Feyfalken: The Lost Expedition

Discussion in 'Role Play' started by AnonyMouse, May 6, 2014.

  1. Keitsumah

    Keitsumah The Dream-Walker Contributor

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    "And make sure the attacker isn't harmed. Lock him in the brig and keep him on suicide watch. I need to have a few words with him later."

    Vladimir nodded, but remained tense even as he strode out to follow the others to the brig. They put him in a small cell, with nothing inside so as to prevent the man from trying to choke, hang, or kill himself using objects. As for bashing his head against the wall, the two guards he posted outside would keep an eye on him. Vlad had them check him over for any other tools that could be used as weapons, and all the while the man continued babbling.

    "I failed. I failed. The song won't stop! The water made me do it. It was the water! Make it stop!" the man clutched at his head and curled up in a ball, shivering as he continued to say the same thing over and over again.

    Vlad's gaze narrowed. The only water and song that would come together in his mind was a Siren, and the "song" thing only made it stronger. But they were just legends, and even if Sirens were real they were in the middle of a flipping desert!

    One of the guards gave him a look, and Vlad couldn't help but pity the two of them. it wasn't often that they had to deal with something like an insanity case.

    "Knock him out if he gets too wild. The last thing I need is for this to spread, so don't let anyone else near here for the time being." he said, then headed for his rooms.

    Half an hour later he had finished showering and was finally dressed in new clothes. Vladimir couldn't help feeling mortified that he'd had to go shirtless until now. But that meeting had been necessary.

    Speaking of which, I should go see Christoph and Tessa. Dorian may be at the med bay already, so we can discuss who her bodyguard will be there. Embarrassment pricked him. And I may need to ask Sabre if I'm not forcing this position on him. The last thing I need is someone who doubts their competence. But he's done well until now.

    However, as soon as he stepped toward the door a wave of exhaustion hit him. The stress from the ghoul attack, the heat, and the meeting all swamped him in that instant, and he nearly buckled to the floor.

    He gripped the side of the bed and pushed himself up onto it, taking deep breaths. He needed to keep going. Now was not the time to dissapear for who knows how many hours. And Vlad suspected if he allowed himself to fall asleep, he might not wake up for a day or more.

    Come on. Get up. he told himself, and after he forced himself to stand blinked in surprise.

    He didn't feel tired anymore. It was as if he had slept for a full twenty four hours in an instant. How did that happen? he wondered, but decided he should get going rather than think too much about it.

    Vlad's boots clanked against the steel floor as he headed for the infirmary, the blue stone pinned to his chest glinting in the light.
     
  2. BrandonrockstheAM

    BrandonrockstheAM Active Member

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    Morgan leaned over the railing, watching the events. Una sat next to him. She was one of his waiters, and they had both been working when the sounds of alarm and the starting of the engine alerted them that something had happened. The chaos had unnerved him, and he tapped his fingers gently on the steel. The Captain must have seen something terrible there to cause them to want to leave so soon. He wondered if it would be polite or even realistic to invite the whole crew to a feast. Tables could easily be moved, and the kitchen was close enough to make it realistic. People would smile and lick their lips as the aromas of freshly-cooked food wafted by them. He could even brew some of the beer his father so loved for him to make.

    Una turned to him, with a curious look on her face.

    "What are you thinking about?"

    "How does a grand feast sound to you?"

    She raised her eyebrows. "All for me? How sweet… but… what about the underclassmen?”

    Morgan raised his eyebrows. “Underclassmen?”

    "You know, the coal-shovelers. The engineers. Or even the helmsmen and women. They won’t be able to just take a day off. I feel sorry for the people down there shoveling the coal all day, without a day's respite or even a decent, tasty meal. Part of me wishes that the captain and his mistress spend the whole rest of the trip shoveling in that hellhole while we drive the ship."

    He didn't say anything.

    Una clicked her teeth. "But then... there's you. You're so kind and fun, you spend all of your time with us, and you work so hard for so little appreciation. People say that you're crazy, what with your hugs and your attitude, yet you're still high-class. Maybe there's other high-class men like you on this ship, but I don't see them. Sure, maybe the captain isn't the most cruel person, but he doesn't do much of the real work. I think that the laborers deserve something special all to themselves."

    "Are you suggesting we host a feast for just the lower-class laborers?"

    Una looked at him, smirking. "Oh, and you're intelligent too."

    "I have my moments. I’ll consider the idea.”

    "Perfect."

    Morgan looked back at the scene of chaos. "Later. I’ll bring the topic of a feast for all of those that can up with Integra. See if she approves.”

    Una smiled lightly, kissing him on the cheek. “Of course.”

    She walked away. Una didn’t seem to know her superiors very well. Dorian wasn’t the type to order people around out of a sense of power, and Integra didn’t seem that way either. Una didn’t realize everyone had a part. Maybe some parts were heavier than others, but that was life. His father and mother had managed to come up with a rather nice couplet of advice for him, and he recalled it.

    Whether wearing a robe of gold or dirt,
    Everyone is someone worthy of worth.
     
    Love to Write and Master Attano like this.
  3. AnonyMouse

    AnonyMouse Contributor Contributor

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    Dorian left the crime scene a few minutes after Vlad, but not before giving final instructions to the two officers posted outside of the door, and allowing one of them to write down his recollection of the events, however meager. After he left, they gathered the wrench and any other pertinent evidence. It seemed like a pretty straightforward case of assault, but Dorian wasn't taking any chances. Tessa was a close friend; he needed hard facts, that way no one could accuse him of bias when he dropped the hammer on this guy.

    He roamed the halls in a mind daze for a minute or so. He intended to head to the bridge and report the new destination to the helmsman but, frankly, they were already headed due east. It could wait. He thought about going to medical and... no, not yet. Dorian couldn't bring himself to see her. Not now.

    He was standing in the hall when he thought of Sabre. It was not a pleasant thought. Even though he hadn't said a word, the man was practically seething during the debriefing. I bet he's either in the sparring room, punching a hole in something, or in his quarters, scribbling 'redrum' on the mirror while whispering my name, Dorian thought.

    With a sigh, he turned down a nearby hall. His dorm's a lot closer than the sparring room, the captain thought as he knocked on Sabre's door. "Christoph, it's your favorite captain," Dorian said with a smile. "Might we have a word?"

    Christoph suppressed a groan as the captain announced himself at the door. Just as he'd finally managed to calm himself down and relax the man had to stick his nose back into things. The announcement was both infuriating but at the same time reassuring, a strange combination to be sure. The poor attempt at a joke suggested the man wasn't here to have it out with him, well at least not for his egos sake, the man might still want to but he was assuming it would be more professional than that.

    It was ironic really, it was Dorian's personality that had made him warm to the man at the start of the journey and yet it was the very same thing now that ground on him. He really needed to lighten up again, but how exactly did one do that when there were no extreme sports to get involved with and he didn't trust himself to touch alcohol again. He pulled a casual shirt on and quickly buttoned it mostly up before opening the door. It was tempting to pretend he wasn't in but realistically this conversation could be good for them. Assuming Dorian wasn't about to formally decline his new position assigned by Vlad it was essential that he reconciled with the man.

    He opened the door but didn't waste time with social etiquette and a forced smile. Dorian wouldn't be here if he expected him to be just fine. Still he was more amiable than at the meeting, he wasn't clenching and unclenching his fists for one. Although that could have something to do with the tightness setting into them after his outburst of pummeling the walls after their pipes conversation. If it wouldn't have come across as an affront to the captains authority it would of been a lot simpler if he had just skipped the whole meeting.

    "A word is probably for the best. Come in." He gestured to a seat at the small desk in the room and sat himself down on the lower bunk waiting for Dorian to bring up whatever it was he wanted to say. His hand strayed to the piece of shrapnel he had dangling on a cord round his neck, in his haste he had failed to tuck it away like he usually did. He ran his thumb down it before letting it go and meeting the captain’s gaze.

    He wasn't quite sure why he opened his mouth or quite why the words came out but they did anyway. Strange how a piece of shrapnel could change what he said. "I apologize captain. I'm not always a people person..." That wasn't how he should word it, bugger. "That is to say I sometimes have trouble reigning in my emotions and as I'm sure you noticed you may have hit a nerve with me."

    Dorian didn’t plan on taking a seat, even though a chair was offered. It seemed too formal and he hated anything formal. But when Christoph took a seat, well, he pretty much had to, otherwise he’d be standing there, talking down to the man and, after what had happened today, that just didn’t seem right. Dorian sat down too, so they could be equals… or something like that… maybe he was overthinking this.

    “Hmmm… no… I can’t accept that,” Dorian said with a slow shake of his head. “I mean, I came all this way to apologize and there you go, being the bigger man and doing it first. Worse, you didn’t even bother to tell me what you’re apologizing for. Being grumpy at a staff meeting? Compared to Vladimir, you were a paragon of stoicism… which is more than I can say for myself."

    The captain ran a hand through his messy hair as he thought over what to say. “I may have overreacted earlier… which is odd because I’m usually the one guilty of underreacting. As you’ve probably noticed, I prefer a hands-off approach when dealing with my subordinates. I trust the competence of everyone on this vessel and trust that they know how to do their jobs and will do them. I guess when I saw that freedom being wantonly taken away by someone I felt didn’t have the authority to do so, it --to borrow your phrasing-- ‘hit a nerve.’

    "It seemed as if the security team were about the only people on this ship you weren't ordering around and micromanaging," Dorian said in a sigh. "Despite what Valdimir seems to think, crises do not elevate the head of security above the captain. Instead, it works the other way around; I have the authority to override him, if I see fit. The both of you seem rather apt to forget I wasn't born yesterday; I have more experience than the two of you put together and the Emperor didn't just flip a coin when he appointed me to this position. What's it going to take to make you see that?"

    It probably had something to do with the fact that Christoph didn't quite know why he was apologizing, especially since he'd spent so much time waiting to berate the man. Still he had accidentally disarmed the man by catching him off guard with the apology.

    Perhaps he should have taken the captains first omission of guilt but instead he opted for the chance to hammer home Vlad's point, to avoid it been looked over. "I'm afraid I wasn't as reserved as you think, Vlad merely beat me to the point and I thought it best not to challenge you more in front of the rest of the crew. Landing before we gave the signal was reckless and unnecessary when we aren't operating on a time constraint. It defeated the very point of us using our wing suits to get out and scout the area before you endangered the rest of the crew. Wing suits come with risks themselves even if we hadn't run into what we did. I don't know if you received a briefing of what happened down there but Vlad received most of his injuries from a poor landing. The security team understood the risks when we took the job sir but don't make us take them when your going to go ahead and land without us scouting and having a chance to report back first. Just because none of the other crew got killed it doesn't mean it could have gone very differently." Christoph surprised himself with how much composure he handled his points with. He avoided anger slipping into his tone but he didn't feel he came across like he was lecturing to much either. Although that probably didn't alter how the statement would be received.

    "I admit I may have overstepped my role but I think your underplaying our roles and the situation. If no one else steps in I will. I didn't see you stop me on the ground and I didn't see any direction when we boarded so I acted accordingly. I don't know what you know about me and I can't admit to knowing enough to vouch for Vlad but just because I'm a security guard on a ship that has seen little action until now that doesn't mean that is what I've done in the past and that I'm not qualified to handle a crisis. We all have our own reasons for being on this ship now and I can tell you that Vlad and I aren't here to usurp your authority. We acted in the interests of others safety or in my case under orders from those that I assumed were given their positions due to their experience. When the head of medical tells me that the ship needs to be quarantined I'm not qualified to challenge that position. I'm afraid that when I find myself quarantined to the medical bay and my only tool is to use the acoustic pipes for communication, then yes things aren't going to be as perfect as you would like them to be but I'm afraid that factor is out of my control."

    "You believe that you were given your position for a reason but I'm pretty confident that a lot of thought also went into the appointment of your head of medical and head of security. They have experience in their fields and when they are disregarded on the spot with little explanation or anger your going to have to expect a loss of faith or some anger in return." It was time to stop, far too many words and they were drifting on to the verge of an argument now, best to let Dorian get a word in.
     
  4. Mike Nemesis

    Mike Nemesis Active Member

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    Dorian slowly nodded to each point, letting Christoph get it all off his chest. He found it surprisingly easy to listen to the man’s grievances without getting angry. After all, most of it wasn’t anything Vladimir hadn’t said already, in some form or another.

    “Fair enough,” Dorian said with a shrug. “I can accept that. Most of it, anyway. I don’t think Albion’s inability to handle a wingsuit is my fault but, sure, let’s toss that in, too. I also think it’s a little ironic that the man who allegedly zinged into the hangar on launch day is lecturing me on the dangers of wingsuit usage but, sure, let’s throw that in, too.” He grinned. “They were only rumors, after all. We can’t go around believing every rumor we hear, can we?”

    He had also heard rumors that Sabre smelled of alcohol as he boarded the ship that day. But, again, Dorian didn’t like to lend an ear to such things. Why didn’t the gossipers ever have anything nice to say? Oh, wait, that wasn’t entirely true. There were more than a few rumors swirling around that Dorian was sleeping with the vice captain. That’s a compliment, right? He thought. Well, maybe not from her perspective.

    “Anyway, I already explained to Dr. Kane --twice-- why I rejected his proposition,” Dorian said after a long pause. “I even gave him a chance to change my mind, which is a lot more than most captains would do in the midst of a crisis. I’m yet to see any evidence of impending infection worthy of quarantine, even now, nearly four hours after the fact. Or are we going to make a habit of quarantining anyone who ever leaves the ship, as if just touching the ground is a threat to our health?” He thought for a moment. “Actually, that might be an idea worth discussing with Jonathon.”

    The psychological effect of a quarantine would be significantly lessened if it became part of the standard procedures, rather than something done in emergencies. But, before any decision was made, Dorian wanted to go over the details with the doctor; there had to be clear guidelines in place for when to end the quarantine of an individual. Holding someone indefinitely, while endlessly running tests in search of an unidentifiable ‘invader’ simply wouldn’t do. Not that he thought Jonathan would do that.

    “If you’ve nothing more to add, I should probably get back to work,” Dorian said as he stood, as if about to leave, but loitered for a moment. “But, before I go, there is one thing I’ve always wanted to say, but never had the heart… or perhaps having a heart is what kept me from saying this.” He paused. “We’re in the Sands of Desolation, Christophe. We’re in a place that no man has ever returned from alive. Not even one. Every person, from the captain to the cook, joined this expedition with full knowledge that death could come swiftly, unexpectedly, and in ways that --to put it eloquently-- make no fucking sense. There is no such thing as ‘I didn’t sign up for this.’ I’m not saying we should throw caution to the wind. All I’m saying is, there is no such thing as ‘safe’ here. As a member of the security team, you are charged with the task of removing any illusions of safety from your mind while constantly reinforcing them in everyone else's. Are you ready to do that... or are you still foolish enough to think you can save everyone when water turns to fire and the dead walk and nothing makes sense anymore?”

    It was a waste of time to try to correct Dorian's interpretation of what he had just said. Furthermore, Dorian's closing statement summed it all up for him. Christoph didn't expect his job to be safe, quite frankly he wasn't sure if he cared if he died on the expedition. His debt problems would still be there if he returned to Holdenheim. Even with everything going on. The Feyfalken was a safer place for him than his home.

    "Just because there is a good chance we may all die captain I see little point in chasing us to that end earlier than we need to. In both our lines of work you can expect some loss of life. That doesn't mean you shouldn't work towards preventing it. We all cope in different ways captain some of us mourn, some turn to drink and some of us even think we may have recovered or hidden from the truth, the past. Some joke, accept what's coming. Just because its easier to tally lives in numbers that doesn't always mean its the best way. Good day captain." He rose from the bed and approached the door ready to end the conversation, leave the man to chew on what he'd said.

    If he wasn't going to listen to why he could have protected people better hear he could remind the man of his past demons. He knew it was a harsh move but if it made the man think more he was willing to do it. One soul weighed heavy enough on him already he didn't want to blame himself for the loss of any more life on this ship if he thought he could have done something.

    You just don't get it, do you? Dorian thought with a slow shake of his head. It's like everything he said went in one ear and out the other. With a sigh and a lazy salute, he turned toward the door, bottling up all the things he'd like to say. What was the use, if it would all be ignored, or twisted? Men like Sabre would always blame the next man up the chain of command, because he couldn't bear the weight of his own mistakes. He couldn't even ackowledge that he'd made mistakes. It was always someone else's fault.

    He was about to leave, and maybe he should have, but he paused with a hand on the door knob. "I set this ship down a mile from the forest's edge. Every man or woman who left it was armed or accompanied by someone who was," he said. "Could I have kept it in the air? Yes. Should I have kept it in the air? Yes. Was it a factor in any of what happened today? No. But blame me if you want. I'm the captain, after all. Unlike you, I'm capable of bearing the weight of my actions, past, present, and future, without shrugging it off on someone else's shoulders. How many men did you lose today, Sabre?"

    He walked away without awaiting a reply, because Dorian already knew the answer. Christoph was the only one who still needed to reflect on that.

    The words stung, he hadn't even began to deal with the deaths of the security team properly, he certainly hadn't felt the need to hold himself accountable for them. Dorian had barely turned on his heel before he slammed the door shut on him. He wished it could of hit the man on his way out. Dorian could mistake it for him been stubborn the reality was a lot worse. He was putting a barrier between him and Dorian before he smashed his smug face into the corridor and lost himself in a haze.

    Admittedly he had provoked the man and he deserved the bite, just not that one. He gave it a minute to ensure Dorian would be clear of the corridor before he threw on some casual wear and grabbed his wraps and headed to the barracks ready to pound a punching bag into oblivion. Right now he felt like those woods could be a better home than stuck on board with the captain. To think that he had actually respected the man for the last month!
     
  5. Master Attano

    Master Attano Active Member

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    Geof carried Tessa around the corner of the last corridor before arriving in medical. The sense of panic had been growing in him, but relief filled him as he saw the Ship's Doctor standing in the bay.


    "Doctor! She needs help!" Geof exclaimed as he crossed the threshold. The cut on Tessa's forehead was still bleeding, and had left a trail of blood droplets on the floor in their path, and it was soaking into Geof's shirt.


    She had stopped screaming now. Or crying for that matter. Her eyes were wide and still, and her skin so very pale. Everything was so bright. The taste of copper filled her throat with every weakened breath and she could see only red through her left eye. There was noise around her. Commotion. But she was only listening to the sound of her own heartbeat. Barely. Why is it so cold? Her eyes faded.


    Johnathon was relaxing. When the meeting had ended he had been tempted to follow the Captain up about future plans for isolation measures that were less intrusive and obvious than armed guards and locked doors, both of which screamed of quarantine. He had looked tired however and for that matter Johnathon felt the same. It had been a long day. Hell’s bells he could have sworn he’d been in another battle in the Forever War.


    Shouting roused him from his reflection and his head snapped up, along with all the other members of the medical staff. Professor Avrin had just entered with the Helmswoman Miss Naaru, his shirt soaking with the blood flowing from Miss Naaru’s head. Johnathon stiffened, why, why, why he thought, fighting to keep the sudden nausea from overwhelming him. He wanted to hide as the bright red blood seemed to soak into his psyche, evoking thousands of memories to flash before his eyes, all depicting a similar scene.


    With a gasp he leaned heavily against the bench he was stood next too. The torrent of images almost too much for him to bear. “Not now.” he growled, quietly. “Get yourself together man, your needed.” Pushing himself off bench he focused as he strode towards the pair, once again going through the motions that had helped to calm himself before. When he once more felt the gentle buzz of energy inside he concentrated on holding onto it. He needed to stay as calm and in control as possible for Miss Naaru’s sake. Gesturing to a bed, that a nurse had wisely converted into its table form, he calmly spoke. “Put her on the table if you please Professor Avrin.”


    Geof laid Tessa down on the examination table. "Stay with us!" he said as her eyes closed and her breathing began to grow shallow. "Stay here." Then turning to the doctor, "She was clubbed in the head with a wrench," he said, as calmly as he could muster.

    “Blunt force trauma fits the bill.” Johnathon replied, quickly pulling his leather gloves on and buttoning his coat up. “Melissa!” he yelled, moving to a basin to quickly wash his hands. “Get me a pad and some bandages, when you’ve done that prepare the Magnetic Resonance Device.”

    Hands washed he hurried back to Miss Naaru. Her head was awash in bright blood as it poured from her head. Johnathon felt his composure crack and desperately reached into the calming energy even more, speaking out load as he took the bandages and pad from Melissa. “Head wounds are nasty business.” he said, as he applied the pad to the wound and began wrapping the bandages around the head. “Very tricky indeed, they’ll bleed like a stuck pig for a while until the wound clots and sometimes that’ll be the end of them as possible fractures heal by themselves. However, if there is internal bleeding, which can be difficult to detect, that’s when the real trouble begins.” Glancing up at Geof he gestured to a torch beside the Professor as he bandaged. “I’m almost done here, Professor if you would like to help grab that torch and try to rouse her. Check her pupils while you’re at it, if they are unequally dilated tell me immediately. It’s a sign of intracranial bleeding. Oh and Miss Lancaster,” he said, without looking up, “if you would like something else to do other than loiter in my door feel free to help Melissa prepare the Magnetic Resonance Device or MRD if you like. An incredible useful piece of equipment in this situation I was surprised to see it here.”

    Johnathon stopped speaking and shook his head, he was surprising himself with his awareness of the room.

    "Of course," the vice captain said. She quickly exchanged her vest for one of the many medical coats hanging on a rack by the door. While she went to help Melissa, the vial of red dust remained concealed in her vest pocket, which was about as far from Johnathon and Geof as she could get it without drawing unwanted attention to it.


    "I'm here for Mr. Avrin," Integra said plainly as she helped the nurse wheel the MRD to Tessa's bedside. Once there, she tapped the electrical leads together and they sparked, indicating the battery still had a charge.


    As she set up the device, her eyes briefly flickered to Geof. "The captain and the security team are at the scene now, but you still need to deliver a statement, preferably while the events are fresh in your mind. I apologize if this seems cold, but there's nothing more you can do for Miss Naaru and I would like you to come with me as soon as the doctor no longer requires our presence. Tessa is in good hands."


    It was, perhaps, the first time she'd ever called Tessa by her first name. Integra hoped it would not be her last. Apologizing for being cold was also a first, but she had no intention of making a habit of that.


    Geof watched as the doctor worked. "I had better leave you to your work doctor..." he said. He realized that there was nothing else that he could do here, but he still was reluctant to leave. "Vice Captain, lead the way."

    Johnathon glanced up as the pair left before returning his attention to Miss Naaru. The wound on the skull had stopped bleeding but Johnathon wasn’t worried about blood loss. Retrieving the torch that the Professor had failed to pick up, poor kid he looked well and truly traumatised, Johnathon gently lifted Miss Naaru’s eyelids, staring intently into her pupils as he shined the light into them. Come on, he thought, give me this. As the beam of light panned across each pupil Johnathon’s heart leapt to his throat. They were responding, normally.

    He stopped himself from relaxing just yet however and quickly moved to the MRD. I’ll have to thank Miss Lancaster for her help, even if helping hadn’t been her intention in coming. With the other doctors watching on he went through the motions of inspecting the patents head for internal bleeding. Registering the vibrations that the machine put off in response to her blood flow carefully. “So far so good.” he said to no one in particular, “a lot of swelling but no excessive blood movement that would suggest a dangerous bleed.”

    Stepping away from the machine he turned to face the audience behind him. “Ok team, as it stands Miss Naaru is miraculously going to avoid the drill today but that does not mean she is stable. At any moment a vessel could burst and we will need to go in. For that reason I want her on constant watch, every hour I want someone to check her pupils and generally assess her condition. If something comes up come get me immediately, I’ll be in my quarters.”

    As the medical team nodded and busied themselves once more, Johnathon fled the room with long strides. His hands had begun to shake and a cold sweet had formed on his head. Reaching his room he mechanically stripped his coat and gloves off before collapsing on his bed, bloody images once more returning to his mind. What a day.
     
  6. Pheonix

    Pheonix A Singer of Space Operas and The Fourth Mod of RP Contributor

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    The moment Doctor Kane gave them leave, Integra quickly led Geof into the hall, pausing only to nab her vest from the coat rack by the door. "As the only eyewitness of the events, other than the suspect and victim," the vice captain explained as she swapped her lab coat for the vest, without breaking stride, "You'll need to deliver a statement to the security team. Stay calm, stick to the facts, and Miss Naaru will receive justice. I will personally see to that," she said firmly.

    But Integra suddenly stopped and pulled him aside. They were in a deserted hall, short of reaching the crime scene. "That's not what I want to discuss with you," she said, staring into his eyes with a seriousness he'd never seen before. She tapped the pocket of her vest, where the vial of red dust was hidden, and lowered her voice to a whisper. "I know what you're going through, Geoffrey Avrin, because I have been through it myself. What I am about to say stays between the two of us, understand?"

    Geof nodded, feeling like he had been through enough for one day and wondered what was about to be dropped on him.

    "You have the ability to sense what some people might call 'magic,'" she said as plainly as discussing what flavor tea he would like with his crumpets. "I know this because I, too, have the gift. It runs in my family. However, my ability has atrophied due to repeated exposure to…" she nearly said 'magic' again, but hesitated. "…Unnatural phenomena."

    Before continuing, the vice captain paused to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose, a clear sign she was uncomfortable. "This gift makes you more valuable to me than any other member of the research staff, but also makes you a liability. Your sensitivity is far greater than mine ever was and will become an issue if this expedition leads where I hope it will. I could teach you to suppress it, when need be. In exchange, you become my personal research assistant and I receive your absolute confidentiality on matters of..." she nudged her glasses again, "magic. As for the doctor… well…" she shrugged, "every mine needs a canary. I need his mind to remain open. He's not as vulnerable as you are."

    Geof gaped. "You think that what I'm reacting to is, is, magic? I would never have taken you as one to believe in the arcane..." He thought a moment. Geof, while not exactly in disbelief of the existence of magic, had always imagined that if it did exist, it must exist somewhere very far removed from him... The he remembered where they were, very far removed from everything. He also remembered his grandmother telling him when he was a small child that he was 'different,' 'more sensitive'. He had never known what she meant until now. "Alright," he said after a moment. "What will this involve?"

    "Time," she said. "You will spend the next few days with me, learning the proper techniques to shut your mind to these energies. You will find it is like closing an eye or tuning out a harsh sound. Meditation, Mr. Avrin. That is all it is, really." She briefly averted her gaze. "I am the opposite of you, Geof. I'm like someone whose hearing has waned due to being surrounded by constant noise. For me, I must force my eyes open to sense magic. You must force yours shut, to avoid being blinded by it."

    She hoped he wouldn't ask what that 'constant noise' was. She wasn't ready to tell him and really didn't want to insult him by saying as much.

    "We will begin tomorrow," she said at last. "I won't forbid you from passing these techniques on to Johnathon. He's sensitive, too, and it's only natural you should wish to bring him into the fold. I only ask that you leave my name out of it, if that's the route you choose to take. I would really prefer he remain unadulterated... but I suspect it might be too late." Her eyes narrowed. "His personnel file shows he was captured and held in Arcania. I've seen him use calming techniques, though I'm not sure if even he realizes what he's truly doing."

    Geof was not quite sure that he understood, and he suspected that he was still in shock from the days events. But he nodded his head. "Alright. I will see you tomorrow then," he said.
     
  7. Crumpets

    Crumpets Senior Member

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    Edward cursed to himself. The empty office stared back at him accusingly. He'd left the cargo bay a healthy hour ago, but here he was, just now arriving at the captain's office. To be fair, the walk was rather long, but he'd be lying if he said he got there as fast as he could. So sure, maybe he could have done with walking a little faster and maybe that cute nurse didn't actually need to be conversed with for a solid twenty minutes, but maybe he had to! Maybe this was fate! Maybe he was just following his destiny!

    A sharp smash echoed through the hall, jolting Edward from his musings. With a fatigued shuffle, a slouched laborer made his way down the hallway. A particularly handsome and well dressed laborer. Edward combed his hand through his hair and smiled seductively. "Why hello there, handsome. I must say, I do love the cape." Edward indicated to the gray mass of cloth which hung from the laborer's shoulders to his knees. The addition of buttons and sleeves made the cape look almost like a coat, but only the captain had a coat of the sort, so Edward appropriately assumed that it was simply a grossly misshapen and poorly designed cape which this laborer was donning as a fashion statement. When the laborer turned around, his face was clearly marked by stress. Of course that's what happened. It makes so much sense! "Hey buddy," Edward patted the laborer on the shoulder, "stay strong. We all go through bad break-ups in our lives. Who was she? Or he? Don't worry, I don't judge." The man looked like he was about to respond when Edward suddenly remembered the shocking degree of his tardiness. "Ah, crap! Sorry, can't chat! I've got some super important duties, stuff you laborers are lucky enough not to have to worry about. Say, do you know where the vice capitán or el capitán himself are?"

    The laborer's brows quirked up, as if unsure what to make of this situation. "He's... close. Very close," the man said. "Why do you ask and to whom do I owe the pleasure?"

    "Oh my! Forgive me, I seem to have forgotten my manners! The name's Edward Seymour the Sixth, Senior Expeditionary Idiosyncratic Acquisition Specialist." Edward puffed out his chest very slightly and began speaking with a blatantly pretentious tone. "I'm seeking out the voyage's metaphorical gentry to, frankly, report the completion of my duties in documenting our recent expeditionary idiosyncratic acquisitions such that they may be made available to the research team and, more importantly, the swift and thorough nature the duties' execution by yours truly. Now, I'm afraid I am running rather late due to uncontrollable mishaps. Since we have established the magnitude of distance to our dear captain as a very fortuitous 'close', would you mind providing me with a direction in order to complete the vector?" He chuckled as he finished speaking, appreciating his own comedic genius at the clearly bewildered laborer's expense. "Sorry, I couldn't help it. It's all in good fun, right?" Then, very slowly, as if the man was cripplingly simple, he asked again. "Which way is the captain?"

    While Edward rambled on and on, the 'laborer' calmly donned his cape, slipping his arms into the sleeves of what was revealed to be a coat. He let the man finish before he smiled, slicked back his hair --which did no good at all-- and replied, "dead ahead," before offering his hand. "Dorian Cromwell, the First. Captain. I'll be sure to pass word to the VC that her idiot... idiom sink... idio sim... that you have finished the task." He cleared his throat. "Much obliged, Mr. Seymour. Is there anything else?"

    His face remained unchanged, but his mind raced with a single thought: awkward awkward awkward awkward awkward awkward "Ah, er, hum...awkward!" He smiled awkwardly and rubbed his neck. "I- uh- they- I'm- uh- this is awkward." Another sheepish laugh and now he was rubbing his hands together. "Say, is that a pistol on your hip or are you just happy to see me, because boy I'm sure happy to see you know what I'll just stop talking. Good day." Edward offered another of his signature bowkisscurtsysalutekneelwavewink and was swiftly on his way.
     
  8. AnonyMouse

    AnonyMouse Contributor Contributor

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    “Captain’s log, day 69. It’s been two days since the Black Forest incident. Life is beginning to return to normal, for some of us. For others, not so much. The mood is still rather tense, but I think we’re all slowly putting the events of day 67 behind us. We’ll do better next time.” Dorian sighed. “I’ll do better next time.

    “The vice captain has been very busy lately, studying her samples. She has claimed Laboratory Three for herself and spends most of her time locked inside, often with Mr. Avrin. It’s none of my business what a man and woman do behind closed doors, but when it involves reanimated corpses… well, let’s just say I’ve been monitoring the situation very closely. She reports to me daily.

    “In her latest report, Miss Lancaster informed me that the corpses have gone dormant. Whatever energy was animating them seems to have waned as we put distance between ourselves and the Black Forest. Nevertheless, I only allow her to take small tissue samples into her lab; anything larger requires an armed guard on duty. Thus far, Miss Lancaster has been compliant with these safety protocols.

    “Speaking of safety, I finally spoke with Dr. Kane about some new quarantine procedures. From here on, anyone who leaves the ship receives a full examination to determine if it is safe to reintroduce that individual to the general population. I believe this is the least obtrusive way to handle the matter. We still have so much to learn about this place.”

    Dorian paused for a long moment. “The things outside the walls of this ship aren’t the only mysteries I’m wrangling with,” he said wistfully. “Miss Naaru’s attacker… his name is Sven Garrett, 36 years old, engineer. Today, he confessed to the crime and avoided the death penalty… which is fortunate, because the last thing we need now is to put a man in front of the firing squad. The laws are quite clear on this matter and the evidence stacked against him made innocence an impossibility. As much as I despise what he did, I’m glad he complied. He will remain in the brig until we return to Holdenheim… whenever that happens.”

    Dorian sighed again. “But that’s not what bothers me. I’ve begun personally investigating Mr. Garrett. I don’t know what I’m expecting to find. Maybe I’m just doing this to keep myself out of the infirmary and keep my mind off of Tessa… erm, I mean Miss Naaru, my helmswoman… our helmswoman. She’s not personally my anything, really. I don’t know what I’m saying.”

    A lengthy silence followed.

    “Anyway, I think that’s enough for now. I’m so tired, I’m stumbling over my own words. Let’s just end it here. Day 69, Captain Dorian Cromwell of the Feyfalken, signing off, until next time. Goodnight.”

    * * * * * * * * * *​

    “Captain’s log, day 72. Today was a good day. It is with great pleasure I report we have finally cast off the ‘sand’ part of the Sands of Desolation. Late last night, the spotters saw what they believed were streaks of soil and patches of tall grass. As the sun rose this morning, we were able to confirm that the landscape is no longer dunes and sand, but plains, occasionally broken up by large rock formations.

    “The change of scenery is already having an effect on the crew. I’ve noticed increasing numbers of people spending their down time on the catwalks, enjoying the view and the cooler air. We’re still headed east, toward the network of ravines Miss Lancaster indicated on the map. We hope to find water there and the change in the air suggests we may get our wish, but it’ll be a few days before we reach that destination.

    “Speaking of down time, I’ve been spending most of mine investigating Sven Garrett. I initially planned to bring Vladimir into this matter, but I’ve decided it’s best to go alone and make this a private investigation. Something about this man bothers me… other than the fact that he tried to bash my friend’s skull in with a wrench. His son, Weston Garrett, perished aboard the Infinitum. The motive is clear, but Sven took six months of leave afterward, returned to duty, and has performed admirably ever since. His colleagues report he is a friendly, good-natured man, who talks to anyone and gets along well with others.

    “So why the sudden change from that to murder?” Dorian paused. “Something strange is going on in engineering. Something’s driving my men mad and I intend to get to the bottom of it. Tomorrow’s a new day. I haven’t been able to speak directly with Mr. Garrett yet, but I’ll keep checking in. The moment he’s stable enough to hold a conversation, I will be there. He may be an attempted murderer, but he’s still a member of my crew and deserves justice just as much as the victim.

    “Day 72, Captain Dorian Cromwell, part-time private eye, signing off. The game is afoot, my friends.”

    * * * * * * * * * *​

    “Captain’s log, day 74. At risk of sounding cliché, I’m just going to come out and say this: there’s something in the water. At least Sven Garrett seems to think so. I finally got to speak with him today, briefly. The man’s nuttier than a squirrel’s ballsack, but --oh, wait, should I redact that? Whatever. No one listens to these logs anyway.

    “I spoke with Garrett’s former roommate first; he applied for new quarters about three weeks ago and was moved down the hall. According to him, Garrett began acting strangely. First, he stopped waking up on time and was irritable when others tried to rouse him. Then, he did the opposite: he stopped sleeping at all, which only made his demeanor worse.

    “When I finally got some face time with Sven Garrett and asked him about this, the man’s reply was nonsensical. Something about dreams, songs, and water. It’s a familiar tale. I’ve heard the same story from other men in engineering. I can’t figure out why it affects some and not others --or why Reina brushes me off every time I bring it up-- but I intend to get to the bottom of this, even if I have to tear this ship apart to find out what’s poisoning the minds of my men.

    “I… umm… I suppose I should report on the other things going on aboard the ship, right? Like the… umm… well, we had meatloaf for dinner tonight. That’s newsworthy, right? Yeah, it’s been a slow day. Day 74, Meatloaf Day, Captain Dorian Cromwell, signing off. Goodbye.”

    * * * * * * * * * *​

    “Captain’s log, day 75. Integra was on the bridge today. I’m pleased to see her out of the lab, but I can’t help but wonder ‘why now.’ Has she finally run out of ways to poke a dead body with a stick… or is she spying on me? I know she doesn’t approve of my investigation. I’ve done my best to keep it a secret, but that woman has eyes everywhere. Am I being paranoid?

    “Since the cat’s out of the bag, I decided to speak directly with the head engineer and pick his brain. He thinks it’s bollocks, of course. Note to self: never approach an Aeternian engineer about anything that even remotely sounds like magic. But, he did have some concerns. Even he has no idea where the Feyfalken’s water storage tanks are located. He knows the plumbing for the drinking water and can tell me the location of every pipe, conduit, and valve. But, when it comes to the steamworks, the water that keeps this ship afloat, he knows nothing. Imagine that!

    “It’s not just him. No one in engineering knows where the water for this ship’s boilers comes from, or where it goes, or how it maintains 100% efficiency. It’s all hidden; we would have to tear the ship apart to map it… or get a hold of the blueprints. Guess who has those. Here’s a hint: it starts with ‘Reina,’ ends with ‘Lancaster,’ and has an ‘Integra’ in the middle. In theory, there has to be an entry and exit point somewhere. The steamworks can’t possibly be fully contained… can they? And, even if they are, why? How will we ever add water if some is lost or if there’s a breach in the system? There has to be an access point somewhere or a storage tank.”

    Dorian sighed. “Anyway, the land outside is growing increasingly fertile. There are sparse trees down there and we even saw some animals today. Animals! They looked like gazelles or something. Fast little buggers. Where there are animals, there is water. Those river canyons should be showing up soon. The map is a little inaccurate; we should’ve arrived yesterday. But that’s half the fun of exploration, isn’t it? Nothing is certain.

    “My next log may be a little brief. I have obtained the key to Sven Garrett’s dormitory and will spend tomorrow night there. Let’s see what dreams await. Day 75, Captain Dorian Cromwell of the Feyfalken, signing off.”



    Act 3:
    TRAVERSING THE TRANSMUNDANE

    The captain stood alone in the darkened room, lit only by an electric torch in the ceiling. Sven Garrett’s dormitory was slightly smaller than most. It had once housed two men, but the second bunk and its adjoining dresser and desk were empty. His roommate had ditched him weeks ago.

    Dorian paced the floor, with his hands deep in his pockets. All was silent, save the distant hum of the turbines, and a soft thrumming as the propeller blades sliced the air outside. Somewhere beneath those layers of sound, he thought he heard something else, a melodious sound, like a woman’s voice… but it was gone just as quickly as he realized it was there.

    I probably only imagined it, the captain thought as he took a seat at the desk.

    It was late. Well past midnight. Integra had just begun her overnight shift and Vladimir was scheduled to replace her at 0900 hours. Dorian had plenty of time to sort out what the hell had gotten the best of Sven Garrett. This ends tonight, he thought as he began thumbing through the man’s personal notes, a thin leather-bound portfolio sitting atop the desk.

    They were letters. No date and no address, but they were clearly letters. Dorian almost thought they were love letters, until he realized they were written to Garrett’s deceased son. This must’ve been his way of coping, Dorian thought. Clearly, it didn’t work. By why did you put down the pen and pick up the wrench, Sven? Why?

    He shut the journal, stood up, and went over to the bed, where he flopped down and lay there in silence, staring at the ceiling. Dorian turned over and tried to make himself comfortable, but sleeping in another man’s bed --a crazy man’s bed-- just didn’t feel right. It made his skin tingle. Sweat rolled down his cheek. And that damnable sound...

    It was no song. The musical notes took on a life of their own, weaving into his mind until he thought he felt a voice. Rather than hear, he felt the words and their meaning. The sounds drifting through his ears made no sense, but, in his mind, he knew he was being spoken to.

    “Where does it come from? Where does it go?” a female voice said. Dorian sprang up, but found no one there at first. “Where does it come from? Where does it go?” she said again.

    Across the room, lounging on the opposite bunk, was a woman. Due to the darkness and the bedsheets concealing most of her body, he almost didn’t realize she wasn’t human… until she turned her head to look at him. Her blue eyes, set in a pale blue face, glowed intensely and there was a mischievous smirk on her lips. But what really terrified him were the two, long ram’s horns of ice, protruding from her skull, and the faint white markings on her skin, like a poisonous serpent or the warpaint of a brutal savage.

    Demon, Dorian thought as he sprang to his feet and instantly drew his revolver.

    “So, that’s how you react to me?” she said with a small sigh. “I knew you weren’t ready.” She turned over and pulled the covers up to her chin, putting her back to him. “Wake up, captain. Big day today.”

    Dorian groaned and wondered how he’d ended up on the floor and who was pounding at the door. He was in Garrett’s chair, but had spilled over backwards. The journal was sprawled on the rug. Rubbing his bruised bum, Dorian slowly got to his feet. Both beds were undisturbed, as if he’d never laid there. Must’ve fallen asleep at the desk, he thought groggily as he stared at the empty bunk where she had been.

    The door opened a moment later and he nearly jumped out of his skin. “There you are,” Integra said, standing in the entrance. She looked very irate, more angry than usual. “I’ve been looking for you for half an hour.”

    “What made you think I’d be here?” he asked, yawning.

    She scowled. “Call it a hunch,” Integra said dryly. “You’re needed on the bridge.”

    * * * * * * * * * *​

    “We’ve reached our destination,” Integra explained as they entered the bridge.

    Dorian’s jaw dropped at the scene before him. The Feyfalken hovered barely a hundred meters off of the ground. The lush grassland in front of them dropped away to a sheer cliff face. What stood before them was a series of ravines and rifts so large and so deep, they could fly an entire fleet through them with room to spare.

    There was no way of knowing how deep the canyons went. The jagged, gray walls of the cliffs dropped away into a heavy white fog. The mist suggested there was water down there, but descending into it was far too dangerous. Steep, flat-topped mesas of craggy gray stone rose from the mist, standing like the footrests of giants, some topped with the same grassland and sparse trees they’d been seeing for days.

    The Feyfalken hovered, awaiting the captain’s orders.

    “What do you need me for?” Dorian said, turning to Integra. He gestured straight ahead. “The view’s pretty, but we can’t well send a scouting party down into that pea soup. Have the Feyfalken map the area by flyover. That should take, what, a day or two? If the fog doesn’t lift by then, we press on east. I don’t see why this requires my intervention, Rei.”

    She sighed and handed him a pair of binoculars. “Take a closer look, sir. I didn’t call you here because of the fog.”

    Dorian scanned the horizon line until he found what she was talking about. In the distance, atop a faraway mesa, were towers that couldn’t possibly be natural formations. They were too straight and too tall; dozens of them, clustered together, in various shapes and sizes. Some were short, fat squares, while others scraped the sky. Their sides were perfectly straight, their tops perfectly flat. Some were covered in glass and steel, glinting in the early morning sun. Streets of smooth stone ran between them, some elevated on pillars of stone, like concrete snakes weaving around and between the buildings. Yes, that’s what they were! Buildings!

    “A city,” Dorian said, but like no city he’d ever seen. Everything was so huge, so vertical. They were too far away to make out details or see any signs of life. It was all drab, gray, and silent. He saw no others atop the various mesas. Just the one, standing atop its rocky pillar, all alone.

    He zoned out for a moment and stared in awe.

    Wake up, captain. Big day today, Dorian thought as he returned the binoculars to his vice captain and turned to the helmsman. “Take us in, low and slow. Skim the fog. Integra, double the number of lookouts on duty and have someone in engineering prep the cannons, just in case… but keep quiet about it.” A city on a hill felt too much like a fortress, even if the whole damn thing looked lifeless and unoccupied. “And where is Vladimir?”
     
  9. Keitsumah

    Keitsumah The Dream-Walker Contributor

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    "Right here, Captain." Vlad's voice came from behind and Dorian turned to see the man standing at the wall, a little stiffer than usual. His hair wasn't as neat as it usually was either -it stuck up in places and the man looked a tad frazzled.

    Vladimir's lip twitched. "I... haven't gotten much sleep lately." he said, which was the truth. But to be honest he didn't feel the least bit tired. In fact, Vlad felt as if he had too much energy. It was all he could do to keep from bouncing around on his feet just to expend it. He hadn't even touched any sugary items as far as he knew, and all he'd eaten as of late was the odd sandwich and cup of tea. He'd tried to hide it, but the deaths of the two men on his team had caused more problems than he'd originally anticipated. He'd had to ask around to see if any of his men knew if they'd had any family to send letters to when -if- they got back to Holdenheim, and then he'd had to reorganize them, checking all the while to make sure that none of the others had been traumatized by the death of a close friend. Thankfully they were all just about as good as he was at hiding stress. Well, maybe that wasn't such a good thing.

    He shook his head. "Forgive me if I seem a bit off today, but the security is already in place. I hope you don't mind if I keep two guards near the med bay until we can figure out who will be the bodyguard for Tessa?" he quickly folded his hands behind his back to hide the fact that they were twitching. Damn, what is wrong with me? I have more energy than even a hyper child! I'll need to try and burn this off in the training room. I can't afford to look childish.

    “You haven’t been getting much sleep?” Dorian said, one eyebrow rising with suspicion. His mind raced through what that might mean. Vladimir’s quarters were nowhere near engineering and the man rarely ventured into that section of the ship. How could it be affecting him as well?

    The possibility that Vlad’s condition might be stress-related never crossed his mind. Strange how ‘magic’ went from impossible to the first thing that came to mind.

    “Nevermind that,” Dorian said quickly. "Until she's on her feet again, Te-" he hesitated, "Miss Naaru's current arrangement will be sufficient. I want ten of your best men in the cargo bay, suited up and ready. You and I will make twelve in all.” Integra turned to him with one of those ‘I don’t approve’ looks, but he promptly silenced her: “This could be a first contact scenario. That’s a city. Cities are built by people. If it’s inhabited, the captain should be present for first contact. Relax, Rei, we’re still too far away to determine the best way to approach this thing. We can’t even tell if anybody’s home. But we’re going to find out soon enough. What do you think, Mr. Albion?”

    "I can't help but agree with you. Mr. Sabre will be here to guard the ship, so everything should be relatively safe here while we are gone." Vlad responded. "I'll have the men suited up and ready in a few minutes, as well as brief Sabre on what we are doing." he turned as if to go and then paused. "Is there anything else you would like me to do, sir?"

    "No, Mr. Albion, that'll be all," Dorian said. He was a little surprised to hear Vladimir was leaving Sabre to look after the ship. Sure, Vlad had said as much at the deriefing nine days ago, but Dorian thought 'your best men' would naturally include Christoph.

    "I'll meet you in the cargo bay once we're in position," he added, looking to the enormous glass viewport as the Feyfalken glided over the ridge and descended into the foggy canyon. The ship continued down and leveled out just above the fog layer, like riding on clouds. The city lay dead ahead, perched atop a high ridge.

    Valdimir nodded, then vanished into the bowels of the ship once more.
     
  10. Fan7asticMrFox

    Fan7asticMrFox Contributor Contributor

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    The winds were so refreshing and though the setting sun beat down upon her, Tessa glided across the sands blissfully. The sands were mountains of treasure glistening under the sun and she slid her feet across the gold and danced down them. She was so fast, so free, blazing a trail through the Sands of Desolation and taking warmth in the sun’s embrace.

    But there was someone ahead. Someone far away in the distance sliding down the sands all dressed in blue. Tessa had been gliding freely at this point, launching herself up sand dunes and flipping in the air but something compelled her. No matter how hard she tried, her focus always returned to the figure ahead.

    They were racing now. Tessa was catching. The descending sands guided her with speed through ancient ruins she had never seen, each one more beautiful than the last. They looked as though they had been here for thousands of years, and somehow Tessa was quite sure they would be here for thousands more.

    The figure was closer now. A single sand dune ahead. It was not her clothes that were blue, but in fact her entire skin. Flawless blue glass decorated with fine white markings and where Tessa had pushed hard to catch up, she was gliding down the sands with comfortable finesse. Tessa finally caught up with the woman made of blue and her eyes ran deep with ice and her head curled with two horns that sparkled in the light. Though cautious, Tessa glided in tandem with her, mirroring each others movements in effortless harmony.

    "They want to see you." The blue demon said. Her voice was ambrosia and her smile so alluring. Yet, it was not enough to reassure Tessa. Who wants to see me? The words stuck in her throat and she began to lose balance in her glide.

    "They all want to see you.”

    Tessa stumbled and fell, head first into the sands. But it was not soft. Her head met blunted steel and she rolled painfully across the dull grey floor. It was terribly cold all of a sudden. The sun was no more, replaced by huge black towers that rose all around and the shriek of crows consumed the sky above. Her heart beat furiously and she so weak, so drained of all energy. The shadows had come to dance.

    There were whispers. All around her Tessa could hear hushed voices, but no matter how much she tried she couldn’t piece together what they said. She lifted her head in a haze of sweat, nausea ran from throat to stomach and she watched the blue figure appear in the middle of the darkness.

    The demon sat upon a small stone platform with steps that rose to some kind of altar. The altar looked like a giant goblet; sleek, curvy and carved out of stone roses, and each petal encrusted with a sparkling ruby.

    Tessa attempted to stand but felt so ill, the world was spinning and it was so very cold. She crawled to the altar, the whispers louder with each heavy hand. The demon watched on with an air of anticipation, an eagerness in her eyes as Tessa reached the final step.

    And there stood the altar. Its jewel encrusted neck twisted together with stone thornes and Tessa reached out and touched it. The altar was ferociously hot and burned white under her delicate hand, as if the energy of a thousand souls protected it. Tessa tried to pull away in agony but the strange forces commanded her to hold. She tore off her grip with her other arm and gazed in horror at her own hand, now smoking and black as tar.

    “They all want to see you.” The voice said behind her. In her burning pain Tessa was grateful to have the blue demon there and turned to face her for reassurance. But it wasn’t the blue demon standing behind her. Brooding behind her. Staring at her with mad eyes, oil stained overalls and a bloodied wrench gripped tightly in his hand. Tessa cried and screamed but only the shrieking crows could be heard.

    “You killed my son.”

    And with all his might the engineer swung his wrench right into her temple.
     
    Last edited: Jun 16, 2014
  11. Keitsumah

    Keitsumah The Dream-Walker Contributor

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    Vlad found Sabre in the training room after having briefed the others about what they were going to do. Dorian may be alarmed should he learn of this, but Vlad had decided to take only half of his best men, then the other half in his team would be those who were less experienced, but promising. That way he left the ship as strong as it could be without making either side particularly vulnerable.

    Hopefully Sabre wouldn't be too mad at him, but Vlad promised himself that he would take guard duty next time, and let Sabre go exploring. It was only fair.

    He waited at the door, avoiding drawing the man's attention, then when he regained his composure knocked on the already-open door.

    "We're pulling in for a landing and there's a city not far from us. Dorian wants to go in and make first contact." Vlad said calmly.

    Christoph swung the axe in a downward arc bouncing it off the top of the training dummy's shoulder, just where it connected to the arm. He had shielded the axes blade due to lack of dummy's they had to work with and the fact they had been designed with swords in mind opposed to axes. He'd opted to try a new form of training after their confrontation with the undead plus the first day after the event and his chat with Dorian had left him in no condition for the finesse that came with sword fighting. He had spent the week training with the axe looking at swiftly incapacitating the enemy and removing limbs. It was more taxing than sword play and provided its own workout and a couple of the security team had already began to follow his example. It didn't hurt to be prepared.
    He was broken out of his routine by a knock at the door, he shouldered the axe and turned grabbing a towel and wiping off the sweat that had formed on his brow as Vlad spoke to him.

    "Then our arrangement for me to stay on board seems that much more bearable." He'd avoided contact with Dorian since last week, he was back to his usual self now but he had no desire to flare up any further tension so had steered well clear of the man. He had shared their exchange with Vlad and thanked the man for his support but had failed to have a meaningful chat with the man as the conversation had only stirred up negative emotions at the time.

    "Are you dropping in by wingsuit again?" He missed the thrill of the wind racing by and the freedom that came with it. He wanted more than anything to just jump off the ship and ride through the canyons they had sighted but alas there was no way of boarding the airship again if he tried such a thing.

    "Just make sure if you do find anyone friendly the man doesn't manage to turn them against us." He said it sarcastically but there was an undertone of truth to it.

    Vlad couldn't help the rueful smile that quirked his mouth. he could afford to loosen up around Sabre -they got along much better than he would have ever guessed on the first day. The both of them seemed to have taken a positive turn when they met the other.
    "Yes. And about the wing-suits -we may need to give those on board a few lessons after this. We can't use the emergency ones, but if we switch off in small groups we can all end up practicing using the better ones. I would at least feel better knowing the crew had some chance of landing without hurting themselves the way I did." Vladimir winced, but he did see the plus side of Sabre letting some steam off while doing something he liked. "I should have anticipated the wind speed. Won't happen again."

    He was tempted to tell Christoph something else, something important, but held his tongue. The man trusted him. He couldn't afford to undermine that trust right now. But everyone would have their trust undermined if he didn't.

    His words came slow, cautious."And... i don't think we need to worry about Dorian screwing up relations with the natives. I'm not entirely what I seem." he held up his hands. "Don't ask. I can't answer that right now, especially when you have an axe in your hand. Let's just say it's to our advantage."

    Vlad obviously had a better read on his intentions than he thought. He'd steered the conversation to the wing suits and Vlad had obligingly bought up his previous accident. He wasn't certain what he made of his explanation, he'd been a long way behind Vlad but he didn't look like he was aiming for their original destination, it was probably nothing though. Still it would be interesting to watch him fly again to see if he was just inexperienced.

    "Hopefully not, I don't think the canyons will be quite as forgiving as a burnt out forest. Training sounds like a great idea." Even if he had suggested cruising over a valley of undead he would have jumped at the opportunity, not being able to train properly was like losing an arm. It was a crucial part in his life and he didn't work the same without it. It was something that some people would struggle to relate to unless they shared a similar passion.

    Vlad's next words caught him off guard, they were cautious and cryptic and he didn't know quite what to make of them apart from realising that he probably struck quite an imposing figure casually conversing with an axe over his shoulder. He took it as a cue to return it back to the nearby weapon rack. It wasn't designed for it but he'd managed to clear a spot to hold it all the same. The delay didn't give him enough time to process exactly what he was getting at, either way now wasn't the time to get him to be forthcoming about it.

    Christoph's mind raced back to when they had first boarded the Feyfalken and the talk of the ship and his initial assessment of Vlad and his 'personal guard' he had expected to dislike the man and to come into conflict, yet here they were. The talk of the ship apart from the mystery of the sands had been the emperors appearance. That would be the only thing that could give you an advantage over the captain wasn't it? Something greater than this mission and the command chain. "The Emperor?" The words slipped out of him before he could take them back, he couldn't work out whether it made sense to place your own man in charge of security or if he was just leaping to wild conclusions, surely you would want the captain in your pocket instead. A contingency perhaps?

    "But your right now isn't the time, we better have men in position, before a messenger tells us Dorian has already departed with half the staff again." It was bad that he referred to the man in passing as Dorian, it wasn't out of friendship and a simple slip of the tongue like he had to watch with Vlad. No, this was a lack of respect for the title that came with it. He'd need to check that. He knew Vlad shared his views but it wasn't right to share that with others, it wouldn't help the day to day running of the ship and could be detrimental to the crew as well as to himself.

    Vladimir sucked in a slow breath, face tight. "It... may have something to do with him, yes." he answered, but then he laid a hand on the other man's shoulder. For the first time Vlad allowed the worry that had been plaguing him all this trip to show. He didn't want to hurt anyone, that was the truth. His goal had been to protect everyone on that ship and damn him if he didn't do that. But he feared that, though he had good intentions, some would get hurt in the process.

    "Do whatever you can to make sure everyone stays safe. And know this: No matter what happens, I do not intend to hurt anyone." he didn't know why he had said it. Maybe it was because the walls he had erected to keep distance between himself and others had begun to crumble. Maybe it was because he hadn't slept in days, and the energy that buzzed under his skin had become nigh unbearable.

    But he didn't allow himself to fret over it. Sabre was right. They had a job to do.

    Before he could say anything else he might later regret, Vlad slipped through the door and heard the metallic clang of when it shut.
     
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  12. Love to Write

    Love to Write I'm a lover of writing. What else is to be said? Contributor

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    Trixyanne was hosting her weekly poker game when excited chatter reached the recreation room.
    "A city? Are you sure?"
    "Sure as can be. The Cap'n is gathering the soldiers already. Probably to scout it out."
    "Incredible...a city in this god-forsaken piece of land."
    Trixy stood from her game and joined the men talking in the hallway. "A city, you say?" Could it be the place I've been looking for?
    "Yes, Miss. But after what we found in that dreaded forest I dare not guess what lies in wait for us there." The first man replied.
    "Probably hungry ghosts." The second scowled.
    Trixy smiled in amusement. "Or maybe we'll get lucky and find some friendly folk." She chuckled and trotted away determined to find the Captain.

    * * *

    "Okay, I know you're the expert on linguistics and lore and whatnot," Dorian said, while peering through the binoculars, "but would you also happen to be an expert on architecture?"

    The vice captain sighed and pushed her glasses up the brim of her nose. "If that's your way of asking if I've read about a city like this before, the answer is 'no,'" she replied flatly.

    The city was like nothing they had ever seen before. It sat perched upon a tall mesa rising from the misty canyons, and, the closer the Feyfalken got, the more they realized the technology was far more advanced than anything in Aeternia. Some of the buildings were made of stone but most of the taller ones seemed to be glass and steel. Dorian tried to estimate their size by counting the windows. Some were dozens of stories tall!

    He didn't even want to imagine what wonders lay inside or what kinds of vehicles roamed its roads. For now, the Feyfalken loitered at the base of the cliff, looking up. Until they rose to street level, he wouldn't know what --or who-- was up there.

    "We'll enter there, via grappling hooks," Dorian said, pointing to a small cave in the cliffside, about a hundred feet below street level. It seemed a little too perfectly round to be a cave, as if it had been drilled into the rock face by a machine, but he figured it was better than rising to street level and being totally exposed. He only hoped the 'cave' led to the surface.

    "The bridge is yours, Miss Lancaster. I'll go see Vladimir. Once we've deployed, descend until the Feyfalken is concealed in the fog," Dorian said. She nodded and he turned to leave the bridge, with his wingsuit fluttering behind him. He preferred to wear it loose and only tighten the straps just before takeoff.

    The moment he stepped into the hall, he nearly collided with Miss Trayburn… which, admittedly, wasn't an unpleasant event. Strange how, even after seeing them for months, his gaze still visited Trixy's cleavage for about half a millisecond before finding its way to her eyes, often followed by one of those innocent 'I-didn't-do-anything-wrong' smiles.

    "Going somewhere, Miss Trayburn?" he asked, far too casually.

    "Yes. To find you...actually." Trixy smiled brightly and brushed her fingers across the exposed rose tattoo on her collarbone. "Rumor has it that you're gathering a group to explore the city. I would love to join you and your men." She crooned, playing with the fringe on Dorian's collar. "I think you'll find me an excellent addition to the scouting party."

    "Is that so? How very forward of you, Trixy," Dorian said with a smile as he gently removed her hand from his collar. He held it for a long moment, as if considering something. "I hear you performed well during our previous excursion. This might be a perfect opportunity for me to see, firsthand, how you handle yourself." His eyes flitted to her cleavage for a fraction of a second before darting up to her face once more.

    "I'll be watching closely," Dorian said as he fastened the top buttons of her blouse with the deft hands of a man who was quite accustomed to doing the opposite. He gave her a final pat on the shoulder when the deed was done. "Gear up and meet me in the cargo bay as soon as possible, Miss Trayburn."

    Trixy's face flashed in surprise at his strange gesture, but it was replaced with excitement as she realized her request had just been granted. "As you say, Captain." She dashed away, the swing in her hips replaced by determined steps.
     
  13. AnonyMouse

    AnonyMouse Contributor Contributor

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    After his talk with Trixy, Dorian made his way straight to the cargo bay, where he found Vladimir and the ten men chosen for the operation. They stood near the cargo ramp, meticulously checking their gear and weapons. The captain went to one of the crates near the door and fished out a strange device --or weapon-- which looked ominously like a rocket launcher and a boat anchor had a baby.

    It was a skyhook, a rather crude Aracanian weapon designed to fire an iron grappler into an Aeternian airship’s armor and either reel it in to be captured or hold it in place so artillery could pummel it to death. Dorian couldn’t think of one ever being used successfully. Usually the poor blokes on the ground got massacred for trying.

    Fortunately, we’re not on the ground, he thought as he shouldered the weapon and made his way toward the cargo ramp.

    “Morning, gentlemen. Let’s get this open, shall we?” he said with a gesture to the hand cranks on either side of the entrance. The men paired up and began lowering the Feyfalken’s massive ramp. A rush of warm, humid air spilled into the cargo bay as the ship’s maw opened to the elements. Trixianne was just arriving when they finished.

    “Now that everyone’s here, we can get started,” the captain said with a smile as he peered through the weapon’s sights. The cave he planned to use as their entry point was slightly higher than the Feyfalken’s current altitude. The city itself was even further up.

    Even with the magnification of the skyhook’s sights, he still couldn’t see inside the cave. It was dark and almost perfectly round, but with a flat floor, as if it had been cut into the cliff face by a massive drill. There was no longer any doubt in his mind: whoever built the city, probably built this tunnel, too.

    But why build a tunnel that drops off into nowhere? He thought. He also noticed a slight difference in the color of the rock, as if the top of this plateau, where the city stood, was made of a different stone from the bottom.

    This damned place just won’t stop throwing mysteries at us, will it? He thought as he lowered himself to one knee, took aim and squeezed the trigger. The Arcanian skyhooks used an explosive charge to launch the grappler, but this one had been slightly modified. There was a hiss of compressed gas and a loud clang as the metal hook fired. The recoil nearly knocked Dorian off his feet. The projectile sailed off into space, arcing toward the cavern, while steel cable unraveled behind it. When it finally struck home, the sound echoed through the canyon.

    Dorian tested the tension in the wire. Once he was satisfied that the hook wouldn’t pull free, he began tying off the other end. “Everyone, check your suits before you cross,” he said as he finished his preparations. “If, for whatever reason, you should fall, use your thruster to get back to the ship. You only have one burst, so don’t waste it heading for the cave. I’ve instructed the vice captain to conceal the ship in the fog once we’re all inside.”

    He paused as he tightened the straps on his wingsuit until it fit snugly and checked that his weapons, gear, and the small rocket-like thrust canister were all secured. “We’ll form two teams. Riggs, Goodman, Holt, Santos, Jenkins, and Trayburn, you’re with me, on the A-Team, as in ‘A’ for ‘awesome.’ Clements, Smith, Olson, Cooke, and Hawkins, you’re with Albion, on the B-Team, as in ‘B’ for ‘useless sons of bitches who aren’t half as awesome as the A-team.’” Dorian grinned. “That’s a joke. Lighten up, gentlemen. Any questions before we deploy?”
     
  14. Master Attano

    Master Attano Active Member

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    Tessa lurched bolt upright in bed, crippling over on her stomach and choking on a huge breath. Panic had set in quick and she was hyperventilating and sweating like a guilty woman on trial.Had it been a dream? Her hand delicately rose to her forehead, the touch of bandaged cloth confirming her nightmare. It throbbed with venom, an unbearable soreness that left her feeling numb and sick.

    The lights were too bright. The smell too clean. The sterile stench of the operating theatre still lingered and the taste of copper drowned in her throat. There were murmurs. Voices. Whispers hiding away around her and she looked in horror at the med bay curtains that surrounded her bed, where dark shadows mocked her. He has returned to finish her - and there are more who seek revenge.

    She screamed, a blood curdling scream like nails on a chalkboard. Tessa jumped from her bed in panic, colliding with a nearby trolley. Her legs were weak. She collapsed to the floor and all manner of equipment clattered together and entangled with her limbs, but she did not care and crawled rapidly to the corner of the med bay. There was nowhere else to go. Vivid images of a red wrench slapped her mind constantly and she twitched and squirmed in her corner, holding a scalpel in a feeble attempt to defend herself.

    “Fire and blood everywhere,” She whispered frantically. “I tried to save them, I tried.. I tried…”

    Johnathon had just been finishing the last passages of the weekly medical report when he heard the terrified scream. The cry sent a shaft of ice through his back and made goose pimples rise as he whirled in the direction of the noise. The bandaged figure of the helmswoman greeted his sight as she desperately scrambled away from her bed. Without thinking Johnathon dropped his pencil and moved towards Miss Naaru’s cowering figure but the sight of the scalpel in her hands slowed him. Like a cornered animal, a hurt and confused person, especially one with a head injury, could lash out at anyone that seemed even slightly threatening.

    Careful now, any sudden movements could set her off, he thought as he cautiously approached. Her wound worried him, such sudden and violent movement would not be good for her head and put at risked everything she had miraculously avoided so far. Stopping out of arms reach he slowly crouched, making sure to keep his eyes fixed on her for any movement. She was muttering frantically as he levelled with her.

    “Mrs Naaru.” he said gently. “Mrs Naaru can you hear me? Tessa, it’s doctor Johnathon, you’re safe now.”

    She swiped at him wildly, once, twice, three times but always far out of reach. No closer. Don’t you dare come any closer. Her eyes had steadied on him like a hawk and she saw nothing but the engineer, draped in those oil stained overalls, crouching down in front of her. The panic was subsiding. The anger was building.

    “I tried to save them,” She cried, “I tried… I tried…” Tessa cut through the air a few more times, albeit getting much closer. Yet Johnathon did not flinch and let the blade pass inches away from his face and Tessa blinked at him in confusion, unsure why he had no fear. Fear me. Get away. Her bluff had been called.

    Now she was afraid. Tears welled in her eyes and she pulled her legs into her chest, rocking back and forth slightly. By the Design hide me, turn me invisible, make the world disappear. A droplet of blood fell onto her knee. And then another one. One or two more came from the sky and when Tessa looked up beads of blood dribbled from her forehead into her eye. The cut was real and open again. It was all too much. She tossed the scalpel at Johnathon in a wild final attempt to stop him and then burst into a cascade of tears as she cried into her hands.

    “P-Please don’t kill me…” She sobbed quietly.

    The scalpel bounced harmlessly off Johnathon’s leather coat as he sat watching Miss Naaru. He had forced himself not to move as she lashed out at him, noticing the lack of conviction in the swings. He had dealt with unruly and distressed patents before, but they had mostly been soldiers. As he watched the Helmswoman, wracked by fear and guilt, burst into tears he felt something inside him crack, allowing emotions he thought he had conquered long ago to leak out. The wild fear of the battlefield, knowing that any moment could be your last time. The overwhelming despair as the never ending line of wounded passed before him and sense of futility as for each person saved another three die. The dreadful guilt of knowing that a person had died because he had failed.

    All these emotions combined with the sights that went with them whirled in their thousands like a hurricane behind the dam he had built in his mind, threatening to burst through in a great surge that would shatter him. Breathing deeply Johnathon strained against the hurricane but he was like a leaf in the wind. Before he was swept away however he desperately reached for the calming energy inside him and suddenly felt anchored to the ground, able to contain the hurricane once more.

    Looking once again at Miss Naaru he saw the pain she was going through. Not from the head wound or any of her physical ailments, but from a more serious injury she had been inflicted long ago.

    “Tessa,” he said, gently taking her hands into his. “You can’t save them all. Not every time, no matter how hard we try. Whether it be on a surgery table or an air ship, in some situations things simply go wrong and people die. Now just because we can’t save everyone doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try, because in the act of the impossible you might just save those who would have been dead otherwise. Tessa, you tried and because of that you saved people that would have never been able to get out of that airship otherwise.”

    I know the guilt can be overwhelming at times,” he continued, the glassy stares of hundreds of the people he had failed to save gazing at him in his mind. “but we have to remember the people we did save because they’re the important ones.”

    She squeezed his hands firmly and opened her teary eyes, meeting his stare. “It should have been me. Not them.” Tess fell into the doctor’s arms, heaving with sadness and crying into his chest. There were more words, but they vanished into inaudible babble and she embraced Johnathon ever so tightly, determined to never let go.

    Johnathon was stunned. She sat in his lap like a stray little kitten and he wasn’t sure whether to hug her or return her to the safety of her home, the med bay bed.

    “Come on Tessa.” He scooped her up into his strong arms and she blubbered into him like a baby. “You need to rest.” He placed her back in the sheets and watched with a mixture of relief and sadness as Tessa slipped soundlessly off to sleep. Johnathon watched her for a while unsure of what to do with himself. His doctor's training kicked in however and he meticulously checked the bandages on Tessa's head before gesturing to a nurse who had just entered to take over her care. Soon after he left the med bay with no real destination in mind, his thoughts in turmoil.
     
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  15. Keitsumah

    Keitsumah The Dream-Walker Contributor

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    “That’s a joke. Lighten up, gentlemen. Any questions before we deploy?”

    "Ah. I was going to say that B team was the Brutalizers and that the A team stood for 'a cute bunch of bunnies.'" Vlad grinned cheekilly at Dorian and got a few surprised glances from his men. What? The man had asked for it! But no, he quickly put any nonsense away. The tunnel ahead of them was already intimdating enough let alone how strange it was...

    "You don't think that would be their sewer discharge?" he said before he could help himself, and saw three of the six less experienced men resist the urge to gag.

    "Perhaps it is," Dorian said with a smile. "Consider this an opportunity to learn about the dietary patterns of this city's inhabitants." He turned and gestured gallantly toward the exit. "If that's all, discovery awaits. The wire seems secure, but let's limit ourselves to two or three men at a time, just to be safe. Albion, you're with me. Trayburn, you'll lead the A-team if something happens."

    He took hold of the taut cable and began to cross the hundred or so feet of open air between theFeyfalken and the rock face. The wire was nearly horizontal, but with a slight ascent. He gripped it with his arms and legs and began to crawl across, silently urging himself not to look down.

    Vlad followed close behind Dorian. A faint breeze pulled at the wire and made it sway for a moment, but it was nowhere near strong enough to make the act any more dangerous than it currently was. He sucked in a steadying breath and refused to look down. Of course, the mist was right below them, but he did not want thoughts of how deep the ravine really was going through his head.

    As he drew closer to the cavern, Dorian tried to see just what he'd gotten himself into. Somewhere in the darkness, he could make out a metallic shape, large and flat, sitting a dozen yards or so from the edge. It seemed to be blocking most of the cavern. The grappling hook had embedded itself in the object.

    Upon reaching the cavern, the captain disembarked and immediately set about lighting his lantern. he held it in one hand, while the other hovered ominously close to the sidearm on his hip. He had a rifle slung over his shoulder and a rapier on his left side, but the pistol had always felt the most natural.

    As the lantern light spilled outward, Dorian realized the "cavern" was a tunnel after all. Its walls were smooth and lined with pipes and thick wires. Wires? Impossible, he thought. They couldn't possibly have electricity here... could they? Mesmerized by them, he took one step toward the wall and nearly tripped over something thick and metal.

    Rails. There were railroad tracks on the floor... but three of them, instead of two. One glance toward the "large flat object" he'd seen revealed it was a train of some sort, like an abandoned passenger car from a locomotive. The grappler was embedded in its front.

    "They can't possibly operate trains in this tunnel... can they?" Dorian whispered, his mind racing. The soot and smoke would choke anyone inside. Yet, when he looked up, he saw no smokestack on the train and no black residue on the ceiling of the cavern. Aside from being dark as hell and rather dusty, the tunnel didn't seem to have been polluted by the smoke and ash of steam engines. It continued on, far beyond the abandoned train. Little glass lightbulbs lined the wall every dozen meters or so, but there was no power.

    He swallowed the lump in his throat and hoped his voice wasn't trembling as he spoke. "Albion... signal the others to c-come across," the captain said as he peered into the train's windows. There were seats, but no one inside... only piles of abandoned clothing, as if the passengers had all vanished and their possessions dropped to the floor where they once stood. This unnerved him far more than finding any actual bodies. "They need to see this."

    Vladimir stared wide-eyed at their surroundings, then waved a hand toward the others. He heard the rustle of movement behind him and knew that the more experienced half of the group were coming as fast as they could manage.

    Every hair on his body stood on end. He didn't even bother asking what the captain thought this was. But one thing in particular bugged him.

    "If this is a train... or something like it... then why does it just end?" he said quietly.
     
  16. Master Attano

    Master Attano Active Member

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    Johnathon didn’t know why he had gone to engineering, he’d simply let his feet guide him as he tried to get his head in order. He wasn’t sure why the drama with Tessa had thrown him so much but it bothered him that he had almost broken down due to it. His memories of the war had certainly had a profound effect on him, he admitted that, but he thought he had conquered those feelings years ago. Their re-emergence troubled him but he put it down to seeing another person wracked with guilt from not saving people put under their care.

    Seeing Tessa in that state had made him feel very protective and his heart went out to the girl, a feeling that went against his usual stance of keeping distance between him and his patents. He’d been hurt to many times by seeing soldiers he had bonded with turning up on his table, mortally wounded, and needing help that was already too late most of the time.

    Johnathon stopped walking. He could have sworn he’d just heard the soft laugh of a woman. However, standing in the dim, cramped, hallway the only thing he could hear was the constant hum of the turbines and soft thump of a propeller outside the hull. Johnathon was about to write it off as nerves and took a step before freezing once more. He hadn’t noticed it straight away, but now he could definitely feel it. The niggle was back, squirming at the back of his mind.

    Johnathon was instantly on edge, the last time he had felt something like this they’d been attacked by the undead, even if he hadn’t consciously noted the feeling at the time. The lights of the corridor seemed dimmer than before, the shadows more twisted and dark, like they might reach out and grab him with black claws if he got too close. Looking around cautiously Johnathon squared his shoulders and gritted his teeth, taking a step forward, then another. He hadn’t gone through nearly twenty years of war and all its horrors just to be scared by shadows. The laugh sounded again and Johnathon couldn’t help but halt as the musical noise seemed to drift down the hall and straight through him.

    The hairs on the back of his arms and neck rose and the niggle at the back of his mind throbbed like an alarm claxon. Something was wrong, Johnathon knew he should run but felt rooted to the spot, unable to move. “Hello?” he stammered, before steeling his voice. “Who’s there? I know there’s someone there.”

    He could feel a presence. Alien, it was like nothing he had ever felt before and made his skin crawl, seeming to emanate from down the hall. Heart beating like a drum Johnathon finally summoned the will to move and began to slowly back away. Whatever was down here unnerved Johnathon in a way he had never felt before. As he retreated the pounding in his head slowly began to fade back to a niggle and then nothing. Looking around Johnathon realised that he had left engineering and that the presence was gone. The corridor seemed brighter here and from a nearby porthole he could even see sunlight streaming in. What just happened? Johnathon thought, staring back towards the dim engineering block. The presence he had felt had seemed so real at the time but now, standing in the light. It felt like it had all been his imagination, a dream.

    A group of crew members gave him a strange look as they passed, having to side step Johnathon's frozen form to continue down the hall. The appearance of people however had the effect of snapping him out of his reverie and he quickly turned, striding down the corridor, his coat lapping at his heels. He didn’t know where he was going but just knew he needed to get as much distance as possible between him and the dark corridors of engineering.
     
  17. AnonyMouse

    AnonyMouse Contributor Contributor

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    Once the entire team crossed the chasm, the two teams split up and began advancing deeper into the tunnel. Vladimir's team moved along the left side of the derelict train, while Dorian led Trixianne and his team down the other. The train was only four cars long, but didn't seem to have a steam locomotive at either end. His suspicions were confirmed: it was an electric train, with a conductor's seat and controls at both ends.

    Dorian stopped to pry open the doors of one car and investigate what lay inside, but the entire scene felt too eerie to stay for long. He would never admit it, but he was afraid. Once inside, he rummaged through some of the possessions left behind. He found a wallet in a pair of pants on the floor. Inside, was what appeared to be an identification card, made of a flexible material. It wasn't metal or paper or wood, but something else, seemingly manmade. The money inside looked somewhat similar to Aeternian currency, but he didn't recognize the faces printed on the bills. Dorian passed the wallet to a member of his team for safekeeping. He also found a small, flat, rectangular device in the pocket of the pants; it had a glass screen and buttons, but he couldn't figure out what purpose it served. Dorian held on to it anyway.

    Continuing further through the train, he discovered a large railway map posted on the wall, and studied it for a few minutes. No, that can't be right, he thought a he stared at the map. It looked as if the train line they were on continued for many more miles, past the mouth of the tunnel. Either the map was wrong or large parts of the city had fallen away into the mist. But he didn't see any evidence of crumbling. There were no cracks near the mouth of the tunnel and no evidence of catastrophic erosion on the cliff face.

    "Take that and let's keep moving. There should be a station up ahead, possibly with access to the surface," Dorian said, pointing to the map. Two of his men drew their knives and began prying the map and rail directory from its glass frame. They rolled it up like a scroll and both teams continued on, away from the train and deeper into the tunnel.

    As the initial shock and strangeness wore off, Dorian tried to contemplate what it all meant. That was a job best left to the research team, or at least someone who could come up with a logical explanation for encountering a city a hundred years more advanced than anything in Aeternia, perched upon an isolated plateau in the middle of nowhere. If this place really was completely abandoned, they could spend months investigating it.

    Or we may just disappear like the previous inhabitants, he thought. A find like this might be worth the risk. This is what we came to do, right? Explore the unexplainable.

    The team walked in silence for another fifteen minutes before finding the station and climbing onto the platform. There were more piles of abandoned clothing, as if dozens of people had suddenly vanished while waiting for the trains to come. Dorian ordered his team to keep moving and touch nothing. They could investigate later; right now he just wanted to get topside and out of the darkness.

    The station was lined with smooth tiles on the floors and walls. A darkened sign read "Ennsberg Station." It was the third stop on the East line, according to the map. The name sounded familiar, but Dorian was too busy searching for the stairs to give it much thought. The swaying lanterns the team carried bounced their light off of large darkened screens, like glass windows with nothing on the other side. He guessed they were supposed to be illuminated with images of some kind, but required electricity.

    As they began to climb the stairs to the surface, they occasionally passed posters advertising strange things. Dorian saw pictures of people using the flat rectangular device he'd found; they were holding them up to the sides of their heads and seemed to be speaking to them. Those, too, worked on electricity. Is everything here electric? Is electricity magic?

    His head was swimming with absurd ideas. And that's when he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. Or, rather, the light at the top of the stairs. Some kind of low metal gate blocked their path. It had little slots to accept coins, but Dorian hopped over it and continued on toward the light. "C'mon, we're almost there," he said to his team as they followed him up, stepping around little piles of shirts, shoes, and trousers, like grave markers for places where people had once stood.

    He burst into the sun and squinted at the glare reflecting off the towering buildings that surrounded them on all sides. They were standing on a wide sidewalk, with buildings of glass and metal on all sides. The streets were smooth and paved with a black material, like tar, only harder. The automobiles were like nothing he'd ever seen before, smooth and sleek, and painted all manner of bright colors, instead of the black steamcars of Aeternia. They had big grilles for sucking in air and tall rims with very little rubber. A little pile of clothing sat in the driver's seat of each.

    Dorian was about to investigate one, when a street sign caught his attention. There was nothing special about it. It was only a metal plate, bolted to a post, but the street's name made his heart stop: "Arnold Yegeriss Avenue."

    It seemed like nothing, of course, but Dorian had grown up in Holdenheim. Arnold Yegeriss was a noble servant of the royal family from a century ago. The street bearing his name ran through Ennsberg, a posh little market district on the east end of Holdenheim, a few blocks from the river.

    "Holy shit!" Dorian said, far too loudly and dropped his lantern. It shattered on the pavement in a puff of flame and he leapt back as the fire died down. "We're in Holdenheim."
     
  18. Love to Write

    Love to Write I'm a lover of writing. What else is to be said? Contributor

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    "Holdenheim?" Trixy asked incredulously, coming to Dorian's side. She studied the sign that had brought him to this conclusion. "Maybe...maybe its just a coincidence. One street sign doesn't mean its Holdenheim. I mean look at this place." She turned in a circle gesturing at the buildings around them. "Its way more advanced then anything we have back home."
     
  19. AnonyMouse

    AnonyMouse Contributor Contributor

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    "Its way more advanced then anything we have back home," Trixy said.

    Dorian merely nodded. He was still lost in thought, such that Trixy’s voice sounded like a distant echo. 'More advanced' was quite the understatement, but he knew she was partially right: this couldn't be Holdenheim. They'd traveled east all along. How can something travel in one direction and arrive back at its starting point?

    Actually, this wasn't their starting point at all. The Holdenheim he knew wasn't perched atop a cliff, surrounded by a moat of fog and mist. Not only was this version of the city too futuristic to be the same city he knew and loved, it was also positioned differently.

    Dorian gasped as he thought of one possible explanation.

    "Integra said something to me the day we saw the Black Forest," he said to Trixianne. "The trees didn't belong. None of it belonged. She theorized that that entire forest was a... a..." he gestured vaguely, as if searching for the right words. "A cutout... a-a piece of some other place and time transplanted into the middle of the desert. She said the trees we found there are a strain that has been extinct for centuries."

    Dorian looked all around, as if trying to get his bearings. "They've done it again," he said wistfully. "This isn't all of Holdenheim. It's just a cutout... like jabbing a cookie cutter into a piece of dough." He turned to Trixy with a mischievous grin. "I bet ya ten gold coins its a perfect circle, just like the forest. We won't know 'til we get the Feyfalken up here, to survey it from above."

    The captain turned to Vladimir: "I think it's safe to say this place is uninhabited, but, just to be sure, we're going to scout ahead a few blocks and make sure there's no hostiles lurking in these buildings. Take your team that way," he said, pointing down a side street. "I'll work my way down this street and we'll meet up in five blocks. If nothing larger than a rat jumps out by then, we'll scout out an LZ and send a man to signal the Feyfalken to rise, so the research team can establish base camp. There's enough 'what-the-fuck' here to keep them busy for months." He looked to Trixy and his brows rose. "I wonder what kind of toys these future-people have. I bet there's enough to keep a quartermaster busy for months, too."
     
  20. Mike Nemesis

    Mike Nemesis Active Member

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    Christoph paced the cargo bay uneasily. He wasn't a fan of been caged up on the ship while other people got to explore. The fact their last trip had involved two deaths and fighting the undead should of put him off but if anything it made him more eager to be out there to lay his eyes on things no on else in Holdenheim had ever seen and to be able to try to protect the others. But he knew his job was equally important, it was no use protecting the expedition team if they returned to a ship over run by god knows what. Still that knowledge didn't make it any easier.

    Add to that all he had was time now which meant he kept going over and over his discussion with Vlad. He didn't have enough information which just meant that his mind swung to crazy conclusions. Was Vlad planning a mutiny? Did the Emperor have some ulterior motive in this expedition and just why couldn't he be straight with them? What did people know that he didn't?
     
  21. AnonyMouse

    AnonyMouse Contributor Contributor

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    The away team spent nearly half of the day scouting out a landing site. After the incident in the Black Forest, the captain didn’t want to take any chances. After searching for hours, it became very clear that the city was uninhabited. The silence grew from eerie to oddly appropriate, as if it somehow complimented the cold gray stone, the tarnished steel, and the enormous panes of glass all around them.

    Other than the occasional rodent, small strays, and one very startled gazelle, the city was completely devoid of life. Half of the A Team nearly shat themselves when an antlered fawn darted out from behind an overturned truck and sprinted across the street, its hooves clattering on the pavement.

    Late afternoon was fully upon them when Dorian finally found an ideal landing zone. After scouting out several high buildings with flat rooftops and deciding they weren’t structurally sound enough to support the Feyfalken, he ultimately settled on a raised roadbed. Enormous signs suspended above the roadway read Highway 34. Signs every couple of miles had numbers, marking the exit ramps.

    According to a map they’d found hours ago, this was a “freeway,” an enormous road, many lanes wide, which these futuristic people used to travel at high rates of speed in their futuristic cars. It also happened to be big enough to safely land an airship on. The map showed that Highway 34 circled the entire city but, just as Dorian suspected, this was not all of Holdenheim, just a small chunk of it, cut off from the rest and dropped here for reasons he couldn’t fathom. The landing site he selected was near the edge of the city where the highway ended abruptly, as if some invisible force had sliced it off. In the distance, he could see half of a skyscraper at the far end of the city, marking the opposite end.

    A runner was sent back to the Feyfalken, while the away team began pushing abandoned cars out of the way, to make room for the airship, which arrived many minutes later. Its props kicked up clouds of dust that probably hadn’t been disturbed in centuries. The city was from the future, but it had clearly been here for a very long time. While scouting, they’d discovered grocery stores, filled with the bare husks of produce that had rotted away decades ago, leaving only a stale stench and shelves overgrown with mold and fungi. But so many other things had survived: abandoned technology, libraries filled with knowledge of things not yet discovered, and architectural wonders.

    We have so much to learn, the captain thought as the ship was guided in, via flares and lanterns. He felt as if they’d finally arrived, as if they’d finally found all that the Sands of Desolation had to offer. This was the treasure trove they were meant to discover.
     
  22. Love to Write

    Love to Write I'm a lover of writing. What else is to be said? Contributor

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    Trixianne stood to the side, a book and loose page with the crude drawing of an approximate map in hand and the ship came in for a landing. If pieces of land from different periods of time were being dropped willy nilly around the sands, then how was she supposed to find the treasure trove she was searching for. Futuristic items were all well and good but they weren't what she was searching for.

    Trixy folded the paper, closed the book and stuck both back in her pack. "What's the plan, Captian?" She asked approaching Dorian. Her mood was unusually serious and her words to the point. "We just going to let the scientists have at this place or are we going to do some more exploring ourselves?"
     
  23. AnonyMouse

    AnonyMouse Contributor Contributor

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    "What's the plan, Captain?" Trixianne asked. "We just going to let the scientists have at this place or are we going to do some more exploring ourselves?"

    "May I?" Dorian said extending his hand toward the map with a smile. When Trixy handed it to him, he unfurled it and pointed to their current location.

    "We covered a lot of ground today. I think it's safe to say the area around the landing site is safe. We've checked all of these buildings and found no clear threats," he said, using his finger to mark out a roughly five block radius around the Feyfalken's landing site. "This is the safe zone; the research team can work within that zone with minimal security. I'll have Vlad and his men work on expanding the zone. Ideally, I'd like to have the entire city scouted, mapped, and declared 'safe,' but that may take months."

    His conversation with Christoph Sabre about how nothing was 'safe' in the Sands of Desolation suddenly came roaring back. It surfaced in his mind like the fin of a shark breaking the waves of a serene watering hole.

    Dorian smiled, to get that thought out of his head. He looked to Trixy with a mischievous grin as he returned the map to her.

    "This is an amazing find, but you don't sound particularly enthusiastic," he said. "Where's your spirit of adventure? Something the matter, Trixy?"
     
  24. Master Attano

    Master Attano Active Member

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    As the Feyfalken gently lowered itself into the small clearing, Johnathon stood watching from one of the catwalks along the outside of the ship. The city was amazing. He had never seen anything like it before and simply allowed his eyes to wander from the fascinating glass like buildings to the strange vehicles that dotted the street the Feyfalken landing area.


    The fresh air and sight of the city had banished his thoughts about the experience he had had in engineering, replacing them with a childlike wonder that screamed at him to go out and explore. He hesitated however reluctant to leave the view even for a second. The thought of new knowledge and discoveries threw him through the porthole and back into the depths of the ship however. Racing to his room he grabbed a few things and stuffed them into a bag before jogging to the Medical Ward. As he approached however he slowed his step, even though he was bubbling with energy it wouldn’t due to have himself look like an excited teenager in front of his team.
     
  25. Keitsumah

    Keitsumah The Dream-Walker Contributor

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    Vladimir was releived that they hadn't found anything, especially after the Black Forest Incident, but something kept nagging at him. Why, and how had this city, even if only a portion if it, gotten here? A chill ran down his spine, though he refused to say the word.

    Magic. It was the only thing that he could imagine doing something to this scale. But to what purpose? He kept a hand on his sword and opened the door to a large, grey building with pillars on the front. It was one of the few places they had yet to scout out, but he already had a feeling that it wasn't anything living they would find in here.

    Instead, his jaw dropped. The library spread out on all sides before him, filled with row upon row of shelves stuffe to the brim with books. Dusty marble floors gave off what little reflection they could back to the glass dome high above in the cieling, and sunlight poured through upon the dusty tomes, faded with time. Like all libraries he had been in, there was an awed sense of silence for so much knowledge in one place, and this place could hold every peice of information from their time onward.

    Vladimir took a few heasitant steps forward and brushed his fingers across the spines of several, then selected one and slid it out just as the others walked in. He opened the book and flipped through its pages. The language was Aeternian, but he squinted when several words didn't make sense. The language was the same to a degree, but it was different as well. He flipped another page, about to close the book and tell them to head back and give news to the others when something caught his eye.

    An old, tattered sheet of paper had been jammed into the pages, and it depicted a strange picture. The closest thing he could think of to it was a dragon, but compared to the brilliant, scaled beasts with wings this one was a war-torn wreck. It's body was covered with scars, bare of scales, and it's upper torso was too heavy looking. It's tail was as well, leaving it's hind legs spindly and appareing out of place. Six horns protruded from the back of it's head, and when he squinted he could see the snarling beast had four eyes, not two. What was this thing? It looked like a creature out of one of the scary strories his mother or father had told him when he was a child.

    "Mom, what is the scariest monster you can think of?" he asked. Her blood-red eyes closed and asad smile came to her face.

    "It is us."

    Vlad quirked his head to one side, confused. "But we don't have big ugly teeth or claws, or glowing yellow eyes. How are we the scariest?"

    "Because of this-" she said, and lightly tapped him on the forehead. "No matter what happens, humans always win. We are smarter than any monster. And even if the monster eats some of us, we always have more people. We're like ants against a big spider."

    Vladimir shivered with glee at the image. "So I don't need to be scared of nothing do I? If I'm the biggest, baddest monster of them all?"

    His mother smiled again. "Yes. Only this-" she tapped his forehead again,"-is your limit."

    Vladimir closed the book and gingerly slid it back into place. No matter what monsters they faced, humanity always overcame them. He had to beleive that if they were to survive this trip.

    He waved one of the guards over. "Go get Christoph and have him take half of the guard on the ship to stay with the research teams. The other half are to stay on board or around the ship." The guard nodded and ran off, while Vladimir led the others in their exploration of the library.
     
    Last edited: Jul 5, 2014
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