Fantasy The Dread Wastes [IC]

[joshuadim]

Interest Check Thread: Here
Character Sheet Thread: Here​

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Prologue - Maiden Voyage
12 July 1857 - Lindwen, Kingdom of Albion

​

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..."

---

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.

K0mori Infab dikdik Jackson123 Darling_Canines turtwigwins Breadman AriAriAbabwa

 

[AriAriAbabwa]

Angela
Tags: joshuadim​

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?"

 

[turtwigwins]

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.

 

[K0mori]

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.

 

[joshuadim]

The approach of the Angela took Dobbs by surprise, and blinked to make sure that he wasn't mistaking the sight of a young girl planning to board the ship. In fact, he was quite ready to stop her in her tracks until she tripped and spilled all her materials onto the pier before explaining herself. Dobbs knelt down to help her collect her things, before looking at her warily. He wasn't keen on bringing a young soul to such a treacherous region, especially one that made most sailors shudder in fear at the very mention of it, but ultimately recognized that this was the crew that he was going to work with. She was selected for a reason, and judging by her collection of materials she seemed to be competent enough so as to not be dismissed off the jump. A prodigy?

"It's quite alright." the captain spoke, trying to ease her nerves. But before he could answer her question, footsteps from the ship caught his attention as he took sight of a familiar face from the war.

"If... If she's all steel, does that mean she's indestructible?"

"No ship is indestructible lassie." spoke Lieutenant Wolf, a relatively young man with a scar crossing the length of his face. His voice carried the thick accent typical of the highlanders that inhabited the isle of Escossia: "But I'd say this ship be putting a run for that title." He turned to Dobbs with a grin, before saluting.

"Lieutenant! It's been some years." Dobbs spoke up cheerfully, returning the salute.

"Aye sir. Six years. Glad to be o' service again." It was then that Dobbs noticed a small bundle of black and white fur carried in the Lieutenants arm, whose face looked out towards his surroundings with curiosity that many cats showed. "Boots been assigned to us by the Admirality. Fer good luck."

"Thought the codgy bastard died already." Dobbs remarked with affection, giving the cat a scritch on the chin before turning to see more newcomers arrive. A Lauhurnian and his fellows approached at first, introducing himself before chastising his navigator. He offered Wolfgang a nod: "A pleasure to have you lot with us. More experienced hands are always welcome." He stayed his tongue on the disrespect being shown to Angela, as the Sokrovian researchers approached. "Doctor Kozlova." Dobbs said, shaking her and her peers' hands. "Glad to have you and your fellows aboard as academic representatives. Doctor Lonstray is aboard already in the infirmary, his expertise is more medicine but I'm certain he has more insights beyond that given his years of study."

K0mori AriAriAbabwa turtwigwins

 

[AriAriAbabwa]

Angela
Tags: joshuadim turtwigwins​

After finally recollecting the bag's contents, Angela had swallowed her embarrassment and rose to her feet. Many of the other crew members made their entrance, including a band of professional-sounding Sokrovians. She wondered if they were the alcohol-loving sort she knew from other voyages. Another was a scraggly-looking bearded man. She instinctively straightened, listening as he... was he mistaken about her? Angela hoped so, despite knowing that tone all too well.

With a huff, she said, "I'm sorry, but... I'm not mistaken. I am Angela. Here for the Dread Wastes." She managed a wistful smile. "Y-You can ask Old Man Henry! Or-or One-Eyed Wilhelm!" Angela glanced around as if those captains would be here. They were probably out at sea at this point, rarely able to take a break from their work. "They vouched for me. I can do this...!"

It was then she turned her attention back to Lieutenant Wolf. Despite his answer, she still found it hard to believe anything could penetrate a steel hull. Compared to the splintering fates of shipwrecks she's heard of, this should've been the safest charter, surely?

Of more interest to the girl, however, was what the Lieutenant brought with him. Angela melted at the sight, her eyes glimmering with pure sunlight. "B-Boots...!" she parroted with a coo in her voice. "M-Mr. Lieutenant, sir, may I please hold him? I-I'll carry him on board! Promise!"

 

[Breadman]

"How many men do we have assembled?" Reginald asked as he put on his coat and straightened out his clothes, eyes firmly staring into the mirror as he groomed himself.

"Twelve, Mr. Fontaine."

"So few?" He looked at his assistant with a raised eyebrow.

"We could bring more, but there is a limit to how many people you can bring to your entourage. Me, Mr. Graves and...Blackjack take up some room."

"I see. I trust that these are dependable men, Miss Galloway?"

"As Mr. Graves assured me, they are dependable, loyal and... adequately limited in their ambitions."

"Very well then." Reginald pulled a watch from his pocket. "We should get going. I don't want to make a bad impression on our captain by being late." The two let the hotel that was provided for them by S&W while they awaited the big day of the expedition. Outside they were met with two other members of the entourage. Johnathan Graves was Fontaine's right hand man and handled any business with the men who worked for them. Next to him stood a mountain of a man. Good old Blackjack. Not too bright, but what he lacked, he made up with loyalty. Sometimes you needed something heavy moved out of the way and that's where he would come in handy. Next to them was a carriage that would take them to their destination.

"The men are on their way to the docks to meet us there, Mr. Fontaine." Graves opened the door.

"Miss Galloway told me you picked a good bunch of them." Fontaine answered as he climbed in.

"Only the best, sir." He closed the door after his boos and his assistant climbed in the carriage and went to the front with Blackjack to take the reins. The trip down to the docks was quick as they didn't have the luxury or need to stop and take in the sights from Albion. Maybe something to do after they return. Once there, they linked up with the company men that Graves had picked out. Fontaine inspected the group and found them satisfactory. How good they actually were remained to be seen, but Graves was a dependable recruiter.

The Alleghanians moved through the docks with Fontaine taking the lead. He had to adapt to a certain local fashion in order to appear more presentable to the Albionians. So a top hat was due along with a cane. Why did they even consider this a fashion accessory was beyond him. Still, he walked with confidence, only looking down to check his watch. They were making good time.

"Captain Dobbs, I presume." He spoke with a friendly demeanor as he took off his hat he got nearer. "Reginald Fontaine reporting in." He pointed to his entourage with the cane "The rest are Mr. Graves, Misses Galloway, the big boy is simply referred to as Blackjack and the rest, well I only met them this morning." He shook the captain's hand along with those he introduced. The men in the back didn't get that honor just yet.

 

[joshuadim]

"B-Boots...!" she parroted with a coo in her voice. "M-Mr. Lieutenant, sir, may I please hold him? I-I'll carry him on board! Promise!"

The Lieutenant looked over to the Captain, as if awaiting for his word on the matter - given that the ship's cat fell under his penultimate purview - who only shrugged with a soft smile. "If she drops him into the water, he deserves it for being a cranky bastard." Dobbs remarked casually, and nodded Wolf. "Bad luck to drop a ship cat into the water." Wolf then said, turning to Angela to hand over the cat to her. "Make sure ya don't." Boots thus changed hands in a gentle transfer, leaving the Lieutenant's grasp and into the girl's; the cat himself let out a low growl of annoyance, as he had been comfortable before only to then be moved around without his permission. In Angela's arms, he looked up and sniffed before quickly losing interest and looking around again at the commotion of people surrounding him.

"Surprised he didn't try to hit you. He usually doesn't like strangers." the Captain commented, before spotting more newcomers on the approach. This diverted his attention away in the meantime while Wolf continued to converse on the topic.

"Found him in a good mood then lass." Wolf said with a chuckle to the young navigator. "Won't always be like that."

Dobbs then greeted Fontaine and his entourage, returning the handshake offered. "Ah yes, the company representatives." the Captain commented with a nod, shaking hands with Fontaine, Graves, Galloway and Blackjack. "Pleasure to have you all with us. And we appreciate the weapons, extra firepower aboard always helps especially with what we might run into up there." Although he was able to hide it well, Dobbs wasn't particularly fond towards the idea of a company being a part of the expedition; it spoiled the romanticism of exploration slightly, however they were a part of the expedition in a financial sense. And the Admirality's orders were to let them aboard. Who was he to question such missives from command?

"Feel free to get acquainted with everyone. We'll all be traveling for a while, might as well get to know each other." Dobbs then said, not only to Fontaine but to all the newcomers that had arrived thus far to the pier. "We'll only have ourselves to rely upon out there in the frosts."

AriAriAbabwa Breadman turtwigwins K0mori

 

[Infab]

Off one ship and onto another. Then, another and another...

Venturing from the edge of the Alleghanian frontier was quite the trip. Down rivers, up coastlines, across the sea. Finally, Clyde had reached the port of Lindwen, Albion. Along the way, he had encountered a few other more adventurous Alleghanians that were intent on joining the venture into the Dread Wastes. Other explorers, most of them former soldiers and sailors from Alleghania's growing military forces. Altogether, there were about 13. A baker's dozen.

Clyde had heard the ship was particularly advanced for the era, being powered by Leviathan oil instead of the more traditional methods. An all steel make, it reminded Clyde of the advancing trains that were beginning to pop up and snake their way across Alleghania and its frontier. The frontier was growing more and more accessible to the average person. It seemed honestly like it was growing smaller, as cities and civilization in general was rapidly growing. Soon, he imagined, the Dread Wastes would give way to the same thing. Though that all depended on how well their expedition went.

As the cluster of men and women made their way through the crowds at the port, eventually arriving at the large steel vessel that would be their home for the forseeable future. Some others had already arrived, men and women in more formal wear compared to the rugged looks of Clyde and the others. As he waited, he overheard the apparent Captain mention that these other formally dressed men and women were with a company. Clyde could only assume it was Sam & Wilson, the firearms manufacturer from Alleghania that was sponsoring the expedition and providing equipment and supplies.

Clyde had heard bits and pieces about a Reginald Fontaine, even out on the frontier, through newspaper articles. Nothing good. A corporate shill, at the bare minimum, and a very shrewd and intimidating businessman at the most. There were a variety of other descriptions in between, none of them pleasant. He didn't look forward to having to deal with a company man. No-one did, unless you were in a union. Even then, it was a headache.

"Cap'n Dobbs?" spoke Clyde, stepping up as Dobbs finished with Fontaine. "John Clyde Carnall, at yer service. Call me Clyde." He then motioned a thumb over his shoulder, past the long Spencer rifle slung over his shoulder. "These other fine men n' women behind me are also here for the trip."

 

[K0mori]

"Doctor Kozlova." Dobbs said, shaking her and her peers' hands. "Glad to have you and your fellows aboard as academic representatives. Doctor Lonstray is aboard already in the infirmary, his expertise is more medicine but I'm certain he has more insights beyond that given his years of study."

"I'm certain we'll be thankful for his services in the future, sir," she replies before walking the gangplank onto the vessel. The Sokrovians followed behind her, one by one, like a line of ants - somehow appearing perpetually busy as they went. Once they had reached the deck, however, there was little to do, as the men and women of their team had brought very little aboard which they would need to leave in their cabins; they were accustomed to carrying their gear in their packs or on sledges which could be pulled across the snow and ice, and everything which would go on the latter was already loaded and ready.

So, instead, they lingered near the railing and watched the other contingents arrive from the rest of the world.

"...That looks like Reginald Fontaine," Bachvarov said, gesturing to a man who was just removing his top hat as he approached.

Kozlova nodded. "Aye."

Maksimova took out a compact spyglass and pointed it in the direction of the pier to get a better look at the Alleghanians as they arrived. "[...They seem physically capable, but their leader seems preoccupied with appearances,]" she critiqued in their own language.

"[That can be said for the whole of Albion. He's only trying to fit in,]" Kozlova replied, indifferently.

Vasylenko tapped his jaw thoughtfully with the knuckle of his pointer finger. "[...Do you think he'll contribute anything of value beyond equipment?]" he asked, speaking of Fontaine alone.

"Nyet," Kozlova replied quietly.

 

[turtwigwins]

Tags: AriAriAbabwa K0mori

Wolfgang listened with a furrowed brow as Angela flusteredly explained the references for the other captains, her voice tinged seeming to tinge with a hint of uncertainty. More importantly, though, was Captain Dobbs' acceptance of the girl. A child? On a mission like this? It didn't sit right with him, and Wolfgang felt his mouth open, ready to voice his concern.

Before he could speak, a firm but quiet hand fell on his shoulder. "Not worth it, Wolf" came the voice. It was Hans, one of the younger members of his crew and by far the most promising. Hans reminded Wolfgang of his own younger self—the eagerness to see the world, the ambition—but the lad had a bit more honesty in his reasons than Wolfgang ever did.

Hans flashed a small, reassuring smile, his loose blonde hair catching the light as if to ease the tension. Wolfgang huffed in response, glancing back at his men—a diverse group of sailors, whalers, and hunters, all seasoned in their craft. Eighteen in total, mostly men, save for two women.

As they passed Captain Dobbs, each gave a brief introduction: a nod of respect, a handshake, and their names, spoken with quiet pride. They were good people, and Wolfgang was confident in their abilities.

Once aboard the group dispersed, some heading to inspect the ship’s specifications while others sought out their quarters. Wolfgang, however, lingered near the front entrance of the ship, his eyes scanning the deck. Now seemed as good a time as any to introduce himself to the researchers—people who often pushed expeditions hard for even the smallest slivers of new knowledge.

He spotted the woman who seemed to be leading the research contingent and made his way over. Taking a casual lean against the railing beside her, Wolfgang turned his head toward her with a neutral expression.

"Kozlova, right?" His voice was calm and steady, "Wolfgang Rahmer. I figured it’d be good to introduce myself before we get set sail. I’ve been on expeditions like this for a good half of my life, what you think your looking for on his one?"

Wolfgang waited for her response with measured patience. Researchers always had some discovery they were set on finding, it was better to figure out what they were aiming for to be prepared for the risks that would come from that ambition.

 

[DG-117]

Within the bustling streets of Lindwen, the crown jewel of Great Albion and the greatest of cities within the Empire that has planted its flag all across the world lay a long and wide cobber street spanning straight through the heart of the grand capital bearing the name of Axford. Where only the most wealthy could afford to travel, free of the sight of the many downtrodden who dominate the countless streets of Lindwen by the short, thick, and slightly bent cudgels wielded by this city district's generously funded constables.

And on most days, Axford is filled to the brim with various upper-class folk, domestic and abroad, traveling down the well-worn road on the venerable horse-drawn carriage and the still rare Automobile on this particularly sunny and dry day on Albionian Isle.

Yet, today was rather different, for the middle of the road was kept clear of those rustic horse-driven wagons and lumbering automobiles by the city's constables for today, who stood nervously. The bobbies were curious why someone would need to commission the right to ride a new-fangled automobile alone down an empty road. It wasn't for a parade or some exorbitant event. It was just reserved for a single automobile for an hour. Those fancy, fickle iron beasts could beaten by any racehorse worth its weight they thought.

Or at least, that was what they once thought.

Before one could finish shifting in their coat for a watch, the squad guarding the last bridge to the port was quickly left dumbstruck by this bronzed-plated comet flying down the road, many of the constables and people passing by were stunned, either frozen in shock, gasping, while some threw themselves far from the street out of instinct from the oncoming roar of the massive beast of bronze barreling down towards them.

In an instant, it was gone, leaving their district in a dust cloud with only the constable's commandant barely able to swat away the dust to barely get a sight of the name bluntly engraved on the automobile's back hatch.

---

"Wälzer..."

Gruber Coaked lowly to the Automobile's operator, his squinted stare hastily switching from a folded map nestled with dozens of other crumbled-up papers to the road ahead over the Automobile's unusually long hood with its unique front-mounted engine, taking a long sign to ease his discomfort in this large yet cramped, rattling contraption before trying to speak again to his lifetime master.

"Miss Wälzer-" Gruber muttered before slamming into the dashboard as the automobile suddenly stopped.

"Yes, Mister Gruber," Zdenka calmly said while shifting the gears and bringing the vehicle to rest. "I know that we are here."

The old, portly man let out a great sigh, pausing briefly to wipe the dust from his coat and clean his thick-framed glasses. Only to get a pair of heavy gloves tossed at his weary, aged face.

"Yes, I'm already quite familiar with the area, the tasks, the requirements, and everything about this little expedition," Zdenka offhandedly stated to Gruber as she finished taking off her dust coat, handing it over to an increasingly worn Gruber, "so I don't need you to mutter needless directions, lists, and whatever else again and again over my shoulder," Zdenka said before throwing him her driving goggles on top of everything else.

"I know exactly what I'm doing and the risks involved," Zdenka explained while straightening her clothes and reaching for something in the Automobile's cabin.

"I'll be fine," Zdenka said while handing Gruber his cane with a gentle smile on her face.

Gruber looked back at her with a smile and nodded back.

"Now, with that out of the way, the luggage is in the rear arrangement, Coslovich and his thugs will be here shortly to load up the Motorwagen for transit back to Rychla." Zdenka coldly stated while leaving Gruber alone around the Automobile, hastily walking past him toward the gathering further down the port around the Dawnbreaker.

Zdenka cleared her throat and gave herself one last glace at her face through the mirror on her Alpine pocket watch before walking up towards the crowd with her eyes directly at Captain, quickly identifying him as Captain Jonathan Dobbs II from the dossier she was able to pull on him and a few others back before leaving her villa at Rychla.

She then took a second to ready herself for an introduction. Putting her arms at her side, cocking her head from right to left, and waited for Fontaine to finish his introductions to the Captain and hopefully not stab him in the back just yet.

But before she could introduce herself, she took a step back at the arrival of about a dozen Alleghanian cowboys walking in with what she presumed to be their "head-honcho" walking in and giving the Captain his hello. Now while she didn't detest these types, appearances are everything in the circles Zdenka operates in, and if she can fool people that she doesn't know how to survive and hunt within the peaks of the Sudetes, the better.

So she gave off a scoffs and stood back from these Alleghanian wildmen, waiting for them to finish before moving to meet with the Captain.

 

[joshuadim]

"Cap'n Dobbs? John Clyde Carnall, at yer service. Call me Clyde. These other fine men n' women behind me are also here for the trip."

Another set of Alleghanians, this time much rougher in outwardly appearances, caught Dobbs' attention as he returned Clyde's handshake. It was admittedly a bit strange to see these type of outdoorsmen - the ones from the short stories that filled the papers for mass entertainment, of cowboys wrangling the vast frontiers of Alleghania with epic duels and a romantic coloring of colonization - in person, though it ultimately gave a sense of confidence to the Captain as he knew that they faced all sorts of challenging terrain and some of the worst that nature could throw at them in the known world. All handy skills when going somewhere even worse.

"Glad to have you lot aboard." Dobbs replied with a nod, before deciding to try to flourish it with a friendly gesture he had read in a small novella. "Pardner." It came out rather awkwardly as he tried to recreate the accent, as it was butchered by his own Albionian heartland-metropolitan accent. In turn came out jarbled with a mish-mash of different intonations that ultimately made the gesture impossible to discern at face-value, and Dobbs quickly cleared his throat to move on from that with a simple gesture towards the vessel. "I'm sure all of your experience and expertise will be of great value to this venture."

Wolf looked over to Dobbs in confusion as to what linguistic travesty had transpired, but said nothing so as to spare his Captain of any further embarrassment for the time being. Instead, he looked over to Angela and waved her over to the gangplank: "Come on now lass, need to get you and the cat on board."

Then came a Moravian contingent, which made Dobbs quickly pull out a small logbook and flipped through the pages quickly. He realized that this was one part of the expedition that he had previously overlooked and quickly read over the details to make himself acquainted with their company. "Zdenka Wälzer, I presume?" Dobbs asked aloud, looking up from the pages to face the woman.

AriAriAbabwa Infab DG-117

 

[K0mori]

"Kozlova, right?" His voice was calm and steady, "Wolfgang Rahmer. I figured it’d be good to introduce myself before we get set sail. I’ve been on expeditions like this for a good half of my life, what you think your looking for on his one?"

Kozlova offered a handshake as she answered him. "A pleasure to meet you, sir," she replied, distantly. "Our team is multi-disciplinary. I have always favored the study of biology, and my thesis was written on the adaptations of wildlife in the arctic climate. My associate, Mr. Vasylenko, has similarly studied the impact of dietary habits on human and animal health in cold climates. We hope to catalogue the types of life found in the wastes and within its waters which might identify what is useful or dangerous to human travelers.

"Dr. Bachvarov has published a volume on the subject of climate patterns and the physical geography of the sea. His intent is to track the weather during the length of the expedition and create reference materials for future expeditions. Likewise, Mr. Dragomirov is a geologist - he's studied the formation of landmasses and the erosion and deposition of rocks, and has several published papers on the subjects; it's his belief that the wastes might offer a glimpse into a primordial version of our world, beneath the icy surface. Together, they mean to craft a treatise on the physical properties of the Wastes which will become its definitive guide.

"Ms. Maksimova is a mental philosopher - a new type of science. She intends to study our choices and behaviors under the intense conditions of the expedition in order to better understand the nature of the human mind and soul. We believe that her work may help to prevent the types of disasters which have befallen prior expeditions into similar environments by predicting the sort of mental and spiritual fatigue one might experience in such a hostile place, and prescribing approaches to counteract self-destructive notions which might otherwise remain unchecked."

Having introduced her entire time, Kozlova summarized: "We intend to combine all of these disciplines into a single volume about the Wastes, one which can grant, for the first time, a complete picture of the frozen north and all that's required to tackle it."

 

[Breadman]

"I look forward to it." Fontaine's answer came with a polite smile. Its something he does subconsciously at this point. He looked around to see the other members of the crew. He looked down on Angela and instantly dismissed her 'Someone's daughter brought along for the trip. Just lovely.' He didn't have much patience for children, but if the brat would stay away from him, then there would be no issues. The men with the Lauhrumian accent were already halfway on the ship when he turned his attention to them. Their lead already stopping to talk to that Sokrovian woman. He looked in their direction for a few moments and could feel her judging them from where she stood like an overseer looking at the factory floor. He would pay that no mind.

"Our 'good old boys and girls' will be joining us on the expedition as well." Graves spoke up to catch his attention to Clyde's posse.

"I see, Graves. I also see some of our finest Sam&Wilson armament." He turned his attention to Dobbs again "We are not the only ones who brought professionals for the job, captain." He did his best to maintain that friendly look as Dobbs butchered a simple word as partner with a thick accent, but it was a struggle. He looked back to Clyde "Better than most other attempts, wouldn't you agree?"

Finally he managed to catch a glimpse at the group of Moravians who seemed to be either politely waiting their turn or preferring to stay away from the others. He wondered for a moment if the international reputation of the Alleghanians was catching up to them on this expedition. If so, what other rivalries will flare up on this trip and will Dobbs be man enough curb them?

"Lets get on the ship, proper. No sense in waiting on the docks." He pointed to the Dawnbreaker to his entourage with his cane. "We will have a better look from there anyway." The company group formed up behind him. The image wasn't exactly lost on him. A short organized parade of men and women following their leader clad with a top hat and cane. He couldn't wait to just toss the damn things away.

 

[AriAriAbabwa]

Angela
Tags: joshuadim Breadman​

Nothing else in the world mattered more than Boots coming into her arms. "I-I won't drop him!" she answered instantly, cradling the cat like a delicate baby. It was so, so soft... Angela nuzzled her face against his fur, giggling as he went on without a care in the world. The Captain's and Wolf's remarks did not go unnoticed. Even if Boots had been in a more sour mood, she'd have tried carrying him anyway. Probably not near her face, but still.

"R-Right!" she said after being gracefully reminded of the ship. Without another moment to waste, she scurried on board, Boots still in her arms. And what an experience it was! Angela has been on her fair share of boats, but the Dawnbreaker was simply different. She couldn't describe it, but she felt it as she stepped on board. "Did you ever think we would embrace the Dread Wastes on a vessel of steel?" Only Boots was around to hear. "Do you think we'll make the papers once we return? I wonder if the sisters keep up, and if they know I'm here... Where is your family, Boots? Are you alone like me?" Despite receiving no answer, she giggled.

Eventually, she let the cat go, waving as he scurried off to wherever on the ship.

In the meantime, Angela took a gander at her traveling companions. Many of them came in groups, and of several nationalities. Never has she seen so many gathering in one place. Yes, there always a fair amount of foreigners at the harbor, but everything about this was official! And in Angela's 15-year-old mind, nothing was more exciting than being part of it. There were Alleghanian cowboys from the story books, ragged Lauhurn hunters like the scraggly man who underestimated her, a Sokrovian crew with the attentive bite in their accent that the old captains spoke of—where was one to begin?

The answer was one Reginald Fontaine, unfortunately for him. Angela heard him introduce himself on the dock, and though it didn't resonate at first, she did know of him. Though Angela was not privvy on politics nor ever cared for it, it was hard not to hear of Reginald Fontaine. He was in the papers a few times. Just based on the headlines, he sounded like a stellar person. Save for one article, of course, but it was only one. And wasn't his book in the orphanage library? She smiled fondly at the thought. With a man like him on board, perhaps this expedition wouldn't be so bad!

"E-Excuse me! Mr. Fontaine?" She approached him and his followers sheepishly, a desire to help out winning over her nervousness. "I-I know you! I read some of your book back in the orphanage, and the papers say you've done a lot for people like us." Angela looked up at him with a doe-eyed smile. "So, uh, is there anything I can help you with?"

 

[DG-117]

"Zdenka Wälzer, I presume?" Dobbs asked aloud, looking up from the pages to face the woman.

"You are correct Captain Dobbs," she said with a slight smile on her face and in Albionian so affluent one couldn't believe that it wasn't her mother's native tongue, "My assistant, Sir Gruber will be joining us along with a small complement of skilled mariners from the Langobardian Duchies to aid in our first-of-a-kind voyage beyond the barrier of the known world."

Zdenka then took a moment to stare at the newly christened Dawnbreaker before glancing back at Dobbs. "Quite a momentous adventure awaits us, don't you agree?" Zdenka said with a smirk, her eyes glancing back at Dobbs.

--

As Gruber finished catching up with Zdenka at the docks, standing two or so meters away from her and the Captain while hauling a good amount of luggage on one of his shout shoulders, his eyes quickly caught sight of 'Coslovich' and five of his men. The hastily trimmed hair and the formal attire that Zdenka had ordered them to wear were barely enough to hide their rugged features and inglorious histories from him.

Yet, matters such as this require a...rather certain set of skills he thought to himself, these men were born and sailed on the seas for generations, although he sincerely hoped that they wouldn't end up acting like they were last time he and Zdenka had encountered them.

However, before Gruber could finish his thoughts, the man let out several loud sneezes, swiftly taking a handkerchief to cover his nose and mouth. Taking a moment to better himself before looking up to see one of the feline pests running up to the ship after being released by a small woman.

He quickly remembered the old Albionian tradition, why he used to always refuse to travel, let alone to sail with them...

["Damnable grimalkin..."] Gruber muttered to himself before making his way onto the Dawnbreaker.

 

[Teh Frixz]

Liandri

The swirling emptiness behind unblinking eyes abated quickly, giving the sensation of lurching back into reality to the motionless Sudeneer in the bed of the utility carriage she’d commissioned. The rhythmic clop of a quartet of large draft horses hauling her carriage to a perfectly timed stop was the last signal her brain needed before riding the wave back into reality.

A needle still sat in her arm, dried blood and excretion settled at the point of injection. Her dosage had been dead on, yet again. She withdrew the needle from her forearm, stopping the fresh bleed with a deftly placed finger as she sought the prepared gauze to stem any further flow. Travel, especially over country and through city, was a tedious affair and Liandri de Wet was quick to avoid anything considered by herself to be tedious. Stowing away her needle and licking the blood and decaying chemical residue off her finger tip, she smiled to herself, chuffed at how perfectly she timed things. Her weight, fat content, and systemic status all accounted for, she rode the entirety of the ten hour journey in blissful slumber.

And the innovators of the day were screeching to each other at the speed of steam locomotives. To her, the travel time was roughly that of a minute and thirty. Precision played well into her hands, a perfectly chilled bottle of water awaited her as she regained her waking consciousness. The cork popping off neatly under the pressure of a disturbingly muscled hand as she quenched the entirety of the bottle.

Water dribbled down her cheeks as the tarp covering her mobile work station was removed and the Albion men jumped in surprise.

“Ah be damned, half forgot you rode back there near ten hours Miss. Did you…fare well?”

“Not bad for a bakkie, eh? No need fer a bucket. I’m well off. See to gettin the shop unloaded yeh sah?

She could tell his tone inflected a concern over her need to relieve herself after the ride. What sort of women resided in this country that couldn’t sort that out themselves. She grabbed her gloves off the table, double checking that everything loose was bolted down as the lab would be loaded in one piece above the ship, and throw her shawl on, hopping down from the cart.

Under the shawl her hands worked quickly, mixing a pre measured amount of powder from her aprons front pocket with just the right amount of botulinum toxin to prevent her jaw from locking up. The substance was placed at the base of her knuckle and quickly inhaled up her nostril before approaching the gangplank.

Her sense of smell currently engaged with processing the stimulant in her nostrils, the first greeting the Dawnbreaker provided was the myriad of languages playing out. The ever prescent guttural hybrid of Albion, the distinct Sokrovian, a smattering of Merovian, and to her delight, the distinct bark of Alleghanian. What a crew to be gathering up in this overcrowded part of of the world it was.

Ascending the gangplank with the grace of an acrobat, her pupils retract then dilate as she took in the assembled men and women. Looking to each.

“Aright then, naow, any of you the porter. Probably not the Sokrovian lot, bit what do I know? Liandri de Wet, financier, chemist and en need of a guide to me room and a place for thee lab” she grinned behind the glint of her lenses, watching a cat go scampering off.

 

[dikdik]

Isaac McGuire
Mentions: Breadman DG-117
Interactions: joshuadim AriAriAbabwa ​

The carpet had been freshly cleaned and was a deep and dark maroon. Fluffy, but not too fluffy, purporting wealth and class, though easily replaced. Dark wood and plush cushions made up the furnishings in the locked room, complete with a man, unclothed, relaxing on his stomach in the middle of the floor, head on his hands, elbows pressing into the carpet, feet up and kicking gently in time with the music echoing from another room; a woman dressed in black leather sniffing at a rose lounged in a purple chair, legs crossed, heeled boots bouncing in time with Isaac’s.

“And I’ll tell ya, Mistress Gardenia, that’s what it was like. Back when I was… Wait a second, what time is it?” Izzy sat up in a bit of a panic. The room had no windows and he’d almost certainly let too much time slip away from him. He hurriedly dressed, passed the woman quite a sum of bank notes, and tugged his boots on as she counted it through a smirk. “I bid you adieu, Madame! I'm so sorry to leave this quickly. I hope you'll forgive me!”

Isaac rushed from the room, briefly jingling the door around before remembering how to unlock it. He snatched a flask from a pocket just inside the edge of his officer’s jacket and pulled quite a swig of whiskey out of it, tingling his throat and warming his stomach on the way down. With feet keen on getting down to the docks and swiftly as possible, he stamped down twisting streets. Newsboys yelling, hooves trotting, the occasional thunk-thunk of a motor vehicle thudding into a hole where a cobble was missing, it all swirls around in his ears as he rushed towards the docks. Every once in a while, he’d catch his toe on a curb or cobble. He hadn’t quite reclaimed his land legs after a mission several months long. But now? Now he was being reassigned. And at that memory, a pang of lonely sadness settled into Izzy’s gut, followed by a swig from a quickly draining flask.

Up from the water rose the magnificent Dawnbreaker. Quite a sight, she was! Masts strong and complemented by her ability to burn fuel. Bumping through the crowded dock, Izzy noticed he was far from the first crewmember to arrive for the journey to the Dread Wastes. Hardy, adventurous looking men, hardly as clean shaven and curly-headed as he was, caught his attention first. There were women present, as well, with expressions Izzy deemed particularly unapproachable. But the dark-haired one? Not the one with glasses. The older one. He could get used to her scowl. He’d ignore them all for now. Best to make a good impression on Captain Dobbs, first. Hold on? Hold on. A cat was skittering away from a child. The child was addressing one of the men, the one with a scar through his eyebrow. Is that a child? Did she just say “back in the orphanage”? Is that…

“Oh, gods above and devils below! You’re that navigating prodigy! What’d they say your name was… What was it… Angelica? Hi, Angelica!” Izzy reached out a hand, gesturing for a shake. “I’m Captain McGuire! Well, I guess it’s ‘First Mate McGuire’ here.” There was just an edge of disappointment in his tone. Fuck, he missed Vaxis and her crew. Izzy noticed he had interrupted her banter with another crewmember. Isaac pressed a smile at the man and recognized him as Reginald Fontaine, that elitist, wealthy, nasty motherfucker. What a fun trip this would be. The smile disappeared quickly, and after his interaction with the master navigator, he approached Captain Dobbs with a curt salute.

“Captain, sir. First Mate McGuire reporting for duty.” Izzy awaited a response from the Captain.

 

[Infab]

"Glad to have you lot aboard." Dobbs replied with a nod, before deciding to try to flourish it with a friendly gesture he had read in a small novella. "Pardner."

"Better than most other attempts, wouldn't you agree?"

Clyde simply grinned and nodded, glancing to Fontaine. Well, he tried at least. Did a better job at it than most.

"I'm sure all of your experience and expertise will be of great value to this venture."

"I hope so. Feel free to use us wherever you need us." he responded, glancing back to those behind him. "Couple of 'em brought some boxes of dynamite n' black powder charges from the mines. Figured those would be useful for blastin' away at the tough stuff if picks and such don' work. Also brought mah rifle, so if ya need somethin' shot far off, I can take a crack at it. Was a sharpshooter in my army days."

He thought for a moment, then glanced back behind him. "Hey, WALLACE!" he called out.

"YEAH?" was the response from further back.

"YOU WERE NAVY, RIGHT?"

"YEP! WORKED DOWN IN THE BOILER ROOMS!"

Clyde then turned back to Dobbs. "Well, there's ya 'nother sailor." he mentioned, "Can't imagine it'd be all that hard ta teach 'em about yer fancy Laviathan oil stuff."

Soon, he'd notice others having arrived. Moravians. "Afternoon, ma'am." he said politely, to the woman whom he assumed was their leader. Another woman arrived soon after that, with a Teutonian accent. Or at least, he thought it was Teutonian. Some of these foreign accents, he couldn't quite place. "Ma'am." he said, tipping his hat as she walked up.

Then, the captain's first mate arrived. Clyde could detect a faint trace of whiskey on his breath, even from where he was standing. Must have been the good stuff.

joshuadim Breadman DG-117 Teh Frixz dikdik

 

[joshuadim]

"Well, there's ya 'nother sailor. Can't imagine it'd be all that hard ta teach 'em about yer fancy Laviathan oil stuff."

"Mr. Wagne is the chief engineer aboard, he's already down in the engine room making preparations for departure." Dobbs explained, "He'll be the one to direct any questions to as well as accepting of any additional hands on deck. Send him on down and I'm sure he'll get to know all the ins and outs of how this whole thing works."

"Quite a momentous adventure awaits us, don't you agree?"

"Difficult is the term I'd ascribe." Dobbs stated plainly, not wishing to dress up any conceptions as to what exactly the crew would be facing. "Many vessels have tried and failed, some to disastrous results, to brave those waters. I can only hope we have better luck than many of those other souls have." A faint bitterness traced behind his words, as the Captain then straightened himself to then quickly recompose himself as a front of stoic reliability. "I'll go over all that we know of the wastes in the official briefing once we depart port." A new figure then arrived, catching his attention as he introduced herself as Liandri and in turn he quickly sifted through his dossier log.

"Yes, chemist indeed." Dobbs remarked, looking over her credentials. It was curious that she was sent alone while Sokrovy had managed to assemble quite the impressive team of scientists, but he kept the remark to himself as he closed the booklet and nodded. "I'm certain you'll find such equipment near the infirmary. Doctor Lonstray is already there, setting up preparations for his own medical practice aboard." Then a figure he had waited for to appear finally made himself present to the pier, though to the slight annoyance of the Captain as he had expected his assigned First Mate to have been the very first to report to duty. His tardiness was unusual for a naval officer, though Dobbs did not let his grievances show as he saluted back to Isaac.

"At ease. Head on aboard, make sure the deckhands have the rigging all secured and the mast sails furled." Dobbs stated as his first issued command to his First Mate.

Infab DG-117 dikdik

 

[turtwigwins]

Kozlova offered a handshake as she answered him. "A pleasure to meet you, sir," she replied, distantly. "Our team is multi-disciplinary. I have always favored the study of biology, and my thesis was written on the adaptations of wildlife in the arctic climate. My associate, Mr. Vasylenko, has similarly studied the impact of dietary habits on human and animal health in cold climates. We hope to catalogue the types of life found in the wastes and within its waters which might identify what is useful or dangerous to human travelers.

"Dr. Bachvarov has published a volume on the subject of climate patterns and the physical geography of the sea. His intent is to track the weather during the length of the expedition and create reference materials for future expeditions. Likewise, Mr. Dragomirov is a geologist - he's studied the formation of landmasses and the erosion and deposition of rocks, and has several published papers on the subjects; it's his belief that the wastes might offer a glimpse into a primordial version of our world, beneath the icy surface. Together, they mean to craft a treatise on the physical properties of the Wastes which will become its definitive guide.

"Ms. Maksimova is a mental philosopher - a new type of science. She intends to study our choices and behaviors under the intense conditions of the expedition in order to better understand the nature of the human mind and soul. We believe that her work may help to prevent the types of disasters which have befallen prior expeditions into similar environments by predicting the sort of mental and spiritual fatigue one might experience in such a hostile place, and prescribing approaches to counteract self-destructive notions which might otherwise remain unchecked."

Having introduced her entire time, Kozlova summarized: "We intend to combine all of these disciplines into a single volume about the Wastes, one which can grant, for the first time, a complete picture of the frozen north and all that's required to tackle it."

Wolfgang Rahmer took Kozlova’s offered handshake, a firm grip. As she rattled off the specializations of her team, he made mental notes, processing each discipline. Biologists, climatologists, geologists—each had a place on the expedition, their contributions vital for survival and understanding. But as soon as she mentioned Ms. Maksimova, Wolfgang’s brow furrowed slightly, though he kept his expression neutral. Mental philosopher? He couldn’t help but have a distaste. Survival wasn’t something to be analyzed with theories of the mind, it was something you fought for every day. He didn't like people being observed as lab rats.

Rahmer refocused, turning his attention back to Kozlova. "Cataloging the wildlife, that makes sense," he began. His voice was steady focusing on pragmatism. "If we’re going to survive out here, we’ll need to understand how the animals manage it. They’ve adapted, found ways to live off this frozen land, and we’ll have to do the same. Resupply’s not an option once we’re deep in the Wastes. Every scrap of food we find will be precious."

He leaned slightly against the railing, casting a glance toward the horizon, as if already imagining the frozen wilderness that lay ahead. "We’ll have to hunt smart, conserve what we can, and make sure we’re not walking into treachery. Your studies might be the difference between starving and staying alive."

He paused for a moment, considering whether to introduce his own crew. "The men I’ve brought would tell me I’m wasting breath if I introduced them in as much detail as yours," he said with a slight smile. "But they’re all good people, seasoned in their crafts. I wouldn’t have brought them if they weren’t. We’ve got hunters, sailors, whalers—each with a variety of skills picked up over the years. They’re used to tough conditions, and they know how to handle themselves."

He glanced back toward his crew, seeing Hans Volkner, the young blonde with loose hair falling to his shoulders, whose eagerness reminded Wolfgang of his younger self. Hans stood up deck, laughing at a joke one of the others had made. The kid had a sharp eye for maps and an even sharper sense of humor, qualities that kept morale high in difficult times.

"I'll mention our cartographers, me, Hans Volkner," Rahmer nodded toward him. "Bright kid with a good head on his shoulders. He and I handle most of the charting work."

Then he gestured toward a woman with light brown, almost auburn, hair tied into a long ponytail. She was speaking to a few others, her expression calm but focused. "Leonie Saxer, our other cartographer. Quiet, but damn good at what she does."

 

[K0mori]

He paused for a moment, considering whether to introduce his own crew. "The men I’ve brought would tell me I’m wasting breath if I introduced them in as much detail as yours," he said with a slight smile. "But they’re all good people, seasoned in their crafts. I wouldn’t have brought them if they weren’t. We’ve got hunters, sailors, whalers—each with a variety of skills picked up over the years. They’re used to tough conditions, and they know how to handle themselves."

He glanced back toward his crew, seeing Hans Volkner, the young blonde with loose hair falling to his shoulders, whose eagerness reminded Wolfgang of his younger self. Hans stood up deck, laughing at a joke one of the others had made. The kid had a sharp eye for maps and an even sharper sense of humor, qualities that kept morale high in difficult times.

"I'll mention our cartographers, me, Hans Volkner," Rahmer nodded toward him. "Bright kid with a good head on his shoulders. He and I handle most of the charting work."

Then he gestured toward a woman with light brown, almost auburn, hair tied into a long ponytail. She was speaking to a few others, her expression calm but focused. "Leonie Saxer, our other cartographer. Quiet, but damn good at what she does."

"It would be well for us to work together. We can create detailed maps overlayed with carefully-collected data. It would be a very valuable resource for the future," Kozlova replied. Her expression was stony as before; Rahmer couldn't tell if she was impressed or even interested in his company. However, she did have a follow-up which seemed to suggest he wasn't bothering her. "What are the chances that any passage through the Wastes is named for the cartographer, and not the Captain? It's a sort of thing that's happened before..."

 

[turtwigwins]

"It would be well for us to work together. We can create detailed maps overlayed with carefully-collected data. It would be a very valuable resource for the future," Kozlova replied. Her expression was stony as before; Rahmer couldn't tell if she was impressed or even interested in his company. However, she did have a follow-up which seemed to suggest he wasn't bothering her. "What are the chances that any passage through the Wastes is named for the cartographer, and not the Captain? It's a sort of thing that's happened before..."

Wolfgang Rahmer gave a short chuckle. "Naming a passage after the cartographer, huh? My daughter would love that. She’s just starting her studies at the academies—got an eager mind, always wanting to hear about her old man’s work." He paused briefly, glancing toward the horizon before adding, "It sounds like a plan. Don’t hesitate to track me down if you need anything."

Rahmer offered a small, fleeting smile, nodding to Kozlova and the other scientists before stepping back to explore the ship and take stock of the other new arrivals.

 

[AriAriAbabwa]

Angela
Tags: joshuadim Breadman dikdik​

Safe to say, the young girl did not expect the whirlwind that was the First Mate. And least of all being recognized! Prodigy? Me? She went blank-faced, words chugging through her brain. Angela flushed a bright red, burying the bottom half of her face into her scarf. "I-I wouldn't go that far... I'm passionate about the work is all." She took a breath, managing to meet his eyes with a gentle, innocent smile. "Nice to meet you, Mr. McGuire. And, I'm sorry, but, it's Angela. Not Angelica." She tilted her head. "'Captain', you said? Did you happen to get demoted?"