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Nats
Thu May 20, 2004 at 09:02:09 pm EDT
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League of Improbable Gentlemen Chronicles #13; Act Two: The Lost Lycanthropes
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I wasn't going to post this today, but the board needs some livening up!


The League of Improbable Gentlemen and the Mystery of the Walkabout Werewolves
Act Two: The Lost Lycanthropes

Hagatha Darkness was, at the time this tale takes place, a young, confident, and quite good-looking woman. She was a member of the Darkness clan, the infamous lineage of witches bred to breed with the Demon Lover and continue producing the line of Darknesses, each one more powerful than the last, yadda yadda yadda. She wasn’t much of a punctual person, as she didn’t very much care if anyone was upset that she was late. While her male comrades in the League of Improbable Gentlemen (which she wished would be referred to as Gentlepersons) may have underestimated her, because she was a woman, she knew she was powerful and wise beyond her years, which at this time wasn’t an entirely enormous number.
Still, she found herself asking “Pardon me?” to the small man with the small moustache, small hat, small tie, and small parasol standing before the group. Hagatha made it a practice never to be surprised, but she still felt a minor shock at the man’s earlier statement.
“I, I said, my werewolves are missing,” the small man repeated in his small voice.
“Sounds quite amazing, eh, what?” Sir Mumphrey said. “You know, I met a werewolf once. It was at the most amazing carnival, and I had been captured and forced to perform as a clown for some mad ringmaster, the dodgy blighter--”
“Now, sir,” said Hastings Vernal, team secretary, sipping his vanilla tea and interrupting Mumphrey yet again. “Please, relate to us your story. Your name, sir, is…?”
“Avis,” the small man said. “Reginald Y. Avis. I do so hope you can help me.”
“We’ll see about that,” grunted the aging Colonel Blanchford Bertram who was leaning against the fireplace mantle, with a small mug of strong coffee in his hand. He was upset because of the lack of beer in the mansion. “And why are you carrying an umbrella, man? It’s not raining out, and the sun is setting.”
“I like to be prepared for such an occasion,” Mr. Avis replied.
“If you were prepared for your werewolves escaping,” the Colonel said, “You wouldn’t be here!”
“Please, Blanchford,” said Dr. Hakenfakir, the stoic Indian hypnotist and wielder of the Psychostave. “Treat the man fairly. Let him state his case.”
“Yes, please continue,” Prof. Phineas Quimby, the EccentricEtherInvestigatorInventor! told him. “I’ve always been fascinated by the lycanthropy disease, and a chance to investigate further into it would be simply marvelous!”
“It’s not a disease,” said Avis. “It’s a condition. You see, I’m in the business of publication. I print newspapers, flyers, propaganda, and the like. My paper mill is in the southern district of the city, here, and I employ several unfortunate souls suffering from… peculiar ailments.”
“This is where your werewolves come in, yes?” asked Mumphrey. “I’ve had experience with paper mills. Once, after discovering a terrible secret at a paper mill in France, I was attacked and tied up on a train, unable to prevent it from hurtling off a cliff. The only way to escape was to use my teeth, and I--”
“Mumphrey, for God’s sake, let the man speak,” Hagatha told her.
“But--”
“Mumphrey, just please do as I say,” the young sorceress said. “It is impolite and unchivalrous to ignore the request of a lady.” She and Mumphrey were lovers at this time, and so this gave her a degree of control over the man who was so infatuated with her.
“Humph,” humphed Mumph.
“Do go on,” Hastings Vernal nodded to Avis, taking notes. Sir Mumphrey indignantly went back to sipping his tea with lemon.
“I employ werewolves, yes. They generally have no place else to go, so I take them in and supply them with shelter and food, as long as they work for me,” Avis said. “I also employ a few of the living dead, and a few vampires, who tend to enjoy being night watchmen. I also have a mummy to do my paperwork. The supernatural need homes, too.”
“I recall the time I was suspended upside down in a church in Venice back during my short series of missions in Italy,” said Mumph. “It was I, an unscrupulous chimney sweep, and a very confused night watchman, who turned out to be an orangutan in disguise. You see--”
Hagatha shot Mumphrey a quick glare and Mumph promptly shut up. “Sorry,” said he. “Please continue.”
“Hold on a moment,” requested Prof. Quimby. “Mr. Avis, you said you give your workers food and shelter, but do you give them any payment?”
“Why, no,” Mr. Avis answered. “I supply everything they could possibly need, and in return they just need to work for me.”
“So they’re your slaves?” Hagatha inquired sternly.
“Certainly not!” Avis responded equally sternly. “They’re indentured servants! I take in those from all over the world who, because of horrible and occasionally supernatural circumstances, cannot survive in society!” By now, the small man’s small voice was no longer small, but rather, getting louder by the moment. “My motives are just.”
“You may believe that,” said Hagatha, “but perhaps they don’t. If you treat them like your slaves, then you harm their emotional well-being.”
“And what about your workers that aren’t werewolves, or vampires, or creatures from black lagoons?” asked Phineas. “How many of your workers are just normal people? Do you keep blacks, and Chinese, and Candians as pets, too?”
“I’m helping the unfortunate, not keeping a zoo,” Avis replied. “Who are you to judge my actions? I am in good standing with the community! I help those that need it! I give them a place to live, and clothes to wear, and food to eat, and work to do!”
“I was almost burned at the stake in a zoo, once,” related Mumphrey. “But, er… this isn’t the time for that, you cad! You’re a right bounder, eh, what?”
“Perhaps he is,” Hakenfakir spoke up again, “but we still must help him. Werewolves on the loose are quite dangerous.”
“I’ve hunted ‘em before,” said Bertram, unsheathing a long dagger from his belt. “Right, Knifey?”
“He’s correct,” the sentient dagger replied. “The poor people become ferocious beasts three nights a month, around the time of the full moon. They’re very strong and completely feral. The person that becomes the wolf has no control over its actions.”
“I suppose, then, that we must do something about that,” Hagatha said reluctantly. She eyed Avis with a stern eye. “Even if this man’s morals aren’t in high places, we’ve got a duty to help the innocent.”
“Righto!” agreed Mumphrey. “It’ll be a smashing adventure.”
“Still,” HV said, “we have to know more. Tell us about the circumstances around their disappearance, Mr. Avis.”
“It was last evening when I discovered they’d gone missing,” Reginald Avis recollected. “They had gone to their cells for the night, when--”
“You keep them in cells?” Hagatha interrupted. “That’s terrible!”
“My good woman,” said Avis, “I only do that as a special precaution during the three nights of the wolf. I told you I always like to be prepared. They live in cabins during the rest of the month. Now, if I may continue…”
“You may,” Hastings Vernal nodded.
“Thank you,” said Avis. “At night, they stay in cells to prevent them from escaping. “Each cell comes with a cot and chains, although the wolf usually has no need of the cot. The night was going off fine, until the very early hours of the morning, when I heard a terrible racket coming from the cell area. When I’d arrived down there, they had all broken free.”
“Don’t your cells usually work?” asked the EccentricEtherInvestigatorInventor!
“Of course,” Avis replied, “which is why this was so highly unusual. I was afraid of what may happen if I gave chase, and I had no idea how to get my werewolves back.”
“‘Your’ werewolves, eh?” interjected Hagatha.
“Will you allow me to speak, you silly girl?” Avis retorted. “The next morning I learned that they had killed all the sheep belonging to a neighboring farmer.”
“My word,” Mumph said.
“That’s not all,” continued Avis. “They’d also killed the farmer.”
“Dear lord!” Mumph added.
“I combed the area with several of my men, at least, those that can go out during the day, but we didn’t find any sign of the werewolves, and they never returned to the mill. I had no idea what to do,” said Avis, “and nowhere else to go. But then I remembered you out here in the mansion, and knew you’d be able to help.”
“That all depends if we want to help you,” Hagatha said. “Are we even sure that you’re speaking the truth?”
“Are you implying I set the wolves free to slaughter innocent people?”
“You’re the one that said it, Mr. Avis,” the Darkness witch replied.
“Hakeyfakey?” Phineas asked. “What do you say?”
“I believe he is telling the truth,” Dr. Hakenfakir said. “At least, I believe he believes it.”
“And if you believe he believes it, then I believe you,” responded Prof. Quimby.
“I think, even if the man is a cad and a bounder, that we owe it to ourselves and the citizenry of this city to apprehend the beasts,” stated Mumphrey.
“I agree,” said Hastings Vernal. “We’ll take the case.”
“Thank you,” Avis thanked them. “I hope you’ll be a great help. Please try not to kill or harm them. I’d like my workers back alive.”
“We’ll do our best,” HV said. “You have our word. Right, Hagatha?”
“Humph,” humphed Haggie.
“Oh, it’ll be a challenge,” Blanchford Bertram smiled. “But it’ll be one helluva hunt.”

To be continued…






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