Panache and the Great Hunt for the Acryli-Beast

[Weasel Mender]

Herr Kaptain,
Thank you for the new "maroon" kilt however Mrs. Mender has forbidden me to wear that colour, I will just stick to my 28 oz. predator camo kilt thank you

Ens. Mender

P.S. Isn't the security details length of service long enough to merit a promotion to J.G.

[Splash_4]

Hey ens. Mender. Did you happen to pack in all of that gear, the hang glider we discussed? It sound like the captain needs us.

[LadyGriffin]

I thought that those wonderful MAROON kilts all members were supplied with doubled as parachutes. Could you not use those to swoop down in mass and perform a magnificent rescue?

[Weasel Mender]

It is in the 2nd trunk under the taxidermy supplies, actualy there are 3 of them plus a couple of base jumping chutes just in case

Ens Mender

[Panache]

Panache and the Great Hunt for the Acryli-Beast

A Victorian Tale of Horror told in Chapters

Chapter 20


At the voice the creature paused. We could see that it was a dog of some kind. Obviously a mixed breed most notable for its almost comically dimwitted expression and huge size. The later attribute was most apparent to McMurdo as the animal was standing on his chest pinning him to the icy ground. Again came the call “Wompet! Wompet!” A small man wearing thick fur clothes had emerged from an igloo. The dog looked at the approaching figure and hung its head. The man shouted something in a strange tongue and it stepped off our squashed translator. McMurdo stood up quickly and brushed the ice and snow off his maroon kilt and walked toward him. He greeted the man in the same language and the two began to converse. The dog slunk away to stand behind Jake and begin a thorough investigative sniffing of his leg.

McMurdo returned to us and said “I have explained who we are and that we have been sent here to see the Chief Agulicuactx McTundra by the Wizard of BC.” The fur clad man mumbled something else and pointed at our reporter. McMurdo nodded and added, “Jake, he says he is sorry about that and hopes that your shoes are waterproof. That’s just his dog Wompet’s way of saying hello. Though he is loyal, apparently he isn’t very well trained.” Jake looked down and regarded his leg and the results of Wompet’s greeting with both surprise and disgust. “Good boy Wompet”, I murmured to the shaggy canine.

“Will he take us to the Chief?” I asked McMurdo.

“Yes”

The man spoke to McMurdo and gestured for us to follow him.

We walked through the Inuit village and save for a few curious sets of eyes from the entrances of igloos we saw no other people. Wompet ran about our small party and we took special care to not give him any more opportunities to “greet” us. The man led us to a particular igloo in the middle of the village. The small dwelling made of ice blocks was indistinguishable from any of the others in both size and construction. Kneeling at its low entrance our guide barked out something and a tiny shriveled old woman emerged. She too was clad entirely in garments made of fur. The two spoke briefly. Our guide nodded and walked off with his huge dog following him. The old woman gestured for us to enter the snow house.

We crawled through the low entrance into the one room dwelling. The old woman replaced a fur hanging over the entrance once we were all through. The interior of the igloo was surprisingly warm and comfortable, due to the excellent insulating properties of snow. To one side of the interior was an elevated platform made of compacted snow where stood a simple wooden framed bed made of piles of furs very near the ceiling . The igloo was both lighted and heated by a traditional kulliq, or stone lamp in the center of the snow house. Sitting motionless next to this lamp was a frail figure swathed in furs. The woman spoke softly to it. The form stirred and in a rough low whisper answered her. She motioned us forward.

He was a wizened tiny man, his face like a dried apple. He regarded us for several minutes and then spoke to us in the Inuit language at length which McMurdo then translated for us.

“Are you another one of those damned documentary film makers from the BBC? Haven’t taken enough pictures of the seals and polar bears yet? Curse you and your David Attenborough! Leave us alone!”

I drew out our letter of introduction from the Wizard of BC and offered it to the chief.

With an almost skeletal, trembling hand the ancient chief took the thick envelope. The old Inuit opened it and removed not a letter, but a slim piece of bone from within. He turned it over in his hands and carefully examined the delicate carvings which it bore. The images were of a pipe, a slide rule, a kilt, numerous coffee cups, and what appeared to be a mouth frowning.

“Stevie” he said.

I asked McMurdo to translate for me.

“ Chief Agulicuactx McTundra. I am Captain Panache and I have traveled a very long way with these good companions. We have longer still to go as I hunt the Greater Acryli-Beast. Steve Ashton has told me of a mountain at the top of the world and I will travel there to hunt. He also said that I should come to you to seek your wisdom.”

The chief stared at me long and hard before speaking again.

McMurdo translated “I knew Stevie when he came here as a young man, that was many, many, many years ago. He possessed qualities of orneriness and bad temper that my people value. His dream was to become a kilt maker, a curmudgeon, and to drink more coffee than there was water in the sea. I look at your well made kilts and see that he has at least accomplished his first goal. Though may I say that the hat you are wearing does not fit with the your kilt!” Chief Agulicuactx McTundra pointed at me accusingly. Jake sniggered, and I sighed.

“It’s an authentic Zeppelin Captain’s hat.“ I explained.

“What is a zeppelin?”

“Never mind Sir, it’s not important. Will you tell us of the Acryli-Beast?“

The old man paused again for several minutes and thought carefully. When he started to speak his words bore a tone of dark foreboding, McMurdo tried his best to keep up a smooth and constant translation.

“This is a harsh land, a barren land. Our gods and spirits are not worshipped, they are feared. But of all the monsters Sedna rules in the depths of the sea there is not one more terrifying than the Acryli-Beast. Once in a generation there would be one warrior bold enough to hunt these monsters. They would travel many months to the mountain at the top of the world. When the stars were right they would climb the mountain and wave a fetish to draw the beast to them. The man would hunt the beast, and the beast would hunt the man. More often than not the man would never come back. We would not speak of his horrible fate but his screams can be heard in the wind that shrieks over the sea and ice

But if the man killed the beast he would stand at the top of the mountain and throw a handful of the creature’s brilliant white hair to the winds. The Sky spirits would take the shimmering gift and the lights in the night sky would grow bright . Again we would see our beloved ancestors dance and play in their radiance. When the hunter returned he would wear the shimmering prized pelt and we would honor him above all for his bravery and for bringing back the great lights.

It has been many generations since the Sky received this gift and the lights have dimmed. No longer are seen the spirits of those who have gone before and none among my people will take up the hunt.

Your eyes are bright and vision keen. I see you and your men wear garb of a deep maroon color that speaks well of your masculinity and hunting prowess. If you are serious in your intent and will swear to abide by our traditions in the hunt I will tell you the night you may find the Acryli-Beast at the mountain at the top of the world, the night when the Stars are right! I will give you the fetish that will summon the Acryli-Beast to you. The rest will being your own doing or undoing."

Mc Murdo finished his translation and the old man stared long and hard at me.

“I will do so Chief Agulicuactx McTundra. I will swear to follow the customs of your people when I hunt the beast. Explain to me what I must do.”

“First, you must honor and respect the spirit of the Acryli-Beast.

Second, you must climb the mountain and hunt the creature alone.

Last, if successful, you must throw a handful of the creature’s hair to the winds to bring back the fading Northern lights”

“This I will do, I so swear“ I promised looking him straight in the eye.

The Inuit Chief said something to the old woman. She brought me a small club of whale bone covered in gray seal skin with tassels made of iridescent white fur that could only be from an Acryli-Beast. He whispered the date we needed to McMurdo who nodded in assent. “We will need to travel fast but I think we can just barely make it there in time” McMurdo informed us.

“There is just one more thing I must know Chief” I said.

"Who do you want to play you in the Movie?" interrupted Jake.

This brought a questioning look from the Elder. I glared at our reporter to be quiet.

“What is this Acryli-Beast like? What manner of creature is it?” I asked.

“Only those who have faced one know. Remember this Panache and remember it well, as you hunt it, it hunts you. There is no more I can tell you, except that...I want Sean Connery to play me."

With this he dismissed us with a wave of his hand. His eyes closed and frail head came down to rest on his chest. Our small party left and returned to the planes, doing our best to avoid the attentions and poor bladder control of Wompet on the way back. The big dog barked and chased after the biplanes as we took to the sky. As we flew back to the Saltire I was most thoughtful.

We had what we had come for. The journey was almost at an end, it was time for the hunt to began!



To Be Continued...

[Coemgen]

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end."

[Wompet]

"isn't very well trained"??
My good sir, I was merely expressing our shared opinion of Mr. Jake's work in the only medium available to me. Had I opposable thumbs at the time, I would have written a scathing letter to his editor!

[ccga3359]

"isn't very well trained"??
My good sir, I was merely expressing our shared opinion of Mr. Jake's work in the only medium available to me. Had I opposable thumbs at the time, I would have written a scathing letter to his editor!

Actually Wompet does drink a lot of water, of which many a SOKS member can attest too. At many a SOKS function I have noticed that my boots get squishier at closing time.

[davedove]

I see you and your men wear garb of a deep maroon color that speaks well of your masculinity and hunting prowess.

You keep trying, don't you.

“There is just one more thing I must know Chief” I said.

"Who do you want to play you in the Movie?" interrupted Jake.

I think Mako would be a good choice.

[Panache]

Panache and the Great Hunt for the Acryli-Beast

A Victorian Tale of Horror told in Chapters

Chapter 21

No sooner had my airplane been safely raised aboard the zeppelin and placed into its berth in the hangar than I was racing to the command gondola with my comrades following me close behind. Climbing down the ladder into the control room I ordered Todd to head for the Pole at full power. Only after he had engaged the ship’s mighty engines and set our course did I related to him and my security ensigns what had transpired in the village. Todd was most concerned about us arriving at our destination in scant few days time.

“We can only make it on the date the Chief gave you if we have strong tail winds the whole way there!“ he stated bluntly. I fingered the fetish I had been given. Without knowing why I said it, but certain in its surety I told him “we will have the wind with us”. Whether this was for good or ill I could not say.

Mr. Splash, Mr. BEEDEE, and Mr. Mender did not take well to the conditions that Chief Agulicuactx McTundra had required of me.

“You can’t be serious…” started Mr. Splash

“…you can’t go alone…” continued Mr. BEEDEE

“…our purpose here is to protect you!” added Mr. Mender.

“You’re so scrawny…” said Mr. BEEDEE

“…not to mention pitiful and weak…” noted Mr. Mender

“you will surely be eaten without us!” finished Mr. Splash

I frowned and raised an eyebrow at these pronouncements, but before I could say anything David laughed with villainous mirth. “Gentlemen don’t be concerned. You will all certainly be included in the Hunting Party!”

“David, I promised the Chief. I gave my word that I would hunt the Acryli-Beast alone” said I.

So?” David rolled his eyes incredulously. “Just break your promise! Isn’t that the only reason one makes the wretched things in the first place? Promises and one’s “Word” are much like Locks and Reservations, in that they are things for impeding other people. Why, I remember being a young lad of but seven summers when my father sat me on his knee and said :

“Davy my lad, if you are going to conquer the world, declare yourself God-Emperor, and take Charlotte Rampling as your concubine you can’t let little things like social conventions stand between you and what you want.“

Everyone in the gondola stared at David.

“What? Didn’t you all get that talk when you were young?” he asked puzzled.

I decided it best not to call further attention to David’s comments. I addressed my three stout hearted warriors

“Gentlemen, I appreciate your concern about my welfare. I would perhaps appreciate some modicum of confidence in my own abilities just a tad more, but I will not gainsay your loyalty or desire for my safety. In truth I am the one who set the wheels in motion for this expedition. I am the one who wants this creature’s pelt for a sporran. So perhaps it is fitting that I do this by myself and not put any of my crew at risk. I ask you to have a little faith in me and let me stay true to my word.”

The three men looked at me with tears welling up in their eyes.

“That’s so noble…” said Mr. Mender

“… you are such a good Captain…” agreed Mr. Splash

“GROUP HUG!” cried Mr. BEEDEE.

The three large men rushed forward with arms open to embrace me, and my last conscious thought was that I needed less protection in my life...

In the days that followed my prophecy of fair winds proved true and we rapidly sped across the frozen landscape. Navigation was rather difficult as our Germanic Helmsman had to take into account the effects the magnetic variation this far north on our compass. As we crossed the Arctic Circle in Nunavut, the variation had approached 90 degrees! I recovered from my security ensigns’ exuberant display of affection and began my final preparations. I had Mr. BEEDEE put an edge on my traditional Scottish Dirk and Sgian Dubh that made them sharper than the razor with which I shaved each morn.

Todd had assured me that he had the perfect rifle for me to bear on this endeavor. From his quarters he brought forth a handsome box of polished mahogany from which he produced the components of a great double barreled rifle. The gun had an elaborately carved stock of solid English Oak and there were intricate designs of gold inlaid in the dark steel its metal work. Todd set to work, and when finished he handed me the assembled weapon.

“This is perhaps the finest elephant gun to ever be produced by Messieurs Holland and Holland. This rifle was originally made for Brigadier-General Montague MacDonald of the 657th Highlanders. MacDonald was rather infamous for the special pair of yellow gaiters he always wore (but that is neither here nor there). This gun was used whilst he was on safari in Africa during June of 1856. Let me direct your notice to the regimental badge of the chartreuse salamander in an ecru tutu worked into the design of the stock. MacDonald graciously presented this rifle to his friend Lord Ruddigore Paddington-Covington Bartlett (of the North Wickham Bartletts) after his Lordship had saved his life from a rabid Meerkat while he was in Botswana hunting lion in the Kalahari Desert. In time the rifle was passed from his Lordship down to his first born son Quincy who succeeded his father to become the 14 Baronet of Wensleydale. It was notably used by Amelia Catherine Beckham-Smythe, known better as her Ladyship Mrs. Quincy Paddington-Covington Bartlett, on her husband when he announced he was leaving her for a dance hall girl. After the subsequent trial, which was dismissed on the dual grounds of a lack of any identifiable pieces of his late lordship and the fact that the blighter had it coming to him, and following the death of her Ladyship from the over consumption of dark chocolates, the rifle was bequeathed to her sister’s husband’s nephew’s …

“TODD!” I yelled managing to get a word in edgewise.

“Yes?” he responded somewhat peevishly.

“I’m just looking to shoot the Acryli-Beast with this gun, not formally introduce them!”

“Then would you like the details of the piece? Caliber, muzzle velocity, and other important statistics concerning this wonderful firearm?"

“Not as such, the very basics would suffice”.

“Very well then. It’s an elephant gun. You get two shots before you have to reload. In terms of power and kick, think of it more as a small bazooka rather than a large rifle” he said before departing in a huff.

On the morning of the very day decreed by the ancient Inuit Chief as the one where I should face the Acryli-Beast, an announcement came from the Salitre’s bridge over the airship’s loudspeakers “The Mountain! Dead ahead! The Mountain!” Every eye in the ship peered out of whatever vantage point they could find to gaze at the low misty shrouded mountain.

Gazing out of the forward observation deck I saw in the distance a low yet jagged peak somewhat less than 2000 feet tall. I didn’t fool myself into believing this would be an easy climb. The cold would be intense and visibility limited. Of further danger to myself and the expedition was the latest news from our wireless. The weather reports indicated a massive storm was close to overtaking us. All this filled my mind as Jake came to stand next to me. “Impossible!” he declared. I was rather surprised that he wasn’t taking the opportunity to speculate at my demise on the icy peaks before us in a wide variety of gruesome possibilities. I asked him what he meant.

“This mountain. It’s impossible! Why hasn’t one Arctic explorer mentioned it? Why hasn’t any aerial photograph of the Pole shown it? It makes not one shred of sense.”

For someone who would gleefully place homicidal penguins in the wrong hemisphere to better his story I found this an odd statement. Perhaps Jake found he didn’t like incongruities in reality. Looking at the mysterious protuberance arising from the desolate arctic plains I said quietly “perhaps this mountain can only be found by those searching for it, and even then only when the Stars are Right. Maybe the boundaries between here and… elsewhere are very, very thin at this place and time.”

“What do you mean by that?” he asked.

“Just that I think that we should tread softly here. We need to be about our business and be on our way. I have a strange feeling that it's a very bad idea to linger here, and that those who do never leave.” I said solemnly.

Jake thought on this for a while in silence. He finally snidely said “You know that whole H.P. Lovecraft stuff really only sells to a niche’ market.” He then proceeded to record ideas for me falling to my death from the icy peak ahead. I left him to his musings of bloody human snowballs and went to the command gondola.

Arriving there I asked Todd “How long before we reach the mountain?”

“Zwei Stunden, zum des Berges zu erreichen Kapitän” he smartly replied.

From her station the cellist produced a pocket German-English dictionary and translated, “Two hours to reach the Mountain Captain”.

At that moment the violinist looked up from his place at the ship’s wireless equipment, he was concentrating on something he was hearing on his headset. “Captain!” he cried.

“What is it?”

“A distress call Sir, it’s a Mayday!”

“Who from? Where?”

“I’m not sure Captain. It’s pretty garbled …our reception of the signal is very poor…I’m having a lot trouble making it out…wait a minute…” He fiddled with a few dials and switches and spoke into his microphone “Airship Saltire to Mayday, Repeat this the airship Saltire to Mayday, what is your location and identity?” He listened intently and again adjusted his controls

“I’m getting something Sir…huh?…Sir you aren’t going to believe this…there seems to be someone on the air talking about their long hair and firm posterior!”





To Be Continued