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Fantasy The Dread Wastes [IC]

joshuadim

the writer
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Prologue - Maiden Voyage
12 July 1857 - Lindwen, Kingdom of Albion
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With the onset of the industrial revolution, the city has turned from a hodgepodge of homes and muddied streets into paved roads and towering buildings of business and progress. Nowhere was this felt more acutely than LIndwen, the capital of the maritime realm of Albion, which turned from a summer residence of the royal family into a focal point of commerce in the known world. For the Empire of the Isles, LIndwen was its penultimate triumph; the streets were lively with the activities of more than two million souls, all of whom went about their days in a myriad of ways. The steelworks, with their roaring foundries and forges, relentlessly smelted ore into materials to expand the skylines and railways. Businessmen, with their tophats and suits, perused wares in commercial districts and read newspapers for reports on stocks and commercial developments abroad. Workers agitated against the injustices of business, delivering pamphlets and rousing crowds in the interest of strikes. All of this coalesced into what man now knew as industrial society, with its promises of prosperity as well as its contradictions.

With industry also came the ravenouse hunger for resources, and thus spurred on the new conception of Empire. For Albion, the taming of many of its holdings could only have been possible through its Admirality at the forefront of its military conquests. Its many exploratory accomplishments could also be attributed to the existence of its maritime tradition, as seen with the charting of the Semenine Archipelago and the Jain River Delta. Many of the great explorers of the world hailed from Albion, and since the discovery of those accursed wastes to the North it has been at the forefront in attempts to brave through its icy reaches. It was on this day that this subject was the topic of conversation amidst the Admirality, for it was today that the RAS Dawnbreaker - a vessel that was the first of its kind, the peak of modern engineering - would make its maiden voyage to the Dread Wastes.

The Admirality itself was located across the street from the Court of Justice, a building made from smooth granite and polished marble to indicate its prestige to any passerbys. Its halls contained the bustling movements of many bureaucrats and secretaries working tirelessly to maintain both the structure of command as well as the logistics of supply for its many military and civilian vessels. Within a boardroom at its upper reaches, sitting around an immaculately carved wood table whilst sipping liquor, sat the highest echelons of Albionian naval command. Portraits of great admirals and explorers lined the walls of the room, and smoke from cigars filled the room as they chatted among one another. Among the table sat documents sent to them by the Concert of Henwya - the leading international diplomatic body from the Continent - with regards to personnel for what was to be this new Expedition.

An elderly gentleman with an impressive beard called things to order as he spoke up: "Gentlemen, what do we make of our own choices? And those provided by our friends across the straits?"

A moment of silence passed before the first voiced chimed in, a relatively young Rear Admiral whose mustache nearly covered his lips. "If I must be honest, Admiral, many of these choices are odd. Our choice of captain is of least concern when compared to some of the personnel sent over to us." he spoke candidly, "Captain Dobbs has a respectable record, though is by no means out of the ordinary... but can he keep a level-head? Especially since his brother's own involvement..."

"If I may speak on Jonathan's character," a voice then cut in from another Rear Admiral - who held seniority over his peer - who leaned onto the table as he spoke, "I can attest to his competence and his capabilities. He served under my fleet command during the Battle of the Parron Isles."

"Is that where you lost two ships because you charged in like a fool?" another Admiral then spoke up with goading tone, but before a verbal fight could break out it was the Senior Admiral who broke the tension.

"Captain Dobbs was certainly not among our first choices... but many of our first choices simply refused the assignment. He was the only one to state his eagerness, which is certainly needed when facing danger up there. And he is accompanied by some of the King's finest: Lieutenant Wolf of His Majesty's Marines has a distinguished record serving in the Continental War, and in putting down the Portsmouth Insurrection. And Dr. Lonstray is a more than capable surgeon from the Royal Academy. A fine enough leadership if I say so myself."

"Perhaps. But what the Concert has sent us... and some of our own..." another voice then spoke up, an older gentlemen who was second only to the Senior Admiral in the hierarchy. He flipped through the pages with apprehension before shaking his head, "I cannot help but voice my disapproval. Captain McGuire is being reassigned as First Mate for this... but should it not be from among our own? Why one from Eire? And then there's the colonial... Jean I believe the name is." The other Admirals flipped through the pages to see the file on hand, resulting in a few mutters to fill the room. "I wouldn't trust a colonial subject with the task of Quartermaster. And then there's that girl. Why is a little girl acting as navigator?"

This turned eyes towards the Senior Admiral, who shook his head. "As I said, it is hard to find volunteers for a mission like this. Many of our best refused to lead, and many more refuse to man the ship as well. It was difficult enough as is to find engineers who would willingly travel North like Mr. Wagne and his men. And there are testimonies from captains attesting to both of their competences." This was enough to quell the immediate discontent in the room, though it would swell up again when it came time to review the foreign volunteers for the expedition. The Alleghanians brought up a scoff from one of the admirals: "You can always trust an Alleghanian cowboy to muck things up." he commented, "This Carnall character sounds more suited for horse riding than sailing. And what's with this Mr. Fontaine? Why are we having foreign capital here?"

"Sam&Wilson have provided arms and armaments for the crew as per their contract." the Senior Admiral stated bluntly, "They insisted to send representatives to that end. Having them on board shouldn't be an issue."

The files then turned towards the next two subjects, which didn't spark nearly as many objections as the others. "A Teuton and a Lauhurnian. Both experienced in whaling and sailing... one has worked in cartography." the Senior Admiral muttered as he looked over their resumes. "Both are more than qualified for this expedition, if I say so myself. As are their fellows joining them, all sailors in their own right." This prompted a series of approving nods and grunts from the rest, as there was little to discuss. More pages turned to reach the more scientific aspects of the expedition, bringing forward the official dossiers of researchers that would be accompanying the Expedition on its voyage. "Now, in the interest of international cooperation, the Concert has deemed it necessary to bring forward some researchers that would report their findings collectively."

"Thus leaving Albion away from claiming the spoils of knowledge." one of the Admirals remarked bitterly. "We're the ones leading the expedition, it should be rightfully attributed to our Royal Academies."

"I would be inclined to agree, Sir, but alas this is not an Albionian expedition." the Senior Admiral spoke up with a pensive sigh. "Regardless, there are bright minds coming aboard. Sokrovy have sent a few of their best; Dr. Kozlova in particular has quite a background. As do the others." The collective Admirality voiced their approval as they read through the scientists joining the Dawnbreaker's crew, finding little to complain about aside from nationalities and Albionian pride. Skimming through other members of the crew, the Admirality had come to the conclusion of holding confidence in the Second Dobbs Expedition which led the Senior Admiral to adjourn the meeting: "Now, if there's nothing else to discuss on this matter then we can all go about our day. I'm dying for a cup of tea..."

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At the Port of Lindwen, crowds had already gathered in anticipation for the Dawnbreaker's maiden voyage; many of the faces looked upon the ship in awe, being among the first to witness a new design be let loose upon the waves. Upon the pier stood Captain Dobbs, who stood at arm's length from its metal hull and traced a finger along the smooth surface in admiration. The ship he had comandeered prior had relied on the wind more than coal and was still made of wood for the most part. This, however, not only had a coal engine but was powered by Leviathan oil to boot! The technology had in years prior made its way towards merchant and whaling ships, but now found itself in an expeditionary vesel like this. His gaze turned when he was approached by a man in gruff clothing and a flat cap - along with nearly a dozen others in much the same attire - and extended his hand. "Cap'n Dobbs I assume?" he asked, to which his grasp was reciprocated. "Thomas Wagne, engineer. My boys here too." he then said, motioning his head behind him.

"Glad to have you aboard Mr. Wagne." Dobbs said with a smile, "I assume you're familiar with-"

"Aye. Heard all about it." Wagne said, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. "Reinforced steel hull to break through stray ice and floes. Dual engine for coal and 'Viath oil. Sails aboard just in case all else fails."

"So, you've worked with-"

"No. Only heard. But I look forward to working with it! All engines are beauts' in their own right." Wagne commented, taking a drag before snorting out smoke like a dragon. "I'll be below deck familiarizing myself with her." WIth the tip of his cap, the engineer quickly excused himself and was followed by his peers who also paid their respects by tipping their own caps. Then came a more elderly and scholarly gentleman, who looked first at the vessel with unblinking eyes before turning to the Captain. "Captain Dobbs. I am Dr. Michael Lonstray, your assigned surgeon for the ship." the doctor stated matter-of-factly, "No need for pleasantries. I'll be familiarizing myself with the infirmary."

"I assure you it is well stocked and-" Dobbs began to say, though found himself speaking to the air as the doctor moved past and moved upon the gangplank to board. Dobbs was caught off-guard by the rudeness of the doctor, but thought little else of it as he awaited for the rest of the crew that was yet to arrive. Many of the Albionian sailors were already aboard to prepare for the voyage, checking on the ship's riggings above deck and going about their other tasks. This led Dobbs to wait patiently with arms behind his back in anticipation to meet those whose lives are entrusted to his command.

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Angela
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joshuadim joshuadim


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Angela vastly underestimated the crowds that Lindwen's Port housed today. It never occurred to her that she was not the only one excited to see the Dawnbreaker, a one-of-a-kind maiden of steel. And though she arrived remarkably early, the crowds proved taxing. It felt as though she moved a few inches per five minutes, only able to see the backs of people and their heads—and the non-stop noise! She clutched her bag close, fearful of losing anything to the influx.

Perhaps it would have been more efficient to push and shove her way through, but Angela was not that type of person. Everytime she thought she touched someone she let out a meek "S-Sorry..." that was so suppressed by the crowds that she couldn't even hear herself. "Excuse me," she said. "Please, pardon me," and "May I pass?" made their appearances as well. There was also the occassional, "I'm very sorry, but I must hurry to the Dawnbreaker. I am supposed to help navigate, and I would very much appreciate if you could..." by which point Angela realized: the target of her spiel had vanished the moment she said "sorry". And she huffed, then kept moving along.

Angela jumped by the tip-toes, her head poking out of the crowds like a mole in a yard. She beamed after seeing how close she was. "Captain Dobbs!" she squeaked, and her voice finally peaked over the crowds, albeit barely. Suddenly, she reached the end... "Captain! I'm—woah!" and freedom embraced Angela by tripping her.

She kept herself on her feet for a surprisingly good while. Her body leaned forward at an unstoppable rate, and her feet just barely kept her going. She yelped. Her hands flailed. Then her bag flew out. "No!" Instinctively, she reached for it, and all hope was lost. Angela landed flat on her stomach, and the bag spit open its contents. A fancy new sextant, one she undoubtedly saved months of skimming for, and lots of constellation drawings with descriptions attached.

Face burning red, she scrambled up and buried half her face into the scarf. She began scooping everything back into her bag. "I-I'm Angela! Y-Your navigator!" she said, sparing a glance up. "I'm so sorry... I promise, I'm not this clumsy. I'm good for this expedition! I know all the stars, all the astronomy things, and..." Her eyes sparkled. Wow... What a ship. "If... If she's all steel, does that mean she's indestructible?"
 
Wolfgang Rahmer stood at the bustling docks of Lindwen, surrounded by the clamor of the city. The sounds could almost be ignored as he reached the docks and heard the sounds of the waves course behind him, with the smog of the new industry disappearing from view.

His attention was fixed on the two figures before him—his wife and his youngest daughter. His wife, dressed in a modest but warm coat, clutched his arm tightly, her eyes filled with both pride and anxiety. His daughter, Hannah, freshly enrolled in a prestigious university, still clung to her mother’s side, though the excitement of the city had her wide-eyed. The enrollment had been a proposition he had managed to haggle upon his coming to the expedition but would never let her know. Unlike his eldest daughter, she was not content to the proper roll of a woman in society as a homemaker. Orignally it had gave him concern, but he could not spite her for it, god knew he the terrible husband spending half his life away from his own wife.

It was good that all of his kids were grown to the age where should something happen to him they would be fine. He gave a small squat to be at a more level with his daughter giving a small smile, "Don't let them underestimate you, remember that your a Rahmer, we make the most out of all we are given."

Hannah gave a firm nod with an energetic exclaim, "Yes father!" Wolfgang raised back up before she jumped into give him a hug which led the two to laughter with Wolfgang ruffling her hair before giving her a little push off.

Wolfgang turned to his dearest wife. Anya was a fantastic wife, she still gave him a smile after every time he left her. Wolfgang came forward giving her a light kiss on the forehead wrapping her in a brief hug before turning his back to his family. They had done this process enough times before. Wolfgang looked to his one of his fellows who just shook his head with a small smile. The group was one of the first to get to port, it was always important to be dilligent.

Wolfgang approached the behemoth of a ship, a small company of sailors and whalers in toe. The new steel and oil were things that would bolster their approach through the wastes, and god willing make them not turn to ghosts. The men of Lauhurn were hardened men, something they would need for the wastes. He looked approvingly as they all had their choices of equipment, a long rifle, a pick, extra rope. He led the front his back carrying a long rifle himself, along with a pistol at his side along with a hacket and carving knife. His pack stood in his back with other surivial gear along with his ink and paper neatly packed away.

Approaching the captian was one of the most important meetings of an expedition, the first impression, and before him was a child? That girl could be even younger then his own daughter he had just seen off. And she did not emulate confidence in any respect, tripping before and having lose paper be sprewn about. She was lucky one of those drawings didn't hit the water. He stopped a few steps back with the sailors who had accompanied in seeming confusion as well a few jokes of a stowaway choosing the wrong expedition being tossed behind him.

"Captian Dobbs" he gave a lowering of his head as he approached closer not stepping infront of the girl who was gathering his things. "Wolfgang Rahmer, Cartographer, Sailor, Hunter. I'll make sure when you get a pass through these wastes we can repeat it." It was a brief, but puropseful introduction. One that he hoped inspire confidence in the captian by not asking about hopes of the expedition, but certainty in its success.

Face burning red, she scrambled up and buried half her face into the scarf. She began scooping everything back into her bag. "I-I'm Angela! Y-Your navigator!" she said, sparing a glance up. "I'm so sorry... I promise, I'm not this clumsy. I'm good for this expedition! I know all the stars, all the astronomy things, and..." Her eyes sparkled. Wow... What a ship. "If... If it's all steel, does that mean it's indestructible?"

He squatted down much as he had his own daughter giving a small smile, "Young miss, I'm sure you must be mistaken, this expedition is going for the dread wastes." He said it with a condensencing tone, one he hoped would bring her wrath. It was better that she felt humilation here and stormed off before getting on that ship. One who couldn't find their footing on a pier was one that would end up dead in the dread wastes. He didn't want to have to deal with seeing a young kid dead at his feet because of clumsiness.
 
At enough of a distance that they wouldn't be surrounded by crowds or busy dockworkers, Dr. Nadezhda Kozlova and her fellows from Sokrovy were seated on a concrete sea wall which gave them a view of the Dawnbreaker from the side, although not close enough to take in its details. It wouldn't be long before they could board the ship and embark on the difficult journey ahead, familiarizing themselves with all of its advanced features and top-of-the-world craftsmanship, but for the moment they simply took in the fair weather of LIndwen and the experience of sitting in such a metropolis. Sokrovy had nothing like it, being a colonial endeavor originally settled by the Ruthenians, and so the combination of a deep history as well as a palpably grand future on display within a single harbor was a sight that was somewhat fantastic to them.

"[Do you think it'll actually be able to pierce through the ice?]" asked Marko Vasylenko, a young man with whom Koslova had spent years working with already.

Kozlova nodded, but it came with a caveat. "[They wouldn't send us if it couldn't. But it's just the same as any other tool; a team of lumber jacks might get a quality-made band saw stuck in a tree if it's the wrong type of wood or it's simply too thick for them to work with...]" she commented in a dull, calculating tone.

Vasylenko scratched his beard. "[Do you think they'll get it stuck in the ice, then?]"

"[If they do, it wouldn't surprise me. But that's not prejudice. The Albionians are the most skilled mariners in the world. It's just that the challenge presented by the Wastes is like nothing else on Earth.]"

"[Aye.]"

The two sat in silence for a while, envisioning the challenge Kozlova had just spoken of: impossible terrain, unforgivable and deadly weather, and totally uncharted wilds. It was the most exciting thing either of them will likely ever do in their lives, and they were fortunate enough to embark in their primes. The five of them were a well-rounded bunch, prepared to tackle the Wastes as few other human beings could. Their equipment had already been delivered to the port for loading, and all that remained was for them to join the mission.

Kozlova subtly smiled, a thousand yard stare of determination in her deep brown eyes. "[Let's get to it, then.]"

---
The team arrived on time to meet Cpt. Dobbs at the pier. Switching from their native language to Albionian, which they had practiced for months in preparation for this adventure, they would themselves with marked restraint and humility. However, they had been beaten to this point by the navigator, Angela, who had already proven herself to be clumsy and lacking in discipline. There was also Wolfgang Rahmer, whom most would consider to be a much more suitable crewman for the voyage, but also one who took it upon himself to antagonize the girl, which earned no reaction from the Sokrovians. Kozlova and the rest patiently waited their turn to speak.

"Captain Dobbs," Kozlova spoke gently with a stony expression which couldn't quite be classified as friendly. "It's no small honor to be a part of this expedition, and we all hope to serve faithfully to its ends. I'm Nadezhda Kozlova."

"Marko Vasylenko."

"Yuri Bachvarov."

"Aleksi Dragomirov."

"Nina Maksimova."

Each one of them stood like statues before briskly shaking the Captain's hand. Once the introductions were finished, Kozlova requested permission to go aboard.
 

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