Fantasy The Dread Wastes [IC]

[turtwigwins]

As the beginning days passed Rahmer took time to help on deck, but also time to better understand what the captain had said previously. He went out seeking the help of two of the scientists he had been introduced to before by Kozlova, Dr. Bachvarov and Mr. Dragomirov asking if they had any theories to the reports of the shifting lands. Prehaps there would be something within the land itself that revealed as to the nature of these changes. If it was a consistent change it would be able to be mapped.

---

Rahmer breathed in the crisp air as the crew docked at Edwin’s Point. The crowd that had gathered along the docks caught his eye, locals looking on with interest at the massive behemoth of a ship now docked in their quiet port. Rahmer gave a smile to the group as he walked onto the docks giving a wave, "Behold,The Royal Albionian Ship Dawnbreaker, the beauty that will chart a course through the dread wastes!" He waited for the sounds of amazement as Rahmer began rolling up his sleeves, answering a few eager questions as he began preparing to get to work. It was always good to announce yourself to the locals in ports like this. Often giving them enough curiosity would lead to them giving tidbits of information.

After the initial curiosity died down Rahmer began to dive into the task of loading supplies. His hands worked with practiced speed, guiding crates and barrels down to the dock, and leaving them there for the crew to haul aboard. There was something satisfying about this kind of work, a grounding repetive task, and he cheerfully bantered with the other deckhands as they loaded the supplies.

When the initial work was done, Rahmer and the lauhurians would take advantage of the chance to stretch their legs. Intermingling with the locals a few questions led to Rahmer being caught up in telling a tale of his past, which only spurred further curiosity from children nearby. Soon he found himself sitting down by one of the local houses as an engaged group of children looked up in awe. Having his own children had refined his storytelling ability, and it was a thing that always brought him joy.

"Once I was tasked in tracking down a great Morovian Brown Bear.."

"This wasn't just any bear—it was massive, with a coat as dark as the midnight sky and eyes that seemed almost intelligent. Frightening yes, but it was something that had to be pursued, as it had raided the local food stores. I set out with a small team, following the tracks through the dense forest. Days passed, and we faced harsh weather and treacherous terrain. Finally, deep in the heart of the woods, we found the bear near a dwindling stream. We realized the bear must have been desprate, the season hadn't been fair, and it looked as if the water was drying up..."

"What did you do then?" One of the children asked in excitment.

"Surrounded it and shot the bear to death, it was a big one, but nothing that steeled resolve couldn't solve." He paused for a moment, letting the situation sink in, "Remember to not be the bear, no matter how strong you think you are, if you piss of those around you there will be punishment." He looked to the parents nearby, some ammused and some annoyed, "So go be obident children and get back to chores." Ending the event with some laughter from the adults and sighs or complaints from the childs. Rahmer hoped conversation with the adults afterwards would bring some insight as to the situation of the port.

 

[K0mori]

"[This is probably not good,]" Bacharov remarked quietly in Sokrovian as he looked over the information he was able to collect from his instruments, mounted on a small section of the ship's deck near the stern. He motioned to his aneroid barometer as he turned to Kozlova, who had come to see what his concerns were about.

She leaned down and brushed her golden blonde hair out of the way. She had never let it get this long before - ever since she was a child, she had preferred to keep it short, in a boyish pattern which wouldn't cause her inconvenience while contending with the elements. Lately, however, as the pace of research funding within the Sokrovian wilderness had dried up along with the mysteries which required long stays in the snow, she had begun to neglect it. One morning, she realized that her hair was tickling her shoulders for the first time in her life, and realized that she was slowly becoming an idle urbanite. It was only with encouragement from Maksimova that she didn't take a pair of scissors and lop the locks off immediately, as the young philosopher encouraged her to embrace a new chapter in her life as a professor of the sciences, and not just an adventurer. A professor, she stated, is entitled to a more dignified appearance.

Kozlova hadn't fully accepted this outcome. She had not accepted any invitation to lecture at any university beyond an occasional public seminar, but that was primarily to drum up public interest in further exploration. Still, the fact that she hadn't completely rejected Maksimova's advice was evidence enough that Kozlova could recognize the coming end of her career as a rugged, pioneering naturalist. She would, hopefully, finally be satisfied with her body of work in the field and return to her homeland ready to face that uncertain future. If she should fail to return, then at the very least her father would have a few photographs to give the impression of that woman his daughter would have finally grown into.

She didn't dwell on it much at all. The fleeting moment in which the golden threads of hair were carried away from her eyelashes was already gone, and she was back aboard the Dawnbreaker where she was needed. The gauge, as expected, pointed to high pressure levels and fair, almost dry air. "[How is it not good?]" she asked, her tone merely inquisitive, and not argumentative.

"[This is above normal for this region; I've read over existing data for the territory and, between this and my other measurements, I'm almost certain that there's a front moving through.]"

Kozlova nodded as she stood up and looked over the horizon. "[Storms?]"

Bacharov nodded. "[Yes. All this calm is going to come at the cost of our entry into the Wastes; I'm sure of it. After we leave port, we're probably going to be hit with our first real blast of polar weather. I'll be checking in with the Captain after he returns from shore to see whether he feels the same about it.]"

She grunted her approval. "[I'm going ashore. If nothing else, a walk seems nice,]" she stated.

As she descended to the port, she appreciated the peace and quiet of being a stranger in a foreign land. Having spent much of her life in the wilderness, things like the crackling of a campfire, the wind in the trees, and the lapping of crystal-clear water in a mountain stream were the sounds which comforted her the most. By contrast, the chattering of crewmembers, the low drone of the engines, and the crashing of waves against the hull felt bothersome, and she had spoken with Maksimova about it more than once, both on the way to Albion, and since departing the capital. She almost couldn't wait for the muffling effect of snow in the air, so long as the wind was gentle; but here in this city, isolation itself had a way of muffling her senses and turning her thoughts inward.

And Kozlova's mind was a very peaceful, and very orderly place.

 

[Infab]

The vast open waters of the ocean reminded Clyde a lot of the open expanse of the prairies and empty badlands of the Alleghenian frontier. It stretched on for miles and miles... and there wasn't a soul in sight for most of it. Both dragged certain feelings and thoughts from deep within the darkest pits of the mind and soul to the forefront. Longing, Despair, Fear... madness. Your mind would become your own personal hell, as the isolation would push you over the edge.

Clyde rubbed his freshly shaven face, making sure he didn't miss any patches of hair with the straight razor, as he stared out over the open ocean from the deck of the ship. His mind drifted to different places as his fingers traced the curves of his throat and jawline. They would pause as they met a scar on the left side of his neck. They traced the rough, jagged pattern of flesh that had developed itself over a three inch wound channel.

Fifty-eight caliber Minié ball. Snaked through the flesh, like an ice skater on a frozen pond, before flying off into the darkness of an autumn night on the prairie.

A forty-four caliber ball response hit its mark. A long, narrow cavity straight through the flesh of the forehead, the bone of the skull, and the grey matter of the brain, before erupting through the back in a shower of color and material.

Afterwards, a knife joined the revolver. Razor sharp, slicing through flesh, muscle, and other tissues with ease. A more intimate tool of the arts. Anger exchanged for pleasure. A body left to the scavengers, picked clean in a matter of days.

The feeling of the scarred skin forced a faint smile to appear on Clyde's face, the memories of its origin pulsing through his mind in a flash. However, the sound of the others moving about on the deck forced the memories to disappear back into the recesses of his mind. He glanced towards Liandri, his eyes rolling in their sockets to gaze at her out of the corners. She passed by him, on the way towards the ramp down to the docks.

Right. We just docked at Edwin's Point. Remember where you are, Clyde... and what you are.

He adjusted his hat, pulling it down slightly over his eyes as he followed after Liandri. His boots clacked against the deck as he walked, his hands adjusting his jacket as he moved. The temperatures were already starting to drop slowly. Just as he had mentioned before when the group had been gathered together. It wasn't long before he noticed that Rahmer had already made it down and was telling stories to children for entertainment. He eyed the man for a brief moment, before glancing behind him to the ramp to see that Kozlova was coming to shore as well.

After a moment, he simply stopped Liandri and folded his arms, watching everyone move about on the docks. He began to wonder what exactly they'd be picking up here, if anything, and if anyone would be joining them from the island. Eventually, he glanced to Liandri as she stood nearby. He considered asking her for another cigarette, since the one she had given him during their first conversation was actually pretty nice. A bit different from the ones using Alleghenian-produced tobacco.

Plus, she seemed interesting. A conversation might help drive the memories away.

He moved a little closer, taking a few steps across the dock to where she was, before speaking. "So... how're you settlin' in?" he said, his arms still folded as he spoke. "...I'm not really one fer ships... save for maybe a river boat or somethin'. Simple horse, wagon, or train's more mah sort of thing."

Interactions: Teh Frixz
Mentioned: turtwigwins , K0mori

 

[Teh Frixz]

Liandri

“River boats! Je, nice en good down your grand river, not so good using the poles to push et against the current je?”

Liandri knew who it was by the timbre of his voice, the Allegheny way of drawling out their words, and the distinctly pleasant smell of a recently shaved man. She grinned, dragging deep on her cigarette as she withdrew her case, offering a selection. “Too early for the blue, best steek to the green banding or the gold ef you want a kick je” The gold banded cigarettes laced with a trace amounts of koka, just enough to ride out a boring seminar or business meeting.

She let him peruse while she thought Clyde over. “We hed guards on the trains in Sudenland, Effrician lands. They didn’t have walls, jest poles fer the roof. Guards to keep bandeets and wildlife from mauling us. Rough rides. Much better in your country I take et?” Liandri considered the state of the dark continent. A land of discovery and danger, her homeland. The Principality had carved out a nation on the southern tip of the continent, farming it and bringing in northern Effricians to work it as a working caste. It was a beautiful land, rough and dingy by most standards but that was most Sudenlanders anyways.

“I’m settling in jest right. Not looken forward to the eventual chill. But I’ve never been thees far north.” Liandri considered Clyde, her skill at reading faces as well as the room, demonstrably piss poor. If he was showing anxiousness or worry, she didn’t, couldn’t, notice. Her eyes were terrible.

“Your country, has places like this je? Lettle outpost towns with snow? Sort of a colder version of my country, less romantic in Sudenland, unleess you are a big cat or a unicorn.” She laughed to herself, an inside joke from her home, the great thick skinned beasts that were native to Effricia, a single horn and a bad temper. “Nothing like thet here je? Jes fish…” she dragged her cigarette across the scene, like a painter framing her work. “You like et?”


Infab

 

[Infab]

“River boats! Je, nice en good down your grand river, not so good using the poles to push et against the current je?”

"Yeah. Always got land nearby, not much motion in th' rivers to rock th' boats too much. Ain't as cramped and closed in as these sea-bound ships, either." Clyde replied, glancing back towards the ship before looking at the cigarette case she held out to him.

“Too early for the blue, best steek to the green banding or the gold ef you want a kick je”

He cocked an eyebrow for a brief moment, eyeing the blue banded cigarettes in the case. What's in those? After a moment, however, he made his selection. Gold sounded nice, especially if it came with a kick of something. As he selected the cigarette, he continued to listen as she spoke.

“We hed guards on the trains in Sudenland, Effrician lands. They didn’t have walls, jest poles fer the roof. Guards to keep bandeets and wildlife from mauling us. Rough rides. Much better in your country I take et?”

"Yeah, ours have walls. The walls are wooden, though. They don't stop bullets much... especially th' bigger ones. Might as well kiss yer ass goodbye if a sumbitch throws a stick o' dynamite at it." he said with a chuckle, as he slipped the cigarette between his lips. He felt around in his pocket for a match, as he continued. "Rides are nice. Seats are wide 'n comfy, if ya paid tah sit in one of the cars towards th' front. Rear cars got these... narrow, flat seats with no paddin'. Just a wood board."

He dug in one of the inner pockets of his jacket. "Some of the cars even got beds built in 'em. Sorta like bunk beds, one stacked on top of th' other. Good if yer goin' for a long ride someplace. A few also got private rooms for th' folks with money." he continued, "As fer guards, there's usually a few folks on each train carryin' iron. Really they just hang around 'n keep an eye out fer train robbers 'n angry natives."

“I’m settling in jest right. Not looken forward to the eventual chill. But I’ve never been thees far north... Your country, has places like this je? Lettle outpost towns with snow? Sort of a colder version of my country, less romantic in Sudenland, unleess you are a big cat or a unicorn.”

"Oh, yeah. Lot's o' towns and such with snow. 'specially up in the mountains. Pretty cozy in th' winters, though they're still sorta nice in th' summers too... Better than open prairie and badlands stretching on forever in every direction." he said, eventually finding a match in his right side inner pocket. As he drew it out, he continued. "We got big cats, though I don't think they're as big as one o' those lions or anythin'. More like the size of a cheetah. Think they call 'em 'cougars' or somethin', but most of us know 'em as just mountain lions 'n panthers."

Another memory popped into his head as he spoke of cougars, but he forced it out as he struck the match across the side of his boot. As he lifted the flaming end of the match to the cigarette jutting from his mouth, he glanced back to Liandri.

“Nothing like thet here je? Jes fish…” she dragged her cigarette across the scene, like a painter framing her work. “You like et?”

Clyde thought it over for a moment. "A little variety in th' wildlife's always nice. Cats, dogs, birds, lizards, 'n so on. Nothin' but fish seems like it'd get borin' after too long." He shrugged slightly, as he took a drag on the cigarette. "Island life seems kinda nice, though probably best tah have someone 'round t' share it with. Otherwise... one might go a little nutty. Humans bein' social creatures, after all."

His eyes widened a little as he tasted whatever was in the cigarette. Hey, this is pretty good!

Interactions: Teh Frixz

 

[Teh Frixz]

Liandri
It was real time confirmation that she liked Clyde. Sudenlanders always had a soft spot for the Allegheny, they were cousins of a sort. Both countries building their nation in a hostile land, both errant children of the old world nations, hostile wildlife, angry natives, and an emergent ‘New Rich’ class.

It would have been silly of her not to expect a man of action to go for something with a little punch. She watched his eyes dilate. “Je. My family makes them, tobacco. These I made meeself, you’ve heard of the brand je? DeWets? I suppose theey call them Dewitt’s in Allegheny though. I made the enhalent line last year, that’s what’s payeeng for my spot on the ship.”

She looked Clyde up and down, tutting in approval. “You are whet? Hundred kilos or so je? Should be fine. I blend them for my size en tolerance. Beeg tough Allegheny, you’ll enjoy et.”

She snapped her case shut, slipping it back in her coat with a sigh. “Social. Some of us not so much, but most of the crew are pleesant. I think the Captain and what’s hees name? McGuire? Most of the Albonian, they don’t like me.” She shrugged. What could she do, she’d never been a hit with their Ilk. She supposed they didn’t like other countries doing what they did, aspiring to Empire. Probably subconscious.

“But je, it sounds like I should be more worried of your Allegheny. Dynamite and bandits and iron is a gun je? I always liked gunpowder. Sulfur, charcoal, potassium nitrate. Bang je? Potassium can be so feeckle to work with.” She nudged him with her elbow, breaking her own policy of generally not being handsy with strangers. It wasn’t ladylike. “Maybe like Fontaine je? He’s our gunpowder on the journey. I haven’t had much to do with heem yet.”

She laughed to herself, pleased with the realization of the accuracy of her own comparison. “Oh, jes realized. Bunk beds? Strangers all sleeping on top of each other? For shame Allegheny, you deserve your reputation” Liandri took a long drag.

“Good place for the next expedition je. Allegheny wilds.” She exhaled slowly, watching the smoke hang in the air before being swallowed by the sea. “I talk too much, sorry Ef it’s a bother”


Infab

 

[Infab]

“Je. My family makes them, tobacco. These I made meeself, you’ve heard of the brand je? DeWets? I suppose theey call them Dewitt’s in Allegheny though. I made the enhalent line last year, that’s what’s payeeng for my spot on the ship.... You are whet? Hundred kilos or so je? Should be fine. I blend them for my size en tolerance. Beeg tough Allegheny, you’ll enjoy et.”

"Yeah, 'bout two-twenty pounds or so." he commented regarding his weight, before continuing. "And yeah, I've heard o' that brand. Late friend of mine used ta smoke 'em all th' time. Loved 'em. I had a few 'n they tasted really nice compared to the other stuff."

“Social. Some of us not so much, but most of the crew are pleesant. I think the Captain and what’s hees name? McGuire? Most of the Albonian, they don’t like me.”

"Folks from Albion don't like a lot o' people. Most of 'em certainly ain't fond o' us. They think we're all just a bunch o' idiots with guns." responded Clyde, with a chuckle. "Their counterparts from Gallia are a bit friendlier, from th' few folks I've bumped into on river boats 'n such. Hard ta understand 'em at times, though."

He sighed afterwards as well, blowing smoke into the air. "Most of th' folks here seem a bit on the... well, stiff side. That may change, though, since we all just met."

“But je, it sounds like I should be more worried of your Allegheny. Dynamite and bandits and iron is a gun je? I always liked gunpowder. Sulfur, charcoal, potassium nitrate. Bang je? Potassium can be so feeckle to work with.” She nudged him with her elbow, breaking her own policy of generally not being handsy with strangers. It wasn’t ladylike. “Maybe like Fontaine je? He’s our gunpowder on the journey. I haven’t had much to do with heem yet.”

"We're a wild bunch. Though, like everywhere else, there's a pretty big variety of us. In both the good and bad ways." he replied. He then reached down and drew his Colt Navy from the holster on his hip. He spun it around in his hand, twirling it until the handle was poking out before him as he held it out to Liandri. Offering her the chance to hold it and look it over. "A lot o' gunpowder 'n lead's been put through this thing. Certainly ain't as destructive as dynamite, but gets th' job done if yer aim is true."

He then looked around. "As for Fontaine... he's one of those newer types of folks that have been poppin' up back home. Probably knows the business world better than the rest o' us, and will do whatever it takes to get paid a lot o' money." commented Clyde. "Probably rob ya blind, too, but do it legally or in some underhanded back alley way. Wouldn't even have tah use a gun."

“Oh, jes realized. Bunk beds? Strangers all sleeping on top of each other? For shame Allegheny, you deserve your reputation” Liandri took a long drag. “Good place for the next expedition je. Allegheny wilds.”

"Gotta make due with what ya got, I guess. Not much space on th' cars... but they give ya curtains at least to block out folks that like ta peep." he replied with a smirk. He took a drag on his own cigarette as well, before exhaling it as he spoke on the topic of an expedition to Alleghania. "You'd love it. Vast territory to explore, natives, outlaws, a variety of wildlife... Also got pretty big cities if ya visit th' more civilized parts of th' country. New Yarktown, Vieux Carre, 'n so on."

“I talk too much, sorry Ef it’s a bother”

"Don't bother me in the slightest." he said, flashing her a smile. "I like talkin' with ya. You ain't as stiff as the rest, plus yer interestin'."

Interaction: Teh Frixz

 

[Emperor Sagan]

Clouds. Kristina Lambe had never before had an opinion on clouds given that they simply were. Creations of strange winds and odd temperatures that ruled the very air, fostering storms on some days and pleasant weather the next. The most thought she had ever given to the concept of clouds before the past several days on this island were how to best paint them, either as soft bundles of white fleece - like the damnable, demonic sheep upon the island - or as grey striations like the talons of a distant god that threatened snow, frost, and potentially even a winter blizzard. Zelenheim was a realm of forested highlands and steep mountain passes, where the cold was present even on those clear sunny days. The clouds back home were simply normal.

On this dismal island, cast unto the frontiers of nothingness, the clouds were very silly. She knew this because she had spent the better part of a week staring at them while she drank her dwindling wine on the beach. What few clouds had wandered by the infinite expanse of the horizon often took on the shape of funny little things, like critters or objects. "[Why, I dare say that is a horse,]" she had declared earlier in the day, pointing lazily at one such cloud that, indeed, vaguely resembled a four-legged horse at a peculiar angle. The others would, of course, stare on in silent awe, the wind of the sea breeze and crashing waves the only response. Not that she blamed them. It was probably the fifth of sixth horse shaped cloud she had seen.

There was a new cloud on the horizon today, however; a pall of wretched black smoke was growing ever darker in the distance, an inkblot come to life from the canvas and getting larger by the moment. "[A ship on fire?]" Wendel Sondermann wondered, his booted feet propped up on another chair they had liberated from the town and dragged down to the upper dunes of the beach. He nursed a gentle wooden pipe carved from white pine, his rheumy eyes softer than even the wandering sheep nearby.

"[Oh, how dreadful!]" Sasja Thorne remarked, the young man rooted to his spot upon a piece of driftwood, one leg placed heroically upon it. He had maintained this stance for the better part of an hour as Kristina doodled him in a sketchbook, for she did not wish to fetch and mix the paints. She had also forgotten to tell him he could move after she found some seagulls more interesting about half an hour ago when the damn birds fought over a piece of bread they had thrown out into the sand. "[I hope those poor people will be okay.]"

Eleanor Rosendal turned her head towards the sea to study this apparent disaster, only for her blank face to register another empty expression in quick sucession. "[That would be the Dawnbreaker,]" she remarked plainly. ["It isn't on fire. That would be the smoke from the engines. Like those new locomotives.]"

Kristina swished her red wine around in her glass. "[Took them long enough. I thought we were going to be stuck here forever. I've seen ships row faster,]" she complained. She went to take another sip of her wine, but the looming shape of another sheep appeared in the corner of her eye, causing her to jump up out of her chair with a pitiful shout. It wasn't the first which had wandered near them from the lower, rather empty pastures near the beachheads. The last one which had neared them had clearly and very deliberately overturned her previous bottle, spilling its contents on the dry sand. "[And these awful beasts keep trying to take my wine! Oh, I've had it with this place! My darlings, I'm about to faint. Catch me!]" Kristina placed one hand over her forehead, eyes closed as her head swayed uneasily upon her shoulders. After a moment of nothing happening, she sighed and opened her eyes. "[All of you, so rude. I could have fallen on this... this terrible... not very clean sandy ground. I could have died.]" Across from her, Wendel and Eleanor exchanged a taxed glance. This wasn't the first or third time she had 'fainted' today.

With the ship growing nearer, the team of four gathered their meager beachside picnic supplies and hurried back to town to gather their proper equipment. They were, after all, the official representatives of the Zelenheim Confederation. They even had very pretty ribbons to prove it, green bows with a single white stripe down the center, each able to be pinned amicably over the heart or worn like a brooch.

As the ship grew even closer to port - the true size of the almost legendary vessel taking up the bulk of the horizon itself - the documentarians set up their secondary camera on a simple tripod. They had already earned a great deal of money taking portraits and family photographs for the locals, and now they could themselves make proper history by taking the first photograph of the Dawnbreaker. Kristina knew she'd have to ensure the date was... flexible, as it was possible someone else took a photograph of the ship leaving Albion. And that simply wouldn't do.

"[And... there,"] Eleanor said, raising her head away from the optical. The wooden and leather-treated camera had made a heavy click-thunk sound as the aperature and internal lense did their delicate work. As directed, Kristina had suggested a common tintype to commemorate this occasion, and thanks to the sucess of the Zelenheim photographical experimentations, an already rapidly performed photograph was even more swiftly obtained. A latch was undone on the side of the camera so that the plate could be removed and gently brushed with a finishing emulsion before being given approximately thirty seconds to dry and finally clasped to a wooden-and-glass plate, sealing it.

Kristina grinned, and even Eleanor, the ever dour young woman, smiled a fraction. Their efforts on lense placements had continud to prove sucessful - the smearing of moving objects and persons in view of the camera were indeed exceptionally minimal, a key feature of their other special camera that they were, as of this moment, keen to keep hidden from the public eye.

As the ship finally docked proper, and crew began their labors to load supplies, the team realized they didn't know who exactly was Dobbs out of all the officers that had passed by. After a fair amount of arguing, pointing, more fainting, and eventually a great deal of academic honesty and rigorous scientific debate, the photographical team descended upon two nearby figures who they had watched depart the ship - Clyde and Liandri.

Dressed in an elegant black suit, with high-suspended pleated pants, a white blouse with silk cravat, and feminine tailcoated jacket, Kristina Lambe approached them with a beaming smile as she jutted a white gloved hand out at the man and woman, performing a slight bow while doing so. Upon her head, a small tophat remained perched in place at a slant, the cap pinned to her hair.

"Haha, oh my darlings, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you both," she said in clear, fluent Albionese, though accented with the rich tone of a native from the Zelenheim fjords. She, of course, had no idea who the hell she was talking to; be they officers, then she clearly meant what she said; be they doormen or sweepers, then she clearly still meant what she said, but was also in an attempt to foster good service aboard the ship. "My dears, I am Kristina Lambe. Yes, you may have heard my name in the great theatres of the north, but no I am not currently upon the stage. I am the lead of Zelenheim's very own Great Photographical Expedition! Aha!" Kristina gestured back at the other three accompanying her, a blank-faced young woman with long black hair in a black dress, an elder man with white hair and whiskers wearing a pom-pom'd skotthúfa cap, and a beatific youth with golden lockes with a large blue ribbon tied about his neck. All three individuals looked on in silence, though the elder man smiled with a wave while the younger man beamed like a ray of living sunshine.

Confident that neither of the two people before her were Captain Dobbs, she posed the question to them. "Why, I must ask my fairest friends, where doth our good Captain reside? I really should meet him before we bring ourselves aboard."

---

Infab
Teh Frixz

 

[Infab]

As Clyde finished his statement to Liandri, he glanced over to see four individuals on approach. They certainly weren't crew, and it was highly likely they weren't natives to the island. He'd find out exactly who they were as the more sophisticated of the quartet spoke up.

"Haha, oh my darlings, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you both," she said in clear, fluent Albionese, though accented with the rich tone of a native from the Zelenheim fjords. She, of course, had no idea who the hell she was talking to; be they officers, then she clearly meant what she said; be they doormen or sweepers, then she clearly still meant what she said, but was also in an attempt to foster good service aboard the ship. "My dears, I am Kristina Lambe. Yes, you may have heard my name in the great theatres of the north, but no I am not currently upon the stage. I am the lead of Zelenheim's very own Great Photographical Expedition! Aha!"

Clyde smiled and nodded, hesitantly, as he twirled his revolver around and holstered it. He had no idea who this woman was. He really had never been one for theater. Saloons and dances, sure, but he had never gone and sat down to watch a play or opera or something. Then, she mentioned photography.

A group centered around just photography? The ones back home usually consisted of just one man or woman.

"Pleasure tah meet you, ma'am." he said, giving her a gentle tip of his hat. "John Clyde Carnall. Call me Clyde. Explorer from Alleghania. I'll let th' lady introduce herself, but we're both part o' the big expedition into th' Dread Wastes." He motioned politely to Liandri after the statement.

"Why, I must ask my fairest friends, where doth our good Captain reside? I really should meet him before we bring ourselves aboard."

Clyde looked to Liandri for a moment, then around them and back up to the ship. "Don't rightly know where th' cap'n might be. One of the crew could probably tell ya. Them, or th' first mate, McGuire." he said, eventually turning his head back to the woman. "Could ask for him, too. He'd get you 'n yer lot settled in proper."

Interaction: Emperor Sagan , Teh Frixz
Mentioned: joshuadim , dikdik

 

[Vexumin]

It was an exciting prospect, sightings and even record of trade between those that have made the expedition and the natives of the Dread Wastes. They are there and they could have so many answers to so many of the worlds questions. However, it's not entirely unfamiliar for a people to not want to connect to rest of the world that they are so detached from.

For now, Naileen put it out of her mind. She had her answers to her current questions and she'd think more on it when they got closer to the Dread Wastes. At this time, it was all hands on deck. For the three days journey Naileen wasn't about to sit down. While she can be a talker in a pinch, it was far better to be a doer when it comes to getting into the good graces of others. Her targets? The crew. The soul of the machine. Everyone was relying on them to keep this vessel running and she wanted to be in their good graces.

For the three days there wasn't a single part of the ship that she hadn't wandered through to work. She's helped maintain a variety of vessels in her meager years, but this was something else. She relished the opportunity to explore the most innovative aspects of the Dawnbreaker and speak to the individuals responsible for keeping it running.

Some, in that time, might have thought that her attempts to insert herself into the flow of things was annoying, perhaps even bothersome. However, by the time they reached Edwin's Point, more than a few saw her in a different light. At first they might have thought that she was just in over her head trying to do the work that they do. That before they had reached their first stop, she would give up. But day after day she only worked harder and for longer. As she got used to different duties, she showed up more often, no matter how messy the work.

It was likely when she first came up for air after working the engines shoveling coal, covered in soot, that some of the crew began to see her differently.

"Grit. She's got grit, she does," An older gentleman called Barnsy by the other crew says, patting the young woman's shoulder as she wiped her face clean of soot.

A few of the crew had stopped in their work to look the young scholarly woman over. It might have only occurred to some that she didn't have the physique of someone that sat in a classroom all day or was constantly studying. A worker, that's how they saw her. She worked like hell, and they could at least respect that.

"Get some rest girl! If you're gonna keep this up, then you'll need it," the old fellow says with a wheezing laugh and a cough or two, the product of prolonged time around those engines. She gives him a smile as she goes to clean up a bit more. Perhaps a change of clothes. She certainly was tired too, but that'd have to wait a bit. From day one it's been constant movement, short periods of sleep and grueling work, but she was determined to keep it up for however long it takes.

It was as she fetched some cleaner clothes that she ran into the first person she'd helped since she endeavored to ingratiate herself with the crew. It started with helping a smaller woman with cleaning the deck. Doesn't take much to fetch a mop and start swabbing. She goes by Gav. A shortened version of her name used by the rest of the crew supposedly. Gav rounded the corner, saw Naileen, and waved.

"Oy there, Dr. Enroy. Finished with your work in th' blazing heart below?" Gav asked, looking over the mess that was Naileen's work clothes.

"Ease up with the title, Gav, It's just Naileen. But yeah, just getting cleaned up."

"Even I haven't worked down there yet. Still stuck with keepin' th' ol' girl shipshape," she says with a chuckle. "Oh, we're nearin' Edwin's Point. Might want t' get cleaned fast, you'll miss your chance t' see it before we're off for th' long haul."

Naileen says her thanks and then goes to get tidied up. Doesn't take too long and she had the luxury of at least a little privacy as everyone's working to get the ship docked. Once she was clothed, she goes topside and watches as the Dawnbreaker lulls to a stop, docking on the island. She didn't want to go too far, but did want to feel the land beneath her feet at least one more time before who knows when they would feel it again. She hops from the ship as it docks and just goes for a bit of a small walk in a circle around whatever there was to find in that area.

It was a bit odd that she was just walking in big circles, but who could blame her?

 

[Teh Frixz]

Liandri
In a life ruled by the inexhaustible permeance of chemical reactions and her own iron willed adherence to self control. Her own standards of self control, a power over the systems of her body that some deemed autonomic, not some system of imposed morals. But what that meant was that she wasn’t easy to surprise, even if she was, she recovered quickly and wasn’t one for gawping.

Gawp she dead, just briefly. She had to rub fingers over and into her eyes to ensure what she was seeing was real and not some unintended side effect of her regiment of chemical cocktails. No, no it was real. They were real. She had the faintest memory of seeing a theater troupe as a young girl in their capetown capital of Rissikburg. Mother loved theatre but Father detested it. He was a good man however, doting, and giving in to his wife and children was natural. The only thing they had to endure was a long lecture about the position of actors in Ancient Rema being the same as pimps, whores and slaves.

So the theatre remained something of a forbidden fruit that tantalized but she kept had kept clear of. Far more likely was Liandri to raid the pharmacy for a brief dangerous high than to be seen in the company of Actors.

But they weren’t, supposedly. Clyde introduced himself, ~John Clyde Carnall~, Liandri smirking as he rolled the name through the Allegheny coated accent, before taking a long inhale of her cigarette, exhaling as she spoke as to let the smoke escape around her words.

“Liandri de Wet, Official Chemist of the Dawnbreaker” She had added official in the last few days to set herself aside from Kozlova’s team. “I regret je, not knewing the name bet I’m from the far south je?” She nodded her head once, gesturing to the gangplank of the ship. “If you are boarding, they for sure have eh guard or eh dokmaster to check een with.”

Looking them up and down, she nodded again. “Now there’s some group actually interesting.” She flashed Clyde a smile, noting to grill him on that later. “Photography je?” She peered around the group, looking for their equipment. “Not much feer silver nitrate aboard, je, collodion too. Heev your own stash?”

Infab Emperor Sagan

 

[K0mori]

Having genuinely enjoyed her lonesome walk around town, Kozlova returned to the shoreline with a few small purchases she had made - a doctoral student in the midst of his own travels happened to come to port a few days prior to the Dawnbreaker and was due to leave in a matter of hours, but he had been reading about the expedition in the papers and managed to pick her out from the others. After a quick and pleasant exchange about the voyage, Kozlova left her signature in the young man's journal, and he gave her a small amount of cash for lunch as a thank-you before politely leaving her be.

With a warm, half-eaten muffin in hand, she arrived to find the congregation on the docks of Liandri, Clyde, and a few newcomers - likely the photography team that the Dawnbreaker was expected to pick up at this point. Simply from the way they were dressed, she could immediately make a few judgements about their readiness for the expedition - or rather, their unreadiness. Experts of their craft, though they may be, Kozlova would sooner depart on an ill-equipped voyage with proper experts than she would a well-equipped one with a group of amateurs.

Once again, however, she kept her thoughts private as she reached them, standing tall and stone-faced as always - not even a smile, despite her friendly words: "Good day to you all; you must be the group from Zelenheim. I'm Doctor Kozlova, biologist, and coordinator of the Sokrovian research team. We're looking forward to seeing your technique," she explained, almost insufferably dryly.

 

[Breadman]

"Is that all Mr. Fontaine?" Miss Galloway asked as she finished up penning a letter.

"That will do, Galloway. It will be the last touch with civilization we have for a while so take Blackjack with you and enjoy your last few hours on suitable terrain before we head out into the wilderness for god knows how long." Reginald grabbed his coat and cane from the chair he left them on. "Just make sure you leave that letter in the box and see if the company send us any last minute instructions. Maybe I'll be lucky enough for my publisher to cancel that book idea."

"Not keen on the crowd here, boss?"

"Half of them already don't like me and the other have questionable common sense, Graves." Fontaine and his bodyguard exchanged looks before they left their accommodations. "I'll give it the good old college try of course. Something to keep my busy during this long voyage."

"That Clyde guy seems alright. Him and his bunch are pretty much the same as us."

"Are you saying that because you talked to them or because you have some aspirations to be a cowboy?" Fontaine gave him a look. Graves' piercing blues merely returned the same questioning look before he chuckled. "You read too many dime novels."

"Most of them are either former military or lived the rough life. Can't help but feel some admiration, boss. That's all it is."

"How many of them saw the same things you did while serving, do you think?"

"I had a millionaire to keep safe, so probably not that many." Graves shrugged. "Or do you mean the...other business?" Fontaine nodded "If they did, none of them would admit it or would say they were following orders." A smile crept on his face "Just like me."

The company group soon walked off the ship and split up into two. Galloway took the massive Blackjack deeper into the port town to handle the tasks her employer gave her, while Fontaine took his own bodyguard to take in the last harbor of the civilized world they will see. The crowd that had gathered to observe the massive ship wasn't modest in its size and were eager to know just what it was doing there. Some mistook him for the captain or the owner of said behemoth. A flattering mistake that he would have to correct. The cane came in handy as it allowed him to better point to where he was going and maneuver through the crowd.

Even tucked away in this corner of the world, the town was sure to have something to do and Fontaine was going to find it. While they walked, he carried with him a notebook and pencil, jotting down some details for things, people and pieces of conversation that they overheard. A habit he picked up from all the time he spend wondering around on behest of the company when there was no real rush or need to hurry. See something, stop and write it down. See someone stand out, stop and write it down. Hear something interesting, stop and write it down. Maybe it was going to be essential for the book or maybe it was going to end up as filler. It wouldn't be clear for a very long time if these things would even see the light of day.

 

[dikdik]

Womp, womp, womp. What a delightfully and blissfully boring three days it had been. Drinks were had, many in fact, sail were raised and unfurled and raised again, engines were gurgling under decks where Izzy was screaming at random intervals perfectly understood tasks. Though the crew was a well-oiled machine, he should still be aboard the decks hooting and hollering and carrying on, even if for nothing less than the satisfaction of shoving those barbaric Albonions right into their place as the Eirian crew continued about their business. Was he supposed to be their hero? He didn’t know. Or care, for that matter. He needed to be his own hero. Took you long enough, you legitimate blithering idiot of a man.

Edwin’s Point rolled around soon enough, with sailors bustling about in a way that Izzy had no business monitoring. This crew was about as solid as that upon the Vaxis, save Dominick’s sweetness, of course. Nothing would ever fill that sweet little hole in his heart. Nothing deserved to. Isaac shook his head and ran a hand through thick blonde hair, tight with salt and the grease that presented itself a few days, weeks, whatever, after a nice and hot bath. And, as a good First Mate should, Isaac meandered behind Wolf and Dobbs as they beelined for the little port’s town hall. Charts and charts and weather and weather and patterns and nice little lady with curling hair complimenting her beauty and her stature spoke about some sort of storm raging up in the Wastes by now. Izzy ignored her words, instead eyes focusing intently on the curvature of her lips as they produced some borderline inaudible noise about the storm. So what? Let him die up there. Maybe his ghost would materialize in the depths of Vaxis and he’d live another day aboard her. Even if that day was some such heathen form as a ghoul. The flask was heavy, heavy in his pocket and it itched to be caressed by such a kind hand as his own. Mmm the pressure readings. Running, running, running, from my problems. What a hollow fucking-

Izzy was a wee bit jealous of those others aboard that had been given leave to bound about the town. What he’d do for the same privilege, but here he was just a precious little slave to the empire yet again- Gods, he needed a break.

Oh, Dobbs was speaking to him now, eh? Best stiffen up and sit pretty, eh? Better act like he’d been paying attention to anything of import, at least. “Captain, sir. I appreciate and acknowledge your consulting me for an opinion.” Izzy paused intentionally, as if in thought, in fact to cover his thoughts wandering around the room to anything other than the mission he was assigned to. “I do believe that Llewelyns's Trail is perhaps the most guaranteeably and kindly choice, though if we are looking for something a bit more challenging, and rewarding in terms of the discoveries that could be made along our way, an option to venture by land towards The Spire may prove beneficial to us.”

That was godsdamned fucking smart, wasn’t it? It could pass as such, right? Izzy needed it to. He needed it to. What if it didn’t, though? Would they just exile him right back to Vaxis? That’s what he wanted, anywho, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking. Surely if he made some stupid and meaningless comment that got them all killed, or eaten, or murdered then they’d just hang him or throw him off the ship into the icy cold depths below. Izzy didn’t like being cold. The cold was a nasty mistress. She had to be.

Dominick had a look about him. A defeated one. But one that held a hell of a lot of power, besides. His shoulders were sunken, his face apathetic. Izzy couldn’t turn away, his eyes, burning as wood tossed haphazardly atop a burning pyre with a glimmer of gold tightening around pupils threatening to widen with each drunken breath. He felt a child, a stupid fucking boy. But he wasn’t. There wasn’t an ounce of innocence left in him. He felt a murderer, a ruthless fucking bastard drenched in thick and viscous blood and the reputation of a tyrant, besides. Oh, he couldn’t be a tyrant, he couldn’t do it, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he was he-

“What is it?” Dom said dryly.

Izzy couldn’t answer. But he could. With his silence.

“I need you to forget, Izzy.” Dom chided, forcing a smile and gripping Izzy’s hand.

“You know I can’t.” Izzy glowered. “You know I can’t.”

“But what if you did?”

What if he did…

 

[Vexumin]

Now one could walk around all day if they were a bit short on sense, so why was Naileen doing it? Aside from sometimes lacking some sense herself at the best of times. Well, at first it was to walk on land, stretch her legs and give one last goodbye to civilization for a good long while, but that was very likely an excuse. A reason for her to wander about and look around. Her eyes were doing too much searching to just be doing some walking. And now what was she doing? Well, she had hopped off the ship and she was aware of the eyes following her about. This was one of the parts of an expedition that she didn't like too much suddenly.

A key aspect of her studies and livelihood is that standing out was to be avoided. It goes against everything she stands for. Fitting in was important. If you drew attention, then people stopped talking as you passed them. People cease the normal flow of their day when something new passes them. It prevents one from getting a lay of the land as they wander past unsuspecting individuals. So she had to change that, if only a little bit. For start, a few little maneuvers and a misplaced item or two.

Thankfully there were plenty of stalls around port.

As she passed a few stalls, a hat might have gone missing. Maybe even a shirt. What's important was that money was certainly left in place of the bits of clothing that had suddenly been nicked.

By the time Naileen was done with her little changing trick, she looked like your everyday street rat. A few people looked around, attempting to search over heads to find where she had disappeared to. What they probably didn't expect was that she was now walking right on past them. She tussled her hair to make it shroud her face a bit more and put on a long sleeved shirt to somewhat hide the color of her skin. Some people were rather particular about recognizing such things. She'd know, but that's a story for another time.

With the eyes off of her, she just had to find something to occupy her time until the ship was ready to take off once more. A few of her new colleagues had decided to go about their work around Edwin's Point, so it was a good chance to engage. Perhaps that writer. She could see him walking along the streets with what she could only assume to be a bodyguard judging from the way the fellow carries himself and the watchful look in those eyes. She jogged a bit to catch up. She was certainly wary of the fellows guard, but figured that little harm could be done by trying to have a chat. The most that could happen would probably be being mistaken as some vagrant and being chased off or beaten. Wouldn't be the worst she's had to take. Probably.

"Mr. Fontaine, right? Naileen Enroy. We sailed here together, but I haven't had the chance to introduce myself. Well... I haven't had the chance to introduce myself to most of our colleagues yet, but."

---

Interaction: Breadman

 

[Breadman]

"I don't seem to recall you." Reginald put the pen and notebook away. "But I recognize that midland Alleghanian accent..." He turned around to face her "...and there is no chance that a local would recognize me." A slight smile formed across his lip.

"She was late to the crew, boss." Graves interjected "Saw her talk to the captain and get on board."

"Thank you, Graves. Let her speak from now on." He motioned with his cane for her to join them. Although he recognized the accent, he couldn't exactly pinpoint where from the Federation she was from. His curiosity was piqued and it would serve as an nice start for her interview should she prove to be interesting enough. It stood to reason she was. Even that child had a good reason to be on board. "How did you end up joining this expedition miss Enroy? Or is it misses?"

 

[Vexumin]

"She was late to the crew, boss." Graves interjected "Saw her talk to the captain and get on board."

Naileen offered a tip of her recently bought hat to Graves for his vouchsafe of who she is. She should have figured that her presence wouldn't get past someone whose job it is to keep an eye on people. She skips and falls into step with the two fellows.

"How did you end up joining this expedition miss Enroy? Or is it misses?"

"Please, it's just miss," she says with a chuckle. "Newsome University was sent a letter requesting their assistance with the expedition. It was specifically asked for an anthropologist to be spared if one was available. Coincidentally I am one of the few that teach the subject so it was likely that I was being sought out from the very beginning. Not like I was going to wait for a letter to try joining in the first place. My colleagues tried their best to hide it all from me, but it was only a matter of time before I found out," Naileen says with a smile.

"How about you, Mr. Fontaine? Aside from it being the opportunity of a lifetime and a potential goldmine of information and potential tales to tell that is."

 

[Breadman]

"Nothing so grand and noble, I'm afraid to disappoint you." Fontaine looked ahead, noting any landmarks that looked interesting. "I didn't have this expedition in my periphery for a long time. Only heard things here and there. I had just come back from a business trip in the Southern Isles when I got the news that I was booked to leave for Albion two weeks later as a representative of S&W." He stopped talking and looked back to Naileen "You might say, I'm just making the most of a unplanned situation." He glanced across the street from where they stood. It was just regular folk trying to go about their day as if nothing interesting that day was happening. So far this city has failed to project anything remarkable about itself. Its good that she had found them, or he would have grown irritated witht the boredom otherwise.

"You have plans I take it? Any expectations and hopes for this expedition? Any big finds that you suspect are hidden in the unexplored lands?"

 

[joshuadim]

“I do believe that Llewelyns's Trail is perhaps the most guaranteeably and kindly choice, though if we are looking for something a bit more challenging, and rewarding in terms of the discoveries that could be made along our way, an option to venture by land towards The Spire may prove beneficial to us.”

"I would rather we didn't take another way unless we had no other choice." Dobbs stated clearly, "The Wastes are treacherous as is, and I would prefer not to lose any sailors by taking unnecessary risks."

"If I may, Captain," Wolf then spoke up, interjecting on Isaac's behalf, "...the Spire itself is sparsely explored. It may well be worth the risk, regardless if we go there by choice or not." The Lieutenant looked between the two men before continuing: "We are embarking as a research expedition, after all."

Dobbs was a quiet for a moment as he looked over the charts again, a finger tracing along the printed ink that listed measurements and calculations. By now the meteorologists had excused themselves quietly, as this conversation was not for the likes of them, while the Captain ruminated on the possibility. The leather on his gloves made a soft noise as he squeezed his hands into a fist: "We'll cross that bridge should we get to it. For now, we keep our current heading for Llewelyn's Trail." Dobbs reaffirmed the decision, looking to Wolf first before turning to Isaac. "Relay this to the crew. I will speak to the Mayor in the meantime to requisition additional materials." he then ordered of his second and third in command before walking further into the town hall, disappearing through a set of double doors.

Wolf looked back to Isaac with a shrug: "Best not to delay the news."

---

Back at the docks and the Dawnbreaker, Wagne and his engineers had moved above deck to relax - with a few drinking coffee or simply watching the vista of the island town - while the chief engineer himself watched as a new troupe approached and introduced themselves as photographers. To him, they were a strange bunch that seemed entirely out of place on such a treacherous voyage; but the idea of their voyage being both recorded in visual format as well as whatever they would come across in that wasteland made it a logical addition. A pair of curt footsteps walked past Wagne as Lonstray quickly approached the newcomers with an outstretched palm to halt them.

"If you're the late-comers to our journey, then I ask that you disclose your medical details to me." the doctor spoke, his eyes shifting between the four figures with a cold look.

"The hardass here is our ship surgeon, Dr. Lonstray." Wagne then spoke, lifting his cup towards the troupe. "Welcome aboard the Dawnbreaker. The captain is currently at the town hall, he ought to be back soon."

Lonstray, unamused as he was with Wagne's comments, maintained his outwardly stoic demeanour as he awaited an answer from Kristina and her company. Isaac and Wolf returned to the docks as well, in time to see this exchange unfold all the while as the other members of the expedition speak to one another or go about their own business. Wolf was first to comment on Kristina and her company to Isaac as he gave him a gentle nudge with his elbow: "Ought to speak with them in the Cap'n's stead." Wolf muttered before spotting a small black and white patch of fur bound across the docks. Boots was undoubtedly on the prowl, as he had just spotted a small mouse skirting across the planks before narrowly avoiding an untimely death from the cat's claws.

The cat stayed still at the small gap that the vermin had managed to squeeze through for a few moments, before losing interest in the chase and moved away from the pier. While still not far away from the ship, Boots was more comfortable on dry land as he quickly trotted over towards where Rahmer sat. Despite the failure in his hunting duties, the feline felt the need to take a break as he jumped onto the sailor's lap and made himself comfortable there. Wolf was less than impressed with the cat's conduct as he too made his presence known nearby with crossed arms. "I see you've been entertaining the locals." the Lieutenant mused aloud, a smirk creeping at the edge of his lips. "Make sure Boots doesn't run off or anything, will you?"

 

[Emperor Sagan]

"Pleasure tah meet you, ma'am." he said, giving her a gentle tip of his hat. "John Clyde Carnall. Call me Clyde. Explorer from Alleghania. I'll let th' lady introduce herself, but we're both part o' the big expedition into th' Dread Wastes." He motioned politely to Liandri after the statement.

“Liandri de Wet, Official Chemist of the Dawnbreaker” She had added official in the last few days to set herself aside from Kozlova’s team. “I regret je, not knewing the name bet I’m from the far south je?” She nodded her head once, gesturing to the gangplank of the ship. “If you are boarding, they for sure have eh guard or eh dokmaster to check een with.”

Looking them up and down, she nodded again. “Now there’s some group actually interesting.” She flashed Clyde a smile, noting to grill him on that later. “Photography je?” She peered around the group, looking for their equipment. “Not much feer silver nitrate aboard, je, collodion too. Heev your own stash?”

Kristina Lambe smiled as Clyde introduced himself, her hands clasped politely before her in a demonstration of good manners. Her kohl-circled eyes twinkled, her shoulders were firmly back and enhanced by the stylish cut of her tweed jacket, and just the slightest twist of her hair had escaped the perfection of her coiffure as it danced to the gentle sea breeze. Much like her companions, she looked as if she had come to life directly from a postcard from the far north, a vibrant individual born from colors and the suggestion of soft ink.

Inwardly, she ran her tongue over her teeth in consternation. Good heavens, an Alleghanian! Lets hope he is no reader of the Papiers Violette. I should have known erotic photography would have been popular down south, those poor starved fools with no good culture of the arts. "And an utmost pleasure to make your association as well, good sir of the great frontier!" she remarked in a grand manner. "Quite a unique honor to meet a very proper explorer! I'll have to show you my revolver juggling sometime, the Alleghanians I've met always love that one."

Glancing aside towards Liandri, Kristina's expression grew fractionally more coy. She had met precious few colonial Teutonians in her time, though she was quite sure she could find it on a map with a dart or two. Certainly, there had been a few at the university, come to learn the arts in the sparkling north, though the ones she recalled meeting were predominantly penmen of engineering machines and architecture. But to meet someone else who had an idea on what went into camera work, to some degree, was not entirely expected; the field was young enough and ever changing that anywhere else she would have been more guarded on discussing photographical materials with a stranger, even coworker, but a Teutonian chemist didn't strike her as extraordinarily threatening, so long as she didn't go poking around at the prototypes and... special equipment her team had brought along.

With a presentable gesture back at the trio of Zelenheimers behind her lugging about a great deal of boxes and canvas shrouded kanpsacks, Kristina said, "We've come quite prepared in terms of commercial chemicalry, that is true. Tinctures for swift application, as well as some more long-term supply. But we have our methods for the creation and application of new proofing glaze and enamels." The woman offered a wink. "... we still have plenty of premade plates, however. Tintypes if you prefer, and no shortage of albumen and silvers."

Once again, however, she kept her thoughts private as she reached them, standing tall and stone-faced as always - not even a smile, despite her friendly words: "Good day to you all; you must be the group from Zelenheim. I'm Doctor Kozlova, biologist, and coordinator of the Sokrovian research team. We're looking forward to seeing your technique," she explained, almost insufferably dryly.

Good heavens, a Sokrovian! Lambe had always found them the least entertained during her performances with the circus, and had at least one fond memory of running through the streets of Jottunborg in the late evening as several Sokrovian sailors demanded the return of their money because she didn't actually speak with the dead that had succumbed to the great ocean. Such narrow minds! And if she had to bet a penny, she'd pin this Kozlova woman as distant kin of such a kind, though perhaps not literally as those sailors never did get their refund and now would be an awful time to lose a penny on something so frivolous.

"Indeed we are, and a pleasure to meet you, Doctor. I, the fantastical Kristina Lambe, may be no doctor nor biologist myself, but I can assure you I know the hearts and minds of mankind better than most! Not yourself, of course. But most, I'm sure, if you've ever visted Allegh- ah... Allegaston! Haha, oh my, those funny folks in those... stony little villages of theirs. Excellent goat milk, though."

"If you're the late-comers to our journey, then I ask that you disclose your medical details to me." the doctor spoke, his eyes shifting between the four figures with a cold look.

"The hardass here is our ship surgeon, Dr. Lonstray." Wagne then spoke, lifting his cup towards the troupe. "Welcome aboard the Dawnbreaker. The captain is currently at the town hall, he ought to be back soon."

Kristina exchanged a glance with her team, who likewise exchanged glances with each other. The dour man was perhaps even more grim than the Sokrovian woman, which seemed an accomplishment of no small proportion. However, just like Kozlova, there was never any good reason to antagonize or upset a medical professional given the amount of times she had been paid to help them through crow-black graveyards past the midnight hour to procure specimens for anatomical practice. Anyone who could jump into a grave and haul out a corpse to carve up at a later time was... well, rather astounding and perhaps quite fit for theatre, but most certainly not someone to be at odds with.

"But of course, of course! Surgeon, I am happy to report that we are all healthy and quite fit for all antics related to the sea and other expeditions of acrobatic nature!," Kristina declared. She jutted a thumb against her chest, continuing, "I look many decades younger than I am, naturally, and I can drink an entire bottle of wine without becoming dizzy and perform the following day without tripping even once. Truly, I am a woman of iron!"

Turning, she pointed at the eldest member of the group, Wendel. "He is old but stronger than an ox! A mountaineer! He can haul any sorry fool up the slope of any mountain, tied upon his back! He also partakes with the pipe, so you know that his veins are clean." Wendel's brows furrowed at his introduction, but he shrugged, adding in very accented Albionese, "I helpe train militia boys, young men. I run longer than they all."

"She," Kristina said, pointing out Eleanor, "is simply a brilliant mind without equal! A paragon of the feminine form, if not counting myself, and... and an excellent swimmer! Why, I have witnessed myself this woman dive from the highest of rocks into the most beautiful pools of crystal waters and surface like a mermaid of the old legends!"

Then, finally turning towards Sasja, Kristina pointed out the beaming blonde with a flourish. "And this fellow, surgeon, is the most flexible young man you will ever come across, a beauty to surpass even the gods and goddesses of beauty, a truly immaculate form and body, untouched by the cruelty of the ravages of time and the excess of... excess of industry!"

After a brief moment, Sasja noted in his native language, ["I don't think he was asking you to sell us, madam Lambe."]

["Physicians are all old crummy codgers anyways,"] Wendel said, glancing around at the boy and utilizing an even more obscure highland dialect that the others, let alone outsiders, had some dificulty parsing. ["Be glad he's not asking us to strip here on this dock and walk on our hands in circles. Pfah. Quacks, the lot of them."]

 

[Teh Frixz]

Liandri

Inhaling the last of her cigarette and holding the smoke in her lungs, Liandri gave one of her customary grins as she listened, exhaling in a slow stream as if a tea kettle readying itself to whistle. The smoke passed as if liquid through her teeth and lips. She felt the chemical shift in her mucus membrane before the change in taste signified the timely death of her cigarette, flicking it off to compete it’s own version of a lifecycle a few meters away amidst the rocks of the island.

“Je, good to know. Even better to know je can synthesize it. New process though, enemel end proofing? I’ll hef to watch, je? Best part of the whole process, the synthesis, turning one thing into the next, collecting resultents a finding use for runoff, especially in a neew way? Worth heeving your troupe around jes for thet, pretty pictures of us conquering the Wastes be a nice ancellary benefit je? Jes don’t ask me to play standen when you put on a play the galley to alleviate the boredom of our collection of cowboys.”

She gestured to Clyde, noting the now customary reaction to newcomers to the expedition finding out just how many Allegheny men they had. In her opinion, it was more shocking overall to have a solid proportion of the academic and humanities skilled crew to be Sokrovian. But as Kozlova and her kin had proven, they were excellent and quite attentive to their fields. Liandri musing slightly over the ongoing friendly, in her opinion, battle over lab space.

Hearing the attributes of the incoming crew, Liandri couldn’t help but grow suspicious. Call it her father’s influence but as someone intending personally to be an example of what correct applications and mastery of chemical engineering could do to a human’s performance, she wondered just how accurate the claims were.

“Je, don’t heff to go an sell your troupe to us. You’ve already been hired on je?! Jes more for me to watch and see, I’d love to semple or witness them, distill that down and make the whole crew heff as impressive.” She broke into a chuckle, half joking about enhancing the crew of the Dawnbreaker.

Infab Emperor Sagan K0mori

 

[turtwigwins]

Rahmer chuckled as Boots sprawled across his lap, the cat purring contentedly. "Ah, Boots here just needed a bit of shore leave like the rest of us," he joked. "Can’t blame him for wanting a break." His tone shifted slightly as the people began to go back to their daily lives. He decided on an assumption to where the officer core had went off to, "How’re the readings looking? Seas treating us real nice right now, too much so." He'd take give a small tsk sound to the air as if he distrusted the good luck that had befallen them this far.

 

[dikdik]

Isaac-fucking-McGuire
Direct Interactions: joshuadim Emperor Sagan turtwigwins
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Nearby: Infab K0mori Vexumin ​

Well, you know, being your own hero consisted of first figuring out what it was you needed in order to be saved. And what in all the Nine Circles of Hell did Isaac-fucking-McGuire need more than cooing a statement he had no care or business making, being all but wholly ignored which served to both bother and satisfy, and being spoken for by a grimy, nasty sailor who, for whatever godsforsaken reason, agreed with the half-hearted shit he had made up. What he did need was for someone to kick him off this expedition and throw him back at Vaxis as some sort of a punishment that he’d actually kill to be handed at this moment in time.

Oh, lovely! The one bright little moment in this whole observatory adventure he was forced to go on with was currently walking away without so much as a goodbye. Didn’t she know what she’d done for him? Keeping him partially engaged with this conversation by way of curling just a hint of an excited smile at rambling on and on and on about storms and the like? He’d at least like to offer a thank you! And an invitation to share his flask and take a lovely little stroll down to a bakery in town, pick up a pastry, meander through the docks before casting off, a promise to return after his deadly and extremely, of-the-utmost-, important mission and retire to the floundering hills and farmland. Was he that smitten? Or desperate... Whichever!

The creaking from Dobb’s gloved hand impolitely snapped Izzy back into the ridiculous reality he was currently living. Wolf’s invitation to begin their sycophantic walk- dear fuck, what was wrong with Izzy today? The sheer rudeness seeping through his thoughts sort of surprised him. He had to do better. He had to! He couldn’t be a tyrant and he sure as hell couldn’t be a raging piece of shit, either. At least not outwardly. With a quick salute, Isaac quietly obliged.

The walk with Lieutenant Wolf down to the docks was like pulling teeth. But somehow significantly less pleasurable. At least with pulling teeth, Izzy would’ve been drugged right up to high heavens to the point of an out-of-body experience, or at least to the point of not being able to feel the ragged pulling and contorting of those weird little bones locked inside his jaw. Teeth. Disgusting. Instead, he was squarely confronted with Wolf’s “the expedition, Dawnbreaker, Edwin’s Point, the crew, blah, blah, blah”, to which he hardly responded with more than an “oh, gods, yes, absolutely, what a thought, oh would you look at that.”

Upon arriving at the docks, Isaac let out a quiet sigh, contradicting itself as it was made of both swirling relief and a release of irritation. New members had arrived, but not everyone was immediately present. Some of the crew he’d have to hunt down to deliver the orders from Dobbs. And that bothered him. He could almost guarantee that he’d have not a spare moment while the Dawnbreaker was docked in Edwin’s Point. Perhaps for the better? He couldn’t be caught scrambling drunk with his pants down in a brothel while an hour late to cast off if he never located the damn brothel in the first place. But gods, he needed a break! And a drink! A drink and a break.

But, instead, Isaac was greeted with an elbow to the ribs and a lovely suggestion from Wolf that he should speak with the newcomers. And, speak, Isaac McGuire shall! Right after dramatically rubbing the spot of his ribs that Wolf had gently nudged, scowling daggers into Wolf’s eyes with an expression most discourteous, most utterly exasperated at having been touched by the likes of that man. Plastering the warmest, sweetest, most welcoming insincere smile he could muster across his face, Izzy interrupted the spindly and slinking glasses-wearing lady’s laugh, hold on? She was on about something like bottling up human essence and injecting it into the rest of the crew, and the thought of being injected with really anything coaxed a visceral tightening in Isaac’s gut. Ack! Back to a greeting fit for newcomers of particular import. Now, whether they were actually of import, he’d yet to know.

“Welcome aboard the illustrious Dawnbreaker, and welcome to her absolutely, gloriously capable crew!” What? It was a good line; quite deserving of a repeat, if you asked Izzy. “There’re four of you, aren’t there? Oh, how wonderful to travel with friends, new and old! We’ve had your quarters made up already. Once we’re all aboard, I’d be more than glad to get you settled in.” He was entirely too sober for this. Entirely. Fucking Circles, everything about these people was so rightly bothersome! The “when I was a young lad”, the elitist bastard, everyone except for the absolutely smashing Zdenka Wälzer. All of them! Well… At least, if they ever actually made it to the Wastes, something interesting’d be in store. They had to get there first. Best speed up the process then, you blubbering fool of a man!

Isaac turned to address the wider group after greeting the newcomers, arms waving with emphasis on just about every third word, voice raising volume just slightly. “By way of our esteemed Captain’s orders, we’re to head for Llewelyn’s Trail upon casting off from Edwin’s Point! Our Captain now acts on our behalf, requisitioning additional supplies for our journey, and conversing with the Mayor themself!” Gods, that cat was so cute. Why’d it have to pick that old burly guy? Isaac wanted to pet the cat. And the superstitious storyteller with a beard that made Izzy’s cheeks itch by just looking over at it was asking about readings. An assumption that was correct. But truthfully, all Isaac remembered were words gracing over a set of lips most distracting. Something about a storm. “A storm in the Wastes, good sir, though we’re predicted to arrive after the storm has dissipated.” Was that correct? That better be what the meteorologist had said, or Lieutenant Wolf might be about to embarrass the piss right out of him.

 

[AriAriAbabwa]

Angela
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Mentions: Infab Teh Frixz​

Angela had switched gears shortly after setting sail. She diligently worked under Mr. Jones' guidance, eating up every bit of information—old and new—that she could. The feeling of a vessel cutting through endless ocean had not lost its charm. More so the starlit sky when night fell. In those three days, Angela often stayed out in the dark with only a small lantern and her astrology books. She might've slept out there if not for the cold and the rocking waves.

Upon stopping at Edwin's Point, it took a solid minute for her to realize the expedition hadn't actually begun yet. A misjudgment that she shyly kept to herself. Paranoid about being left behind, she opted not to leave the Dawnbreaker during this time.

It's through this that she stumbled upon an amazing sight. While looking for Boots, she overheard the later half of four new arrivals coming aboard. And the way their leader talked about themselves was marvelous! The words hardly made sense, and half of them didn't even register to Angela's little mind, but she was hooked. How lucky that Clyde, Liandri, and the Doctor got to meet them first!

Angela pulled out her notebook. She'd jotted down almost all of the crew's names so she wouldn't forget them. Unfortunately, she missed if the troupe had mentioned theirs. In a way, though, they had introduced themselves.

- Iron Woman

Angela wasn't sure why drinking alcohol had made her so strong. But the Sisters in the orphanage did not approve of drinking. If Iron Woman was strong enough to resist the Sisters, she must have been a force to be reckoned with!

- Ox

The Sisters would have loved to have him around. There were many times she recalled all the staff working together to lift a piece of furniture, then complaining about their backs. If the ship got stuck in ice, maybe he could push it out?

- Mermaid

She didn't know why Kristina called her a pentagon (or why she pronounced it like 'paragon'). The Mermaid didn't look like a shape, more or less have five points and sides.

As for the last man... Angela wasn't sure about him surpassing gods of beauty, but maybe attractiveness was a grownup thing to evaluate. She considered naming him God like his description labeled, but that didn't feel right. Actually, how pretty was God, to begin with? Perhaps she truly was not old enough to understand. Then she thought of things that were pretty, and hummed in delight.

- Rose

Angela finished adding them to the list, and the First Mate returned. She finally walked over to join the group. Ah. There's Boots! Unfortunately, he'd chosen Rahmer as his next pillow. Although saddening, they had potentially years to spend; plenty of cat-bonding time. And Isaac, with full confidence, laid out their expedition in way Angela knew was far easier than the road ahead. But as it was, she saw no cause for concern.

In the meantime, she figured this a chance to answer one of her new curiosities. Angela tugged on Isaac's sleeve. "Excuse me, First Mate? I have a question." She pointed at Sasja. "Is he pretter than God?"

 

[dikdik]

Isaac McGuire
Mentions: Emperor Sagan
Interactions: AriAriAbabwa ​

A storm. A storm, a storm in the Wastes was something that Isaac McGuire was particularly vexed by. Whether the vexing was about the potential difficulty a storm dissipating, hopefully, upon their arrival and reforming, perhaps, at some point in the near future would cause their expedition, or Oh, that's what that is! See, the last time a violent behemoth of a storm smooshed and rattled through Isaac's ship, was on that night and he quite wished to forget that night. Lost in his own head for just a moment, Isaac was ripped back into the moment right before him as Angela arrived, seeming to have been followed the perfect, cursed cat that had chosen that burly old, older or old?, man a moment before. She seemed to have been surveying the newcomers. Isaac had time to finish his sentence, lose himself in thinking of storms and wind and waves, and suddenly the child was pulling on his jacket sleeve, tugging to get his attention? The fuck was that about? Isaac resisted the urge to rip his arm away from the girl, wildly and full of surprise, but instead he froze, listening to her question.

Immediately cracking a genuine chuckle, Isaac couldn't catch his breath for a moment. Prettier than God? Ha. Ha! The Nine Circles of Hell kind of a question was that? "Well..." He continued laughing through his words, struggling to pull them from lips caught in their own tangle. "Well, I'm not sure..." Why. Angela. Why. "So..." How does one explain the non-existence of an all-powerful, beautiful face in the sky to a child? "I don't think God would make anyone prettier than himself, if he's even out there to begin with. I think he rather enjoys being the center of attention and wouldn't want to split the spotlight." Isaac continued his laughter. Joyfully? The fuck was that about?