Fantasy The Dread Wastes [IC]

[AriAriAbabwa]

Angela
Interactions: demytra Vexumin

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Angela didn't know how to take a break, but she didn't want to trouble the kindly Jones any further. She'd have gladly steered the boat herself if it meant getting her mind off the horrid battering of Leviathan versus metal. But, as she looked over the many who actually faced the beast, she may as well have struck herself for feeling any terrible about herself.

She tried to think: What would the Sisters do? Tried to think if not for the horrendous odor of Leviathan meat, wrenching her face to which she hid in her elbow. Regardless, she wanted to help. Angela asked a nearby sailor for his damp cloth and approached the nearest victor. Angela had seen Naileen only for her late arrival, but right now she looked... terrible!

She appeared beside Wolf, clutching the cloth and hesitant to step forward. Holding her breath, she went to Naileen and gently scrubbed the Leviathan blood from her face. "There, there," she said quietly. "There, there..." She remembered the Sisters repeating that phrase while caring for ailing kids; it was a miracle cure, and Angela never knew why it worked. She just hoped it had the same effect for a Leviathan attack in the middle of the ocean.

 

[K0mori]

Not long after Kozlova and Vasylenko disappeared into their cabins to clean themselves up, Bachvarov and Dragomirov arrived with a few tools at the site over the edge of the ship where the two men disappeared. They dropped a plumb bob into the water and allowed it to sink as far as it needed to in order to touch bottom, while also lowering a bucket into the water and scooping some of it up, in case there were notable impurities which might help explain things a bit better.

 

[Vexumin]

It didn’t take too long before Naileen started to tire of the tension she felt in her body. She hadn’t even payed much attention to the flecks of icky blood across her face. When another person approached, Naileen did her best to rouse herself from her sorry state.

Angela had seen Naileen only for her late arrival, but right now she looked... terrible!

She appeared beside Wolf, clutching the cloth and hesitant to step forward. Holding her breath, she went to Naileen and gently scrubbed the Leviathan blood from her face. "There, there," she said quietly. "There, there..." She remembered the Sisters repeating that phrase while caring for ailing kids; it was a miracle cure, and Angela never knew why it worked. She just hoped it had the same effect for a Leviathan attack in the middle of the ocean.

It was the young navigator there to comfort her. To tend to her wounded spirit. While it was a deeply appreciated gesture, it made Naileen feel a bit… guilty. Perhaps that wasn’t the word. It just felt odd that Angela was caring for her after the attack, wiping away the marks of the fight. It almost seemed like it should be the other way around. Angela was strong, and Naileen respected that.

Naileen’s face scrunches a bit, as if she were about to cry, but she shakes her head, forcing the tears back down. Soon she steadies her face, the shaking in her body.

She musters a smile for Angela, finding a little of the resolve that she previously had.

“Thank you… the both of you,” she says, looking between Wolf and Angela. “I wasn’t ready for the creatures of these waters. It… caught me off guard.”

---

demytra

AriAriAbabwa

 

[demytra]

Wolf nodded to Naileen, offering a reassuring smile as she recuperated from the experience. "Don't feel ashamed of being scared." he then gave as advice while he straightened his back and stretched, "Hell I was afraid right now, even though I've been in combat before. But feeling scared means you're still alive... also means you aren't an idiot." The lieutenant chuckled as he looked to some more boisterous sailors nearby, bragging to one another about their accomplishments on this day. "Those with the loudest mouths often times are the ones to get shot in the first moment of a firefight." It was then his attention was caught by the Sokrovy researchers, and he watched in silence as they conducted their work.

The bucket came back with ease to the researchers with a bounty of clear and clean water - clean enough that, under observation of a field microscope that they had brought with them, showed almost no trace of any pathogens or particulates. In other words, it was practically clean enough to drink at first glance. But a chemical test was then conducted to find that it was, in fact, undrinkable; its salt content was almost comparable to a concentrated brine, enough to kill most known sea life by exposure alone and certainly enough to preserve anything that died within it. This was confirmed with a simple test by dropping a leaf into a small vial of the water, and it quickly jerked and died from the toxic shock it experienced until it became a crumpled, green-black blob. The researchers looked to one another with concern as to the fate of the overboard seaman as a result, but said nothing as they continued their tests.

Their depth test continued to sink into the depths, further and further until it reached the very limits of the rope that snagged at the railing of the ship. The maximum length was 300 meters, which was the maximum expected depth of any seafloor near land, and yet it failed to reach any bottom. This was a point of concern as this geologically made no sense, considering their proximity to the Dread Wastes which is noted to be a large land body in of itself though debate rages as to whether or not in academic circles whether or not to classify those northern reaches as a continent. Yet, baffling results were right before their very eyes.

---

Another hour of sailing through the Flats, breaking through the endless white ice floes, finally brought forth actual geography for everyone to see. Sharp rocks began to dot the distance, covered in ice and snow, as the Dawnbreaker manoeuvred further towards land. And soon enough, a shoreline could be seen with a grim vista for all to behold: an old shipwreck, known to many sailors as a regular and known point of reference due to its constant positioning.

It was an old vessel from the Kingdom of Taranto, which had attempted an expedition nearly two centuries past but came to a grim end. As the Dawnbreaker set anchor nearby, with the seafloor much more present as noted by the Sokrovians who took additional measurements along the way, a few rowboats came to the shipwreck and set up a base of operations from which to move to and from towards their intended destination further inland. Dobbs himself picked up a fistful of snow, allowing the dry powder to sift between his fingers gently as he observed the ghosts of the past haunting everyone nearby. A few skeletons littered the inside of what remained of the ship, and all was still save for the flapping of the realm's flag that they once flew proudly.

Wolf himself disembarked and noted some wildlife nearby, which were some fanged seals that were resting on a nearby iceberg to bathe in the warmth of the day. A few were even nursing pups, as it was the breeding season for these known creatures. But what he took note especially of was their tusks, which were ink-black in colour in contrast to their grey-speckled coats. "Wonder why their teeth are like that..." the Lieutenant wondered aloud as he strapped a pack to his back and got ready for the journey ahead. Dobbs spoke up: "We will be traversing inland to reach the Spire. It is a monument that allows for points of navigation to be revealed to us so we can progress further inland." the Captain explained, "We should reach there by sundown. Afterwards, on the return trip, we will stay the night in the remains of an old coalboat. There should be enough space there to house our venture and coal to heat us."

He then looked around and frowned as a brief gust of icy air blasted them all: "Any questions?"

 

[K0mori]

"[What did we learn?]" Kozlova asked as she rejoined her researchers, having taken the time to clean herself up and put away her gun.

Bachvarov grunted uncertainly ahead of his report, which immediately warned the head researcher to take everything that she was about to hear with a skepticism beyond the normal responsible baseline. The sound was the sort of preemptive apology that experts like these used to convey that the data collected was insufficient and almost meaningless. "[...The water was deeper than three hundred meters at the point where we encountered the leviathan. It was clean, aside from the exceptionally high salinity.]"

Kozlova's brow raised in curiosity. "[Deeper than three-hundred?]" she repeated. "[How deep is it now?]"

"[Twenty-six,]" he replied, flatly.

The head researcher nodded in understanding; it was obvious that the leviathan had appeared from a particularly deep depression in the seabed. She turned to Dragomirov and leaned on his expertise. "[Could it be a cave system, then?]"

"[That would be the most reasonable assumption, yes,]" the younger man replied. "[The depth and the salt leads me to believe that the ground beneath us is composed of an exceptionally soft sedimentary rock that's prone to erosion - limestone, of course, and massive deposits of halite to go with it.]"

Bachvarov nodded. "[As for what's eroding it, our best assumption is undersea currents. Perhaps, in ancient times, a flow in the ocean eroded enough of the continental shelf that it created a large, high-pressure pocket beneath the landmass. That pocket formed a vortex and diverted the current into the karst, and the erosion continued from there.]"

The head researcher didn't visibly react to the theory, but didn't reject it either, which spoke to its validity. "[...The heavy solutes would contribute to an even more rapid erosion, and if the undersea currents can be disrupted by changes in the caves' shape, then perhaps we also know how we fell off course...]" she conceded, although her expression made clear her equal dissatisfaction with idle speculation."[...Although, this offers no hint to the fate of those crewmen who were lost off the deck. The salt should have contributed to their buoyancy.]"

There was a grunt of agreement all around, and seeing as Kozlova was merely stating the obvious at this point, it was clear that the conversation was over and inconclusive on that matter.

---
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Less than an hour later, Kozlova and her team accompanied the expedition's away team onto land. There was much to explore here, from the exotic wildlife, which Kozlova and Vasylenko took turns viewing through the spyglass on her carbine, to the mineral composition of the landmass itself, now that it was fully within reach. Dragomirov had brought along a large screw with a crank at one end, as well as a number of small brass tubes in which to store soil or rock samples. Bachvarov, meanwhile, had carried ashore a number of brightly-colored flags and a few pieces of surveying equipment, which would allow his younger associate to map large segments of the geologic structure of the landmass while Bachvarov himself meticulously logged weather patterns.

Maksimova, lastly, kept to her journal and recorded observations on the crew's words and actions.

"Any questions?"

The Sokrovian team was stone silent.

 

[Infab]

Seals. Fanged ones, nursing pups. Something's quite odd about them, though.

The color of the tusks.

Indeed. Tusks are supposed to be bone white or an off yellow. These are ink black.

Yeah. Real strange. Strange as the water bein' sorta like brine.

Yes. A strange world we find ourselves in, eh?

Clyde shifted his stance, reaching up to his neck to fasten the buttons of his collar. They were out on the ice and snow now, so it paid to keep exposed skin protected from the elements. He drew a bandana from his pocket, and wrapped it loosely around his face over his mouth before tying it off behind his head. He then checked his rifle and revolver, having freshly restocked on ammunition and properly reloaded them before stepping off the ship.

He glanced over to the Captain as he finished speaking.

"Any questions?"

"... What if there isn't any coal?" he asked, "Fire's gotta start somehow." He then motioned over towards the wrecked ship. "I'd say we could harvest some wood off th' ol' shipwreck, but I know some might not be too thrilled 'bout distrubin' a makeshift tomb for those poor folks."

He then looked around at the rest of the group, noting their gear. "...Plus... we might not actually be able ta carry it."


Interaction: demytra