Post by Bagnew on Nov 8, 2010 11:25:00 GMT 1
Hi all,
My brother's taking part in (inter)NationalNovelWritingMonth, and here's an excerpt of what he's got so far (after his short message)
"Hey, I'm Dave, Bagnew's elder brother. This is my first attempt at really writing something, and he suggested I get him to upload the first chapter to see what you fine folk think. So, here's the first chapter. Would appreciate any critiques and/or comments.
Cheers,
Dave "
HARLEQUINADE
PART ONE
Chapter One
In Which Our Heroes Find Themselves Both At A Party And Newly Employed.
Many years from today (or possibly many years ago, or perhaps right now, even as you read), there is a world powered entirely by steam and æther, a world very similar to our own, yet almost completely different. In this world, there is a country, also powered by steam and æther. In fact, there are dozens of countries, a handful of empires and even a few odd sovereign island nations run by mad scientists.
Brave sailors travel the seas in ironclad steamships, and dashing aviators sail the skies in airships. Clever men wearing large coats and rubber gloves experiment in noisy, steam filled laboratories. Young socialites dance in their ballrooms, while outside on the streets urchins huddle near boilers for warmth. Thieves flit through the shadows, while ghosts haunt their lonely towers, their moaning mingling with the other noises of the night. Faeries steal children and dragons roost in great eyries, awaiting someone stupid enough to try and steal their treasure. Magicians summon Daemons, and Clockwork contraptions tick away while they labour at their never-ending tasks. Strange beasts stir in dark places, and even stranger ones wait in places hidden for aeons. And in a beachside town on the southern shores of Britannia, an eligible young lady celebrates her 19th birthday with a lavish party.
*
“It’s rather dull, isn’t it?” Jonathan leaned forwards over his drink so that Lazarus could hear him.
“Oh, I’m rather enjoying myself” replied Lazarus. “Just because you aren’t interested in the ladies doesn’t mean that the rest of us aren’t. The Captain certainly is.” He gestured towards the centre of the room, where Captain Thomas Buckley was dancing rather enthusiastically with a pretty young woman, his long blue duster coat swirling.
“Oh be quiet. I’m perfectly interested in ladies, just not these ones. I prefer one I can hold a conversation about something other than the latest scandal with, thank you very much. No, I think I may slip off and examine their library. I’m sure Lady Bathurst won’t mind.” Jonathan slunk off down the shadowy hallway, leaving Lazarus to finish his drink alone. On the other side of the room, Lazarus could see Nicholas, a tall wiry gentleman dressed all in black leaning against the wall, taking swigs from his hip-flask and talking to nobody. On the dance floor, he could see Doctor Winters dancing somewhat stiffly, as if she wasn’t used to it. Lazarus skirted the edge of the room so he could speak with Nicholas.
“Looks like the Doc isn’t too pleased that the Captain made her come down tonight.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m too thrilled either.” Nicholas looked over at the Captain. “I still don’t see why Weston gets to stay at home.”
“Because he needs to keep the engines fired and ready to go, in case this goes badly.”
“I’d ask what the odds of it going badly were, but I’ve been with you lot for too long. I know something is going to go wrong. Anyway, I wish he’d hurry up and get to business. All that dancing is just time wasting.”
*
The captain, however, did not think that his dancing was time wasting. Although that probably had to do with the lovely young lady he was dancing with.
“So you say you’re an airship captain?” she asked him.
“Only the greatest airship captain ever to sail the skies of Britannia” he said, giving her a roguish smile. He was rewarded with a giggle. “The greatest captain for the greatest airship.”
“The greatest? What’s it’s name?” she asked through the giggling.
“Her name is The Harlequinade. And she’s the- look, you’re not taking me seriously, are you?
“Oh, no, I am, I am. I promise.”
“Are you sure?” Thomas eyed her suspiciously.
“Very sure.”
“Because I’d hate to think you weren’t taking me seriously.” Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas saw an old man walk through the door, leaning on a cane for support.. As the song they were dancing to ended, Thomas bowed to the lady and kissed her hand. “My dear, it has been a pleasure. Now, if you will excuse me, there is some business I must attend to.”
The old man was waiting by the door to the garden.
“Ah, Captain Buckley, my old friend. How are you?” he asked.
“Mr Brown. I’m well. It’s good to see you.” They shook hands warmly. “Shall we step outside for a moment?”
“Yes, that I believe would be a good idea. After all, we don’t really want to be overheard.” The two men left the room, heading into the garden to talk, but not before Mr Brown took a glass of wine from the drinks table.
Over on the other side of the room, Nicholas and Lazarus had noticed the arrival of Mr Brown with some relief. Nicholas drew his pocket watch, flicking open the lid and checking the time.
“It’s about time. He’s late. As usual.”
“Stop complaining, he’s here now. Of course, this does mean we’ll be leaving soon. We should find Jonathan.” Nicholas nodded, and they wandered off down the hallway, leaving the bright, noisy ballroom behind them.
*
The garden was far quieter than the ballroom. There was a gravel path down the centre, edged in by shrubbery, which lead to a fountain at the bottom of the garden. There are many things one could say about the Bathursts, but that they had poor taste in landscaping was not one of them. Somewhere off in the town, a large clock chimed 10 pm.
“So. What is it you wanted to talk about?”
“Always to business with you, isn’t it Thomas?” Mr Brown chuckled.
“When I get a message on the Æther-scope, telling me to attend a Birthday Party where I’m to meet up with you, I begin to suspect something is important. I know how much a message on that thing costs. My cousin helped invent it, you may remember.”
“A little sociability would certainly not go amiss. No?” he sighed melodramatically. “Well, if you insist. To business then.” He raised his glass and drank deeply. “Please excuse me, a little joke, I do so enjoy them.” He smiled up at Thomas. His glasses and round face made him appear rather owlish. Not the sort of man, Thomas mused, that you would expect to be one of the highest ranking members of His Majesty’s Secret Police.
“Is this about the Winter Court again?”
“Oh, good heavens no. Mr Flynn is in charge of that division now, and he seems to be dealing with them admirably.
“And please tell me you aren’t going to make us go after a Dragon again. Twice was two times too many.”
“No, no dragons. Probably. No, this is a simple job. All we want you to do is deliver a package. See? Simple.”
“It’s not simple, is it? Where are we delivering it? And what are we delivering?”
“You’re delivering it to Denan Isle, home of Doctor Arthur Denan. As to what, I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. The journey should take around a week in each direction. You will, as always, be amply compensated.”
Thomas sighed. “Who’s Arthur Denan?”
“You’re not familiar with him? Surely the cousin of the great Baron Dawney would know of Arthur Denan?”
“No. I don’t. Hence my asking. Please elaborate.”
“You may know him better as the Doctor of Cheshire.”
“Ahh” This jogged Thomas’ memory. Yes, he had heard of the Doctor of Cheshire. He was a surgeon, originally from Cheshire, who had left behind his practice one day to become an explorer. He disappeared while in Ifriqiya, but had returned to Britannia after several years, claiming to have gained immense knowledge while there. After this he had, Thomas assumed, travelled to this Island and begun doing... well, he supposed he would find out when he arrived.
“I’m glad you recall him. He’s been doing some work for His Majesty for the past five years, and his projects are nearing fruition.” He held up his hand. “No, don’t bother asking, I’m not allowed to tell you what it is. However, he needs some final resources. So, be at the docks at nine tomorrow morning to pick up the package. Have a good evening, Thomas.”
He strode off, moving deceptively quickly for someone who claimed to rely on a cane for aid in locomotion. After a few moments of staring at the sky, Thomas followed him. Upon entering the house again, he briefly wondered why they had to meet at this party in particular, but his question was answered when he saw Miss Katherine, whose birthday it was, squeal and throw her arms around Mr Brown’s neck, kissing him on the cheek. He moved across the room to the corner where Dr Winters was sitting, looking disapproving.
“Enjoying yourself, Doc?”
“You know perfectly well that I’m not. I don’t like dancing. And all these silly little girls are irritating me.” The dark haired woman shot him a withering look.
“Good news, then. I’ve got what we came for. We can leave now.”
“Splendid.” She stood up and left, without another word. Shaking his head, Thomas saw Lazarus, Nicholas and Jonathan stepping back into the room. He gestured to the door, and then went to bid farewell to Lady Bathurst and Miss Katherine.
“My dear ladies, it has been a most excellent evening, and I thank you for such wonderful hospitality.” He bowed deeply. “I regret that I must leave, but I wished to let you know that this was the finest party I have attended in many months. I do so hope to attend more of your gatherings in the future.” He faced Katherine and took her hand, kissing it. “Miss Katherine, you truly are a beauty. May you have the happiest of birthdays, and may the next year be blessed with good luck.” He bowed again, turned on his heel, and strode out into the night, coat swishing behind him. Well, he thought, that didn’t go too badly.
*
Back on board The Harlequin, Leonard Weston was taking the rare opportunity of being alone on board to tune up the Oscillating Ætheric Engines without distraction. The engines, great complex pieces of machinery, usually full of whirring gears and hissing pistons, were now still and silent, as Weston went about his work. His eyes were shielded by large green goggles. Attached to his left forearm was a glove, fit with all manner of tools, replacement cogs and other knick knacks which he thought would come in handy. Grasped in his right hand was an ætheric welding torch, with which he was reconnecting a piston to the main shaft.
Shortly after finishing up his work, he heard the entrance ramp lowering and the voices of the rest of the crew boarding. He picked up a rag and wiped the grease and grime off his hands and face as best he could- that is to say, rather half heartedly. Weston always felt much more comfortable when covered head to toe in engine grease and ætheric discharge. This was the reason, he supposed, that the Captain had let him stay on board while insisting everyone else went out. Well, and that he’d told the captain, in no uncertain terms, that the engines needed work immediately- that wasn’t quite a lie, although the work was somewhat less important than he had implied.
“So” He said, walking into the main cabin, which served as their dining, cooking and living area. “I take it he showed up, then?”
“Have you ever known Mr Brown to ever not show up? Of course he showed up. We’re to meet him here at nine tomorrow. He’ll give us... whatever it is we’re delivering, and we’ll be on our way.” While answering, Thomas removed his goggles and loosened the buckles on his boots. “And I, for one, intend to be well rested. Goodnight, chaps.” He disappeared off down the hall, towards his small private cabin. He hung his goggles on the bedpost, placed his boots underneath his bunk, and changed into his monogrammed pyjamas. As sleep claimed him, briefly wondered, as he did every night, who M.H was and just how his pyjamas had ended up hung neatly from a lamp post, but, as always, waved it away, and fell into a deep and restful sleep.
My brother's taking part in (inter)NationalNovelWritingMonth, and here's an excerpt of what he's got so far (after his short message)
"Hey, I'm Dave, Bagnew's elder brother. This is my first attempt at really writing something, and he suggested I get him to upload the first chapter to see what you fine folk think. So, here's the first chapter. Would appreciate any critiques and/or comments.
Cheers,
Dave "
HARLEQUINADE
PART ONE
Chapter One
In Which Our Heroes Find Themselves Both At A Party And Newly Employed.
Many years from today (or possibly many years ago, or perhaps right now, even as you read), there is a world powered entirely by steam and æther, a world very similar to our own, yet almost completely different. In this world, there is a country, also powered by steam and æther. In fact, there are dozens of countries, a handful of empires and even a few odd sovereign island nations run by mad scientists.
Brave sailors travel the seas in ironclad steamships, and dashing aviators sail the skies in airships. Clever men wearing large coats and rubber gloves experiment in noisy, steam filled laboratories. Young socialites dance in their ballrooms, while outside on the streets urchins huddle near boilers for warmth. Thieves flit through the shadows, while ghosts haunt their lonely towers, their moaning mingling with the other noises of the night. Faeries steal children and dragons roost in great eyries, awaiting someone stupid enough to try and steal their treasure. Magicians summon Daemons, and Clockwork contraptions tick away while they labour at their never-ending tasks. Strange beasts stir in dark places, and even stranger ones wait in places hidden for aeons. And in a beachside town on the southern shores of Britannia, an eligible young lady celebrates her 19th birthday with a lavish party.
*
“It’s rather dull, isn’t it?” Jonathan leaned forwards over his drink so that Lazarus could hear him.
“Oh, I’m rather enjoying myself” replied Lazarus. “Just because you aren’t interested in the ladies doesn’t mean that the rest of us aren’t. The Captain certainly is.” He gestured towards the centre of the room, where Captain Thomas Buckley was dancing rather enthusiastically with a pretty young woman, his long blue duster coat swirling.
“Oh be quiet. I’m perfectly interested in ladies, just not these ones. I prefer one I can hold a conversation about something other than the latest scandal with, thank you very much. No, I think I may slip off and examine their library. I’m sure Lady Bathurst won’t mind.” Jonathan slunk off down the shadowy hallway, leaving Lazarus to finish his drink alone. On the other side of the room, Lazarus could see Nicholas, a tall wiry gentleman dressed all in black leaning against the wall, taking swigs from his hip-flask and talking to nobody. On the dance floor, he could see Doctor Winters dancing somewhat stiffly, as if she wasn’t used to it. Lazarus skirted the edge of the room so he could speak with Nicholas.
“Looks like the Doc isn’t too pleased that the Captain made her come down tonight.”
“Well, I can’t say I’m too thrilled either.” Nicholas looked over at the Captain. “I still don’t see why Weston gets to stay at home.”
“Because he needs to keep the engines fired and ready to go, in case this goes badly.”
“I’d ask what the odds of it going badly were, but I’ve been with you lot for too long. I know something is going to go wrong. Anyway, I wish he’d hurry up and get to business. All that dancing is just time wasting.”
*
The captain, however, did not think that his dancing was time wasting. Although that probably had to do with the lovely young lady he was dancing with.
“So you say you’re an airship captain?” she asked him.
“Only the greatest airship captain ever to sail the skies of Britannia” he said, giving her a roguish smile. He was rewarded with a giggle. “The greatest captain for the greatest airship.”
“The greatest? What’s it’s name?” she asked through the giggling.
“Her name is The Harlequinade. And she’s the- look, you’re not taking me seriously, are you?
“Oh, no, I am, I am. I promise.”
“Are you sure?” Thomas eyed her suspiciously.
“Very sure.”
“Because I’d hate to think you weren’t taking me seriously.” Out of the corner of his eye, Thomas saw an old man walk through the door, leaning on a cane for support.. As the song they were dancing to ended, Thomas bowed to the lady and kissed her hand. “My dear, it has been a pleasure. Now, if you will excuse me, there is some business I must attend to.”
The old man was waiting by the door to the garden.
“Ah, Captain Buckley, my old friend. How are you?” he asked.
“Mr Brown. I’m well. It’s good to see you.” They shook hands warmly. “Shall we step outside for a moment?”
“Yes, that I believe would be a good idea. After all, we don’t really want to be overheard.” The two men left the room, heading into the garden to talk, but not before Mr Brown took a glass of wine from the drinks table.
Over on the other side of the room, Nicholas and Lazarus had noticed the arrival of Mr Brown with some relief. Nicholas drew his pocket watch, flicking open the lid and checking the time.
“It’s about time. He’s late. As usual.”
“Stop complaining, he’s here now. Of course, this does mean we’ll be leaving soon. We should find Jonathan.” Nicholas nodded, and they wandered off down the hallway, leaving the bright, noisy ballroom behind them.
*
The garden was far quieter than the ballroom. There was a gravel path down the centre, edged in by shrubbery, which lead to a fountain at the bottom of the garden. There are many things one could say about the Bathursts, but that they had poor taste in landscaping was not one of them. Somewhere off in the town, a large clock chimed 10 pm.
“So. What is it you wanted to talk about?”
“Always to business with you, isn’t it Thomas?” Mr Brown chuckled.
“When I get a message on the Æther-scope, telling me to attend a Birthday Party where I’m to meet up with you, I begin to suspect something is important. I know how much a message on that thing costs. My cousin helped invent it, you may remember.”
“A little sociability would certainly not go amiss. No?” he sighed melodramatically. “Well, if you insist. To business then.” He raised his glass and drank deeply. “Please excuse me, a little joke, I do so enjoy them.” He smiled up at Thomas. His glasses and round face made him appear rather owlish. Not the sort of man, Thomas mused, that you would expect to be one of the highest ranking members of His Majesty’s Secret Police.
“Is this about the Winter Court again?”
“Oh, good heavens no. Mr Flynn is in charge of that division now, and he seems to be dealing with them admirably.
“And please tell me you aren’t going to make us go after a Dragon again. Twice was two times too many.”
“No, no dragons. Probably. No, this is a simple job. All we want you to do is deliver a package. See? Simple.”
“It’s not simple, is it? Where are we delivering it? And what are we delivering?”
“You’re delivering it to Denan Isle, home of Doctor Arthur Denan. As to what, I’m afraid I can’t tell you that. The journey should take around a week in each direction. You will, as always, be amply compensated.”
Thomas sighed. “Who’s Arthur Denan?”
“You’re not familiar with him? Surely the cousin of the great Baron Dawney would know of Arthur Denan?”
“No. I don’t. Hence my asking. Please elaborate.”
“You may know him better as the Doctor of Cheshire.”
“Ahh” This jogged Thomas’ memory. Yes, he had heard of the Doctor of Cheshire. He was a surgeon, originally from Cheshire, who had left behind his practice one day to become an explorer. He disappeared while in Ifriqiya, but had returned to Britannia after several years, claiming to have gained immense knowledge while there. After this he had, Thomas assumed, travelled to this Island and begun doing... well, he supposed he would find out when he arrived.
“I’m glad you recall him. He’s been doing some work for His Majesty for the past five years, and his projects are nearing fruition.” He held up his hand. “No, don’t bother asking, I’m not allowed to tell you what it is. However, he needs some final resources. So, be at the docks at nine tomorrow morning to pick up the package. Have a good evening, Thomas.”
He strode off, moving deceptively quickly for someone who claimed to rely on a cane for aid in locomotion. After a few moments of staring at the sky, Thomas followed him. Upon entering the house again, he briefly wondered why they had to meet at this party in particular, but his question was answered when he saw Miss Katherine, whose birthday it was, squeal and throw her arms around Mr Brown’s neck, kissing him on the cheek. He moved across the room to the corner where Dr Winters was sitting, looking disapproving.
“Enjoying yourself, Doc?”
“You know perfectly well that I’m not. I don’t like dancing. And all these silly little girls are irritating me.” The dark haired woman shot him a withering look.
“Good news, then. I’ve got what we came for. We can leave now.”
“Splendid.” She stood up and left, without another word. Shaking his head, Thomas saw Lazarus, Nicholas and Jonathan stepping back into the room. He gestured to the door, and then went to bid farewell to Lady Bathurst and Miss Katherine.
“My dear ladies, it has been a most excellent evening, and I thank you for such wonderful hospitality.” He bowed deeply. “I regret that I must leave, but I wished to let you know that this was the finest party I have attended in many months. I do so hope to attend more of your gatherings in the future.” He faced Katherine and took her hand, kissing it. “Miss Katherine, you truly are a beauty. May you have the happiest of birthdays, and may the next year be blessed with good luck.” He bowed again, turned on his heel, and strode out into the night, coat swishing behind him. Well, he thought, that didn’t go too badly.
*
Back on board The Harlequin, Leonard Weston was taking the rare opportunity of being alone on board to tune up the Oscillating Ætheric Engines without distraction. The engines, great complex pieces of machinery, usually full of whirring gears and hissing pistons, were now still and silent, as Weston went about his work. His eyes were shielded by large green goggles. Attached to his left forearm was a glove, fit with all manner of tools, replacement cogs and other knick knacks which he thought would come in handy. Grasped in his right hand was an ætheric welding torch, with which he was reconnecting a piston to the main shaft.
Shortly after finishing up his work, he heard the entrance ramp lowering and the voices of the rest of the crew boarding. He picked up a rag and wiped the grease and grime off his hands and face as best he could- that is to say, rather half heartedly. Weston always felt much more comfortable when covered head to toe in engine grease and ætheric discharge. This was the reason, he supposed, that the Captain had let him stay on board while insisting everyone else went out. Well, and that he’d told the captain, in no uncertain terms, that the engines needed work immediately- that wasn’t quite a lie, although the work was somewhat less important than he had implied.
“So” He said, walking into the main cabin, which served as their dining, cooking and living area. “I take it he showed up, then?”
“Have you ever known Mr Brown to ever not show up? Of course he showed up. We’re to meet him here at nine tomorrow. He’ll give us... whatever it is we’re delivering, and we’ll be on our way.” While answering, Thomas removed his goggles and loosened the buckles on his boots. “And I, for one, intend to be well rested. Goodnight, chaps.” He disappeared off down the hall, towards his small private cabin. He hung his goggles on the bedpost, placed his boots underneath his bunk, and changed into his monogrammed pyjamas. As sleep claimed him, briefly wondered, as he did every night, who M.H was and just how his pyjamas had ended up hung neatly from a lamp post, but, as always, waved it away, and fell into a deep and restful sleep.