a party, help yourself." He was definitely the chatty sort and he was more than happy to keep talking as he placed the two drinks in front of the time travellers, the subject of what exactly the party was for widening his smile even more.

"My Margret only back on her feet!" He announced, drawing a cheer and a clinking of glasses from the assembled "And the doctor said she'd never walk again, it's bloody miracle, tell you what. This round's on me!"

Of course through all this joviality there was still the question of the men in the corner and while they'd gone back to their game once everything had settled down again, the Professor definitely caught them shooting a few glances their way.

Calico smiles and makes his way to the pork pies, briefly measuring them up before selecting one from the group and making his way back to Pav and the publican. If pressed, he would admit he prefers them warm in the Yorkshire style, but his time in London got him used to them being served cold, so this one was more than adequate. He nods appreciatively as he chews on a bite when the proprietor presented the ales, then raises his glass with the others in celebration at the announcement.

"My," she says. "That sounds amazing. How exactly did it happen? If it's nothing too private, I'm just professionally curious–you see, I am a surgeon myself."

"It's always wonderful when doctors err in your favor. Cheers!" he quips, keenly interested in the answer; this could be exactly the sort of strange occurrence that gives them a clue as to the origin of the artron energy.

[Ridai]

The sudden shout startles Miles further, almost fumbling his axe, but still catching it underhand with his left. He spins around, seeing the other bloke, seemingly unaware of the danger. Thus, one needs to aid!

"Sir,pleasekeepcalmandmovetothetowncenterasquickly aspossible,there'sagianthoundtheotherway,comealong please,thankyou."

Nervous energy pulls Miles in both directions at once, so he kind of waffles back and forth on the spot. All while increasingly quickly waving for the other guy to come along.

Donald sees a wiry young man with a coat, jeans, boots, glasses, and a nice hat. Quite obviously terrified while also weirdly duty-bound to help? He doesn't look like much, but he sure has the legs to hightail it out of wherever he came from, at least.

[Zelphas]

Donald is distracted for a moment as the man swings around. Hat. Huh. Shaking off the random thought (and therefore accidentally completely missing the stream of words coming from the man's mouth), Donald continues his jog over to the man. "We haven't had bears around here for the last four hundred years or so," he comments offhand, almost as though he's trying to make a joke. "And all the werewolves are supposed to be in London."

Miles would see a man of medium height and build with brown hair and eyes; the kind of person that would vanish into a crowd if you blinked. His truck driver's uniform adds to the effect, creating someone who seems anonymous even when you meet him alone on the side of a country road in the twilight.

[Ridai]

Miles waits for the man to catch up, meanwhile constantly casting glances down the way he came. Not a moment later, Miles sets a fast jog as a sort of compromise until the man is more convinced of the mortal danger?

"It appears we have hounds with my shoulder height now. My name is Miles, pleasure to meet you, please keep moving at pace, sir," the owner of the very same name says quite sincerely in all regards, free hand checking if his flat hat's still on, which it luckily is. Thus encouraged, said courage is immediately spent on peeking behind him, before quickly focusing back on getting into town.

[Dodgeson]

Professor Calico & Pavilion

"You might wanna keep that down round here." The landlord laughed when Pavilion explained where the pair were from, but it was mostly in jest "What's got the pair of you up here then anyway? Not that I'm complaining but you're a long way from London." Without waiting for an answer he launched in to the girl's question, it was practically part of his job to be chatty and the 'and one for yourself's he'd been being plied with certainly helped.

"Your guess is as good as mine Miss Doctor." He began, taking a swig from his own glass "Maggie says it's all prayer and the good book, all I know is that I'm not one to say no to a bit a good fortune."

He didn't say it out loud but as far as he was concerned if there really the a big man upstairs looking out for them then Birchmoor wouldn't have been in the state that it was but that sort of thing wasn't good for business in a town like this and if that's what his wife wanted to think, then well you know what they say about a happy wife.

Donald R. Jordan & Miles

A jog simply wouldn't be enough to keep Donald & Miles safe from whatever beast was pursuing the former detective and soon the sound of heavy bounding footfalls and low threatening growls would be upon them, its large silhouette clear through the mist if either of them mustered up the courage to dare look back the way they came.

Fortunately for the duo the village wasn't far ahead and the familiar sight of the village green along with it, the street lights that dotted the pavement seeming to ward off their pursuer somewhat and sending it leaping up on the roofs (still doesn't sound right) of nearby buildings, not ready to give up its pursuit just yet.

[NontheistCleric]

"You're right enough there," Pavilion says. "It's all fortune, in the end. Even if there is some god putting broken people back together... I'm sure they're ruled by fortune like anyone else."

I should know.

She shakes herself free of the momentary reminiscence and turns her chair a little to see the rest of the room.

"So which one is your Maggie?" she asks the bartender.

[Ridai]

As Miles has detected in the past, the beast is indeed there. And extremely mobile too.

So Miles snaps a picture with his phone as evidence.

"Okay man, RUN!" In the face of immediate danger, Miles is quite done with pleasantries and meeting the other bloke halfway, so he instead pushes the trucker forward to finally actually start running towards the town, not go for a leisurely jog. Miles makes a note that he should be more assertive in the future in this regard, for the sake of public safety. Amidst the constant AHHHHHHH! in his head. He keeps looking for buildings, walls, heck even hedges to put between them and the Beast of Birchmoor to become at least a little less pounceable-on, trying to keep track of the massive hound as they go.

[davyjones]

"You're right enough there," Pavilion says. "It's all fortune, in the end. Even if there is some god putting broken people back together... I'm sure they're ruled by fortune like anyone else."

I should know.

"Don't be so quick to discount providence, my dear; a miracle is still a miracle, regardless of one's belief in the divine," Calico counters as he turns around. Looking to the publican he adds,"And faith in itself is a powerful tool, because faith breeds hope, and hope breeds perseverance. Perseverance allows us to continue beyond our endurance, and is often the turning point from failure to miracle."

She shakes herself free of the momentary reminiscence and turns her chair a little to see the rest of the room.

"So which one is your Maggie?" she asks the bartender.

The professor joins his companion in scanning the room, taking another sip of his ale.

His mind, though, remains on the mechanics of the miracle. Artron energy is known to have healing properties when applied to that use, and he wonders if someone has somehow tapped into this particular "fount." His brows unconsciously knit together as he considers the possibilities...

[Zelphas]

Ah. That would explain the running, then.

Donald picks up the pace to a full run after a glance behind, thankful for the fact that his mind seems to process "imminent danger" as an excuse to work faster rather than cease functioning entirely. "Pub?" He shouts as a half-suggestion to the other man, following his corkscrew pattern as closely as possible; if he gets separated, he'll surely get lost in the unfamiliar surroundings. "People, lights, noise--might scare it off!"

Or give it other targets, a part of him notes coolly. Why does he consider that a bonus, rather than a detriment?