[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=b8860b]Reginald Keystone[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
[img]http://33.media.tumblr.com/76ca11af5771405a055ca9291e9e4b2b/tumblr_nvhilyU39J1qcxymno4_500.gif[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=b8860b][b]Location:[/b][/color] Docks - The Ferry (Main Deck)
[color=b8860b][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A [/center][hr][hr]

	Reginald raised an eyebrow at the young Miss Benaszewski. It was followed by a smile and the shake of his head, both delivered in an amused, casual manner. He had expected a personality like her brother's, being as they were birthed and raised in the exact same set of circumstances. Twins, at that. But he did not immediately take into consideration that their escort, George, had been to war. He had seen some of the worst that humanity could inflict upon one another, and it more than likely changed aspects of him. Perhaps then, Gene would have been a general approximation of Mr. Benaszewski, at least in attitude, before the Great War. All the same, his good-natured head shake was joined by wistful words. [color=b8860b]"I say, George old boy, we are in the company of a most curious group of ladies, possessing the sight and sound of confidence I've not seen from the fairer sex outside of the front line nurses back in the War."[/color] He chortled a little bit at his own recollections before continuing, [color=b8860b]"How refreshing."[/color] 

	Following George up the gangplank and onto the main deck, he found that he very well could have found Lady Munn and her immediate company from a much farther distance merely by listening for a few key words about Ancient Egypt, delivered in a flowing, dulcet accent of High Britannia. All the same, the gentlemanly arts of propriety must be looked after. Manners were the cornerstone of nobility, in his estimation. Or at least they should be. As they came upon the table wherein sat the very women he was describing earlier, he rested one hand upon the hilt of his stately Officers' sabre as to maneuver the scabbard away from the press of bodies behind him, and addressed the table. [color=b8860b]"Ladies, it does an old man's heart good to see the lot of us finally embarking upon our journey, and as one. As it happens, I've some time to kill, so to speak, until my belongings are delivered to my stateroom and I receive a final update from my Corporal. Might I join you?"[/color] 

[hr][hr][center][h1][i][b][color=bdb76b]Haring Reddish[/color][/b][/i][/h1]
[img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/2ea491d2-5414-4af6-8fc2-9832160a5d6a.jpg[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=darkkhaki][b]Location:[/b][/color] Docks - The Ferry (Cargo, Below Decks)
[color=bdb76b][b]Skills:[/b][/color] N/A [/center][hr][hr]

	Meanwhile, below decks, the final few pallets with the Royal Army and Royal Air Corps seal inscribed upon them had made their way onto the boat. The Corporal was handling the last bit of business, signing appropriate papers with the stevedores and animal handlers to ensure the proper care and provisioning for their animals. He paid special attention to two such creatures; both Arabian horses bred for the purpose of swiftly carrying a trained rider through the scorching desert. One was obviously his, by the way he fussed over it, while the other bore the saddle and tack of a ranking British Officer, ergo more than likely the Lord Major's. 

	The Corporal made fully sure that personal baggage was set upon a short, wheeled cart by the door, each piece with a paper tag attached with loose twine. The tag had all of the pertinent information of its owner, name, room number, etc., and they were stacked neatly, with Reginald's having easiest access. Silently, his eyes darted over the goods at his party's disposal: Marching gear, camp supplies, foodstuffs of various, mostly nonperishable sources (including some cans of peaches he was eager to get into later on), a few cases of "luxury goods", which likely meant fancy eats and lots of booze, though he had slipped a few personal items in that the women might appreciate; supplies for hygiene and a small vertical tent-like structure commonly used as a camp shower, provided water supplies could be maintained. There was tobacco and mess kits, comfortable nighttime clothing, and the various sundries that separated this trip from a fully military expedition. So much as he respected the Lord Major, he was ever the old soldier. 

	Maybe they would have to hire on more camels or procure a truck. He could drive a truck, no problem. So long as they could find something to navigate the rocks and dunes of the upper Sahara, life was peachy. Unfortunately, while his mind was playing through the ins and outs of civilian marching logistics, it seemed to scarcely register with him that the remainder of the British soldiery had left Cargo by means of the loading ramp and the doors were being slowly moved shut, with him still inside. The barest look of alarm crossed his face and he ran, long-limbed and spasticly, toward the closing aperture. So close was he to escape, so near to breaking back out into the dying light of the day, when he tripped over his own boots and flopped bonelessly onto the floor. 

	As he was able to pick himself back up, the doorway remaining was already too slender for even him to fit through. Instead, with his last few seconds he addressed the soldiers and airmen outside, all clamoring for him to get a move on. [color=bdb76b]"Oh damn, damn, and [i]blast it all[/i], how could I have been so clumsy? Listen! I'm in this for the long haul now! Use schedule "B" for the enlisted men until I return, yes? Yes! We'll have it sorted by landfall!"[/color]  

	[color=bdb76b]"Just remember, whatever you do, [i]under no circumstances whatsoever[/i], upon pain of eminent and horrifying demise, for the love of God Almighty and every saint at His disposal, [i]do not[/i]..."[/color] CLICK. Doors came together and  sealed audibly, ensuring that his last instruction would go unfinished. The Corporal's demeanor changed suddenly. He seemed to relax somewhat, and nodded at one of the porters to the side of the interior doors. Suppressing a series of laughs in a way that seemed a little painful, he produced his wallet and slipped three bills into the porter's waiting hand. [color=bdb76b]"Pleasure doing business, sir. My affairs handled? Thank you so much."[/color] His voice contained an element of controlled calm it didn't seem to earlier. 

	Just a hint of swagger showed in his walk as he grabbed his rucksack and slung it over his shoulder. His voice returned to its earlier, more jovial militant tones as he said, [color=bdb76b]"If you'll be kind enough to excuse me, I've got to go find the Lord Major. You've got the bags, yes? Oh thank you, sir!"[/color] Exiting Cargo and on his way up from below decks, the Corporal let out his trademark exclamation, a thing which seemed to express his purposes succinctly. 

	[color=bdb76b]"Lord [i][b]MAJOR!!![/b][/i]"[/color] 

	From above decks, Reginald could have sworn he heard something familiar. Familiar, and unsettling. He shook off the feeling. It just couldn't be. 

	...right?