Steam London
From Brass Goggles
Steam London Game Thread (WIP to replace the summary lost due to someone's inadvertent erasure of the original summary; much will be simply copied and pasted until IO can get around to editing and formatting. Also, This may be boiled back down to a summary at some point. I fannoy =t anmd will noyt guarantee any set timeframe for completion - I simply have to many othe rthings going on. Life happens, in other words. Apologies in advance to all authors and players of the game - MWBailey)
Steam London
Bracer had been moving around the city since sunrise. It was now midday and he was getting hungry again. He was using his usual mode of transport: his grapple. He had become very good at slinging it onto poles, bars, ledges etc. and then swinging gracefully from the current rooftop to the wall of the next building and winching himself up. It was not at all a "spider-man" style way of getting around, despite what people may initially think. He knew where he was. He almost always knew where he was in London, on the rooftops at least. He headed a little south and spotted what he was looking for. It was a market place, one he often visited when he wanted food. There was an old building at the edge of the market place, it was helpful because older buildings were smaller buildings and that meant he would be able to attach his grapple to a part of the building, and absale down into the market. Something he was in the act of doing right now. He had two steady hands on the winch at his waist, gently lowering himself down the edge of this building. It took a while to reach the floor, but if he did it too fast he would likely loose his grip on the winch and end up falling a distace that didn't bare thinking about. When he neared the ground he didn't go the final way, he waited. There was a stall just below him, it was a bakery, displaying a particularly delicious looking lump of bread on a table near him. There was a roof over it so he couldn't tell where the owner was, also everyone in the market seemed to have been too busy to have noticed him, so he slowly winched himself down, a rare occasion where his feet connecting with a horizontal surface for a brief few moments of the day. He crawled along next to the stall, popped his head over the table with the bread on. The owner was selling some muffins to a customer on the other side of the stall, fortunately. He sunk back down under the level of the table and moved back to the wall. He stood up and put the loaf of malformed bread in the satchel at the back of his belt. He then went back up, up towards the top of the building, up towards freedom, up towards his paradise. Up towards his home. He had become well acquainted with all the main geographical aspects of London and was on his way to his favourite. It was a tall building from which he would be able to see all of London. If the smog wasn't in the way. But he was cut off part way in his daydream, half way up the wall to this building. A voice was being directed at him.
