Ms. Davidson sat quietly with her hands neatly folded across her lap. It was impossible to tell if her opponents were being bold, master trap setters, or just insane. It was certainly explain why the moves made were so reckless or why she was 4 turns from being eliminated if she didn’t act soon.
"So much bait and no one is biting, yet." She coughs once, "Mornington. Street." And falls silent again.
Grandmaster Cheng had won a tournament with the 25th Opperman Maneuver, the second person to have ever done so. It was far too aggressive for her tastes but her situation was leaving her with little choice. edited by Blaine Davidson on 11/5/2016
"No, no, no! That won’t pass! Blythenhale!? Now you’re forcing us all to take a step back to abide the Antonine mandate of '57! Ugh, fine. Watchmaker’s hill."
"You’re mad, the lot of you! The Antonine mandate, Resetkine’s formation. It’s almost as if you want to invoke the ninth inning! Kensington Palace, then. I feel the Imperial Revision will bring some much needed common sense into this bl___y excuse for a game."
The froth was almost visible around his mouth, and he could’ve boiled a kettle if it was somehow balanced around his ears.
“Oh, my. We’re starting to go completely raving mad, aren’t we? I think we need to start playing mt the Royal Bethlehem additions.”
He takes off his hat and puts it back on upside-down.
“Now that I’m covered, might as well call the Royal Bethlehem for my move, as well.”
The lieutenant takes a large swig from his wine glass.
"You say that, but I’ve got a lovely little suite there. It gets too much of a bad reputation, but madmen make surprisingly good conversationalists. Anyhow, Dante’s Grill"
He’s calmed down now, to some degree…
A woman in an irrigo robe sidles over and grabs a chair (how many are there and how large is that table anyway? No matter.)
“I’m sure you’re all perfectly aware that according to the Mountweazel Addendum, after any naming of a restaurant only a new player is allowed to make the next move. So here I am.” She pauses dramatically, says “Diagon Alley” and leans back, seemingly very pleased with herself.
For Storm’s sake ! and she thought she learnt true confusion from that deliciously disturbing night spent with the Rubbery Conspirator and his many… organs.
She gently took a sip of Greyfields '82 and picked up a fungal cracker, awkwardly affecting a supreme unconcern regarding the sudden twist of the game.
" Obviously mauve overtones in peligin gown was not the best suitable attire for such virtuose gameplay, even more so with the Royal Bethlehem additions running loose. "
A bunch of moves were indeed now out of reach, she was actually in the same desperate spot from which the Tomb Colonist broke free recently, but not quite alone as far as she could tell from her disputable knowledge of the current ruleset.
" Hence I will keep my manacles on for now and indulge in your wily assaults, if you do not mind." she said with a way-too-innocent smile.
" 56B Whitehavens Mansions ", she paused, " pardon the casual move, though quite symmetrical. " edited by ZeOldOne on 11/6/2016
The ape looks up from where he is absently nibbling a game-piece. “Oh, round to me again?” He surveys the situation and whimpers softly. He is in 'way over his head! Never had he played with such a group of masters before! It was time to retrench and go back to his roots. “Swiss Cottage,” he offered, and awaited the storm of scorn such a conservative move would evoke.
“You fool. You absolute dullard. What kind of-”
My god, he cant be. He’s attempting to pull off the highly dangerous Bartleby Gambit. Bruno’s only hope was to duck out of the way yet again.
“Um. Erm. ! Mutton Island!”
A shriek and a clatter catches everyone’s attention. The players turn to see the dessert cart barrelling toward them, a shirtless, gasmasked man lying on top of it. He is belly-deep in chocolate, custard and expensive imported fruit. In one hand, he brandishes a turkey leg, in the other, he holds up a banana cream pie like a shield, and on his head is an upside-down gravy boat with a lopsided fruitcake balanced on top of it.
"PLATFORM NINE AND THREE QUARTERS!!" he shrieks at the top of his lungs, waving the turkey leg triumphantly.
Although aiming directly for the table, he has failed to heed that most basic of rules to never operate a dessert cart while drunk and therefore misses the table by inches, the wind from his passage strong enough to knock someone’s hat from their head. He instead goes sailing into the kitchen, his arrival heralded by the sounds of screaming and shattering crockery.
In the instant of shocked silence that follows, you hear a disappointed voice lamenting "THEY SUNK MY BATTLESHIP!" edited by Kukapetal on 11/6/2016
The raven mask is slightly shifted to allow a better look at the new commotion in the kitchens. The scowl on her face barely concealed.
But she allowed herself a sigh of relief. Most of heat was probably focused on the ape and Ms. Irigo dress now. And while she wasn’t sure who, someone was playing simply to sabotage as many of the other players as possible. Outright suicidal if not sociopathic.
"I’m invoking the 5th of Captain Raleigh’s clauses based on the first edition of the printed game manual. I am now able to jump to Broadwick Street unimpeded."
Another small cough and the raven mask is adjusted back on her face. edited by Blaine Davidson on 11/7/2016
Phryne is still shocked from seeing the infamous Blumenthal Apoplexus in live action - as seem most of the other players, judging from the looks on their faces. This move could only be used once every 13 years! Was the shirtless man a genius, or had she been witness to an extraordinary coincidence? No matter - she had come here with a plan, and she would see it through, for good or ill.
"32 Windsor Gardens" she says through gritted teeth.
[i]
Also distracted by the strange interruption, Bruno then adjusted his mask to be backwards under the table, in accordance to the Bethlehem Additions already invoked.
“A hive of Lamplighters. The headquarters of the Unexpurgated London Gazette.”
Amsfield is unperturbed by the confusion around him; for the moment the game is everything. “I shall reverse momentum, and fortify with… let’s see… Ah! The Bridge Without seems perfect. Let’s see what you can do with that.” More wine is consumed.
The Mirthless Colonist grimaces. There was little he could do to seize victory, but it was his turn again. "Alley alley."
His jaw tightened, then hanged loose.
Oh no. Oh no, oh dear god no.
He just created the perfect opening for someone else to seize mornington. And was it that gas-masked idiot that came trodding toward the table now? Was it Flesh-stick’s turn? For the love of God, no! He just ruined the game. He just ruined the game!
(OOC) I’ll scrap the post if there’s too much disagreement, but we can just stard a new round of MC right afterward so there’s no real reason not to, right?
EDIT: (OOC) The gimmicks and addenda just felt a bit too farstretched to all be used in the same game. So I thought I’d give the win to a third party so we could wipe the slate and start a new game of Mornington Crescent in the same thread. edited by Infinity Simulacrum on 11/7/2016
Estelle tap the distraught Colonist in the nose and chuckles at his… ummmmm… distress.
"You forgot that we are in the Neath! Here, where the Treachery of the Clock and Map occurs, you can only run a game with the Iremi Tantric Rules. That victory is not sufficient to end the game. To keep this moving, I declare the Seven Millicent One Tiger addendum!
The Axile-Excrement and the Struggling Artist is now in play. Grabskirt Lane, Burly Street and then finally the Childcake Street. Now get a move on." edited by Estelle Knoht on 11/7/2016
As the dessert cart goes whizzing by, the ape’s eyes light up, and his lips begin to form the words "Pie fight," but then he shakes his head. No, even Mel Brooks would only allow one food fight per production. He snares a chocolate eclair that came flying off the cart in its passage, and surveys the situation. Can the tomb-colonist really have made that last move? But he has! However, the ape considers, as a late-arrival to the game, it would not be meet for him to seize the victory. Let someone who had been in it from the start have the prize. "Golder’s Green," he declares.