Some of the panels don't quite line up perfectly, offering the curious a peek into the workings behind the wall: Through a gap, one can spy not merely a dizzying mazework of grinding gears, but marbles running along wire tracks, mice in cages nibbling on bits of moldy cheese attached to strings that trigger mechanical hands that in turn operate scissors to snip ribbons that in turn release boots on pendulums to kick levers, which in turn ... well, it just keeps going, really.
The cages keep moving as well, and with all the shuddering and rattling, it's unclear whether the cage are actually moving, or this room itself is elevating, or both. In the distance, there is a slightly muffled sound like thunder, and what sounds like the excited shrieks of ... monkeys? The noise fades away in the cacophony.
While the mechanisms could use a bit of fine-tuning (and one could wonder at how much trouble it takes to maintain these contraptions, beyond merely building them), at least the White Knight can provide a decent cup of tea (if one ignores the poor filtering).
The floor shudders some more, rattling teacups in their trays, and then there's a sudden THUMP, at which point the room stills considerably (though there's still evidence of busy machines grinding and churning away just behind the walls). There's a banging noise inside the large cabinet at the north end of the chamber, and it sounds as if something heavy has fallen down. The doors pop slightly ajar, as the cabinet shudders and falls still. Perhaps some marvelous mechanism was about to offer refills, or deliver more tea cakes, and something gummed up the works?
Integra looks momentarily perplexed. (Well, that is, she has looked a bit perplexed for quite some time now, what with all the rattling and shuddering of the room around her, but she just looks particularly perplexed for the moment.) She delicately picks up a napkin and covers her mouth, then makes a light "ptooie!" noise into it. After a moment's examination, she reveals a tiny shiny white cog of unknown material that must have gotten into her tea -- which she promptly pockets into her apron.
Griffin's feathers are quite puffed out by all the clamor, but he still manages to partake of his tea. Maybe he can shut out some of the noise and vibration by focusing fully on the effort required to politely sip tea through a beak.
The cacophony dies down considerably. The ticking is still noticeable, but the grinding and other mechanical noises seem very muffled and far away, and the walls and floor seem much more firmly in place.
"You know, this tea reminds me of our little trip through not-quite-right space back at the Sheepkeeper's. See how the lines of all the checkerboard patterns wobble and bobble about on the surface," Achilles reminisces as he studies his teacup, giving Harrison a pointed look. He says challengingly, "That's all it was, tea reflections. Did a little Brownian motion get the best of you, tenderfoot, or are you back on the straight and narrow?"
While Achilles turns his head to lecture Harrison, he notices something just beyond: With all the shuddering and rattling, it seems that at the northeast corner of the room, one of the walls has been moved slightly askew, making a gap between itself and what would normally be the adjoining wall (if this room were built in any sensible manner). Through the gap can be seen a complex maze of machinery ... and a cage, in which lies a rat. It seems a bit plump, or perhaps swollen. In fact, it looks rather dead. Perhaps this machinery is in need of better maintenance after all.
The reporter leans over to whisper this observation to Griffin. "I say, old chap, you'd best distract Integra into looking west or south. Don't want her catching sight of a fat rat dat got splat'd."
Integra, for her part, seems to be more focused on her new shiny cogwheel bauble to listen in on Achilles's warning.
There is a click, and then a "bong!" as the large mechanical hand that had been hovering overhead somewhat disconcertingly (after serving tea) finally ratchets its way back into a portal in the north wall.
In a more conversational tone, Achilles comments, "What do you think are the odds we'll just find that the White Knight was caught up in his own machinery-ations? Perhaps we'll find him jammed up inside the guts of one of these contraptions, complaining that he's no wooden shoe to 'clog' up the works."
A large round hatch swings into place to cover up the hole through which the hand exited. It doesn't quite snap completely into place, as what with all the rattling and shuddering, it seems that the hinge has somehow gotten mis-aligned. It slaps against the rim of the hole several times in what seems a vain attempt to close properly, then just shudders and halts, slightly askew. The cover of the hatch bears a clock face, though the numbers are all ajumble, and sometimes aren't even numbers at all, and there are far too many hands to be of much use.
As viewed through the northeast corner gap in the wall, a little metal bell lowers on a string, and then a little mechanical hand ratches out, to wind up the turn-key on the back of a little wooden figure (such as might be found in certain very clever cuckoo clocks) holding a "large" hammer. The wooden/clockwork figure shudders, then lurches repeatedly, hitting the dangling bell with its hammer, ringing it right next to the dead rat's cage. The dead rat makes no notice of it, not surprisingly.
"A proper crazed clockwork mechanist would use squirrels instead of rats," Griffin suggests. "I wonder if these are the talking sort though?" He gets up to look through the gap and try to figure out what the ex-rat was supposed to do.
The cage has a dead rat lying in it, with a grilled bottom, perched over a large funnel that must carry away those little unpleasant products of a rat's being in a cage for a prolonged period of time. Some moldy cheese is suspended on a string nearby, untouched, within reach of a theoretically living rat. The rat has a little tag on its ear, colored a bright yellow. The far end of the cage has been partitioned off, such that it seems like there is a little hidey-hole, the interior of which is harder to make out from here, but it's clearly further away both from the cheese and from the room.
Some sort of leverage mechanism appears to be attached to the segmented floor of the second hidey-hole chamber of the cage. Perhaps if the rat were IN that segmented section of the cage, its presence would trigger some sort of lever that would indicate a state for purposes of the machine. No bait is visible at present within the second chamber that would seem to compel a normal rat to go in there.
Above the cage is a wheel colored red on one half and green on the other. It is presently turned with the red side up, which says "Guests." The bottom side is green, and reads "Vacancy," though in upside-down letters from this vantage-point. The wheel has begun to slowly turn, with a ticking noise.
Also above the cage is a strange-looking device that looks something like a wooden nose attached to a tiny mechanical bellows and some tubes. It is positioned just above the cage, and it looks as if something is trying to work the bellows, but a piece has shaken loose, and it isn't properly triggering (assuming, that is, that Griffin has guessed correctly as to what is supposed to attach to what).
"Eh? What? It's been a long could of days stuck with a Cyclops and a birdbrain. I'm tired, and glad for a sit down and a nice cup of tea," March comments a bit dryly when he seems to become aware of his surroundings again. "Oh, did we move? I didn't notice. Can't say I noticed much for the last thirty minutes really. You know, that's refreshing. Better than a good night's sleep, almost. Maybe we'll have one of those soon too, eh?"
"Of course brown-ian motion might feel a bit more natural to you," teases Achilles to the rabbit. "But I must agree, you're looking a bit less edgy. Not so many lines around the eyes."
"Excuse me? I do not have any lines whatsoever. I have impeccably good grooming; I take good care of my appearance. It's quite rude to be in any sort of state that would make a lady gasp, you know," Harrison remarks.
Griffin clucks to himself as he examines the bizarre setup of the cage. "Guests. Vacancy. We are guests, not sure what will happen if that ticks over to Vacancy though," he mutters. The bellows and faux-nose have him wondering though, as well as the hidden part of the cage. "The rat must have been trained to do something when it hears the bell, but what?"
The reporter smirks. "Well, now that you've de-line-ated your position on the matter, let's try and angle a solution for the White Knight's disappearance. I postulate that he's probably still somewhere in the square, perhaps pent and agon-ized about missing so many meals wherever he's trapped."
Upon further scrutiny, it seems to Griffin that perhaps this little gap in the corner is not a sign of a FLAW in the room's construction, but rather that the wall has been deliberately shifted just far enough so that this little window of a gap allows access to the cage -- or at least a view of it ... or perhaps vice-versa.
"Pity Miss Rabbit didn't continue on with us, but I can't say I blame her. We're hardly the traveling troupe of decorum and manners," Harrison remarks, setting his teacup down finally. "Now, the White Night. I just hope he will also turn out to be a good knight."
Achilles grins. "Well... If this manor is setup to receive guests, there must surely be a way to manipulate it to show us the way to our guest rooms." He goes over to peer at the rat cage as well. Hmm. Smelling salts won't raise the dead, he's fairly sure. He checks if there's something written on the other side of the rat's eartag.
"AhaWWRK!" Griffin screeches, before clearing his throat. "I do believe the purpose of this rodent is to peek through this gap and determine if the room is occupied or not," he explains. "Then it would.. do something.. to keep the 'Guests' status active." He turns his head to eye the tiny bellows and fake nose. Maybe it's meant to check on the status of the rat?
The little red-green wheel has turned about 90 degrees now, so that "Guests" and "Vacancy" are equally tilted, and neither condition is on top. It still ticks away and turns, such that the green "Vacancy" half appears to be making its way toward the top of the cycle.
Harrison makes his way after Achilles. "Hey, haven't you been called a rat before, Achilles? Might you not fit through that crack given you're, well, two dimensional and all?" he comments.
"Try blowing on the.. nose.." Griffin suggests. "Someone with lips that is."
"Given what happened to the last piece of paper I slipped through a crack, I'm a little reluctant to expose my person to a repeat performance," replies the card reporter. He listens to Griffin's explanation and studies the mechanism. Though he's not trained in the matter of machinery, still, it must surely follow some kind of logic! ... Well, that may not be entirely safe an assumption in Wonderland.
The nose mechanism is positioned quite squarely over the rat cage, at present implying that if one were to somehow squeeze one's lips far enough through the gap to kiss those nostrils, one would also get a good whiff of dead rat as well (and, for that matter, Griffin is getting a hint of that smell right now, as close as he is to the gap).
"The cheese lures the rat out, where it sees the room, reacts and then.. goes back to its bedroom, perhaps, where there's switch that reacts to its weight.. maybe.."
The Gryphon attempt to blow some of the rat-funk towards the nose as best he can with a beak.
The rat-funk must surely already be reaching the nose, positioned as it is over the cage. A mechanism is twitching on the nose-machine, but that dangling connector just hangs loosely, accomplishing nothing.
"You might find a fan a little handier," suggests the reporter as he folds up a piece of paper to form a corrugated triangular construction, then offers this to the griffin. "But, that piece seems to be dangling a bit. Might I suggest it won't work until it's actually hooked up?"
"So, it is a rat, or a Rat?" Harrison asks as he stands a bit back from the smell.
The bird tries fanning air at the nose. "Something is supposed to be pumping those little bellows, which is why I hope the fan is enough. I don't think we can push the rat back through its hole.."
The reporter calls Griffin's attention to the bit that's dangling loose. "Try and tap that back in place, perhaps? I can't quite make out how it's supposed to be attached."
"Say, does it look like it's missing any gears? Because the child found one in her tea," Harrison points out.
Integra hears mention of the gear, and suddenly seems very interested at the prospect of having found Something (vaguely) Important. She fishes out the little white gear from her apron pocket. It DOES look as if it might be a vital part of some mechanism, and it COULD serve as some sort of a holding point to keep that connector hooked on, but it would be odd to use a cogwheel for such a purpose.
"Hmm! It's difficult to say, it's certainly a part of some machine," the reporter says, distracted from Griffin's efforts.
"It's too AWWRkward to do this with a bit of paper," Griffin admits in defeat.
Alas, the corrugated paper appears to be an inadequate tool for pushing the dangling connector back into place. If only it could be reached by hand, it would be a simple matter of just popping it back into place. Perhaps some sort of tool could assist in doing it through the hole.
Observing this, Achilles steels his nerves. "Well... At least it didn't chew up the bit of paper," he observes. "All I need to do is to hook that connector back up, yes?" He braces himself and prepares to slide his hand into the cage.
"Want to try the cane?" Harrison offers, hefting the solid gold cane-gun.
Meanwhile, the little red-green wheel has the green part occupying about one-third of the top half, and "Vacancy" is starting to win this out.
"Hopefully," Griffin tells the card. "We still don't know what the rat's job was.."
The card inserts his hand and connects it up to where Griffin appeared to have been trying to hook it up... And prepares to withdraw his hand the moment machinery starts acting!
Achilles times his movement until the dangling connector is slack, then puts the little eyelet at the end of the dangling strap to fit snugly over the rod on a turnwheel at the edge of the mechanical "nose" device. Voila! It is still missing some sort of clip or pin that should keep the eyelet from working its way off again, but for the time being, it holds. The mechanical nose gets another good "whiff" of the cage, thanks to the working bellows, and this time the registering turn-wheel tugs on the dangling strap, which in turn triggers a chain reaction of overly-complex exchanges somewhere in the depth of the machinery.
Withdrawing his hand with a sigh of relief, the reporter coughs and gags as he's forced to take a lungful of eau de dead rat. He snatches the fan from Griffin and fans himself quickly, pulling back, and is thus too teary-eyed to notice the very shiny gold cane in Harrison's grasp.
The red-green wheel stops turning. A chute lowers over the cage, and a little spring-loaded hatch on the top pushes in, under the weight of the chute. There's a squeaking noise, as another rat with a yellow tag on its ear rolls into the cage, tumbling to the floor. It is facing away from the room, and at first seems only to notice that there is another, quite dead rat in the cage with it -- and its reaction is to immediately start snacking on its erstwhile companion. There's a shudder in the works, and the sound of slipping gears.
Suddenly, a release mechanism pops on the bottom of the cage, as the slipping gear finally catches. Both rats tumble into a funnel immediately under the cage. Some unpleasant grinding noises ensue, echoing up the length of the tube. The bottom of the cage snaps back shut. That ... doesn't quite seem right.
"Hjckrrh," Griffin comments. "Not the proper order! Pump the nose again before the stink vanishes!"
"Well ... that was mildly disturbing," Harrison comments. "I still think that gear the child found is important here."
"I say, Harrison, was your cane always gold-plated and I'm just noticing now, or did you get an upgraded model while we were at the smithy?" says Achilles as he finally gets his lungs cleared out.
The chute rises back up, and the spring-loaded hatch on the top of the cage closes again. The red-green wheel begins to tick and churn, signalling that it's about to continue its rotation.
"Ace, pull the dangly bit!" Griffin beseeches. "We need a fresh rat."
Zahnrad says, "Oh, no. I suspect I've caught Midas fever from that bug I gave to Miss Rabbit," Harrison notes a bit grimly. "She may have turned into gold by now, alas. I hope not, but...""
The reporter steels himself to do so. "One fresh rat, coming up!"
With a tug, the red-green wheel stops once more. Chute is deployed. Gear can be heard slipping. Rat is dumped into cage, looking quite disoriented. It has a yellow tag on its ear, like the others. This one is facing Achilles, and immediately lets out a squeak of sheer terror.
"I think the switch is in the other chamber of the cage, and the purpose of the rat is to be lured out by the bell and cheese, look into the room, and be frightened if there are people, thus running back into the other side of the cage where its weight would indicate guests," Griffin says.
Any moment now, if the mechanism continues its path, the bottom is going to drop out of the cage and deposit the fresh rat into the grinder.
"Shoo!" Griffin scrawks at the rat. "Go through the hole to safety!"
The rat begins to scamper toward the back of the cage, just as predicted, but then the cage floor mechanism engages, and it becomes to pop open. The rat scrambles and scurries, evidently caught off guard by this development.
The card reacts quickly, trying to slide his hand under the rat and hold it up!
Rescued! The rat is spared from the rat-disposal mechanism. After the cage bottom swings down, the the grinding machines operate on empty air, the cage bottom swings back up. Achilles is able to safely release the rat -- whereupon it frantically dashes into the back of the cage. There's an audible click. The red-green wheel abruptly spins back around to "Guests." The wall shudders.
"You know, chaps. Upon seeing us you could say the rat was quite rattled," Harrison quips.
"Whew! I didn't realize I looked that terrifying to rats," Achilles says, taking another deep breath. This results in more coughing as the eau de dead rat hasn't quite cleared. He staggers away.
"Wash your hand, Achilles," Griffin suggests, "at the next oppourtunity."
The card looks about. "Well, if there's a lavatory handy..." He peers about for doors, but all that comes to view is that large cupboard behind the tea service.
"There's still tea in the pot," Griffin notes, waggling his ears up and down at the playing card.
"So, Miss Rabbit has the touch of Midas now?" Achilles says to Harrison. "Well, some might call that a lucky paw indeed." To Griffin he adds, "Tea to wash my hands seems something of a waste! We might have wanted to drink that."
It does seem that something odd is going on, as March's teacup is solid gold. However, it would seem that the curse hasn't extended to the point of turning his TEA to gold as well, or that should get old very quickly.
March decides to test this. He pokes the table.
It is a very shiny solid-gold table.
"This is going to be a problem," March remarks.
Integra gasps in awe. "Oh! Whyever for? You shall be so rich now!"
The reporter examines Harrison's clothes and effects. "Well, for one thing... Gold may be a very pretty metal, but I find myself doubting how well his cane-gun will fire now."
The little girl claps her hands in glee, and examines the golden table in awe. She is very, very careful, however, not to touch it. Perhaps she isn't certain that this isn't contagious.
"Perhaps I need gloves," the hare adds. "As for rich, now I can't touch anything. That is a problem. So, yes, gloves."
"Chain main gloves, so that even when you turn them gold, they shalln't be constrictive," suggests Achilles.
Harrison's attire seems to be perfectly normal, save for the golden hat he's wearing. He must have absently put his hand to the brim to tip it to a lady outside at some point.
"If it can be turned into gold, then it follows that it can be turned back to whatever it was before," Griffin claims.
"That makes too much sense, and therefore cannot be true here," Harrison counters.
"Still.. putting on a glove might be unwise," the bird adds.
"Do we have anything leather?" Harrison asks. "Maybe it does not work on living or once living stuff."
Achilles points out, "But how will we recognize a bug that is emphatically not-gold to the point that touching it will make gold things normal again?" He shakes his head. "I'd suggest that you avoid shooting that cane gun, it's bound to jam, until you've fixed your gold bug."
"Shouldn't your winter attire include a nice pair of gloves?" wonders the card.
"Maybe. It doesn't have enough weight to be solid gold," Harrison comments, "I should know, I've handled enough in the shop."
"If he puts on a glove and it turns to gold, his hand will be trapped in it," Griffin suggests.
Achilles points out, "Gold is, fortunately, a soft metal, so it should be possible to remove it in such an event. However, it does mean that you'd better not handle your revolver either. Perhaps you should take that oversized frying pan of Integra's for the time being?"
Somewhere behind the east wall, there's a "clip-clop-clip-clop-clip-clop-WHIRR" noise, a bit muffled. It soon stops.
"Oh, a golden frying pan!" Integra exclaims, volunteering her weapon. "How novel!"
March takes the frying pan. His left ear switches.
"Anyone who bothers me from here out, shall be deadpan," March deadpans.
The reporter tilts his head toward the east wall... Which appears obdurately solid.
The frying pan is indeed golden now.
"Was that a horse?" Griffin wonders after the sound has stopped.
Except for the "whirr," that did sound distinctly horse-like.
"A wind-up horse then," the Gryphon amends.
"But, I have an idea. This may be ... well, not horrible. Not utterly horrible anyway. Harrison marches over to Griffin and grabs his coat in his left hand!
"That's a very shiny pan.. AWWRK?" the bird squawks when it finally notices the hare's hand.
The coat's color stays the same, remarkably enough. Not golden.
Integra cries, "Be CAREFUL! That's my UNCLE! Please, oh please, don't turn him into a knickknack!"
Achilles watches bemusedly. "Well, now try touching something you've turned gold with your left hand," he suggests to Harrison. "If you manage to turn it back..."
"You could have tried on one of the plants you know," the flustered Gryphon notes, trying to smooth down his feathers.
There is more ticking and whirring and ratcheting to the south. The double entrance doors shudder, as something makes a loud "thump" just beyond them.
"But you couldn't take a gold plant with you quite so easily as you could take a gold jacket you're already wearing," the card observes. "Better weight distribution, don't you know." He looks over at the entrance. Hm. "I say, do you think we'd have noticed if the entire room had been moved within the mansion?"
Harrison grabs his gold cane with his left hand. "Oh, I was pretty sure Griffin wouldn't turn gold. Even if his coat had, he would have liked it," the hare claims.
"I'm pretty sure it DID move while we were having our tea," Griffin says, and unshoulders his rifle, just in case. "I suspect the Horse is out there, with the White Knight perhaps."
In an aftershock, the floor panels vibrate. They separate among fault-lines here and there in a way that might be a little more disconcerting than usual, but settle back into a smooth, flat surface again. However, the potted plant in the southeast corner wobbles in place, and then falls over. It promptly explodes in a way that potted plants normally do not.
The reporter goes to listen at the south door, then try to peer through the keyhole.
"So now I have a bizarre affliction," March remarks. "Miss Rabbit has a hook, I turn things to gold. Neither of us have a usable right hand."
A few leaves drift through the air, settling in the brim of the reporter's derby as he peers through the keyhole. On the other side, he can see flickering light that illuminates what looks like a small, shabby workroom. It is dominated by tables on each side laden with a myriad of tools -- many of which look FAR more complicated than is strictly necessary -- while in the middle of the room a section of the floor looks to have been replaced with a wooden platform (instead of the usual alternating chessboard tile pattern), marred by another blast mark, and presently holding a VERY large barrel. It has a note tacked to it. "Caution: Do Not Open."
Meanwhile, Harrison observes that his golden cane stays golden, despite being held in his left hand. Alas, it would seem that whatever affliction he has been saddled with did not come with a built-in antidote in the form of his alternate hand.
"Griffin, I don't want to be an alarmist, but you might want to move your niece away from those plants," Achilles suggests mildly to Griffin from where he's trying to assess the state of what's outside this room. He pauses. Well, that's decidedly not the straight garden lane they saw on the way in. "Perhaps this way. I think the workshop is just this way."
"Oh well. I guess I just need a cover or something for my right hand," Harrison notes, shrugging. "Might find one here somewhere."
"Hmmm, come into the corner Integra," Griffin gestures to the girl.
The card reporter examines the size of the explosion... Then Integra's proximity to the plants. "I'd strongly suggest you come over here," he says, beckoning the rest.
"You think the door is safe then?" Griffin asks.
"It's as far away from those plants as you can get," Achilles says. He takes his fan and slides it under the door to test if it will get immediately ripped and shredded.
No ripping, no shredding! Well! This seems promising so far.
The card tries the doorknob!
"Let's go.. carefully," Griffin suggests to March and Integra, but keeps his eye on Achilles in case some sort of trap is about to be sprung.
The doorknob turns and clicks. Amazingly, nothing explodes. The door opens just like any proper door should, given the circumstances, permitting a better view of the room. For a brief moment, Achilles catches a muffled sound of "Eek ook!" He then notices that just out if his range of vision as afforded by the keyhole, a section of the far wall has fallen back, and a large mechanical hand appears to be jammed through the gap, preventing the panel from sliding back into its proper place to form a solid wall.
"Was that a monkey? I thought I heard a monkey," the reporter murmurs as he pushes forward intrepidly.
"When things go easy, expect life-threatening doom," Harrison advises.
"Well, in that case we must be safe as houses in here," Griffin notes with a beaky grin.
Achilles's investigation of the room shows that it is relatively disused, as there is a thick layer of dust settled on the tools and tables. The central wooden platform, however, is dust-free, and there are a few areas that aren't quite as dusty leading between the door and the platform. There are smaller tracks that look something like hands here and there, and some unpleasant things caked here and there on the floor and walls.
"Someone's been up to monkey business here," the reporter says as he presses in further, surveying the room.
Achilles just narrowly avoids stepping on an old, putrid banana peel. A few others have been deposited with callous disregard (or could it be malevolent intent?) about the chamber.
The barrel on the platform is closed, and a number of nails are askew and bent, looking as if a rather messy attempt was made either to jam more nails in to keep it shut, or perhaps to pry them OUT. There's a faint "ook," from the direction of the barrel.
"Monkey?" Griffin ponders.
"Well, someone appears to have decided to try and test the truth about the adage that few things are more fun than a barrel full of, yes," Achilles observes. He makes his way carefully around the barrel to investigate the hand.
"Do you think we should check the cupboards here before we move on?" Griffin asks March.
The large mechanical hand appears to have suffered some damage from being wedged into the place where the southern wall divides into two large panels. One panel is in place, forming the south wall as expected, while the other panel is moved back. The gap is wide enough that even a non-Card could easily fit through (though going through the side with the hand would require either crawling under or climbing over). Behind the wall is visible a maze-work of rails, panels, slides, gears, and all sorts of complex contraptions. The squeaks of mice, caws of crows, and other animal noises mix in with the expected ticking of clockwork and churning of steam engines.
Achliles reports to the others, "So the tally is, two workbenches, tools-- you might find some helpful if you have to tinker with anything, Griffin-- and a barrel containing a monkey. It seems to me as if there must be at least one other monkey, possibly several. And this rather large mechanical hand has jammed, giving us enough room to poke around in the innards of the mansion... Should we wish to do so. It might be rather cramped."
"Anything I can put on my right hand?" Harrison calls to Achilles. "And monkeys? Nothing is as fun as a barrel of monkeys? That's terrible."
Achilles investigates the tools for anything that might serve as a makeshift glove even when turned to gold.
"Cramped? And dangerous," Griffin notes, venturing forward enough to get a look into the room.
Among the tools and supplies in the workshop, there appear to be quite a few pairs of gloves in various sizes and forms, some with pieces of protective metal bolted on, and some bridging the gap all the way over to outright hinged-and-armored gauntlets.
"There do look like some things you could try on," Achilles says. "You'd better come and pick through them yourself, I'm hardly the man to ask about fashion!"
As Griffin makes his way to the door, he catches a glimpse out of the corner of his eye that in all the shifting, a gap has appeared in the southwest corner of the room as well. Unlike the carefully managed gap in the northeast corner, this one appears to be a product of parts not quite lining up correctly -- but in any case, it's too narrow for anyone other than a Card to squeeze through. Oddly enough, on the other side, he catches a glimpse of what looks like a small garden plot or perhaps even ... a cornfield?
"Whaaarrrk?" the bird ponders, and goes to take a better look through the gap.
Harrison meanders into the workshop now, looking for the gloves at hand. He tries one made with leather coupled with plating, just to be on the safe side. "Why is it I seem to get cursed when all I do is help people?" he asks.
Moving closer affords a better view through the gap. There is a platform suspended above the various panels and walkways and pistons and gears, supporting a bed of soil and rows of cornstalks. At each corner of this very small field stands a scarecrow. Two walls flank the west and south sides of this little scene, with painted scenes of rolling hills and bucolic countryside from some idealized period of England's (?) past.
Achilles pets the golden brown-furred rabbit comfortingly. "I think it's not your fault, but Miss Lucky did indicate her luck could be... strange."
"This is odd," Griffin notes, loud enough for the others to hear. "A little room full of corn and scarecrows. With painted scenes and such! I suppose it might be for the crows in the machinery, but then why put in scarecrows?"
"A cornfield? Could be like those exhibits in the Philadelphia Expo," the reporter says as he goes to investigate Griffin's claim. He spares a glance for the ooking barrel. Must see what's inside! After this.
Integra tries going up on tippy-toes as she tries to peer past Uncle Paisley for a better look at what's going on.
Harrison does indeed grabs oem gauntlets, though he only slips one on his right hand for now ... and hopes he'll be able to move his hand afterward!
The gauntlet, despite having turned to gold, seems quite adequate for the task. At last, no more accidental Midas incidents!
Griffin steps aside so Integra can get a better view.
Meanwhile, over in the cornfield -- as seen from the corner gap -- it would seem that the scarecrows are fairly traditional-looking, save for the one in the southwest corner, which is quite possibly the scariest scarecrow Integra has laid eyes on. Rather than having a burlap bag head with a sewed-on smile like the rest, its head is composed of a gigantic bird skull, making it look both scary AND crow-like for a scarecrow.
"Not the sort of room we want to stumble into, I think," Griffin comments.
Integra shudders when she sees it. "I do not think I should like to pick corn there any time soon," she admits.
"If the potted plants explode, who knows what the White Knight's corn will do?" Griffin wonders, nodding to his niece.
"Perhaps it's for when the White Knight feels like a little stroll amongst the cornfields, getting in touch with how the pawns live... Without actually having to go out amongst the pawns," suggests Achilles. Well, he could go out there, but there seems little point in finding a route that only he could take.
Harrison moves to where Achilles and Griffin are. "Or maybe it's a prison in qhich prisoners are eaten by scarecrows," he offers helpfully.
Achilles wonders, "So, do we want to open the barrel of monkey and find out if it's a Monkey or a monkey? Or investigate the cupboard? Or prowl about in the workings, and see if we can locate the Horse, or the White Knight?"
"I'd rather the others than clambering through the clockwork," Griffin says. "We should check the cupboards first though. Monkeys are crazed beasts after all."
The card examines the potted plants suspiciously. Given their penchant for exploding... "Perhaps someone less flammable than I should take point on this," he suggests.
"Maybe if you turn them golden, they won't blow up anymore?" Integra offers. "Gold doesn't explode, does it? Or can you make a bomb out of gold?"
"I'll check the western one," Griffin volunteers. "It may be the pots that actually explode, rather than the plants.."
So far, so good. None of the plants have yet exploded from the approach of the Gryphon. But then, they didn't seem to mind terribly when everyone was seated for tea earlier, either. But then, with plants, you just never know.
"Or maybe we should just leave the plants alone?" Harrison suggests. Sighing though, he goes to check the pot opposite Griffin.
When nothing happens with the plants, Griffin turns his attention to the cupboard.
The card examines the floor where the first potted plant must have been, to determine if there's machinery that would have led up to the pot.
The area around the first potted plant has been thoroughly scorched, but not so much that all traces of any machinery should have been destroyed. It does not appear that there was any clever little fuse or detonating device running from the walls or floor or ceiling to the plant.
The cupboard is just above the back of the couch. Anyone seated at the couch could, with little effort, turn to one side and open the cupboard to get at whatever is inside -- though the top-most shelves might require standing up first.
"Given that their explosions weren't quite so large as I might have expected, should we dub them 'boomsai'?" mutters Achilles. "I don't see any detonation devices or mechanisms in the debris. Actually... It occurs to me, if you want to widen this gap, you could just position those plants by this and when they go off..."
"Probably was the shaking that set them off," Griffin suggests, and tries to tug open the cabinet doors.
The doors pop open. Inside is a dizzying array of pull-chains, levers, dials, toggles, and little paper tags with faded and barely legible (and frequently crossed-out-and-replaced) writing upon them. At the back of the cabinet, it looks as if a panel forming the back has fallen over, exposing a crawlway that could theoretically be taken to get into the gear-works for anyone so brave.
"It might have been a control panel in here," Griffin reports. "And.. another passage into the mechanical guts." He adjusts his reading glasses and tries to decipher the labels that seem most legible.
Glad the pots haven't exploded, Harrison moves away from them and goes to peer over Griffin's shoulder. "Go on, go in..." he encourages. "what's the worst that could happen?"
Achilles looks across the room at the panel, but is hardly in a good position to read the labels. "I wonder if it's like a lift's lever and controls? Push the right button to get where you want to go?"
Labels include such things as "Bath," "Bedroom," "Stable," "Spare Workshop," "Wardrobe," in one area. In another, there are such things as a lever labeled "Couch #1," with a variety of settings, and another for "Couch #2," "Chair," "Main Table," "Dining Table," and other furnishings.
"Hmmm, I don't see any labels for the Knight's main workshop," Griffin notes. "You're the hare, tight spaces and such should be normal for you to explore," he quietly replies to March. "Stable. The Horse should be there, wouldn't you think?"
The reporter adds in an undertone, "I'd suggest not pulling any switches or pushing any controls until you've moved those plants away from anyone likely to mind a small conflagration."
"Well, I could go in there, I suppose," March agrees as he peers into the passage. "And I guess look for the main workshop."
"But, if things start moving again while you're in there.." Griffin warns.
March decides to look through the labels now, looking for any that might point the way to the main workshop or stables.
The label marked "Stable" seems the most likely option for the stables. There is a very, very faded and worn label -- perhaps an especially old one -- that says "Workshop," though it doesn't say "main" specifically. Other interesting labels March discovers in the course of investigating include "Main Hall" (he noticed it on account of "main"), "River," "Cornfield," and "Village." He also finds a few labels decorated with little sketches on them. One has a picture of a green triangle with little dots on it, and a yellow star at the top.
A ratcheting and clanking cacophony echoes from the workshop, as some sort of machine starts up (even though March hasn't touched anything!). The wooden platform with the barrel on it begins rising up, as a hatch opens in the ceiling of the dusty workroom to admit it.
"I say! We hadn't decided what to do with that barrel yet!" utters Achilles as he hurries to the doors of the small workshop to witness this fact. "Should I try and grab it?"
"I didn't do anything!" March blurts, "I was just reading..." and he proceeds to tell the others quickly the ones he had found.
The barrel makes a chorus of shrieks and eeks and ooks. Whatever's in that barrel must be awfully excited.
"Contents: one highly excited monkey. Well, at least one," pronounces Achilles gravely. He peers up trying to determine if there's a chopper above awaiting the barrel.
"That monkey must be going to some other part of the machinery, like the spare rats," Griffin opines.
A needle on a gauge in the cabinet wobbles uncertainly. The gauge is labeled "Monkeys." Other gauges have such curious labels (often accompanied by illustrative artwork clipped out of a book and pasted into place) such as "Rats," "Cheese," "Monkeys," "Bananas," "Tea," "Corn," and "Crows."
March rubs his forehead. "We need to focus a bit. what exactly are we trying to do? I thought find the White Knight?"
In the workroom, what Achilles can glean of the workings above and below isn't clear, since he's peering into darkness either way. In any case, he gets a bit of vertigo upon looking down, as it seems there are a few levels involved, and somewhere far down is a platform with several more barrels. Up above it looks as if a mechanical hand is patiently awaiting the rising barrel.
The reporter, as yet undecided on whether to save the barrel from its uncertain fate, conjectures, "Those monkeys that escaped must have found their way into the workings! Even if you don't hit any of those buttons, there's no telling if they'll hit something that causes the room to come completely apart."
"Or the Horse, possibly," Griffin notes, eyeing the gauges. "Do you suppose the Knight would be in one of the workrooms, then?"
"This one looks like it's bound for... wherever the hand has decided needs a fresh monkey," Achilles says, relieved that it's not an obvious monkey-slicing-and-dicing machine. He waves to the departing barrel and heads back into the main room. "Let's focus on finding the White Knight. You said you'd found a 'workshop' and a 'stable'? We should get these plants away from the cupboard and try them."
As Griffin eyes the gauges, he sees a dial indicator that reads, "The Horse is ... IN."
"Well, this little flag here indicates that what we heard before that sounded a bit like a horse's steps are most likely those of the Horse," Griffin notes. "No telling if it's the stable though. See if you can spot one that indicates the status of the White Knight, March."
"Well, lets just decide and do something, okay?" March offers. "Stables, or Workshop. Pick."
The card moves up to investigate the panel a little more closely.
The Card gives the complex arrangement a thorough search, and at last he finds that there's a flip-card device located near the Horse dial, but not intuitively right next to it. If the two are connected, it would seem that the White Horse is IN ... the Stable.
"Well, if we want to find the Horse, he's in the Stable," Achilles reports, proud of his sleuthing.
"If nothing else, the Horse should know where the Knight is, wouldn't it?" Griffin suggests.
To the south, the empty wooden platform descends back down, disappearing into the vertigo-inducing depths beneath the dusty workshop, leaving a not-very-safe hole in the middle of the floor that the unwary might plummet into.
Achilles rolls up his sleeves. "Well, before we hit the button, let's each get one of these plants and move them to the opposite corner," he suggests. "I for one don't fancy being exploded as the room is in transit."
"What if moving them is what makes them explode?" Griffin points out. "Still.. there aren't levers for the plants.."
"They're going to be moved anyway! If you aren't going to tackle moving one, I'll do it," Achilles asserts. He takes a careful grip of the northwestern plant, and gingerly tries to push it.
To the relief of all, it does not blow up, and it is, indeed, mobile (in the sense that one can pick up the pot and move it without something blowing up).
"Quit worrying so much about the pots already," March says, exasperated. His ears twitch and then flick sideways. "It's just like the outside path."
"Oh! I'll help!" Integra volunteers, as she heads over to the next plant.
Griffin picks up the northeast pot and pushes it towards the corner.
The reporter shrugs. "Given the fact two plants have exploded already. I'd rather make sure they're positioned safely out of the way." He gives Griffin a glance as his niece starts moving a plant.
Integra picks up the potted plant and walks up to Harrison, with it firmly in both arms. She peers around the big broad leaves. "Uhm ... where do you want it?"
"Integra, have a care!" Griffin squawks. "Never try to moving something so big by yourself. Put it down in the corner."
"Right, just put it in the corner just behind you," March agrees and rubs his neck.
The card clears his throat to Griffin. "Maybe you should help your niece with that one then?" he suggests.
"Yes, Uncle Paisley!" Integra calls back, and she very carefully sets the pot down in the corner. It's a bit more of an effort for her than it likely would have for anyone else in the room, but she manages it without any conflagration.
"I'll get the last one," Griffin notes before his niece can grab that one too.
Integra almost makes it to the pot before the Gryphon snatches it away.
Once that's settled, the card returns to the table and pours himself a cup of nerve-steadying tea.
"I'm cursed with crazy people too," March mutters as he looks towards the ceiling.
"So then, Stable?" Griffin asks the others.
The wooden platform returns in the south workshop area. The new barrel has a large label pasted on it that says "CHEESE."
"This is Wonderland, craziness is just part of the job," Achilles observes as he relaxes into the couch. "Yes, I think that sounds like a capital idea."
Integra helpfully returns to the golden table to help with pouring tea, though the tea pot is getting rather cool by now.
Something scampers over the ceiling. "Ook! Eek!" This is followed by loud banging noises, not entirely unlike a large wrench being pounded on delicate machinery.
"Right now all of you need to be a little more stable, yes. So, to the stable!" the hare announces.
Griffin takes a seat next to Integra, and asks March, "If you would do the honors? You don't think that ape has a monkey-wrench do you?"
"I'll let you do the honor of pushing the button, since I didn't see where it was," Achilles says. He peers up. "But please do it quickly?"
"Ook!" Bang, bang, bang. Crunch. Oh, that can't be good. "Eee! Eee!" Yes, the monkey sounds excited now, and begins banging even more furiously, ooking mischievously. A ceiling panel falls just a crack loose.
"Right, well, onward!" Harrison declares. He heads to the panel and makes sure it's set to the stables and activated! Granted the machinery is a bit odd, and they could end up in the outhouse.
The room begins to shudder. Above the ceiling, the sound of hammering and things breaking silences for a moment. "Ook?"
"I do hope the monkey is just trying to get into a cheese barrel and not our room," Griffin says.
The reporter gulps his lukewarm tea and grabs hold of his umbrella, just in case the ceiling falls completely to pieces.
A mechanical horn begins blaring a tinny noise that sounds ever-so-remotely like music, accompanied by the snorts and hoof-stamps of horses. Then, panels in the ceiling open up. Tubes drop down over the spots where the four plants next to the couches used to be. With a loud "SNORK!" air sucks into the tubes, for no apparent purpose, and then the tubes retract back into the ceiling. "Eeeeeeeek! Ook!" There is more banging and smashing up atop the ceiling.
"Okay, what the heck was that?" Harrison asks.
Then, two more of these ceiling-tubes drop over the southeast and southwest corners of the room. "SNORRRRRRK!" The potted plants recently placed there wobble and then fly right up the tubes and out of the room.
"Maybe I should have grabbed that barrel earlier," Achilles mutters. "I wonder if that's the monkey that was in it earlier? Could have been anyone of his friends though." He pauses, stares boggledly at the pneumatic tubes. "... March! The monkey must have activated the furniture retraction system somehow! If there's a way to deploy furniture, maybe we can get him out of the works that way."
With a clattering and ratcheting noise, the cabinets on the east and west sides of the room rise up and disappear through ceiling panels. Other room decorations similarly disappear, as the chamber begins rearranging itself ... and the east and west walls begin moving inward. This bumps against the plants in the northeast and northwest corners, and they wobble somewhat disconcertingly in place.
"Wait, is the room becoming the stables? Harrison asks. He moves quickly to the center of the room.
Achilles studies the panel hurriedly, since the rabbit has abandoned the cupboard.
A mechanical hand comes out of the clock face set in the upper wall, and begins gathering up the tea service.
"Ah.. well, that clears that up.." Griffin notes. "There were switches in there for the couches as well.."
With a flurry of activity, Achilles begins pulling levers corresponding to various items of furniture indicated in the room. Mechanical hands start busily dumping fresh furnishings into the chamber, along the east and west sides. This seems to be interfering with the east and west walls' attempts to move further inward.
"Should you be doing that, Achilles?" Griffin asks, a bit disturbed. "The room is already transforming after all.."
"There's a chance that if the furniture is just being stored above this room... Or if the grabby hand moves the right way and smacks the monkey into a hole... We might be able to jar the monkey out of the ceiling works," yells Achilles to the others as he tries to figure it out. "At the very least, we can position the furniture to block off the wall!"
The reporter adds, "If this doesn't work, we'd better go through into the crawlspace and get up above the room ourselves."
"Ook! Eek!" More banging noises, and sounds of things smashing, and splintering, and then -- CRUNCH. Ooo. That sounded most unpleasant. The ooking and eeking and random banging stops abruptly.
"I think there is now a squished monkey in the ceiling," Harrison observes.
"Well.. uh.." Griffin starts to say, and then belatedly tries to cover Integra's ears.
Another hatch opens up. A couch is deposited against the east wall. Seated in it is a very dead monkey. It is holding a very large wrench.
The reporter pauses. "It was indeed a monkeywrench," he observes. He reverses that last control, mindful of Integra's sensibilities.
The couch rises back up into the ceiling, monkey and all. The wrench, however, falls loose and lands on the floor with a clatter.
And Harrison goes to get the wrench. Because, well, why not?
Achilles sighs in relief, flopping back into the couch. "No more monkey business, at least."
"I'm still looking at a monkey," Griffin notes, giving Achilles a look. He gestures around the room, now littered with beds and bathtubs and not, incidentally, the White Horse. "What sort of mess are we in now?"
GM Note: Monkey Wrench - Tool, Oversized - Str+d8 dam; 10 lb; 2-handed; Tool; Special: Monkey Business - +2 dam vs. machines & constructs; Repair skill may be used instead of Fighting when attacking machines & constructs; Special: Monkey Grip - Min Str d6 (instead of d8).
The busy mechanical hands begin replacing the wall panels with something a bit more rustic-looking, like the interior of a barn. The golden table, alas, vanishes, but something seems to tip off the hands not to grab the occupied couches.
The reporter is not so lost in thought or relief as to miss this. "Now why is the room rustifying?" he wonders.
"It's stable-izing," Griffin points out.
Mechanical hands begin scooping out any random objects that might be lying in the remainder of the floor -- and Harrison just manages to evade them. Fortunately, they don't bother the potted plants or the newly-added furnishings. At last, the ceiling is replaced with an arched roof and rafters. Hay is baled in with a mechanical fork, but it appears that something is amiss: the side-walls did not move in, so the hayloft isn't quite where it ought to be. Everyone seated in the couches is showered with hay.
Integra starts sneezing.
Achilles facepalms. "Of course-- achoo!"
"Don't make me test the wrench on you, Griffin," Harrison warns.
Deluged with hay, the reporter is forced to undertake several minutes of panicked self-extrication from nature's own horse-feed, lest he be mistaken as part of the feast.
There's a flurry of flapping and foofy feathers as Griffin shakes off the hay.
The floor underneath the two couches undergoes a curious transformation, while a couple of mechanical hands lift up the couches to make way. After a moment of shuffling, the couches are now on the back of a large wooden wagon. The floor has adjusted enough that the cabinet is still within arm's reach of the rear couch. Another large mechanical hand deposits a somewhat confused looking white horse-thing in the room.
Achilles sneezes out a stray straw. "I confess I was expecting us to be taken to the stables. I-- er, aha! We have company."
At last, the room is a very messy, overly-furnished stable-barn, with a large mechanical wagon, and a horse that seems to be part-organic, part-mechanical, equipped both with wheels and legs.
"Ah, hello Mister Horse?" Harrison says to the creature, and even tips his golden-colored hat. "Do you understand me?
The reporter sizes up the wheels on the horse. He looks a bit worried: if the White Horse is a machine, we're not going to get many answers from him.
The Horse turns its head about to look at the March Hare. "Pbpbpbpbpbpt," it says, flapping its lips in a whinny-snort. It tosses its head, flopping its great mane.
"This isn't promising," the reporter whispers to Griffin in the seat ahead of him.
Integra looks around in wonder at how the furniture has been transformed (after a fashion). "Oh! We are going for a hay-wagon ride!"
"Maybe we need an apple?" the Gryphon suggests.
"Are you sure you can't talk?" Harrison asks the horse ... and looks to see if it is bridled.
"All I have is a snap-dragon pudding," admits Achilles.
The horse doesn't seem to be bridled so much as more-or-less fused with the wagon. It flaps its lips at the mention of pudding, and turns about, sniffing at the air curiously.
The reporter deduces, "The way to the Horse's heart must be through his stomach."
"So, you can't tell us where the White Knight is," Harrison concludes with dismay.
"Maybe he can take us to him.. although, given the way the castle works it doesn't seem likely," Griffin notes. "On the other talon, there must be a way out of the castle from this room, since the horse clearly has to leave at times."
Achilles adds, "And the villagers talked about seeing the White Horse come out of the manor from time to time, didn't they?"
The horse whuffles to Harrison, then snorts. It dips its head, then raises a foot and stamps its fore-hoof. There is a "ding!" and then a panel pops open at the front of the wagon. It looks like a typographer or a chirographer, or one of those other marvelous machines with moving type and paper. The horse then stamps its hoof several times in a deliberate rhythm. The machine begins churning busily. A piece of paper rises up, reading, in blotchy type, "I am the White Knight's Steed. Who are you?"
"Well, surely you recognize me. Haiga, the March Hare?" March claims; remembering just how he was introduced earlier. "The ones with me are my friends. "The one with the overly large beak is Gryphon, and the card is the Ace of Spades. The little girl is Gryphon's sister's hatchling."
Griffin looks to Integra. Well, there should still be some family resemblance carried through.. maybe.
The horse whinnies and bobs its head, ears perking up. It stomps its hooves again, more rapidly. The machine works busily, spitting out more paper with blotchy set type. "Messenger Haigha! On the White King's business? I would call the White Knight, but he has gotten himself stuck in the Observatory. I have been fetching supplies so he can think his way out."
Achilles quips, "She doesn't have Griffin's beak, for which we all give thanks."
"Ah! He is in the observatory! Excellent. Is that still accessible via the control panel ... or does someone have to climb through the gears to get to him?" Harrison asks the strange horse. "There is much skullduggery afoot we could use advice on."
"Progress," Griffin whispers happily, and starts arranging the hay still covering himself and Integra into.. a bowl. Is he making a nest?
More stamping and typing follows from the White Horse. "Changing the Parlor into the Observatory won't help. The Observatory is one of the rare places in the mansion that isn't gotten to just by moving the furnishings about. He's fixed himself into a corner, he has."
"Surely there is a way to reach him. It has windows, does it not? Our befeathered and be-beaked friend could fly rope to him and he could then climb down," Harrison suggests.
Integra giggles as she catches on, and helps shape the nest. She contributes a few pieces of colorful string.
The White Horse's ears perk up. It stamps its hooves excitedly, whinnying. "Fly! Fly! Fly! Fly!" the machine spits out.
The reporter begins to study the cupboard for an 'Observatory' button, but desists as the White Horse scotches that idea. "Capital idea, you're thinking outside the box there, Harrison," he says to the rabbit. "Let's get us outside of the manor so we can go around."
March points at the nesting Gryphon. "He flies. Also plummets if ticked while flying."
"Is that a good exclamation or a sign that the Knight is afraid of heights?" Griffin asks.
"Can you take us outside so Mr. Feathers can get airborne?" March asks.
Achilles points out "Would you rather crawl through the gearworks to get to the observatory, Griffin?"
"Sorry," the White Horse stamp-types. "The White Knight is afraid of nothing! But he is careful. To get out ... the Parlor has moved. Please select the Entrance."
"Of course not, I just hope he doesn't have a penchant for shooting at birds," Griffin notes.
The reporter checks for the Entrance button. Hopefully it isn't one of the lost labels!
"The cannon is not for birds," the White Horse stamp-types. "He is perfecting his trans-mountain-portation system."
Fortunately, the Entrance label is indeed legible, though it takes a bit of searching. Such a commonly-needed option should be right up front, but organization doesn't appear to be one of the White Knight's strong points.
"Aha! Here we are. Are we ready to go outside then?" asks Achilles of the others.
The cheese barrel makes its way up, to the south. There must be hungry rats somewhere in the mansion.
"I do hope it isn't a giant catapult.." Griffin mutters, then blinks at the nest and hands it off to Integra for safekeeping. "Unless it's the cannon. In which case saying 'into the breach' is probably in poor taste.."
"Will you come out with us?" Harrison asks the horse. "Or is there a way to insure you do?"
"Just do not select another Room," the White Horse stamp-types. "The Entrance will change what this room is attached to, to the south. If you select the Parlor, I will be taken back to the Stables. I will be happy to see you out and help my master."
On hearing this, Achilles promptly jabs the Entrance button. "Say no more, off we go then! Tally ho!"
"Onward!" Harrsion declares.
"And upward, for some of us!" Griffin chimes in.
"And for the rest of us," Achilles observes. "We'll have to secure the rope in place and make sure it's climb-able, after all."
To the south, the doors close, and then there is much ratcheting and grinding. The room shudders, and more hay is shaken loose from the rafters. There is a distinct sensation of going down, and maybe a little side-to-side.
After a short interlude, the shuddering stops, and the doors to the south open up again, revealing once more the entrance hallway and the exit, though a few mechanical hands are still busily tidying things up.
"Why does the White Knight have such a complicated home?" March asks the horse.
Achilles looks at March a little oddly. "It's the home of the Future!"
The horse begins trotting forward. "aljdaoijqoiqlkjfa" the machine spits out. Suddenly, the horse stops, and makes an embarrassed whinny. "It is the White Knight's way," the horse stamp-types, and then it stamps a few more times, and the typograph machine ratchets back into the depths of the mechanical wagon. It continues to trot-roll forward, and this time its hooves do not prompt any more gibberish.
"Uh, okay, sure," Harrison agrees. It's best not to press that question because it doesn't really matter that much!
"Do we have any pre-knotted rope?" Griffin asks Achilles.
"In the future, you need no longer be bound by traditional definitions of rooms," Achilles holds forth as the wagon starts forward. "Your sitting room need no longer sit, your guests at dinner may be whisked away on their chairs without the inconvenience of getting up to your parlor, and you may enjoy music piped into every room, played by mechanical musicians. Why, in the future, everyone may have a marvelous wagon like this, pulled by a miraculous equine such as the White Horse! Truly, it will be an age of technology so advanced as to seem magical." Brought back down to earth by Griffin's question, the card shakes his head. He opens a travel bag and starts preparing rope for climbing.
The White Horse whickers happily at Achilles's exposition. It raises its head a little more proudly.
"And monkeys may try to murder you," Griffin adds to Achilles' commentary.
Achilles admits, "There are perils that are timeless."
Arching his neck and tilting his head back, Griffin looks up at the manor, trying to spot the Observatory.
Outside, the air is chill again, reminding the travelers of just how nice and cozy the interior of the manor was (if a bit dangerous at times). However, the mechanisms seem to have been diligently keeping the path clear of snow and other debris.
"I'm sure glad I'm not the one going up there," March quips.
Achilles continues to knot the rope, making small compact knots so that the White Knight can descend without fear of rope-burns.
The manor doesn't look nearly large enough on the outside to contain all of that machinery, but at the same time it doesn't look nearly small enough for just one simple room into which might be shoved various types of furniture to suit the whim of the host and guests. Up on an odd tower built onto a far wing, there is what must be the White Knight's Observatory. In addition to an unlikely array of telescopes and other devices sticking every which way from the dome (giving it something of an appearance of a great white pincushion), there seems to be a cannon or two as well.
Demonstrating this fact, the cannon fires, and a projectile shaped rather like a bishop chess piece fires off to the west, toward the mountains.
The White Horse stamps a few times, and a hatch opens in the side of the wagon, revealing all sorts of useful (and not-so-obviously-useful) supplies, including, among other things, a spool of what must be quite a length of sturdy rope.
"I say, do you think he found a volunteer to test that thing up there?" Achilles wonders, his eyes caught by the projectile.
"Well.. I see the Knight hasn't tried that method of escape yet, thankfully," Griffin notes, standing and stretching his wings. "Is the rope ready?"
Achilles hands Griffin 40 yards of hastily knotted rope. "If it doesn't reach, we'll add onto it with the spool here," he suggests.
Taking the rope, the Gryphon hops down from the wagon in order to get room for take off. "Is there anything I should tell the Knight so that he knows I'm really there to help him?" he asks the White Horse.
The horse stamps a few times, and the typograph pops out again. "Dear White Knight. The Gryphon has come to save you! Your faithful servant..." Then there are several empty carriage returns and: "(Please tear off sheet and bring to me to sign.)"
The bird-lion does so, setting the paper on the ground in front of the Horse.
STOMP The White Horse gives it his hoof-print. It then nods approvingly.
"Indeed, a most miraculous equine," Achilles marvels.
Wrapping himself up thoroughly in his winter coat and gloves, the reporter hops off the wagon to survey the ascent and supervise Griffin's flight so that the rope won't lie across too dangerous territory to safely climb.
Griffin rolls up the paper, does a few squats to 'limber up' and then begins flapping mightily towards the Observatory - hoping that at least one window is free of instrumentation.
Cold wind blusters against the Gryphon once he clears the buffering protection of the walled "garden" path, but the experience of flight is exhilarating, and soon he is whisking up and about the manor effortlessly. The observatory is easy enough to reach, and without getting in the way of that cannon or anything else that looks the least bit like a cannon. There's an observation deck up top where he can not only land, but tie off the rope, with a hatch that leads into the observatory dome proper.
"What luck!" Griffin notes, landing on the platform and securing the rope. He's not a sailor, so compensates by tying several knots. "Hello down there? Sir White Knight?" he calls down the hatch.
The hatch has been left unlocked, as it appears that the White Knight is not overly concerned with strange fliers breaking in while he's trying to find a way to safely get out. Inside, the Gryphon is met by a burst of warm air, as it seems that the dome is heated by steam vents - a welcome respite from the cold, as invigorating as it might be for a quick flight.
"Why, hello up there!" calls out the White Knight. "Have you come in response to my test flights to the Monarchy of Hearts? Have my test capsules made it there intact?"
"Actually I'm here to rescue you, quite possibly," Griffin claims, climbing down and handing over the Horse's note.
The White Knight is not a very imposing-looking man, having a very Man of La Mancha appearance, and similarly tall-and-spindly build (and a balding top and great brush mustache to complete the look). He pulls himself up from the control panel where he has been furiously turning cranks and gears, setting his large horse-head-shaped helmet aside as he examines the note and twirls his mustache. "By the Spirit of Conflict! I quite forgot. Yes, indeed, I am most certainly trapped here in this observatory. Ah, faithful Steed, remembering for me, and sending help! And brave of you to make it all the up here. Why -- seeing a Gryphon, I quite hoped that you were the Gryphon, and come all the way from the Monarchy of Hearts to -- oh, but you ARE the Gryphon, aren't you?"
The White Knight almost trips over himself as he rushes over to a port-hole, swinging it open to peer out over the front court. "Hullo out there!" he cries, waving at those gathered in the front way. "Hmm. I don't see the Mock Turtle. But then, he never was much for flying, now was he?"
The card down below waves back. "Hello!" he calls back. "Do you need a hand down, sir?"
"The mountain road is a bit treacherous nowadays, what with the Jabberwocks and such in the Tulgey Wood," Griffin points out. "Just.. ah.. where do your message capsules fall in the Kingdom of Hearts, if I may ask? And can you climb down a rope?"
The breach hatch of a great cannon occupies a good portion of the interior, along with the optical sights for numerous spy-scopes and other such instruments. Stacked in a corner are pallets holding a number of bishop-chess-piece-shaped shells with hatches on the side, prominently marked with "Property of the White Knight" and "Please Return to Sender," with smaller print that must consist of instructions. There are also numerous banana peels stacked up in a waste bin, and there's a large barrel that smells (and sounds) of monkeys, positioned on the wooden platform in the center of the room. (And that wooden platform looks very much like the one in the dusty workshop.)
March also waves up at the tower. "Hello!" he calls out.
"Oh, I haven't any idea," the White Knight confesses, though it's not clear what question he's answering right away. "I was rather hoping someone would come back and tell me where they were landing, so I can make adjustments. What with weather and all, and the distances between places changing at a whim, it's hard to tell just for certain where it might end up. And here I had hoped the monkeys would do better at coming back than the rats."
"Ook," says the barrel.
The Gryphon casts a nervous glance to the monkey barrel. Are they used as powder in the cannon, he wonders. The plants exploded, after all.. "What.. ah.. what role do monkeys play in this process?" he eventually asks.
After some quiet from above, the reporter decides to start climbing the rope himself. This way he can be sure it's safe to climb, after all... Much less distance to fall if the knots Griffin tied didn't hold.
"Oh, they're trained monkeys," the White Knight explains. "You see, I print all of their instructions on the insides of banana peels, and number the bananas in the order that they should be peeled and eaten. They've done very well in tests at coming back for more bananas, just as they were instructed. Just not quite so far."
Stroking the side of his beak, Griffin asks, "Did you ever consider just using homing pigeons, perhaps?"
"Homing pigeons!" the White Knight exclaims. "What a brilliant idea! Oh, wherever might I find some?"
"Well.. wherever you get pigeons, I imagine?" Griffin suggests, not having the foggiest idea of how to obtain homing pigeons. "There are always crows, of course. Very clever, and.. possibly able to read maps.."
"Oh! I've GOT it!" the White Knight exclaims. "There are plenty of pigeons in the Monarchy of Hearts. Why, I'll just include another banana with instructions for the monkey to go buy some and send them back here. And some money, of course. I mean, for the monkey, not to send back here."
After some length of time, the reporter gets to the top. "Hello! You didn't respond, so I thought that I should investigate and see whether you needed help getting down," he says. "Is everything quite all right up here?"
"Or bats," the Gryphon suggests next. "Giving money to a monkey and hoping they'll stay away from temptation is.. uncertain, I'd say."
"Crows would be excellent," the White Knight considers, "but the trouble is that they're just too clever. They won't get anywhere near the shells. Oh! Hullo up there!" The Knight pauses to wave up at the Card.
At the mention of the shells, Griffin realizes that he isn't likely to get through the basic concept of flying messengers after all. "Ah, Achilles. The rope works I take it?" he says instead.
One look at the apparatus confirms Achilles's worst fear. "You're... not planning on firing yourself in that thing, are you?" he asks. "Oh, the rope is just fine. Though I took the liberty of retying it, I wasn't entirely sure of the knot you had in."
"I used every knot I knew.." Griffin notes.
Achilles makes a note to give Griffin some remedial knot tying lessons. "That's the problem... One of them was a slipknot," the reporter explains.
"Exactly!" the White Knight confirms. "I just need one of my test monkeys - or rats, or pigeons - to come back and tell me WHERE the shell is going. I can't very well fire myself right into the court of the Queen of Hearts. Why, she'd have my head! Especially if all my previous shells have been landing there. Oh! Oh dear. I do hope the Queen hasn't been beheading the monkeys. I hadn't thought of that. I simply must equip them with iron gorgets."
The card clears his throat. "Ah-- the White Horse gave us reason to believe you were trapped in this Observatory, sir?"
"Oh yes!" the White Knight confirms. "You see, the trouble is, having everything in the Observatory come to the Parlor did me no good, because I simply couldn't see a thing, and I couldn't very well fire my cannon from there. So, I had to send myself here. But the trouble is that the control cabinet is back in the Parlor, you see, so I couldn't very well call myself back." The White Knight pauses in his explanation to move the monkey barrel to the side, and then pull a lever to summon "Crows."
The wooden platform in the center of the chamber begins to ratchet and clatter, as it lowers itself down slowly.
The card calls out hastily, "Best scurry up here quickly, March! We may have need of your persuasive skills."
"Perhaps a ladder then would be best?" Gryphon suggests.
"Oh, I'd summon one of those," the White Knight explains, "but it wouldn't fit very well in a barrel."
"What about Integra?" March calls back. "I can't leave her alone!"
"Girls love horses, just tell the White Horse to take care of her!" calls Achilles leaning over the side of the Observatory.
"The system is very specifically calibrated to handle barrels," the White Knight continues absently, as he turns more wheels and pulls more levers.
"Can you protect this girl and make sure she dosen't go anywhere?" March asks the horse.
"Hmmm," Griffin ponders. "It would be easiest for me to watch over Integra from atop the landing then, and leave some room here for March and the.. ah.. barrel of crows, I expect?"
The horse tosses his mane and whinnies in a way that looks very affirmative and certain.
"Good. Please don't let her wander off," March asks before he attempts to scale up to the observatory next.
The White Horse then stamps a few more times, and some more hatches pop up in the side of the wagon. Panels fold out, and the wagon transforms into a covered wagon -- or a very, very blocky carriage, depending upon your preference.
All the same, Griffin climbs up through the hatch to watch things, including March's ascent.
Achilles gives March a hand up and brings him up to date quickly. "It seems as if the White Knight trapped himself in the Observatory by sending himself here, when the controls are in the Parlor," he explains. "He began sending rats, then monkeys in these cannonshells to determine where a passenger loaded in it would land, but so far they've failed to return for some reason... Now he's preparing a barrel of crows. I expect an immininent avian exodus."
Outside the observatory, a Hare-shaped shadow scurries past the port-holes.
"Why don't you climb down with us and then build a set of portable controls somehow to carry with you? Or install a a second lift that just goes up and down from here?" Harrison asks once he finally makes it there and has the situation explained.
A mechanical hand pokes into the room, helpfully depositing some chairs for the new guests.
Achille helpfully suggests, "Given how useful the White Horse has proven already, if you gave him wings, he could surely fly you up here, and back down. You might need to install a landing."
The wooden platform returns, with a chorus of "caws." The barrel appears not to have been sealed. There are corn kernels scattered everywhere, and a few crows casually hopping about the platform or sitting up on the rim, pecking at the corn, or just eyeing the strangers warily. "Caw."
The reporter whispers to Harrison, "I've do believe I've just been caw'd."
"Next thing you know, we'll start having debates in here with a Cawcus," March quips.
"A winged horse! Brilliant! Positively brilliant!" the White Knight exclaims. "Why, that would revolutionize carriage transport! And imagine how much it would reduce wear on horseshoes, clouds being so soft and all."
Sticking his head down through the hatch, Griffin caws right back at the crow.
The reporter gives the rabbit an apologetic look. He whispers to March, "I suspect given a choice between the practical and baroque solutions... But at least we can get him out of here by suggesting he can't very well start on the project up here."
"Caw! Caw! Caw!" The crows scatter, fluttering about the interior of the observatory, and several of them flying out the open port-holes. Perhaps there's something about a giant eagle-like head poking into the hatch that set them off. One brave crow stays and continues to work on the corn kernels that the others left behind.
March rubs over his long face.
"Save me some of that corn," Griffin asks next.
"Oh be quiet," March grumbles.
"If you'll step this way, we'll help you down, I'm sure you're eager to get started on this exciting new project," the reporter suggests. Time's a-wasting, and the sooner the White Knight is down, the sooner the White Horse can apply some... horse sense to him.
The White Knight strokes a bar of his mustache. "Ah, yes. Oh! But ... inspiration!" He opens up some drawers and starts pulling out paper, furiously scribbling out designs. Not a one of them looks very likely to work reliably, but he is just getting started, after all. "Now then ... I'll need you to fetch a few supplies for me -- or, ah, better yet, just convey this list to my Steed. He'll fetch everything I need in town. Once we fix him up with wings, he'll be able to fly me down in no time!"
"And oh! Have you heard anything about Queen Alice lately, by chance?" Harrison asks the White Knight. "Or do you know any amazing, secret, ways to turn people from one thing to another?
The White Knight abruptly stops. His mustache looks a little more droopy as his eyes go wide. "Queen Alice?" He gasps.
"Yes?" Harrison answers uncertainly.
Achilles facepalms. We're never getting him out of here, the card thinks to himself. He shoos the crows off, since Griffin may at least get a little corn out of the deal.
"Ahem," the White Knight says, putting on a braver face. "Why, yes. Yes, indeed. I have seen this Queen Alice. But she is not Alice -- not the Alice -- not our Alice, you know. Not ... oh. You do understand, don't you? You aren't here on her behalf, are you?"
"Heavens no! She tried to kill us not too long ago," March admits. "We were hoping you would have information, or be able to help us escape her."
"Given what we've seen of.. others.. in a similar situation.. we imagine she might be a bit.. off," Griffin notes.
"Ah yes," the White Knight says. "It is difficult to explain. There are many things that are difficult to explain, really. This may be hard to believe, but Queen Alice is from the Real World ... and yet she is not. Or, rather, she is ... ah ... how to put it? She is an echo of someone of the Real World, from whence Saint Alice came."
Achilles looks thoughtful. "The picture, Griffin?"
"We knew that, actually, but hey," March thinks. "Indeed? Do tell? How did she get here as a queen now?" he asks.
The Gryphon climbs back down the hatch and removes the group portrait from his coat.
"The became a Queen by reaching the Eighth Square," the White Knight says, far more soberly, "much like any other Queen might, but she is no ordinary Queen of course. Her powers of sorcery far surpass the magicks of Gardening and Command of any Chessman Queen or Card Queen in either realm."
"And she's trying to gather her court!" March claims, "She wants us."
"We have reason to suspect she's manipulating people from the real world, so they cast an 'echo' of themselves into Wonderland," Achilles says gravely. "Somehow, she's setting some kind of magic on them so these echoes will serve her willingly. Once this is done... She kills the real world selves." He gestures toward Griffin's group photograph.
"What would happen if another girl reached the Eighth Square while Alice still reigned?" Griffin asks, trying to ignore the remaining crow.
"Her desire is to rule over all of Wonderland -- the Monarchy of Hearts, the Looking-Glass Lands, and even the lawless islands of the Endless Sea," the White Knight continues. "But not only that. There was a time when I was in between. I and the White Rabbit were snatched up and gathered together. I cannot explain what that was like -- it was a maddening thing -- but I gained insights not meant for me."
Achilles takes notes in reporter's shorthand.
"If ... if another Little Girl were to reach the Eighth Square, it can only be done so after a series of trials, and when she is ready for the crown," the White Knight explains, turning to Griffin. "She must first become an Honorary Chessman, much as the Red Queen introduced the First Alice to the Chessboard Fields and to her place as a Pawn for the White Chessmen. There are other ways to become a Queen -- as there are Card Queens, and Queen Bees and such -- but it is the most likely way for a Little Girl to become one."
"I don't know, Integra as a Queen Bee could be interesting," March muses. "What does that require?"
"Royal jelly," opines Achilles.
"Well, she would have to be a Bee," the White Knight says, "and -- yes! Royal jelly. So you already know about that!"
Achilles admits, "I don't think Griffin would thank us for turning his niece into a bee though, even if she might be a busy bee. And she might wind up as a Bumble Bee! That would be bad."
"She isn't a Bee," Griffin notes. "But should she meet the challenges, what would happen? There can't be two queens, surely?"
"As Alice would have put it," the White Knight explains, "there is power in riddles and rhymes, turns of phrases, puns and names. So it is possible to become a Bee if ... oh ... let's imagine that your name might be Beatrice, and everyone calls you 'Bea.' I have dealt with people from the Real World, and they get notions that you can simply engineer this -- rename someone Beatrice, call her Bea, and be done with it. Or just declare that a Little Girl's name is 'Queenie,' and that will make it so. But that isn't how it works. You must look at what patterns are already there."
"Or," the White Knight admits, "just get incredibly lucky. Sometimes Wonderland just changes things without warning, like the weather. Alice explained to me that things are very different in the Real World."
Achilles theorizes, "If your niece were to become a Queen herself, I much suspect that she would have to contest with Queen Alice for dominance."
"I still think she should try to be a Queen Bee. She could then fly and keep up with Gryphon," March points out.
"In any case," the White Knight says, "there are indeed many Queens in Wonderland. I dare say there are more Queens than Kings. There are Queens of Hearts, Clubs, Diamonds, and Spades, but there is only one who is the Queen of Hearts. The same might be said that there are many White Knights, yet I have been blessed to be the White Knight (and there is one who is 'The Other White Knight')."
"Yes, we have Parliament to cause chaos, and the weather is predictably dreary to compensate," Griffin notes, looking thoughtful. "That is my fear, Achilles - but, it may be the only way to depose the Echo Alice."
"What I am saying," the White Knight says, "is that while it might be possible to become a white Rabbit through Wonderland's ways, you would find it very difficult to become the White Rabbit, if there already is one. The is a very powerful thing indeed, and there's a strong bias toward whomever was there first, and is still about."
"Ah, but the White Rabbit is no more," March notes. He even shows off the watch.
"Ah, but Alice isn't really still about, is she?" Griffin suggests. "She died in the Real World. What's here is her.. reflection."
Achilles frowns. "And what happened to the White Rabbit when his real world self was killed?" he points out.
The White Knight looks to March, and looks as if he's about to say something, but is distracted by Griffin. "The Alice who is here is the Alice as far as Wonderland is concerned -- if I may put it as such. Wonderland is not a person you can reason with -- not the same as me or you, or even Time or Distance or Belief (and even they are very hard indeed to persuade of much of anything). But--"
"He became an agent of Alice, and lost all memory it seemed of his life in the Real World," Griffin answers Ace.
"The White Rabbit? I have not seen hide nor hare of him," the White Knight says. "He might well be alive -- but if so, I hope he is truly our White Rabbit, and not the one whom Queen Alice brought to the realm."
"Ah. Well, the one Queen Alice brought should be gone. We took care of him," March notes.
Achilles adds, "And his picture of his 'Wonderland' self became much more real. Now that he's dead... There's a young lad there." He gestures toward the picture. "I fear it's someone in whom Queen Alice set her hooks when she was working as a teacher."
The White Knight nods solemnly. "I would believe so. That is, I think why I returned to my manor." He looks at the picture. "I know this face. I have seen him in my dreams. I know, however, that he is no more -- not in this world or the other."
"Yes, someone has to continue the role in Alice's play," Griffin says with a nod.
The reporter drives this home. "If you decide that your niece's role in this is to become the new, good Queen, then to make this happen, when she reaches the Eighth Square, she's most likely going to have to face Queen Alice herself... And only one Queen will survive."
"Do you remember anything about him that might hint as to his identity?" March asks fo the Knight.
"Not a very practical solution then, but.. how do we defeat Alice then?" the Gryphon asks. "And.. Sir Knight, can you tell us more about the boy in the photo then?"
"But of all the people for whom Queen Alice will have arranged 'replacements'... It's unlikely that she would have a replacement for herself. She's the keystone of her own plan," Achilles theorizes.
The White Knight continues, though looking at the picture and not to anyone in particular. "This boy was once just a boy of the Real World. He did not have prominent rabbit-like teeth, nor did he have white hair. His last name was 'Wyatt.' It has nothing to do with 'White.' It is a name from the old tongue, tied to war, braveness and hardness. A proud name."
"Was it someone Alice fancied in her youth?" March asks.
"But Queen Alice has a power," the White Knight says. "She has a power to draw people in and to share in her dreams. And those who are brought in are pulled away from the Real World and closer to the place of dreams. Things change about them. People's memories about them shift. His family was no longer remembered as Wyatt, but as White, and this was easier, because there were so few left in his family. His hair changed to white, and no one remembered."
The reporter listens. There's a time for wild theorizing, and there's a time to take in the facts.
"Sometimes he pretended to be me," the White Knight says, staring off into space. "But other times -- most of the time -- he was told to play the White Rabbit. So that is who he became a little more like in your Real World, and everyone came to think he was always that way." He looks back down at the photo. "Only in death -- and with the breaking of Queen Alice's spell over him -- have things returned to the way they were, and the truth shows itself in your portrait here."
"That is the true face of our old friend then?" Griffin asks, ears erect.
"Then that means we are not who we always thought, either," March says. His ears do an amazing imitation of a lop-bunny.
The White Knight finally looks back to the others. "I see now. You are of the Real World, and you were friends of this boy, once upon a time. You even knew him before you were all changed -- but your memory now is only of him once he was changed. That is why you do not recognize his portrait." He looks sadly back to the picture. "The changes in the Real World have not reached you yet, for you are in Wonderland."
"Of course... The White Rabbit and the White Knight look the same because they are the same person," whispers Achilles. "Not twin brothers, not diabolical doppleganger nor illusion."
"Only our names and appearance, likely," Griffin notes to March. "Integra may still be the key, somehow. Alice never knew her, and she has the Apron. I just wonder if we need to get Alice to defeat herself.."
"Now I don't know if I want to leave this place or not. I go back to a stranger, or I stay a rabbit. Both are equally horrifying," March admits to the others. "From where I sit, it seems like Queen Alice has already won, because no matter what we do, we lose."
Achilles frowns. "She altered... people's memories of us? So as to cement us in our roles? My God..." Then he turns to the others. "We have to defeat her, gentlemen. Thanks to those mirror-reflections of ours, we're wanted murderers and hooligans. But once her spell loses its hold, we will be free."