Dmitri Tolenka
Sic Semper Tyrannis
The morning sun caresses the land below the ship's keel. The air is almost frigid as the captain leisurely floats the ship upward. After a weeklong journey to pick up the scattered hopeful applicants from designated sites with all smooth sailing, the mood is borderline jovial among the crew. Even the superstitious among the crew, who none too subtly warn against praising their good fortune too much lest devil listens and makes work for idle hands, do so with more of a smile on their face. A few notes play across the deck from a sailor who sits on the very prow. She idly plucks at a small lute she fished out from somewhere.
Off to port, the first few puffs of wind begin to race out from a series of craggy canyons, across the endless rust dunes to the east. A hint of green is just barely visible in once of the canyons, a last vestige of the once great oasis of Shade.
Directly ahead, a brilliant rainbow coloured stream snakes between dead trees and rusted industrial hulks before diving away for the northwest, into the Depths of Greed, the once great Dust mining areas that poisoned the area. Some embers flicker among the ruins, or less poetically put people far below go about the start of their day, somehow able to scrape by in the toxic wasteland. The peaks of Shade just barely make it over the horizon even further ahead.
To starboard the endless dunes turn from a shade of rust to gold, a vast expanse of harsh, biting sandstorms, some just as harsh underground life and little else.
Captain Morris stands at the rear, looking every bit the pirate lord from a historical drama set about five hundred years ago. Down from his tricorn hat, shiny black full beard, red overcoat and enough brass decorations to make a tuba with to the gilded brace of pistols and shiny sabre on his belt. Given the age of his wooden vessel and that it is clearly a family run operation, the option exists his outfit does actually date back to the period. Odd look aside he has been a gracious host and competent sailor all the way. Currently, he stares at something in the distance.
"ME DEAR! Please pass me the spyglass, thank yee." He bellows out as he steps over to the port railing. His wife pokes her head up from down below deck and throws it.
"Aye luv, wot be 'appening?" she asks, head tilted to the side.
"That be a weird ship off the port side." The captain replies as he peers through the scope. "Hmm. I see. Gather them aspirants up on deck would ya?"
A shout quickly travels from crew to crew to helpful aspirant: All aspirant Shade students are to gather on deck. Excited and sometimes nervous chatter fills the air. All fall silent as Captain Morris snaps his spyglass shut and turns to adress them.
"Thank'ee all fer gatherin' round. I'll be quick 'boot this. There be a vessel off to port that be flying the 'Need aid now' signal off to our portside. Near as I can see, they've got a bit o' rigging still up, but they be either drunk or bleedin' oot what with how they be flyin'. There's some louts in the rigging but at this distance I cannea see wot they be doin'. This could be a pirate trick, or a legit trouble case. I need ye ter stand ready for any nasty business we might encounter." The captain explains. "Plan is ter pull alongside and see what's going on. Any questions?"
Off to port, the first few puffs of wind begin to race out from a series of craggy canyons, across the endless rust dunes to the east. A hint of green is just barely visible in once of the canyons, a last vestige of the once great oasis of Shade.
Directly ahead, a brilliant rainbow coloured stream snakes between dead trees and rusted industrial hulks before diving away for the northwest, into the Depths of Greed, the once great Dust mining areas that poisoned the area. Some embers flicker among the ruins, or less poetically put people far below go about the start of their day, somehow able to scrape by in the toxic wasteland. The peaks of Shade just barely make it over the horizon even further ahead.
To starboard the endless dunes turn from a shade of rust to gold, a vast expanse of harsh, biting sandstorms, some just as harsh underground life and little else.
Captain Morris stands at the rear, looking every bit the pirate lord from a historical drama set about five hundred years ago. Down from his tricorn hat, shiny black full beard, red overcoat and enough brass decorations to make a tuba with to the gilded brace of pistols and shiny sabre on his belt. Given the age of his wooden vessel and that it is clearly a family run operation, the option exists his outfit does actually date back to the period. Odd look aside he has been a gracious host and competent sailor all the way. Currently, he stares at something in the distance.
"ME DEAR! Please pass me the spyglass, thank yee." He bellows out as he steps over to the port railing. His wife pokes her head up from down below deck and throws it.
"Aye luv, wot be 'appening?" she asks, head tilted to the side.
"That be a weird ship off the port side." The captain replies as he peers through the scope. "Hmm. I see. Gather them aspirants up on deck would ya?"
A shout quickly travels from crew to crew to helpful aspirant: All aspirant Shade students are to gather on deck. Excited and sometimes nervous chatter fills the air. All fall silent as Captain Morris snaps his spyglass shut and turns to adress them.
"Thank'ee all fer gatherin' round. I'll be quick 'boot this. There be a vessel off to port that be flying the 'Need aid now' signal off to our portside. Near as I can see, they've got a bit o' rigging still up, but they be either drunk or bleedin' oot what with how they be flyin'. There's some louts in the rigging but at this distance I cannea see wot they be doin'. This could be a pirate trick, or a legit trouble case. I need ye ter stand ready for any nasty business we might encounter." The captain explains. "Plan is ter pull alongside and see what's going on. Any questions?"