4WheelSword
The original N-body Problem
- Pronouns
- It/She/They
Inserted tally
If Mahan Could See Us Now
- Thread starter 4WheelSword
- Start date
- Original
C1P7: Noble Toys
4WheelSword
The original N-body Problem
- Pronouns
- It/She/They
Your desk suddenly feels much less like safety than it did at the start of the day. Before it was the throne from which you ruled your empire, now it was nought but a place of anxiety and concern. Even when Marina hops up into your lap you can do no more than give her an absent minded scratch behind the neck. She, at least, has no capacity to attempt subterfuge beyond complaining that she has yet to be fed to every human walking into the room.
You shake yourself out of whatever stupor has come over you and pull the files close again. There must be a pattern here, there are always patterns. Everything the Navy does is supposed to be about the efficient distribution of various resources and you doubt that anyone working within the system will be doing much different.
Beginning with a list you realise quite quickly that this is assuredly more than just a black market swindle or, if it is, then it's the largest redistribution of weaponry outside of the military you've ever heard of. Hundreds of shipments of rifles, machine guns, ammunition, even shells and light artillery, were going missing from Polyapavlosk, either bound for destinations unknown in Kieva and greater Varnmark or reappearing with incongruous destinations after a span of time.
"Have you seen this, Leytenant?" Maximov appears by your shoulder, dragging your attention away from the files.
"What? What is it?" Could he have found something else of his own accord?
"There's going to be a race." he says, gesturing at the newspaper he's holding, "An air race between all the nations of Europa. And some others too."
You'd seen some of the new flying machines that the Navy had bought. It was difficult not too with a handful stationed at the port. They looked like folly, children's kites and little more and the men and women who flew them were, from your experience, obnoxiously loud and overly excitable. If the wealthy of Europa wanted to race some of their madcap machines then let them. You let out a disdainful grunt that's magnified by your frustration with the real problem in front of you.
"I don't have time for rich nobles and their toys, Maximov. Put that down and help me with some real work."
"Aye, Leytenant." he drops the paper on your desk, looking sheepish "Sorry, Leytenant."
You gesture for him to pull up a chair and begin to take him through the discoveries you have made thus far. The weapons and the strange deliveries and the oh so few signed forms you have in your possession that point to a knowing conspiracy.
"Something is amiss."
"Aye, Bo'sun, something certainly is." Maximov was not the brightest of sparks, but he was dutiful and most importantly he could keep his mouth shut when necessary. "We need to know more. I think I have a little job for you."
What will you ask of Maximov?
[ ] Pay a visit to delivery sources (Depots, factories etc)
[ ] Pay a visit to delivery locations (Ships, barracks etc)
[ ] Pay a visit to the logistics centres (Transportation)
You shake yourself out of whatever stupor has come over you and pull the files close again. There must be a pattern here, there are always patterns. Everything the Navy does is supposed to be about the efficient distribution of various resources and you doubt that anyone working within the system will be doing much different.
Beginning with a list you realise quite quickly that this is assuredly more than just a black market swindle or, if it is, then it's the largest redistribution of weaponry outside of the military you've ever heard of. Hundreds of shipments of rifles, machine guns, ammunition, even shells and light artillery, were going missing from Polyapavlosk, either bound for destinations unknown in Kieva and greater Varnmark or reappearing with incongruous destinations after a span of time.
"Have you seen this, Leytenant?" Maximov appears by your shoulder, dragging your attention away from the files.
"What? What is it?" Could he have found something else of his own accord?
"There's going to be a race." he says, gesturing at the newspaper he's holding, "An air race between all the nations of Europa. And some others too."
You'd seen some of the new flying machines that the Navy had bought. It was difficult not too with a handful stationed at the port. They looked like folly, children's kites and little more and the men and women who flew them were, from your experience, obnoxiously loud and overly excitable. If the wealthy of Europa wanted to race some of their madcap machines then let them. You let out a disdainful grunt that's magnified by your frustration with the real problem in front of you.
"I don't have time for rich nobles and their toys, Maximov. Put that down and help me with some real work."
"Aye, Leytenant." he drops the paper on your desk, looking sheepish "Sorry, Leytenant."
You gesture for him to pull up a chair and begin to take him through the discoveries you have made thus far. The weapons and the strange deliveries and the oh so few signed forms you have in your possession that point to a knowing conspiracy.
"Something is amiss."
"Aye, Bo'sun, something certainly is." Maximov was not the brightest of sparks, but he was dutiful and most importantly he could keep his mouth shut when necessary. "We need to know more. I think I have a little job for you."
What will you ask of Maximov?
[ ] Pay a visit to delivery sources (Depots, factories etc)
[ ] Pay a visit to delivery locations (Ships, barracks etc)
[ ] Pay a visit to the logistics centres (Transportation)
- Location
- Somewhere in the stacks
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] Pay a visit to the logistics centres (Transportation)
NothingNow
Corpse Wrangler
- Location
- Tampa
[X] Pay a visit to the logistics centres (Transportation)
- Location
- Wörms, the half continent
[X] Pay a visit to the logistics centres (Transportation)
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
Well, we don't want to get the bosun shot by sticking his nose into a highly crooked depot.
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
See someone getting shot is conspicuous, and means we can hand this to the MPs. Anything short of bullets, he'll be fine- he's a bo'sun. They're not squishy.
FlyingScanian
Tea Addict
- Location
- Land of Eternal Night
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Please don't taunt murphy that way. We don't want our Bosun run over by an errant destroyer.
Thing is is that we also don't want to spook 'em early into hiding and covering up their tracks. Jumping it early and having our guy be poking around for corruption and bits might set off their alarms and make it harder for us to complete our work. And, well, it might bring down the wrath of God on them if our bosun or us gets shot, but in the case that it does happen, well, the one being shot might not be around to appreciate it.
4WheelSword
The original N-body Problem
- Pronouns
- It/She/They
Someone roll me 2d10+1
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
Getting run over by several hundred tons of metal is not "short of bullets." The destroyer contains many bullets.Please don't taunt murphy that way. We don't want our Bosun run over by an errant destroyer.
...
Also, rolling one but not both of the dice-s
7734
Trust and verify.
- Location
- Philmont
Please don't taunt murphy that way. We don't want our Bosun run over by an errant destroyer.
His literal job is to wave the red flag at Fate. He'll be fine.
C1P8: A Visitor Calls
4WheelSword
The original N-body Problem
- Pronouns
- It/She/They
You scribble down the address of a local logistics hub on a strip of paper and hand it to the Bo'sun. Naasville, the town which plays host to it, sits on an important geographical cross roads half a days ride north. Rivers, roads and soon a railway track will all cross at Naasville. It's not the main depot for the South, but much of the equipment coming into Polyapavlosk will have come through there and you doubt so many weapons will have gone unnoticed.
An officer, even a junior one, will garner far too much attention poking around and asking questions. But a non-commissioned officer, one of the people and an older man at that, they will simply assume that he has been sent on some business and will pay him no more mind than any other.
"Do you understand what I'm asking of you, Leo?" It is important that he knows. If he is too blatant, whoever is behind this will disappear into so much dust.
"I'm smart enough to know how to ask questions, Leytenant, not to worry." He says with a grin. A snapped salute and another smile see's him disappearing out the door, wrapping his coat around him as he goes.
Leytenant Alexandrova is looking at you when you settle back in your chair, staring across the room. You smile and try to look busy, but a pang of fear shoots through your stomach. You wonder how much she heard.
Living in your own home away from the port has many advantages over the cramped accommodation of the officers quarters. A better kitchen is one thing, you think as you chew slowly on a mouthful of hard bread and stew. The other is the fact that none can decide what is or is not a reasonable amount of animals to look after at any one time.
You smile at the three cats currently eating their own food, Maria, Mickael and Moskya. A bird flits between perches high in the room, chirping sweet song at her housemates. In the corner is a small cage in which a few small mice scurry and play. Keeping animals has forever kept you calm and contented and, while you have a special place in your heart for felines, any small creature is welcome in your home. You have more than once been criticised by female friends for the practice, the implication that men will find it unattractive. Holding out a finger for your bird to land on, you smirk. You'd rarely found that a convincing argument.
A knock at your front door had your bird away on a flutter of wings and your cats scampering away from their bowls. You sigh, frustrated that your dinner has been interrupted, but stand nonetheless. You take a moment to glance in the mirror, tutting at unkempt black hair and mussed blouse, before opening the door.
The drab green uniform of an Army officer was not what you had expected when the knock came, but nonetheless a tall man stands in your doorway wearing the shoulder boards of a Kapitan. He doffs his hat, tucking it under one arm and running a hand through his thin hair as you offer a salute almost automatically. A mixture of confusion and fear has your heart beating loud in your ears as you return his broad smile.
"Starshi-Leytenant Mikhailova?" He asks, beaming as you nod, "Excellent. May I come in?"
"Of course. Please, excuse me, I was just eating dinner, Kapitan?"
"Sverdlov. Apologies for the interruption." He closes the door behind him and walks into your apartment, looking around. The cats are hiding somewhere, though surely they're close at hand.
"No, not at all. Tea?" You disappear into the kitchen, taking a deep breath and waiting for the blood to stop rushing. Why are you so nervous? It had only been a day since Leo had gone North, and he would not have been back yet.
"I can't imagine I'll be that long." He calls through to you. When you return he has taken a seat at the small dining table, his jacket hung over the back of a chair. With it is hung a large brown service holster, surely containing a pistol. The presence of a weapon in the hands of a brother officer is, for perhaps the first time ever, making you nervous. You sit opposite him and attempt to smile calmly.
"May I ask what brings you to my home? I can't say I've had much to do with His Majesty's Army."
"I see no reason to beat around the subject with you, Leytenant. You are prying into business that is very dangerous and you are putting yourself at risk just as you have already put one man at risk. It would be best if you simply returned to your office and acted as if you had never found anything at all. If you do, we'll never see each other again. If not, then..." He shrugged, an emotionless full stop to his suggestion.
How do you respond?
[ ] How dare you! Anger is the only way to respond to a threat.
[ ] Where is my Bo'sun! If he's been hurt...
[ ] I have no idea what you're talking about. Deny any knowledge.
[ ] I've already told my superior officers. It's too late for you.
[ ] Write in.
An officer, even a junior one, will garner far too much attention poking around and asking questions. But a non-commissioned officer, one of the people and an older man at that, they will simply assume that he has been sent on some business and will pay him no more mind than any other.
"Do you understand what I'm asking of you, Leo?" It is important that he knows. If he is too blatant, whoever is behind this will disappear into so much dust.
"I'm smart enough to know how to ask questions, Leytenant, not to worry." He says with a grin. A snapped salute and another smile see's him disappearing out the door, wrapping his coat around him as he goes.
Leytenant Alexandrova is looking at you when you settle back in your chair, staring across the room. You smile and try to look busy, but a pang of fear shoots through your stomach. You wonder how much she heard.
Living in your own home away from the port has many advantages over the cramped accommodation of the officers quarters. A better kitchen is one thing, you think as you chew slowly on a mouthful of hard bread and stew. The other is the fact that none can decide what is or is not a reasonable amount of animals to look after at any one time.
You smile at the three cats currently eating their own food, Maria, Mickael and Moskya. A bird flits between perches high in the room, chirping sweet song at her housemates. In the corner is a small cage in which a few small mice scurry and play. Keeping animals has forever kept you calm and contented and, while you have a special place in your heart for felines, any small creature is welcome in your home. You have more than once been criticised by female friends for the practice, the implication that men will find it unattractive. Holding out a finger for your bird to land on, you smirk. You'd rarely found that a convincing argument.
A knock at your front door had your bird away on a flutter of wings and your cats scampering away from their bowls. You sigh, frustrated that your dinner has been interrupted, but stand nonetheless. You take a moment to glance in the mirror, tutting at unkempt black hair and mussed blouse, before opening the door.
The drab green uniform of an Army officer was not what you had expected when the knock came, but nonetheless a tall man stands in your doorway wearing the shoulder boards of a Kapitan. He doffs his hat, tucking it under one arm and running a hand through his thin hair as you offer a salute almost automatically. A mixture of confusion and fear has your heart beating loud in your ears as you return his broad smile.
"Starshi-Leytenant Mikhailova?" He asks, beaming as you nod, "Excellent. May I come in?"
"Of course. Please, excuse me, I was just eating dinner, Kapitan?"
"Sverdlov. Apologies for the interruption." He closes the door behind him and walks into your apartment, looking around. The cats are hiding somewhere, though surely they're close at hand.
"No, not at all. Tea?" You disappear into the kitchen, taking a deep breath and waiting for the blood to stop rushing. Why are you so nervous? It had only been a day since Leo had gone North, and he would not have been back yet.
"I can't imagine I'll be that long." He calls through to you. When you return he has taken a seat at the small dining table, his jacket hung over the back of a chair. With it is hung a large brown service holster, surely containing a pistol. The presence of a weapon in the hands of a brother officer is, for perhaps the first time ever, making you nervous. You sit opposite him and attempt to smile calmly.
"May I ask what brings you to my home? I can't say I've had much to do with His Majesty's Army."
"I see no reason to beat around the subject with you, Leytenant. You are prying into business that is very dangerous and you are putting yourself at risk just as you have already put one man at risk. It would be best if you simply returned to your office and acted as if you had never found anything at all. If you do, we'll never see each other again. If not, then..." He shrugged, an emotionless full stop to his suggestion.
How do you respond?
[ ] How dare you! Anger is the only way to respond to a threat.
[ ] Where is my Bo'sun! If he's been hurt...
[ ] I have no idea what you're talking about. Deny any knowledge.
[ ] I've already told my superior officers. It's too late for you.
[ ] Write in.
Last edited:
- Location
- U S of A
Oooh, a spook. Well, I'd rather not give away the game completely but we can we're not really in the position to do anything about it right now so...
[X] (Write in) I had no idea that this matter was under the care of His Majesty's Army - I was simply investigating a discrepancy. If this is Army business though, perhaps it can be overlooked.
I like this because it doesn't give away what we just sent our Bo'sun to do, but it also doesn't really deny it either. Our 'guest' can interpret it according to how much he actually knows. I really wish we had a higher subterfuge score though, because our strengths really aren't helping us here.
[X] (Write in) I had no idea that this matter was under the care of His Majesty's Army - I was simply investigating a discrepancy. If this is Army business though, perhaps it can be overlooked.
I like this because it doesn't give away what we just sent our Bo'sun to do, but it also doesn't really deny it either. Our 'guest' can interpret it according to how much he actually knows. I really wish we had a higher subterfuge score though, because our strengths really aren't helping us here.
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
I kind of like this idea. Pretend to be gullible and easily deterred.
[X] (Write in) I had no idea that this matter was under the care of His Majesty's Army - I was simply investigating a discrepancy. If this is Army business though, perhaps it can be overlooked.
[X] (Write in) I had no idea that this matter was under the care of His Majesty's Army - I was simply investigating a discrepancy. If this is Army business though, perhaps it can be overlooked.
- Location
- America
[X] (Write in) I had no idea that this matter was under the care of His Majesty's Army - I was simply investigating a discrepancy. If this is Army business though, perhaps it can be overlooked.