World War II - Stormwarden Issue #1

"General? Sir?" asked Slobotham, General Wynns long time friend and assistant. The retired former sergeant major looked on his friend lying in bed with concern and relief. He thought the General had died, and had had to be restrained from throttling the young soldier whom had been last with the General when the truth had come out as to why he was in his condition. That said, none of the military doctors had been able to ascertain the retired Generals' ailment. Certainly not a heart attack, because he was in superb physical condition!

Wynn opened his eyes. He was reminded of the time the bloody Zulus had stuck him with a spear. Mad bastards with eyes like the devil, but by god they could fight! It was hard not to admire an enemy for whom retreat or surrender wasn't an option. Kill, or be killed. He looked about. He was in a private room at the Queen Alexandras Military Hospital, Millbank.

Slobotham handed his old friend and commanding officer a stiff drink. The Doctors had confiscated two of the bottles the Sgt. Major had brought in, and he was thankful for the third he'd slipped past them, the disapproving nurse lighting up like a beacon when he slipped her a fiver after she smuggled it in up her skirt. A lot of money, but worth it to see colour come back to the Generals' cheeks.

"Still with us then Sir?" Slobotham asked, grinning as the older man reached for the drink. Though in his 60s, the man was still formidable, a bear of a fellow, and one with the 'look of eagles'. A soldier born, having battled in and scraped through just about every major conflict in the last forty years, it looked like old age had done the man in when bullets, spears, rocks, knives, throttling and poison had all failed.

Wynn smiled gently. Something was ... different about him. Not wrong, but different. "Bloody awful weather we've been having sir, eh?" said Slobotham, pulling back the curtains. "Well I'll be..." he whistled. All about the Hospital black clouds boiled and rain fell, typical for the time of year. All that is, except on the hospital itself. A break in the clouds allowed unbroken sunlight to shine down on the building and grounds, casting a beautiful rainbow for others to see for miles. "Even the weathers' glad you're back sir. Not before time! General Forbes has been a right royal pain in the jacksie, I can tell you! Been rattling on about the sightings of some Nazi 'Übermensch' whatever they are. Whilst you've been asleep sir the country's been hard at work, what with soldiers training and men lining up in the streets to fight for their country! Makes you proud to be British sir, it does I tell ya."

Wynn glanced at the drink. Served in a plain teacup, he got the sudden thought that a storm was coming, and it would be rather more than one that could be contained in said cup...

OOC Weather Control Grade 3 is your power. As it's your only power, and of the highest rank, expect it's effects to be rather more far reaching than normal, but you'll have to be inventive to use it to attack AND defend - the General isn't bulletproof! How much of a part Wynn plays is up to you - Stormwarden can take control, be a background voice, whatever you want it to be.

“Thank you, sarn’t.” Clive smiled as he held the cup up to his lips. For a second it was if. As if there had been a tiny, tiny cloud above it. He sipped, feeling the chilled yet burning malt making its way down to his stomach. “Chilled to perfection. Well done man!”

“Thank you sir.” Slobotham replied, although he was somewhat puzzled. The bottle had been resting under the blankets. Personally he thought it a tad warm. Ah well.

“Right then.” The General stretched and then reached up and bent down to touch his toes, bringing his body up and then doing a number of the standard army exercises. Good, he was fit and healthy. “Ha! Haven’t felt this fit in years, Especially considering the beating I just too…” He halted suddenly, blinking in confusion. For a second he remembered a fight. A memory of fighting for hours, rushing against a deadline, holding his position and finally falling. The buildings were ruins around him. He saw outlines as if he stood above things but most intriguing of all he saw Comrades he didn’t know.

“Beating, sir? Are you quite all right?” Slobotham asked him concerned and worried.

Clive shook his head rapidly. “Fine, fine, Slobotham. A ghost of a memory. From the war I think.”

His batman nodded his head. “’ardly any surprise sir. Must be like that time at Soggies* when that bomb ‘it yer.

“Something like that, yes. I don’t suppose you have the papers there, at all?”

“’Ere we are, General. Mentions patrol activity over on the Belgies border an Leaflet Raids on Berlin itself. You’d think they could find som’at a bit better to drop on those ‘Un’s!” Slobotham hesitated. “General Forbes, e’ wanted to know when you’d be good enough to be back at work Sir.”

General Wynn looked out of the window at the weather. Weather. That was the key, storms would keep the Luftwaffe at bay, but stop the RAF from patrolling. No all-weather aircraft, no jets, no smart bombs or cruise missiles. No What!!!! Thoughts kept popping into his head. Things that he didn’t understand. Concepts that were as clear as daylight were just popping into his head – and then fading into vaque shadows. Weather. What on Gods Earth was this constant thought of his about weather. Another thought, a whisper. Storm. He shook his head as Slobotham put out his clothes.

“Right then. Lets get out of here. Unless you have anything to the contrary, I think the Citadel should be the first port of call for us. Some kind of Jerry Superman, eh?”


* Soignies

Stormwarden

The pair made their way to the car park and within minutes were motoring their way through the streets. Everywhere one looked, evidence of the conflict soon to come to British shores was in sight. Sandbags were hefted from the back of lorries, off duty soldiers smoked and laughed with each other, or Nurses heading back to the hospital. Signs on windows declared rationing was in effect. People had a worried look, despite nervous smiles.

Stopping at the gates for 'The Citadel' a stately home converted into an intelligence and strategy centre for bigwigs in the army, the soldiers on guard checked papers and waved them past. Officers that passed by as the pair crunched on gravel saluted, and the two moved into the hallways of the place. A grand stately home, it was ornately furnished and looked, for all the world, like a home of 'old money set'. Stepping into a room where a young blonde sat at a desk typing away, she looked up and grinned. "Good to see you both sirs. We feared the worst when..."

Slobotham 'Harrumphed'! "Sir? Young lady, I'll ask you to mind your manners! I'm an enlisted man, not an Eton layabout like those yobs who..." Despite the cheeky grin and twinkle in his eye, Slobotham glanced at his boss, then coughed "Ah yes,good to see you too Madelyne. Carry on." She grinned, a smile that lit the room up, and pressed a button under the desk. On the far wall a bookcase clicked open and the pair walked in, down ill lit stairs and into a corridor where they were checked by a pair of guards before being waved on.

=========

Forbes pushed the glasses back up his nose, sighing. Tapping the pipe out he looked again at the stack of pictures on his desk. Most were blurred, out of focus, no cause for alarm or concern. One grabbed his full attention. A knock at the door and a soldier opening it admitted his old friend, General (ret.) Wynn. "Wynny" said Forbes, moving round the table to pump his old friends hand, and regardless of protocol, hug the man he'd known for 30 years, serving under him and in turn, coming to view him as mentor, a father figure even. He nodded to Slobotham then turned, gesturing for a seat to be taken by each and moving to the drinks cabinet in the spacious but still somehow claustrophobic underground office.

"Good to see you're still with us. Every time I visited, I could have sworn it bloody rained, despite that the sky was blue minutes before! Damned weather. I'm going to get straight to it old friend. I want your opinion on that."

He pushed a photo over and handed a drink to Slobotham, then Wynn.



"Taken by one of our top spies, posing as a Luftwaffe pilot. Not a man given to flights of fancy or ... heh, the choice of words was unintentional. Let's just say, he is a very reliable source. And if that..." he says, tapping a finger on the photo "...turns out to be something the Nazis could use against us, then god help us all Gentlemen. I suppose there's no need to mention it is eyes only, and not to be mentioned outside of these walls? If word gets out, and it's hard to imagine that it won't there'll be panic in the streets!"

Admin wrote:Stormwarden

"Taken by one of our top spies, posing as a Luftwaffe pilot. Not a man given to flights of fancy or ... heh, the choice of words was unintentional. Let's just say, he is a very reliable source. And if that..." he says, tapping a finger on the photo "...turns out to be something the Nazis could use against us, then god help us all Gentlemen. I suppose there's no need to mention it is eyes only, and not to be mentioned outside of these walls? If word gets out, and it's hard to imagine that it won't there'll be panic in the streets!"

Clive picked the photograph. It was pretty low grade materiel but even so. He reached over and picked up the magnifying class, staring intently at the photograph. Lowering it slowly, he sat back in his chair and picked up the glass of whiskey instead. Slowly and gloomily he focused off into the middle distance. "You know. When I became an officer cadet there were still some militia units using muzzle loaders? In my childhood I talked to men who had fought in the American Civil War who had started out using smooth bores. They remembered the way the war changed, the way the weapons changed, the tactics changed. From a gentlemans war to horrors they found so hard to talk about. I know that feeling too well. As a child, locomotives were the top of technology! Then the Dreadnaught. We switched from the martini to the Lee Metford to the Lee Enfield. Machine guns and tanks. Then Aircraft. I have seen so much, but this..." he signed as he tapped the photograph.

"Bob." he hesitated. "Bob, if this is for real. If its not just a feint to expose one of our agents then I can only hope to god that its natural."

Clive looked at his superior and his batman. A puzzled frown had crossed the Generals face, joined a few seconds later by a similar one on the Sarn't Majors face. Clive carried on impatiently. "Look. One man capable of flight. Its an issue but doesn't really give a tactical advantage. Hells Bells, man, maybe he's wearing some kind of jet-pack. If he can fly by himself, and its a natural talent, then I'm not worried. Its if its a imposed talent that I'm worried. Because if they can do this to one man, the chances are they can do it to another. And if they can make him fly, can they make him do other things. Again, a whole squadron of flying men is not an issue. A whole squadron of flying men who could do the other sorts of things you see in American comic books, well then thats not only serious, its a menace perhaps beyond our ability to deal with at the moment."

"You want reccomendations?" he asked of his superior. A studied moment then a sharp nod. "If they have people that can do that, then theres a dam' good chance that we have them too. We need to find them, we need to train them. We know Hitlers heavily into this superstitious mumbo-jumbo. What if its not, my old friend. Perhaps we need to find witches and artifacts ourselves."

The serious look on the faces across from him was too gloomy for him. "Odd things happening. We need to look for coincidences, oddities, people who do things they shouldn't be capable of. ha! Maybe we can find out if theres truth behind Excalibur, Arthurs sleeping knights, the holy grail, the spear of longinus or the one weilded by Wot.." A flash, a high arching roof, smoke, figures with nazi crosses on them. He saw it all as if he were fighting them, using the air to choke them. "...an." He wobbled slightly and held up a hand. "Ha. Too giddy, maybe, but worth pursuing."

Stormwarden

"Steady on old fella" said the General, leaning over to put a hand on his friends shoulder to steady him. "We have top people on it. The Yanks have said that they too have an idea that it's legit, but that hasn't prompted bloody Roosevelt to get off his behind - figuratively speaking - and get in the war yet! Word is that they'll be doing their bit to help with guns and bombs, planes and tanks, but what if these ... these flying men, are the tip of the iceberg? Those kids comic books from a couple of years ago, with the fellow in fancy tights tossing cars around - if they have people like that, well, in that case we're in real trouble."

'Listen to them. Weak fools. If they only knew the power you can command!' said a voice inside Wynns head. He glanced around. the other two looked to have not noticed it. 'But you are well versed in the price of such power Guy Saint Ives. I wonder... Perhaps some compromise can be reached? How would you like your own army of superhumans?'

Admin wrote:Stormwarden

'Listen to them. Weak fools. If they only knew the power you can command!' said a voice inside Wynns head. He glanced around. the other two looked to have not noticed it. 'But you are well versed in the price of such power Guy Saint Ives. I wonder... Perhaps some compromise can be reached? How would you like your own army of superhumans?'

Guy St Ives. He was Guy. He was Clive Wynn! More memories slid in. He remembered fighting Zulus but he also remembered..Space! Something about betrayal. And the voice was...temptation. "Our own army of Superheroes" remarked Clive/Guy slowly aloud. "That would be nice. If the temptation didn't get the better of them, that is."

Stormwarden

"Ha! Wouldn't that be the thing. It's all pie in the sky though. I don't know where the Nazis got their 'ubermensch' from but we don't have our own supply. If we did, well... where the blazes are they? War was declared weeks ago, the Germans have attacked Poland on some pretence of retaliation, though I don't believe it for a moment, and the world's going to hell in a handbasket! Even the Russians are staying out of the fight! It's down to us and the French!" said the General waving his pipe around in exasperation. "The Prime ministers more or less shot himself in the foot and we're the laughing stock of the world what with Hitler signing those treaties and the Nazis going ahead and doing what they like anyway! About the only thing he's done right is declare war on the bounders, but this? What in gods name are we to do?"

'Recruit your own army of superhumans. You will be a selector for a special division of men and women. They will be the Vanguard of the Allied forces. Just remember, for this favour I do you, I will want one in return...' said the inner voice. inside, Guy shuddered at the hidden menace the voice carried. What price would need be paid should the Dark Power deliver on its promise to deliver Britains own superhuman army?

General Clive Wynn

"Well.." Clive swallowed. "It might be that I've been offered a leg up on all of this." He thought hard, trying to put things together somehow. "That little attack of mine might...just have been something else entirely. Some." he thought, putting feelings to words was tricky. "THING. Yes. Thing." he continued slowly. "Wants to show me how to face the hun's advantage down. But it wants a favour in return. Something it bally well is not going to tell me about at this moment." He brought up his head and looked his superior straight in the eye. "I don't know and can't tell you what this all means just yet, Sir. I get feelings like I've never known before, memories of things that haven't happened. More flashes really than true memories, but from a perspective that it is me doing it."

He stared down at the glass and then tossed it straight back. He stood up and looked at the wall map. "In my minds eye I can see a...movie. Our forces being outflanked and sent back to the sea. To my mind this happened a long time ago, as if it were something that happened before my birth. And yet that is impossible. Other glimpses of a life that may be. And absolutely horrible ones of how it might be. If we don't do this.

"And yet, and yet I am unsure if I can trust the voice that now speaks to me." He raised a hand as he saw looks of concern and disbelief on his two old friends. "Oh, come off it!" he burst out. "I am not hearing the voice of god, for gods sake! I am neither mad or going Senile. You need evidence and that is where this all falls downnn." He suddenly realised that maybe he could do something. His mind told him what to do. He reached over and smiled at the Seargent Major and picked up the glass out of his hand. "A storm in a teacup. As a subaltan I always wanted to know where that expression came from. I think that this one is trickier though, requires more control. Ice?" he asked. He concentrated, forming the image of a tiny, tiny cloud, no more than a foot across, and a blizzard falling out of the cloud and into the Sergeants glass.

General Clive Wynn

General Forbes' pipe clattered onto the desk, falling from nerveless lips. "Did... did you just see that?" he spluttered, staring at the cloud boiling and churning over the desk, supplying snow, of all things, to cool down a drink?

Slobotham mumbled "Better give me that bloody bottle... make sure I haven't supped the stuff already..."

Forbes look his old mentor in the eye "Clive... what in the deuce are you doing? How are you doing it? That is you, isn't it Clive...?" he started to rise, and Slobotham half rose "General, you're not suggesting... I've known this man most of my adult life, and come to think of it, so have you sir!" said the sergeant major.

Forbes fumbled at his desk drawer to pull a revolver and point it at Wynn! "What have you done with Clive Wynn!" he snarled. "I warn you, if he's harmed, I'll blow your bloody head off Nazi!"

Slobotham gaped, standing up then moving back. "You mean.. you think... Nazis have replaced old Wynny?" he was aghast, like his world was falling apart!

General Clive Wynn

Looking at the gun in front of him, Clive was stumped for a moment, but only a moment. "Don't be a blasted idiot, Bob. Put that damned thing away before you do yourself an injury." He reached over and took the decanter again and splashed some more malt into his own glass.

"And no, I'm no Nazi. I don't beleive that one type of man is any better than another kind. And I've seen, fought against and fought alongside, ALL types. No mans better than any other." He turned to them, his eyes burning bright. "I will not see extermination camps and ghetto's in this country! Damn me, I'll do everything I need to, to stop them. A small blizzard, inside." He shook his head slowly. "Not really much of anything really, is it? I wish I could do the things Hitler's made available to his men. Flight, strengh enough to rip tanks apart. Thats what we'll be facing now you know. Perhaps things even far more horrible than that too."

"I wish I knew more about why this is happening. These almost memories, they make me think something far larger, far more than just this time and place is involved." He laughed suddenly. "Do you know what one of the most persistant is?" he queried. "Its stonehenge. Not as you see it when you get off the thruppenny bus ride, but as it once must have been, all the stones placed correctly, heads on and everything. This is ...a strange thought."

General Clive Wynn

Forbes glanced at Slobotham, and lowered the gun. "Alright, Clive, I'll put up with your babble and nonsense for the moment if you answer me one question... Let's see. At... Hetties' 50th birthday party a couple of years ago, who made an arse of themselves when he got drunk and cornered a mouthy Colonel. Who was the Colonel, and who put the bounder in his place, albeit at the cost of causing a scene at my wife's party?"

Wynn didn't even take a second to think on it, simply replying "It was that idiot Cockshott, and had I been within earshot it would have been me delivering the right hook. As it was, it was Slobbie here defending the honour of the regiment, and yours, if I recall, so don't get your bloody knickers in a twist Bob!"

Slobotham blushed, coughing nervously then turning to the General "I have no doubts sir. You?"

Forbes grinned, and was about to answer when there was a knock at the door. "Call for you sir, the Brigadier." said an officer poking his head round the corner. "Put it in here" replied the General.

Wynn poured himself another drink as Slobotham tired to digest all that his old friend and commanding officer had said and done whilst the General had a mostly one sided conversation with the man on the other end of the phone. Finally, the General put the phone down. "Right lads. You two are privy to just about everything I know, and I think the Spooks - the Strange Sciences Section - will want to meet you Wynny. There's something you need to see. I think we have our first..." he looked at Wynn "Possibly second, 'ubermensch' "

OOC My next post will be a joint post as you meet Lt. Allard - aka Putty. Rather than hijack each others threads I might put a 'cross over issue' up as I like the way the individual games are going.