Panache and the Great Hunt for the Acryli-Beast

[Panache]

Panache and the Great Hunt for the Acryli-Beast

A Victorian Tale of Horror told in Chapters

Prologue

This is one story I may not get to file in person, so I'll have to talk fast - because it's after me.

Are those my words or someone else’s? I can’t image wearing such an unpleasant straw hat with a kilt. With the terrible cold enveloping my brain it’s difficult to discern fact from fiction. Personally I’d prefer fiction because I’m am aware enough to note I am still sitting in a small icy cave looking out into a snowstorm. My broken rifle sits at my feet and I can’t decide if the roaring I’m hearing is the wind or the beast. I sent up a flare ten minutes ago according to my watch, though to my befuddled senses it feels much longer. I have to accept that either Todd or David saw it or they didn’t. There stands a very reasonable chance they might have turned the Saltire about to look for ensigns BEEDEE, Mender, and Splash. Though it would be a miracle if they are still alive. If so it’s then just a simple matter of whether I freeze to death or am eaten by the monster. Oh goody.

It’s moments like these, moments of dire circumstances that a gentlemen should find himself looking for the deeper meaning . Perhaps it is natural that with the threat of imminent death, a man should take stock of his life. He should try to see his final moments as part of the totality of his existence. That is what one SHOULD do. Sadly in this I have failed and as I scribble this perhaps last journal entry I find myself desperately searching for someone else to blame for my situation…

Mr. Jim B. would be the obvious choice. If it hadn’t been for his sporran I would never had found myself in the middle of the Arctic Circle. I find him unsatisfactory, after all it was my envy rather than his pride…but wait I am trying to avoid personal responsibility here. Vincenzo? No, I think that’s another fictional character. Mr. Ashton? No, had I heeded the Wizard of British Columbia’s words I shouldn’t have found myself in this predicament. Wait…

I hear a droning noise! The Saltire is close by. But the roaring is nearer as well. I have to step out of the cave now if I wish any hopes of rescue. I will either continue this aboard the ship or this will stand as my last words. Forgoing any sense of my own hubris and without any time left, I will lay the blame squarely on Iolaus and his cursed mane of curly locks…

To Be Continued…

[Ayin McFye]

Very well written so far... you've definitely got my attention.

[JimB]

Oh thank god he's not holding ME responsible. I came by the Arctic Acyli-beast pelt by means I'd rather not discuss, and I never thought it would lead to such a dire circumstance for Jamie. May the kilt gods be with him

[way2fractious]

Panache and the Great Hunt for the Acryli-Beast

A Victorian Tale of Horror told in Chapters

Prologue

... Mr. Ashton? No, had I heeded the Wizard of British Columbia’s words I shouldn’t have found myself in this predicament. Wait…

Panache, BEWARE! Methinks you should review your "advice" from the Wizard of BC. Perhaps members of the Nor-Cal rabble have wrankled him somehow, and he is trying to stage "unfortunate events" for all of us. I call as witness his own words: http://www.xmarksthescot.com/forum/s...8&postcount=14

w2f

[pdcorlis]

Excellent - The game is afoot! Please continue...

[Weasel Mender]

Panache,
I hold high hopes this reaches you in time, Know my trusty bow and everything else in my meager arsenal stands ever at the ready to come to your aid.

wease menser

[David Dalglish]

The plot thickens

[The Wizard of BC]

Perhaps Jamie is referring to a post I made back in Jan.

"I have it on very good reputation that all the commercially available Arctic Acrylabeast hides come only from road kill. The National Geographic researched the rumors of dwindling herds and found just the opposite. A normally shy and timid beast (except for those long canine teeth and rear claws which they use to dig through the frozen tundra for their favorite food, the Burrowing Artic Shoestring Snake.) It seems that the Acrylabeast breeds better than Lemmings and the overpopulation causes them to go mad and commit suicide by running out in front of logging trucks on the Alaska Highway. Greenpeace is now involved protesting the Inuit trafficking in Acrylabeast hides. They believe that as more hides find their way into the New York and Paris fashion runways demand will place undue stress on the herds and cause a huge underground market and that soon licensed hunting will begin to cull the herds.
As the traditional migration routes of the Acrylabeast create huge swaths of overturned earth which the Oil Companies and Power Line Companies have always used for free, it is felt that if the herds are culled Gas and Electricity prices will rise due to increased costs of actually having to clear their own routes for pipelines.
“We have already seen a decline in the quality of furs.” Said Inuit Chief Agulicuactx McTundra. “Our traditional art and livelihood is in danger as more non-tribal sporran makers discover the beauty of our Arctic Acrylabeast firs.”
__________________

[BEEDEE]

[SIZE="4"][B]Panache and the Great Hunt for the Acryli-Beast

... they might have turned the Saltire about to look for ensigns BEEDEE, Mender, and Splash. Though it would be a miracle if they are still alive.


To Be Continued…

Do we survive? All, or just one or two? How did we get in this predicament? And is there an answer to life, the universe, and everything?

Ahh, the suspense of not knowing! Bring on the next chapter in the saga.

Brian

[starbkjrus]

snip... And is there an answer to life, the universe, and everything?
...snip

Why? Is 42 not a good enough answer?