IHMN 1: What the Pluck?
Sir Rupert Utterley-Barkinge of Aethelweard Hall, Barkingshire was seething. Seething about the Explorers Club's outright rejection of his memoirs, "With Steamboat and Rifle in the Mesozoic." Seething about their refusal to even receive a copy of "Farthehellarwee: New Discoveries Somewhere in the Dark Continent" a document outlining the dramatic results of his recent African expedition. Seething that they'd welcome Lord Curr and his incorrigibles and not a peer without peer in Her Majesty's realm. Seething that Lady Constant Ann-Oyannce Payne can't stop moaning about her archaeopteryx eggs not hatching. Seething that he couldn't find out anything else about the Jade Sceptre. Seething that he was now stuck in the New World, exploring the wild west. Seething that he spent more time these days speaking through a Chinese interpreter than enjoying a simple conversation in God's own English. Seething that everyone offered him a mug of coffee. Seething that the last time he'd found somewhere selling a cup of tea it had been made by some uncultured fellow who, dash it, didn't know what a tea leaf looked like. Seething that one settlement looked exactly like another. Seething that this morning he was walking into Stiff's Gorge to meet Dirk Beauregarde. Seething that someone would name a place Stiff's Gorge. Seething that he couldn't have just sent a telegram like every other civilised person. Seething because of what happened next...
here). Sir Rupert and his company set up in a clump in the middle of one table edge.
were surrounded by Tong and the Yeti was bearing down on Sir Rupert. Paying no heed to the threat, Sir Rupert made full use of his Hunting skill and fired at one of Goonda's assailants. The target went down. Meanwhile, Count Otto von Wahnbildt levelled his hunting rifle, took steady aim and fired. Once again his aim was true, but the bullet did nothing to slow the beast down, let alone fell it. Major Payne fired at it. So too did Sergeant Reynolds. Every Pluck roll was passed. Honestly, our games are normally marked by my bad dice rolls. Now it appeared that Derek's rolls were becoming nothing short of miraculous!
and began to drag him away. The Yeti stood where he was, roaring and beating his chest. The Dragon Lady shouted something unintelligible, which, if an untrained ear were to try and replicate, would sound mildly racist. In response, the Yeti snorted his disdain for Sir Rupert. Sir Rupert curled his lip in contempt. And with that, the Yeti turned and loped away.
Goonda was okay. A little dizzy, but okay. As Sir Rupert helped him to his feet, he noticed a small folded piece of paper in a groove in the track. Retrieving it, he opened it out and read five words that had been hastily written on it. "Small box. Desk. Wurts Ranch" Dirk had left them a clue.
It was the only lead they had...