Fantasy The Devil's Meridian (Closed)

[K0mori]

Character Sheets and Additional Information: Link

Thanks to Emperor Sagan for the map.

Prologue
30th of September, 1919.
​

The world has entered a new era of industrial progress, harnessing the power of ancient fuels to drive machines which defy the normal limitations of man- sleepless things which can churn out a multitude of goods at a rate never imagined by civilizations past. As the factories rise, billowing their acrid smoke into the air with reckless abandon, the seas are sparkling with the ironclad bodies of new ships which sail against the winds and currents. They, too, rise ever higher above the water line, bristling with guns and radio masts, like cities upon the ocean, battering the waves into submission with their incredible mass. Yes, it seems that mankind's greatest achievements are now the only source of their nightmares, in times of war. No longer do sailors fear the storm or the rogue wave as they set forth for new horizons, unless, of course, they are headed near the Devil's Meridian.

Since the ancient eras of history, there are tales of the southern reaches of the Altanic Ocean. They are frightening tales, dire warnings. Those who sail into the roughly triangular region are said to experience things which cannot be explained by science. Ships with accurate equipment fall hundreds of miles off course or disappear entirely when they enter that accursed sea. The clouds are said to roil and rage in a dark gray front which stretches from horizon to horizon, like a sinister shroud over half the sky. Impenetrable walls of fog conceal islands which seem to come and go, thwarting all efforts to chart it. Strangest of all, the waters themselves seem to shift at random, and horrid monsters are said to lurk below the waves.

It was only a century ago that the first documented crossing succeeded. Earlier voyages had darted in and out, gathering what information they could, but as the sailors of that expedition could attest, almost none of the previously gathered logbooks offered any insights into the challenges of the Uncharted Zone within the Devil's Meridian. They were traumatized by what they had seen and experienced, stammering out otherworldly stories of the supernatural which could not be believed by the public. Despite the unreliability of their claims, they were regarded as heroes, Admiral Stock and his men from Albion...

And so, on this fateful day in late September, as the World's Exposition takes place in the coastal city of San Marino in the Platine Republic, a nation whose long coastline nearly straddles those accursed waters, a gallery of vessels from around the world have gathered in the harbor on a solemn mission to carry on the work of fully mapping and documenting the Devil's Meridian once and for all. The captains of said ships made their way into the city, to El Palacio de Cristal, the convention center at the heart of the World's Exposition where all manner of arts, engineering, and philosophical displays have been erected for the appreciation of the world's educated observers. In one of the many ballrooms of this exquisite setting, a number of large tables for different gatherings of important figures from around the world were set with reserved seats beneath shimmering crystal chandeliers.

As they entered, the captains were directed by ushers to their large, round table, where two figures sat in what appeared to be an uncomfortable silence. One, a square-jawed blond man in a dark pea coat, Commodore Werner Meinhardt, and the other, a mysterious-looking, stately and overdressed Shinjuku woman who was undoubtedly a political officer. Ever since the Alamannians lost their war with the Shinjuku Empire, officers of import in all branches of the once-esteemed reich's military were often seen accompanied by these sorts of handlers, whose job was to simply observe, document, and report on the activities within their posts. It was considered a great humiliation, and there were rumblings of dissatisfaction within Alamannia with the Kaiser ever since he agreed to it. Ironically, the Kaiser was now reliant on these same Shinjuku officers to ensure loyalty among his own commanders.

As this would be their first meeting, there would no doubt be trouble with communication. The Commodore could speak both his native Alamannian as well as some Albionian, but that might prove insufficient. He stood awkwardly and extended a hand to the first captain to approach.

 

[K0mori]

"That's the heart of it," Meinhardt agreed as Flint finished speaking. "While these things aren't understood, they aren't beyond understanding. We can't fall victim to superstition or else it will overwhelm us. On that regard, Doctor Dos Santos is also correct. To answer your question, Doctor," he said with a nod in Lonstray's direction, "- and I do apologize for not introducing myself sooner - the answer is no. The young man's body was turned over to a team back in Alamannia when we returned to port. I hope the autopsy leads to something, but as of yet..." he shook his head. "Let's both hope that we don't have a second opportunity. He had a mother, you know," Meinhardt added, not with any particular judgement on Lonstray's behalf, but rather to remind everyone that crew safety was paramount. "Maybe we could conduct a similar experiment on an animal test subject," he proposed.

Ensign Kuromaki ate in silence, occasionally glancing at the ongoing conversation and jotting down notes in a pocket journal. The writing, of course, was in the dense Shinjuku language, impossible for anyone else at the table to decode- not that it would matter, as her initial impressions of the fleet's captains were almost certainly benign. However, in one fleeting moment, she locked eyes with Lt. Slater, and must have perceived her judgement. She looked away, cocking a half-smirk, and quickly crossed something out on her notepad before writing something else in the margin. She then set her pen down, took up her chopsticks (a metal pair which she had pulled out of her coat when the food arrived), and continued eating with a more genuine smile.

The Commodore had gotten a full impression of the fleet at this dinner. Of all the captains, his greatest doubts were on Grand Captain Kortova, whose brash attitude toward the dangers ahead, especially her casual dismissal of the nightmarish shadow mass, gave him concern for her crew. However, the Sokrovians were indeed known as hearty sailors, and he hoped that their prowess would guide the Archangel to safety in the end. Captain Alvarado was just the opposite. The man seemed eager to please, and allowed Dr. Dos Santos do most of the talking for him. In a pinch, he might lack the leadership to keep his ship out of harm's way. Warren, Flint, and Dobbs all seemed like worthy and reliable leaders.

He sighed. He felt a bit too young to be giving orders to them. He imagined that there would come a time during the expedition in which the depth of his experience with the Uncharted Zone will be reached, after which one of them would be more suitable. He also felt for his own crew, and said a silent prayer that he wouldn't let them down. His two past successes meant nothing if all it bought him was a ticket to the deep blue abyss.

---

Outset
1st of October, 1919.
​

The following day brought in a light fog after some unseasonably chilly wind and rain. The sun broke through at roughly 11AM, and by that time, the ships of the Meinhardt Expedition were already well on their way to the Devil's Meridian. Their departure had been quite ceremonious despite the weather, and a crowd of several hundred onlookers waved banners at the ships from the docks. The Alamannian ambassador had also been in attendance to commemorate the occasion, but beyond a few group photographs of the fleet's commanders before their leaving, there was little which could be said or done which hadn't already occurred. News of the Expedition had been a sidebar in most of the world's newspapers for around a week by now, and any uniqueness of the story had already dried up for now. The media would simply have to wait along with everyone else, now, for the fleet to emerge on the eastern side of the Uncharted Zone.

The high seas were calm as the heavy former warships cruised along, until a sizable wall of foreboding clouds appeared on the horizon. A telegram arrived across the entire fleet as they neared, warning the ships that they must cross at a particular latitude and with a carefully-calculated heading. Each of the ships' navigators had already been given these numbers, but nonetheless, a precaution was taken to ensure that no mistakes would be made upon entry. As the waves became choppier, the vessels formed a long line behind the Nixe. The skies darkened. Another telegram arrived:

Caution illness likely STOP
barrier in view STOP
hallucinations possible STOP
Brace for impact STOP​

From behind, the Nixe appeared to lurch forward hard into the water at the same moment a dark cloud descended upon it. It was such a sudden change that the light bulbs mounted on the stern mast seemed to go out. One by one, the ships crossed this same "barrier," each experiencing a phantom "impact" which rocked the ship hard and made even experienced mariners' stomachs turn. The darkness seemed to pervade the interiors of the vessels as well, cloaking electric lighting in an eerie shadow momentarily before gradually letting up. Regardless, the sea began to smooth again once they were on the other side, at which point the Nixe began to slow down.

On the other side of the cloud bank was a seemingly endless gray sky of a medium shade. They were too light for storm clouds and yet too dark for an ordinary, overcast day. The ocean was similarly gray but also much darker, like the scales of a shark, shimmering as the water rolled at the surface. There were no landmasses in sight as of yet, nor was that currently a priority. First, the Commodore ordered for communications to be re-established with all ships, and for stock to be taken of any damages or injuries.

 

[K0mori]

Detlev's expression slowly intensified as he listened to Dobbs' report. He had to ask for clarification when the library find was mentioned - "you said... a hundred and twenty?" - and became ecstatic as he learned of Lonstray's progress. "There's no doubt about it; Albion will get the glory for this. For such a major find on an aborted mission, you'll be hailed as a hero, and your man over there," he said, referring to the doctor, "he'll go down in history. I can't wait to get a letter in the mail with a stamp baring his face," he added shaking his head. It occurred to Captain Dobbs that Detlev was being a bit wistful, perhaps even envious.

He listened to the remainder of the report and nodded along, imagining the cultivation of the jungle fruit possibly bringing riches to the Albionians as well. "Maybe you should lead the next expedition," he conceded. With this final report submitted, he trudged off to speak with his fellow Alamannian researchers and the Commodore about what they had learned from their short stint in the Devil's Meridian.

Kuromaki, meanwhile, seemed almost completely lost in thought, her expression betraying a severe insecurity. She had been due to join in a grand plot with Kortova and the Great Family, and now the Commodore was pulling her out of the Uncharted Zone entirely. What would become of her now? Would she simply become a lone monster in a world which would reject her? Would she never see her benefactors again? She wanted to plead with him, but she could not think of an argument which would persuade him; in fact, the very act of arguing for their persistence might reveal an ulterior motive. She would need to spend time thinking over it.

The crews began to disperse back to their vessels and make their preparations as the weather remained tense, but never quite broke into storm.

---

The Useful Innocents
6th of October, 1919​

The fleet set sail shortly after the ill-fated meeting at the short of Ossuary Island. The sea was choppy but the winds were relatively mild for the next few hours as they headed along the ley line back towards Castle Island. As they were sailing during the day, there was plenty of time to do nothing except talk about the reports from the Captains and the implications of the historical evidence they discovered.

Mr. Detlev presented his summary findings to Commodore Meinhardt around 5PM, as dinner was nearing. First, he explained that there was a vague timeline which had been surmised from the artifacts. Altanis was once a subcontinent that flourished with civilization. In the beginning, these people discovered the blue mineral Aetherite, unique to the region. Thanks to multiple reports, it was now understood that Aetherite and its refined form, Aetherine, contained an energy which could be considered the very essence of life itself. When the Altanic people learned how to harness this energy, they used it to create a society governed by what could accurately be described as sorcery.

The Altanic Calendar discovered by Captain Dobbs and Dr. Lonstray established that, around 2000 years before the common era, there had been a major war which disrupted the region. Altanis had existed for roughly 800 years, when two powerful sorcerers, known since as Ancient Altanic deities, vied for control over the region: Wulfera and Merphrau. The latter had apparently led a race of undersea humanoids against the land-dwellers, but had been driven back when Wulfera had employed powerful mages to practice necromancy against her foe. Marks of this war were still evident on the landscape and indicated that perhaps Altanis never fully recovered from the calamity.

According to the Calendar, over the next several hundred years, civilization was transformed. Having won the war, evidence suggests that Wulfera then attempted to do away with necromancy. The pyramid tomb on Ossuary Island was decorated with images of the event, and Captain Flint's trials within its maze-like passages indicated that something very sinister was buried there. The unopened sarcophagus remained a mystery, but experimentation with black aetherine indicated its intimate connection to both the sarcophagus's occupant, and to death itself, like an inverse of the glittering blue aetherite Altanis was built upon.

At around this time, another deity rose to prominence. Astrius, associated with the academy found on Consteller Isle, may have been a contemporary of Wulfera, but from the absence of depictions of the latter on Vanguard Isle, and the seeming elevation of Astrius on the corroded bell found in the ruins there, may have outlived her, or became her direct successor. Detailed reports from the Prophet also indicated a conflict between the people of Vanguard Isle and a monstrous foe. Without much evidence, Captain Dobbs theorized that Vanguard Isle had been beset by "demons" and had been brought down from within, due to treachery.

Reluctantly, it seemed, Ms. Kuromaki provided details of the strange ruins on the island she visited. From her explanation, Detlev concluded that she had visited a religious landmark belonging to people of a later era. Her description of "Ishra" painted the latter not as a deity, but as an almost alien sort of force which had further transformed her body quite alarmed him, causing him to submit a central question in his final report, rather than a conclusion: Had the Altanic people simply lost control of the forces they once tried to master? If Captain Dobbs were right, then perhaps heavily-mutated "demons" had destroyed Altanis completely by around 600 or 700 years following Wulfera and Merphrau's war.

However, when taking the dreams of Captain Warren and others into account, Detlev felt the answer would not be so simple, and, sadly, consigned this question to be answered by a future expedition.

It was nearing dinner time, and the fleet was expected to reach Castle Island shortly thereafter. The weather had begun to pick up in severity and the temperature was rapidly falling, leading to flurries of snowflakes and sleet mixed in with warm, tropical rains. The decks of the ships began to steam from the illogical mixture of elements. At 5:13, however, things turned considerably more dangerous.

A cry rang out from the lookout post of the Nixe. "I can't see the ley line anymore!" a scout called out. Other took out binoculars and searched the sky, and within minutes the same scene was playing out among the crews of the other vessels. Commodore Meinhardt returned to the bridge to find that Captain Walkenhorst had not taken any action, as he assumed that it was simply cloud cover interrupting their view.

"Full stop!" Meinhardt called out. "Tell the fleet to stop, all of them!"

"What are you talking about?" Walkenhorst asked. "It's a straight line, sir. We already know our heading."

Meinhardt grabbed the throttle and threw the lever himself. "Do you want to kill us all?" he demanded. "There are no points of reference in this sea. We aren't the first to... lose sight of the ley lines, Captain!" he gripped his chest in pain. "We'd better hope they come back."

"But sir," Walkenhorst said, "if there's a current underwater dragging us off course, it would be better to press on, or else when the line comes back we might be badly off course."

"Are you not listening?" Meinhardt barked. "This is not a normal ocean, Captain. There is no such thing as "on course" or "off course" if we don't have a ley line. For all we know, the islands... move around out here."

Walkenhorst laughed, but stopped when he realized that the Captain wasn't joking. "Sir, if I could speak freely... are you in any way affected by the pain medication you've been taking?" he asked quietly.

"Captain, I am relieving you for tonight... Leave the bridge at once."

"What!" Walkenhorst exclaimed. "But you-"

Meinhardt wheezed. "Now, sir, go!"

Walkenhorst hesitated a moment, looking very offended, but eventually saluted and left the bridge without a word. A moment, later, there was a loud bang that echoed through the ship, much like the one which occurred when the fleet entered the Devil's Meridian. There were several more, and a feeling like the Nixe was listing hard to starboard. The other ships of the fleet felt it as well, and within moments, observers on the top decks of the ships now watched as thin sheets of ice forming on the ocean's surface were now shattering along one side of the vessels, as if they were moving sideways through the water, dragged by some unseen force.

There was no fighting it, Meinhardt knew, from the recovered journals of previous expeditions. They would go where the waters took them, and then try to navigate back to safety from their new location. This message of helplessness was communicated directly to the captains of the other ships, until finally, the strange forces began to calm and they found themselves in the vicinity of an unknown, snow-covered island in the distance. The Nixe then gave out the order to proceed to this mysterious landmass so that the Captains could meet again and address this development.