Fantasy The Devil's Meridian (Closed)

[EdwardDewey98]

The ARA Correntino was behind most of the ships when they had arrived at the 'wall' that hid the Meridian. Some members of the crew were nervous as they looked at the Nixe go on ahead into the wall. Alongside Dr. Dos Santos were a few other researchers, who despite having severe skepticism of the Meridian, admitted that the strange wall phenomenon was hard to explain. The good doctor was just frantically writing in her journal as the lights of the Nixe vanished behind the ghastly wall. Inside the ships bridge, the captain looked at the message sent by the Commodore. "The Terror seems to be heading in, sir." said the captains first officer. Alvarado gently caressed his beard before giving the order to continue forward. "...And tell everyone to get back inside... and to hold tight. We do not know what awaits us behind that... wall."

Once the AFV Terror disappeared behind the wall, the ARA Correntino followed. Dos Santos was the last one to get inside the ship, as she was captivated by the wall and only walked in when the forward of the ship cut through the fog. What followed was hard to describe, as Dos Santos felt the ship move while crossing the unnatural wall. She held tight to a nearby pipe but still fell to the ground. Most of the crew did not expect to be hit by such unholy force. Captain Alvarado was seemingly unfazed, or so he tried to show as he fixed himself while his first mate puked in a nearby trashcan.

"That was rough first impression..." said the captain under his breath. The first mate soon answered, after wiping his mouth. "Y-you think, Don? M-mierda carajo..." the captain smiled before asking what was the status of the rest of the crew. A crewman from the storage of the ship announced shocking news for the Northerner Crew. "Sir... one of the boxes of wine was not properly secured. It fell over..." The captain sighed. "...A true tragedy." After a few minutes trying to organize everything again, the captain ordered a nearby sailor to contact the Nixe.

Illness affects crew STOP
lost one cargo STOP
captain in control STOP​

 

[Emperor Sagan]

At Sea....

"Grand Captain, I would recommend that you do not drink anymore tea if you wish to preserve a suitable amount for this journey," Flag Lieutenant Aleksey Williams cautioned from beside Anastasia. She sipped at the porcelain teacup again and gave the man a sideways glance. "Its only my third... this Manzano Tea is really quite delicious. I wish we had more local selections back home. Would you like some, Flag Lieutenant?" Williams shook his head politely. "No thank you, Grand Captain. I would not wish to impede upon your tea supply."

At that moment the telegraph from Meinhardt's ship came through and the contents were read aloud to the bridge crew. There were a few curious glances, and Williams stepped over to the ship's intercom. He cleared his throat before thumbing the transmitter, causing a tiny electric squeal throughout the ship. "Attention, crew. Bridge speaking. We will be crossing into the Uncharted Zone within the next twenty minutes. We have been informed that the crossing may cause physical and mental strain. This is normal. Standby for orders.... Operational Report: Inclement Weather Conditions. Brace For Impact. General Quarters. I repeat...." The intercom squealed again as he moved away from it and towards another board. There were a number of hand cranks, levers, and buttons - some electrically powered now - but most of which being mechanical in origin. Williams grasped a crank and began to spin it, causing an alarm klaxon to wail across the ship. General Quarters. An ensign on the bridge went around to lock and shutter several windows. On the deck, gun crews began to cover and plug the guns before retreating back inside the ship, along with the deck watchmen. Flags were brought in, hatches battened down. Around the ship loose items were immediately stowed and all stations manned. A sailor appeared on the bridge after several minutes to personally report all stations reported green, even as the intership board showed green lights.

"Inclement weather conditions?" Anastasia asked. "To make sure everyone is locked up, right?"

Williams nodded. "That is correct, Grand Captain. I do not believe it wise to allow personnel to remain on deck for the crossing." Ahead, the clouds seemed to transform into an even more foreboding mass, and an ensign with a pair of binoculars peering through a slit in the shutters reported that the Nixe was already making the crossing. Anastasia quickly finished her tea and stowed it away in the refreshments cabinet, locking it carefully as she had been shown as Williams watched her closely. She returned to her seat and gripped the arms. "A-ah... bridge, please report distance until crossing." One of the watchmen examined the distance with a spyglass like device but quickly put it in his pocket.

"Within the next three minutes, Grand Captain. We're the next ship to cross." The minutes seemed to crawl along until it was reported by the watch that they were at the barrier, and the 'brace for impact' alarm was sounded to warn the crew. Without warning, the ship shuddered as it if had been struck by something, the superstructure groaning loudly like the wailing of a mythical beast. The lights on the bridge began to weaken and dim, but it was like a dark cobweb had been thrown over their eyes and over the panels. Anastasia grasped hard at her chair, suppressing a whimper as she felt a terrible pressure descend upon and around her. Several crewmen were steadying themselves at their stations as if they were truly in a fierce gale, but the ship had long since stopped shuttering and the world remained still to Anastasia's eyes. Dead, even, as the world seemed to lose color entirely. Everyone looked like pale marble statues. Williams was right beside her, his hand upon her shoulder, thin lipped and pale as his eyes didn't blink. Why did she feel like the only one that was alive? Her hands were shaking and she moved her arms tentatively, even while stillness reigned around the bridge, as if time had stopped.

"Captain, are you alright?" Color bled back to life as everyone was suddenly looking around at each other, several in different positions than she had remembered them to be in only seconds ago. One of the communications officers was sitting on the ground, breathing heavily while two others attended to them.

"Grand Captain Kortova, are you okay?"

She startled slightly and found that she was crying, and she quickly wiped at her cheeks with her sleeve. "Y-yes! Yes, I am alright. Um... is everyone else alright? Are you alright, Mister Williams?" The man nodded, and produced a handkerchief from his jacket. He offered it to her but she declined, so he used it to dab at the sweat on his brow. While Anastasia was shivering, he felt as if he had walked into an oven. "I'm fine, Grand Captain. We have... ginger seltzer if you need it." Already the water was being passed around to help those with sour stomachs.

"No, I'm quite fine... any injuries?" She asked. "Only minor - someone fell out of their bunk, and someone bumped into a toolbox. Some glass broke in the kitchen and a cook has a hand laceration. The infirmary team is making the rounds now. Everyone should be fine, just a little uncomfortable."

Anastasia took a moment to steady her breathing and she produced a small hand mirror from her coat, which she used to quickly adjust her hat and clean up her tears. Her face was flushed. How embarrassing.

"Please inform the Nixe that we are okay, Mister Williams. Er... Flag Lieutenant." Williams nodded, but hesitated. "If I may suggest so, ma'am, mister is acceptable terminology on board the ship. Or simply lieutenant, or captain. Perhaps you would prefer to preserve the titles for more ceremonial occasions?" Anastasia considered it for a moment before grudgingly offering a nod. "Very well, Lieutenant Williams."

All Well STOP
Minor Injuries STOP
Integrity Maintained FULL STOP​

 

[Infab]

It wasn't long after the Terror, Correntino, and Archangel that the Jackal would cross the boundary into the Meridian. As per the message from the Nixe, the crew of the Jackal made the proper preparations for crossing the boundary. Everything was tied down that needed to be, especially the depth charges near the rear of the destroyer. Didn't need any of those coming lose. On the bridge, Warner grasped onto one of the posts connecting the floor to the ceiling as Slater held onto the counter in front of her where she had been recording events into a log book. As they crossed the boundary, the lights throughout the ship flickered and dimmed. Warner's vision seemed to dim as well, as a migraine suddenly developed in his head. As he clutched his head with his off hand and glanced to Slater, whom looked quite pale. She looked as though she were about to puke, but seemed to hold it in as best she could while holding the counter tightly. The ship shifted a bit, rocking as they crossed.

Once they were through, the lights returned to their normal brightness, and the sickly feelings soon passed. "That was...interesting." said Warner aloud. Slater simply nodded nearby, but swallowed hard afterwards. "...I need to remind myself not to eat anything before we return through the boundary." she muttered. Warner cut her a look, before chuckling. "Status of the crew?" he asked, looking to a nearby communications officer.

After a brief wait, he had his answer. "Sir, we have an injured man down in the armory. An ammunition crate broke its bindings, and fell over. Chief Riddle thinks it might be a broken foot." replied the officer. Warner sighed. "Get him tended to, and get the others to double check everything. We don't need any more incidents like that."

Jackal Under Control STOP
One Man Injured STOP
Full Report to follow FULL STOP ​

 

[joshuadim]

As the HMS Prophet sailed towards the boundary, the crew were busy securing cargo as well as anything else of value on board to ensure its safety. Lonstray and his team in particular were busy locking their equipment down as to minimize as little damage as possible. Ominously, the barrier could be seen in the distance as their impending crossing approached. Dobbs himself stared intently at it from the bridge and pondered as to what was to happen. A telegram had arrived warning of a few side effects to come, but surely it would not be anything too terrible.

The Prophet would soon join the other vessels in passing the boundary, and almost immediately its effects were made clear. A few men still on the deck threw up the contents of their breakfasts off the side of the ship while the lights onboard flickered, with a few of them even fizzling out entirely for a few moments. Dobbs felt his vision go black as he sat in the captain's chair, as well as a deep, sinking feeling in his chest as if his heart was being pulled down. But what shocked him more, was what seemed like the sounds of battle when all should be calm. He could hear faint voices crying out orders, but these quickly dissipated and his vision returned, leaving the man confused and tense.

Hallucinations were warned, but Dobbs did not expect them to be so... vivid. The war had been won years ago, yet it was almost as if he was brought back to that day. He broke his chain of thought when his First Officer alerted him of an injury in the mess hall. One of the sailors on board, one of the more superstitious types, had a panic attack during the crossing and had hit his head during his episode.

"Get him to the infirmary. Let the doctors check up on him." Dobbs ordered before returning his attention to the task at hand and ordered a telegram sent out.

Vessel Under Control STOP
One injury reported STOP
Prophet maintaining course STOP​

 

[K0mori]

The radio operator on the bridge of the Nixe read off the telegram sent by the Prophet, the final ship to cross the threshold into the cursed sea. Commodore Meinhardt and his officers collectively let out a sound of cautious approval, mainly grunts and relieved sighs, as the fleet suffered minimally from its entry into the Uncharted Zone. The flagship itself had also fared well, with only minor illness reported, and no serious injuries. Meinhardt barely felt the transition at all, which was a great relief as his first crossing had left him with a severe migraine several years ago. "[All is well, then,]" he remarked in his native Alamannian.

"[For now,]" Kuromaki responded likewise in Alamannian. She was white in the face, clinging onto a pipe which ran through the bridge. She slowly regained her composure, but remained gloomy nonetheless. "[How are we to navigate without instruments?]" She pointed to the consoles in front of the windows, where several of the instruments were beginning to malfunction. The large compass in the center of the panel was slowly rotating away from center before correcting itself.

Meinhardt nodded at the observation. "[That's normal out here,]" he said, "[and we have a solution, you'll see. Lieutenant Detlev is seeing to it right now.]"

---
​

Outside, a man climbed up the ladder attached to the bow-side mast to an odd device which had been installed halfway up the climb. It was shaped like a large briefcase, but it was made of stamped metal and had a set of long, wire antenna loops sticking out of one side and a pinhole opening on the other. This man, Lt. Detlev, was the chief researcher on the vessel, and he held in one of his many leather bags and cases a fragile sliver of aetherine glass. Fishing it out delicately, he used a key to open the case through the pinhole opening and then installed the glass into the device concealed within.

Down below, a crewman listened using a set of headphones for a signal as Detlev adjusted the antenna, and then waved furiously once the sound came through. Detlev climbed down the tower quickly to get a listen himself before hurrying off to the bridge, stepping purposefully through the door. "[We should be up and running, now,]" he said.

"[Explain yourselves, please,]" Kuromaki requested, her notebook and pen at the ready.

"[Certainly,]" Detlev replied, although he seemed less enthusiastic than his polite choice of word suggested. "[When radio waves pass through a shard of aetherine, they refract based on the angle of emission in relation to the Meridian's reference point. In other words, the worse the signal gets, the more likely the ship is pointed at the exact center of the Uncharted Zone.]"

Meinhard crossed his arms. "[We'd have set this up earlier, but aetherine wears out over time. What I showed the others at lunch yesterday didn't quite do justice to what fully-charged, fresh aetherine can do. We had to keep this piece in proper storage until we were ready to use it.]"

Kuromaki seemed skeptical, but jotted down the information in her notes. "[So how was this discovered? If the Stock Expedition didn't have this technology, then how did they navigate?]"

"[They got lucky,]" Meinhardt replied, grimly. "[After the first island, though, things get easier. You'll see.]"

---
​

The captains knew that they would be proceeding to Castle Island first, much like the Stock Expedition a century prior and many successful voyages since then, but none of the fleet aside from the Nixe had navigational abilities. Once again, they were forced to sail in a line, following signal lamp messages for the few maneuvering instructions they would receive as the hours ticked by. By the time they began to see the imposing island in the distance, it was a black shadow against a charcoal gray sky.

First stop ahead STOP
captains and research STOP
Camp onshore tonight STOP​

 

[Radley]

Meanwhile, on the Terror...
​

"So, what do you think captain?" Lieutenant Rourke said in a low tone as he looked to his superior. Flint remained silent for a moment before replying, "We know why we are here, and I see no reason why this should impede our abilities"
On the floor of the lower decks in the engineering section, Flint and Rourke both stood illuminated by a dim light and looked down upon Seaman Rochester. It was not a pleasant sight.
Rochester lay on the cold metal floor, his skin pale and his body curled up. His hand were tightly balled and his face bore a grim expression as if he had tried to scream in his final moment. His eyes were wide open, transfixed in horror as they shone with a sickly gloss not unlike that of a dead fish.
"I suppose we should prepare a burial at sea, as per usual?" Rourke said, breaking the silence in the dark corridor. Flint remained silent once again, looking upon the sailors twisted form with a furrowed brow. "In time." he replied coldly, "I don't think neither the commodore nor the scientists on the other vessels would appreciate that we throw such a fascinating specimen into the depths so quickly." he concluded with a hint of vexation.

Leaving Lieutenant Rourke to arrange moving the seamans body to the sick-bay, Flint instructed another officer to send a message to the Nixie, the Correntino and the Prophet.:

All crew accounted for STOP
One man deceased STOP
Further study needed STOP
Arranging onshore encampment FULL STOP
​

Flint emerged on the upper deck to find the crew in the process of loading one of the skiffs with the materials needed for the trip to Castle Island. On the bridge's balcony, Flint found Bates looking at the approaching landmass through a pair of binoculars which he promptly handed to his Captain, "Not the most friendly looking place, sir." he spoke as Flint took a gander himself. "No." Flint replied without lowering the binoculars, "But nothing about this whole expedition really does have any semblance of friendliness to it, does it?". Bates stood in silence as he contemplated his captains answer, before nodding slightly to himself. "Rourke will come with me, I want you on the Terror to keep an eye on things. Retain the watch schedule, but make the watchmen take it in pairs. We still know very little about the actual workings of this gods forsaken ocean". Flint instructed, to which Bates simply nodded in affirmation. Flint and Bates then continued to watch as the foreboding island appeared closer and closer the convoy, its dark mass hazily outlined against the grey, sunless sky.

 

[EdwardDewey98]

"How are you feeling?" asked Dos Santos, while talking with one of the sailors that had a rough fall in the engine rooms. The man took a while to give the scientist an answer. He seemed a bit irritated by her presence. "...S-Señor Gonzalez, are you okay?" she asked meekly. He still did not answer until the ship's doctor walked into the infirmary. "Thank you for your help, Ms. Dos Santos. I wasn't prepared for this many wounds." Dos Santos looked at the doctor and gave her a nod. "No problem, miss. Glad I can be of help..." she replied, before walking towards the ships bridge. Just as she walked in, the captain was asking one of his men to look for her. "There's no need, Mr. Alvarado. I'm right here." She said with a friendly tone. "Good. We've got some bad news from the Terror, Ms. Dos Santos. One of their men died." the captain stated, forcing the smile on her face to fade into a look of concern. "Oh dear..." she whispered.

The captain nodded. "The telegram said that 'Further study needed' so I assume you and the weird fellow from the Prophet will need to have a look. We are going to camp in nearby island." Dos Santos returned the nod before speaking. "I'll gather some of my equipment, how many of my people can head to the shore?" she asked, while looking around the bridge.and noticing that the first mate of the ship was still coughing and spitting bile into a bin. "You can take one of your fellow scientists. I'll head with one of my men just in case." responded the captain. Dos Santos was excited at the idea of heading to an island and was reading herself for what was ahead of them, but know there was already a casualty among the ships raised her concerns. What was ahead of them exactly?

 

[Emperor Sagan]

At Sea....

Peace had returned to the bridge as well as the rest of the ship as they sailed further into this strange place. The infirmary team - a surgeon, assistant surgeon, pharmacist, and four orderlies - had reported in a little while ago that all sailors were able bodied and accounted for. There had been a few more bruises and scratches, along with a couple reporting lingering mental discomfort, but these were barely worth note outside of being logged as per the naval board requirement. The bridge crew had also thinned out to only a handful as they returned to their normal sailing conditions.

"Lieutenant Williams? Could you explain this to me?" Anastasia asked. He turned about from the window and stepped alongside her. She was holding a little book with some handwriting scribbled in the margins. One of his old naval academy books that he had, mostly for sentimental reasons, kept stashed in the bottom of his crate. Not long after they had crossed, he had suggested that she read something to ease her mind; to his surprise, she inquired about documents on procedure and terminology. Basic stuff that an inexperienced officer would learn at an academy or through service, neither of which she had. He still wasn't sure of what to make of her demeanor, but he wasn't going to pass up a moment to educate his captain when she severely needed it. And so, she was reading away at what amounted to a training manual.

"Ah, yes... some of this is a little outdated by now, but not by too much. You see, this means...." And on it went. She had a fair grasp at learning new things and a relatively good appetite for it. He wasn't quite certain if it was a drive to be correct, or a drive to appear correct, but if she learned a little along the way then it was a net benefit to him. "Oh, look here! Colored neck handkerchiefs to demonstrate positions? That's rather fetching, isn't it?" She said excitedly a moment after he explained the earlier concept to her. "Insignia are a more modern method, captain. We've retained the color there," he explained, indicating a patch on his sleeve. Sure enough, the gold trim of an officer was there, but it was not nearly as bright or bold as one would expect to see in a handkerchief about the neck. "Is that so? How bland...."

One of the watchmen stepped into the bridge and saluted. "Captain. Lieutenant. We're in sight of the island. It should be within the hour that we reach shore."

"Excellent," Williams said, but then slowed himself and looked to Anastasia.

"Excellent!" She mimicked. "Yes, assemble the... the pathfinder, breach, and engineering teams for landfall."

Williams leaned in and whispered into her ear. "Only necessary for taking enemy held beaches and military operations, captain. We just need a shore team."

She cleared her throat. "A-assemble them anyway. For a drill, I mean! But prepare the shore team for actual deployment."

The watchman saluted to both of them and carried on to carry out the orders.

 

[Infab]

"Sir, the shore team is prepared. Rifles have been issued, gear has been prepared and stowed on the skiffs. Should we bring one of the Annihilators?" asked Riddle as he stepped up to Warner and Slater. The tall, blonde man folded his arms, as he waited for a reply from the captain whom was peering through a set of binoculars at the island where they would be spending the night. Warner lowered the binoculars, and glanced to Riddle. "No, unless you plan on waving it around for the others captains and crews to see. Simple standard issue rifles will do for now. Save the Annihilators for something worthy." The Annihilators were experimental sub-machine guns, crafted after the war between Alamannia and Shinju had ended. It was meant to be a trench clearing weapon, firing quite rapidly and using the heavy .45 caliber pistol round which was already popular back home in the Federation. Two of the Annihilators had been brought along for the expedition, primarily for field testing to see if they would be of any real use to the Federation's navy.

Riddle nodded. "Understood, sir." he said, before turning about and heading towards the bridge's exit. He was stopped, however, by Warner's voice. "How's our injured man? Did he really break his foot?" Riddle spun about, looking back to the captain. "Aye, sir. Fractured three bones. The doc has him resting in his cot." responded Riddle. Warner nodded again. "Good. Make sure they keep an eye on him." He then looked to Slater and motioned to the door. "Let's proceed. I'm sure the others are already on their way to the beach, and our leader will likely want to chat with us again."

Minutes later, the skiffs were on their way, darting across the waters towards the island in the distance. Warner and Slater both issued warnings and orders on their skiffs. The primary goal was to secure a location on the beach and set up camp. Typical set up, routine patrols along the edges and through the camp to watch for hostiles. Sailors with scoped rifles were to find higher locations to observe. Flare guns were issued, in the event that light was needed or assistance was needed from the ships offshore.

 

[K0mori]

The ships slowed as they entered into shallower waters, carefully navigating the dark waters until it was clear that they could get no closer to the island without risking running aground, and then came to a full stop. They each dropped anchor for the night and, one by one, deployed smaller boats to ferry the landing groups to the shore. As they approached, the imposing shadow they had seen before began to grow distinguishable features. The land rose sharply a short distance from shore, with bare or grassy rock towering over a ring of sparse trees and bushes. Crowning the top of this plateau was a ruinous structure of some kind, like those seen in archaeological dig sites elsewhere in the world. There was a glimmer of light right at the crest of these ruins, but from the ground, it was impossible to tell what was causing it. The moon was the presumed answer for all except the Nixe's sailors.

At roughly 8PM, the first skiffs made landfall on Castle Island. Commodore Meinhardt was on one of these, a sullen look on his face as he had just received the news of a mysterious death aboard the Terror. Little information was known at this point, and Meinhardt was determined to make it his business to learn what happened. Accompanying him was Lt. Detlev, one of the ship's doctors, and a small team of scientists and engineers. For now, the only task ahead was to set up camp on shore, which was necessary as the away teams would be climbing to the ruins first thing in the morning and could not afford to waste time. Castle Island was one of the comparatively well-explored landmasses at the edge of the Uncharted Zone that offered them little scientific value, and so they could not stay for long. However, for reasons that would become clear later, they could not safely bypass this stop.

The men stepped out onto the muddy beach and hoisted their equipment out of the skiff dutifully, and with little talking. The dark atmosphere of the island had tempered their morale for the moment as the realization was beginning to set in- there was no turning around this time; they were going all the way through. It was hard enough to volunteer on a mission into this sea at all, but to repeatedly test fate by probing deeper and deeper... By lantern light, they constructed their tents and set up a signal station to communicate with the vessels off shore. This would primarily rely on signal lighting, but in case of emergency, a radio transmitter was also present for urgent messages.

There was a gust of icy wind which raced across the beach and caught most of them unprepared. Even Meinhardt flinched, as the air was at least 20 degrees below the ambient temperature. As his scientists raced to record the phenomena and set up devices which would gather more information, he sought out the other captains, who were beginning to congregate in a natural clearing where a previous expedition had created a bonfire. Accordingly, new wood was piled on top of the old ashes, and soon they had a warm and inviting flame. A few more cold gusts of wind hit the camp after their landing, but none were as bad as the first, and while the Commodore spoke with his colleagues, Ensign Kuromaki set to work preparing a pot of coffee over the campfire.

"I want to know everything you can tell me about the incident aboard your ship, Captain Flint," Meinhardt began. "Who was the victim, what were they doing at the moment of their death... I'm assuming your doctors have prepared a preliminary autopsy, as well."

 

[Radley]

Flint glanced from the commodore to lieutenant Rourke and back as the death was mentioned. "Details will be sparse, but that is all I will be able to offer as of now" he began, "The victim was one Seamen Kent Rochester. He has been part of our engineering crew for a better part of three years now. An otherwise steady man with some bad memories from the islander campaigns." Flint gestured for Rourke to hand him something, and the lieutenant promptly fished out a leather bound notebook from his satchel and handed it to his captain. Flipping through the pages, Flint continued, "Rochester is assumed to have died during the crossing, but we can not know for certain the exact time as he was alone in one of the corridors of the lower decks. He was found by Ensign Norris when we swept the ship after the crossing." He concluded as he handed the open notebook to the commodore.

The open page showed Rourke's detailed sketches of the sailors unnerving corpse, the lieutenants commendable drawing skills being put to the grim task of purveying the strangeness of the death of Rochester. "We only finished moving the corpse to the sickbay before we departed for the island, but I have instructed Doctor Marsh to perform an autopsy while we are gone and relay them via telegraph as soon as possible."

 

[Emperor Sagan]

"Why can't I ride in the front? It's more dashing that way, and I can't even see anything from the back," Anastasia complained beside Lieutenant Williams. Both were seated firmly in the rear of one of two Sokrovian skiffs that were rowing their way to shore. There were about a dozen in each, along with the necessary supplies to camp. Williams was glad it was dark out, for he knew his expression was undoubtedly one of exasperation. "It is procedure for sailors and marines to have gunmen ready at the front of the boat when making any landing in case there is danger. While that is most likely not the case here, we must take some precaution," he explained. And I don't want the others to laugh when out captain inevitably tumbles head first off the boat when we strike the beach. God, what an embarrassment that would be. "And besides - it is night. There is not much to see, captain. We can do sightseeing in the morning."

"But this is our first visit to land in the Uncharted Zone, there should be photographs taken! Someone to sketch us for a painting!"

"Don't worry, there will be time in the morning, captain. I promise."

The call went up that they were reaching the shore, and Williams discreetly placed his hand on Anastasia's shoulder to keep her steady. She was small and, even if she wasn't trying to strike a heroic pose on the bow, he still could imagine her tumbling into the water once they ran aground. The landing ended up being smooth, fortunately, and he helped her out as the men began ferrying out the supplies and establishing a perimeter along with the other crews. All men on the shore team were armed with pistols, with half given rifles, and the other half shotguns. The pistols were an extra addition for security, as any shore party even in Sokrovy needed rifles and shotguns. Wildlife could be fierce, even if one wasn't hunting.

Tents were set up promptly and gear stowed. The assistant surgeon, Doctor Katherina Volkova, was the leader of the expeditionary science team - which was primarily made up of natural scientists and arctic explorers, all enlisted sailors as well. When the cold air blast came up from the water, it earned a laugh and some amusement from the Sokrovians.

"Ah, feel that air, lieutenant. It's the perfect welcome for our arrival. This place accepts us, clearly. Good, fresh, crisp air like back home - nothing like that stuffy Platine weather," Anastasia remarked. Williams walked alongside her, Doctor Volkova, and two shotgun armed sailors as they approached the bonfire to join the others. They settled in, and not long after they did, Meinhardt arrived and began discussing the case of the dead man from the Terror.

 

[K0mori]

"I see," said Meinhardt with a deep frown. "He was alone when he died, and it was hours before his corpse was found... That makes things rather difficult. Hopefully the autopsy will reveal a heart condition or bleeding in the brain, as the alternatives are very unpleasant, truly," he explained, vaguely. "I've read the logs from earlier expeditions, and usually a hallucination can be blamed. It's hard, without a witness, to know what was running through his mind."

Another gust of cold wind blew through, bringing a flurry of snowflakes which melted the moment they touched ground or the jackets of the men and women. "[Should we be concerned about the weather, sir?]" Kuromaki asked with a shudder.

Meinhardt paused a moment, thinking over his research and past experiences. "No, but everyone should dress warm in your tents tonight. The beach might be frozen by morning." Following his statement, there was another gust, and an eerie sound akin to a wolf's howl from somewhere else on the island. "...And don't wander off alone," he added.

 

[joshuadim]

The Phophet had made anchor by now and had sent an expeditionary force onto the beach aboard a few skiffs, making landfall within the hour of arriving at the island. All had gone well so far, but already a casualty had been reported by the Terror, thus bringing in a small bit of concern into Dobbs' mind. However, he assured himself that all was within acceptable parameters and that this was just an unfortunate accident. After all, the barrier crossing had taken a toil on everyone in that moment. He did opt to stay on the ship however and maintain his position. Lonstray however, was travelling with the expeditionary force along with his research team of five undergraduates and two dozen sailors.

While the sailors were busy setting up tents and some campfires and the research team setting up equipment, Lonstray stood a ways away from the camp and observed his surroundings with curious intent. On the surface, nothing interesting seemed to stand out but perhaps once the equipment was up and running that those would tell a different story. The weather was dreadful however, and Lonstray returned to the Albionian tents shortly thereafter as to get close to one of the campfires that had been set up. "Bloody hell, I thought going south would make the weather more pleasant, not dreary like this." Lonstray muttered to himself as he rubbed his hands together.

He did wish to learn more of the death that had occurred aboard the Terror, and had formulated a few ideas in his head. But without access to the body, nor any of the information at this time, he could not make any definitive conclusions. And so, the scientist made his way over to Flint to speak to him.

"Captain Flint I presume? Dr. Lonstray, I heard of the death aboard your vessel. An unfortunate case... do you know what happened to the man?"

 

[Infab]

Soon after the group from the Jackal had reached the beach and deployed, word of the death aboard the Terror reached Commander Warner's ears. "And the Meridian claims its first victim of the Expedition." he muttered to himself. A tragedy, really. Alleghenia lost one of it's sons. He'd have to send his condolences to Flint and his crew later. For now, they had work to do.

The sailors set up their tents and began to prepare a perimeter around their encampment, as Warner met with his subordinates. "Slater, I'd like for you to oversee the camp. Set up patrol routes and schedules." he said to the Lieutenant, before looking to Riddle. "Master Chief, I'd like you to take three of the men and scout around the area. We're explorers here, so let's get some exploration in here while we can. And dress for the weather." Riddle saluted. "Aye, sir. We're let you know if we find anything interesting." He then spun about and walked off, leaving Warner with Slater once more. She was jotting things down in her log book now, glancing up at the snowflakes drifting down. Snowy weather in such a temperate area of the world. So strange, but not all that unheard of.

 

[Radley]

The meeting at the bonfire had concluded, and the various pertecipants had way their leave from it when Lonstray made his approach. "You are the chief of science aboard the prophet I take it?" Flint answered in a professional manner as he shook Lonstrays hand. "Walk with us, if you please" he replied as he and his men made their way back to the tents that had been set up at the beachhead. As they walked to the captains tent, Flint gave a similar debriefing to Lonstray as he had given the others a moment earlier, including offering Rourke's sketches to the doctors.

When they reached the camp, the captains tent along with simple ones for the accompanying crewmen had been set up in a orderly fashion. Guards armed with rifles had already joined the fleets watch, and were patrolling the peramiter of the beachhead. At least the men from the Terror were unnerved by the cold winds, the ominous castle and the mysterious wolves howl.

As Flint, Rourke and Lonstray arrived at the tent, one of the ensigns came running with a telegraph strip from Doctor Marsh, which he handed to the captain:

Autopsy perfmored STOP
Sign of heart attack STOP
Possible visual distress STOP
Will keep corpse FULL STOP
​

Flint looked over the strip before handing it to Lonstray. "I suspected as much" he said, "although of strong mental will, the memories of the campaigns were bound to catch up with him". Flint looked towards the ocean and sighed, "Another good soul lost because of the lack of inner resolve."

 

[joshuadim]

As Lonstray read it over, a part of his mouth twitched for a moment into a smile before settling back to rest. "Fascinating... this information is... I believe we are seeing extreme psychosomatic symptoms at play here." Lonstray remarked as he handed the telegraph back to the captain. "I wonder if they are a one time thing... or if they persist to those who suffered from such delusions during the crossing."

 

[K0mori]

Master Chief Riddle and his comrades trudged out of the campsite, carrying their lanterns as they surveyed the surrounding area. The foliage wasn't too thick, and so they made quick and easy progress along the shoreline as they gradually circled around the massive, central plateau. One of the men glanced skyward at one point, at the shimmer of light they had seen before landing, and was arrested mid-step. "Sir, take a look at this!" he exclaimed, pointing at the sight. The three other men turned their attention to the ruins above and found that a gently weaving beam of ghostly light extended from the ruins away to the horizon in a way not even a searchlight could imitate. Dumbfounded, they moved quickly to the edge of the rocky cliff in hopes of finding a way up, but there didn't appear to be any.

"Over here!" another of the men called out, and excitedly they moved to his position. There, they found no way upwards, but instead noticed what appeared to be a fallen stele with both an engraving and an inscription in some ancient language. One of the men took out a roll of paper from his pack and laid it across the whole relic before rubbing it down with charcoal. Riddle held his lantern close to the rubbing and got a good look at their find: the engraving depicted what appeared to be a goddess or angel. Her head was crowned by a halo and she had wide, feathered wings. A sword was directed downward amidst a fiery blaze which parted the ocean itself. It was a stunning portrait, and for a while, they simply sat captivated by their discovery.

Another terribly cold wind blew through, and a more urgent snowdrift warned them that staying out would be increasingly taxing. It was nearly 10 PM, now.

 

[Infab]

Riddle exhaled a breath, looking up at the drifting snow, before looking back to his men. "Remember landmarks, boys. We can lead the captain and the others back here in the morning. Let's head back to camp before we freeze our asses off out here." he said. The soldiers acknowledged him, turning about and heading back the way they came. At least they had the charcoal copy of the carvings to show the captain and lieutenant. Still, it would have been nice had they been able to find a way up to see what was giving off that strange light.

 

[EdwardDewey98]

"Good lord, its freezing!" said Dos Santos while shaking on the spot, despite the fact she was wearing an extra coat. The captain just laughed and joked "You are a Mazonian, you folks ain't made for the cold." He looked ahead as their boat approached the coast. They could see most of the other crews were already on land, preparing camp from the night. Once on land, the captain went ahead to speak with the Commodore with Dos Santos behind him. Meanwhile the soldiers and scientist that accompanied them were going to prepare their tents.

"This place... is... certainly interesting!" said Dos Santos while looking at everything around them. Alvarado wasn't as impressed and captivated as the scientist was. Eventually the duo found the Commodore. "Mr. Meinhardt! Might I ask you something real quick?" said Dos Santos while approaching the man. Alvarado just stood there, watching them talk. "I was wondering if I could go out there, and try to gather some samples? Or at least take some notes for tomorrow's exploration! ...I mean, I... assume there'll be exploration! ...R-Right?" She began to act a bit more nervous.

 

[K0mori]

"I'm going to stop short of ordering you not to go," Meinhardt replied with a hint of annoyance. "But I would highly recommend you stay, or at least be very careful and take company along with you- armed company. You don't want to face the creatures that live in those ruins during the nighttime, and while we brought ourselves a weapon from the Nixe to defend our camp, I'm not sending it along to protect you. I can't promise there will be time tomorrow to explore the lowlands, but I urge you to make a rational decision nonetheless."

Kuromaki approached and offered a cup of coffee to Dos Santos and Alvarado. With a faux-friendly grin, she spoke in broken Albionian. "Cold night. Drink good."

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Grand Captain Kortova and Lieutenant Williams soon departed the bonfire as the night went on, having listened in to some conversations and spoken at moderate length to a few. Williams considered it his sole duty to accompany Kortova wherever she went to look after her, and if she got bored, then so be it. He had a couple sailors keep watch nearby and do some light camp patrol to keep an ear on anything interesting since he wouldn't be around to hear it for himself. As for the perimeter, he recalled their patrols there as most of the other crews had an abundance already performing similar duties. Instead, he'd keep the Sokrovian's around their small section of tents, almost as a reserve in case anything happened. The sailors and marines didn't seem to mind - they were enjoying a smaller campfire and the cool breeze. A few drinks had been passed around and the mood seemed good. It wasn't unlike a typical shore camp back home. Williams figured it was time to settle in when the captain summoned one of the science team members, one of the photography experts, and began discussing photography at length with them. To his surprise, the pair had managed to come to agreement on experimenting with night time photography. For Anastasia, it was a little vanity project, but for the photographer it seemed a curious experiment.

"We have pretty good devices. Colored gel films, we don't need too much light in theory. Moon shots work well, but in this amount of darkness with campfires for light, its hard to say how it will come out," the photographer explained. Anastasia directed them to take a few shots around the camp, particularly of the Sokrovians, but some others as well. One that was done, the captain pulled the photographer and him along towards the edge of camp near a couple patrols, and they brought some lanterns.

"Here, the darkness will make a good backdrop," Anastasia explained. "Its... mysterious! And if this turns out well, we will be the first Sokrovian's photographed in a night scene. You, sailor, adjust those lanterns there. That's right. Perfect. Lieutenant Williams? Stand beside me, please. Let's get some photographs done." Evidently, her patience had worn out at waiting for day time photography, but Williams relented. He stood beside her on a small ridge with a few lanterns surrounding them in a semi-circle, like how the old theater stages used to be lit from the front, with the darkness of the island as their backdrop. A couple sailors lingered just out of frame, amused.

"Lieutenant, look in that direction. Good. And hold your arms like - that's right. Maybe... maybe hold your cap by your chest. Ah, perfect. So... melancholic. Forlorn, even! This could be a masterpiece!" Anastasia drew her straight-saber and positioned herself beside the lieutenant, looking off in the opposite direction as the pair stood shoulder to shoulder. She struck a heroic pose with one foot propped up on a rock.

"Good," the photographer nodded, adjusting the tripod. "I'll snap a few shots. Two with flash, and three without. We should get something decent regardless."

Soon enough, they pressed the lanyard switch several times to get their shots, with two flashbulb bursts at the end.

 

[Radley]

As Lonstray seemed fascinated by the news, Flint failed to see what exactly there was to be excited about. He read the telegraph one last time and then looked to the doctor, raising an eyebrow as he tried to explain the possible science behind Rochesters death. "I'm not quite sure I follow, Doctor." He said in a dry tone, but with a hint of curiosity.

 

[K0mori]

While the Commodore was talking Dos Santos out of wandering about in the night, Grand Captain Kortova was doing just that with her entourage, all for the vain exercise of capturing a photograph. She and Williams stood together for the first of the planned five shots, striking an illustrious pose, but when the flash of the camera went off, there was a loud yelp from behind them. They whirled around, just in time to catch a glimpse of some horrid, long-legged creature burst from the top of a nearby tree and scamper away toward the plateau. It seemed to have the head and body of a wolf, but its legs were like stilts, and they appeared crooked, almost as if they had a second set of joints. The patrols tasked with guarding their end of the camp scrambled to keep light on it with their lanterns and flashlights, but the shadow disappeared about as quickly as it appeared.

With all the commotion this generated, it wasn't long before Meinhardt and a few of his men arrived, with the Commodore personally wielding the weapon his crew had brought along for guarding the landing site, which turned out to be a sub-machine gun. His expression was a mixture of intense focus as well as disgust. "That's it!" he cried out. "I'm ordering all of you to turn in for the night! Scientific inquiry, or even curiosity is one thing; this is just recklessness. We all need rest if we're going to tackle the climb tomorrow, and I need to be able to trust that no one else is going to have an encounter tonight."

At that moment, his eyes seemed to sharpen even more intensely, and he raised his barrel and fired off a few rounds at the tree tops nearby. Again, a startled creature fled from the scene, yelping and hollering as it sprung from tree to tree. "[Shit!]" he grunted as he stepped forward and struggled to see into the dark. The yelping gave way to more wolf-like howls. Finally, the creatures seemed to be gone, and the Commodore relaxed. "Almost got one this time... Alright, you heard me, get to your tents already. Stay close to fire. The howlers don't like light, people. Your bonfires are bound to attract them, but no matter how much it agitates them, they won't come close enough to be seen."

 

[joshuadim]

"Psychosomatic... in laymans terms it would be symptoms caused or further aggravated by the mind's ailments. In this case, the barrier seemed to act as a catalyst do so in a lethal fashion which is... extremely unusual." Lonstray spoke to Flint as he paced around a bit, pondering on these results. "You spoke of him having trauma from the war? This trauma manifested itself in physical illness as a result of the mind's scarring. In the field of medicine, we aren't entirely sure as to the exact mechanisms that spur this on, but we have seen its effects as clearly shown here."

The scientist then stopped pacing and looked Flint directly in the eye. "If you so happen to encounter any more of these aboard your ship, please let me know. Data for correlation and causation is needed to investigate the effects post-crossing, if there are any."