Travel to Cairo by steamboat
From Create Your Own Story
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| - | + | You ponder the telegram for a moment, tapping it on your knee pensivly. Not once since the Hyde case has Finks made the slightest communication with your family, and your memories, though vague, were of a man who intenstly disliked the company of other men. While frusturatingly opaque, you feel compelled to meet with Finks and discover the root of his telegram. | |
| - | + | "Book the next ship out." You say to your butler. "I need to pack for heat..." | |
| - | + | ---- | |
| - | + | And hot it is, standing on the wood plank deck of the 'Pride of Isis', a waterwheel steamboat traveling up the Nile to Northern Egypt, after landing in Libya and spending nearly a week in the desert across the country. Your smooth skin has browned nicely in the sun, your cheeks and the tip of your nose burned reddish from the constant sun, even under your wide brimmed fedora. As you stare out on the sparkling water you feel the hot breeze brush your skin, your clothing unusually immodest for a woman of culture in response to the weather. Your traveling jacket is unlaced rather low, letting your bronzed skin breath, glistening with warm sweat between your slightly revealed cleavage. Most people would be uncomfortable in this heat but you find it refreshing after years of working mostly in cold damp England, the dry heat a pleasent change of pace. | |
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| - | + | You haven't had much time to think about Finks and his mysterious letter, the 'Pride of Isis' being a busy and often times noisy place. A constant flow of travelers, merchants, mercenaries, and criminals move on and off it, almost every day holding a new set of passangers up the legendary river. Many of them buzz about some mysterious celebrity passanger that has been sequestered to the main cabin since the journey began but you don't find yourself paticularly intralled by the gossip. Mostly you've had to watch your things and your femininity as the often roguish or downright dangerous often underestimate your abilities as a woman. Cairo is only three days away, leaving you ample time to consider your strategy with Finks when you arrive... | |
| - | + | Suddenly you feel the boat choke to a stop. You are puzzled and a little frustrated; the boat stopped off only two hours ago, any more time is lost time. Other passengers seem to feel similarly confused but most are heading to the boats to stop off at the nearby town across the river. You consider confronting a crewmember about this; you are indeed here on business, but similarly you slept through the last landing and catching up on supplies might be a worthy use of time. | |
| - | + | *[[Time is wasting; confront someone about the delay.]] | |
| - | + | *[[Go to the boats, no use wasting this opportunity to load up on essentials.]] | |
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[[Category: Lady Van Helsing]] | [[Category: Lady Van Helsing]] | ||
Current revision as of 07:46, 25 May 2010
You ponder the telegram for a moment, tapping it on your knee pensivly. Not once since the Hyde case has Finks made the slightest communication with your family, and your memories, though vague, were of a man who intenstly disliked the company of other men. While frusturatingly opaque, you feel compelled to meet with Finks and discover the root of his telegram.
"Book the next ship out." You say to your butler. "I need to pack for heat..."
And hot it is, standing on the wood plank deck of the 'Pride of Isis', a waterwheel steamboat traveling up the Nile to Northern Egypt, after landing in Libya and spending nearly a week in the desert across the country. Your smooth skin has browned nicely in the sun, your cheeks and the tip of your nose burned reddish from the constant sun, even under your wide brimmed fedora. As you stare out on the sparkling water you feel the hot breeze brush your skin, your clothing unusually immodest for a woman of culture in response to the weather. Your traveling jacket is unlaced rather low, letting your bronzed skin breath, glistening with warm sweat between your slightly revealed cleavage. Most people would be uncomfortable in this heat but you find it refreshing after years of working mostly in cold damp England, the dry heat a pleasent change of pace.
You haven't had much time to think about Finks and his mysterious letter, the 'Pride of Isis' being a busy and often times noisy place. A constant flow of travelers, merchants, mercenaries, and criminals move on and off it, almost every day holding a new set of passangers up the legendary river. Many of them buzz about some mysterious celebrity passanger that has been sequestered to the main cabin since the journey began but you don't find yourself paticularly intralled by the gossip. Mostly you've had to watch your things and your femininity as the often roguish or downright dangerous often underestimate your abilities as a woman. Cairo is only three days away, leaving you ample time to consider your strategy with Finks when you arrive...
Suddenly you feel the boat choke to a stop. You are puzzled and a little frustrated; the boat stopped off only two hours ago, any more time is lost time. Other passengers seem to feel similarly confused but most are heading to the boats to stop off at the nearby town across the river. You consider confronting a crewmember about this; you are indeed here on business, but similarly you slept through the last landing and catching up on supplies might be a worthy use of time.
