Fantasy The Dread Wastes [IC]

[demytra]

Interest Check Thread: Here
Character Sheet Thread: Here​

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"So, you've worked with-"

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

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

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[demytra]

Some minutes earlier...

"You should return home."

Dobbs was quiet as he listened to the mayor's concerns, who himself had already been privy to the information at hand. But unlike the Captain, the magistrate was visibly terrified - a bead of sweat rolling down his brow - as he stared straight ahead towards the leader of the expedition. The man was somewhat portly, but kept a dignified appearance with pride as his pin held the symbol of the Albionian governance for this remote region. Terrified as he was, he was also intent on preventing any blood from being on his conscience if he could prevent it. But Dobbs did not share the same fear, as he crossed his arms: "Why? Because of the weather? My ship is - as I can assure you - the first of its kind, made specifically to brave the worst sea conditions one can imagine."

"Steel and will can only do so much." the mayor explained, shaking his head. "There have been terrible, terrible signs. Normally I'm not a superstitious type, but everything seems to have been going wrong as of late. The Leviathans have grown more aggressive, the winds carry a foul smell... the fish guts, so say the fishmongers, tell terrible omens in them!"

Dobbs only scoffed: "Albion prides itself on rationality, and here you are talking about everything but."

"I tell you, save your men and yourself! Head back south!" the mayor shouted in protest, slamming a fist into his desk. An old cup of tea rattled from the impact, leaving the room in silence for a few moments as Dobbs maintained a hard gaze towards the man. It was only after he scoffed again that he gritted his teeth: "And dishonour my country in such a manner? No expedition has ever returned home before even touching the ice. I have my own reputation, and the reputation of my country, to consider for the Concert's expectations." He then furrowed his brow, "I hereby order the requisitioning of additional supplies for the expedition, under the authority vested in me by the Crown through the Mariner Act and by the Concert's appointment as leader of the expedition. If you refuse, I will have you shot."

The words came out like a cold breath, leaving the magistrate in shock with his mouth agape. More sweat trailed down his face as he stood up, voice croaking as he attempted to muster a protest. But he was quick to capitulate as Dobbs maintained an icy gaze, sitting down and slumping in his seat. "Very well... I'll see what we can afford to spare... what are your essentials?"

...

Captain Dobbs would soon return to the Dawnbreaker at the tail end of the conversations taking place, following by a retinue of local townsfolk carting various supplies and goods towards the vessel that had been requisitioned by his command. As the workers began to deliver items to the sailors, many of which included addition rigging and ropes as well as boots and overcoats, Dobbs approached the newcomers to the expedition and nodded as he stood next to Lieutenant Wolf. "I'm Captain Dobbs, welcome aboard Ms. Lambe and your company as well. Apologies for my delay, but we now have additional supplies for our expedition as provided by the mayor."

"Ah, what's the magistrate provided for us?" Wolf asked curiously, to which he was given a small dossier bundled together with string.

"Everything on these listings here. Mainly boots and coats, but also additional ship materials that will come in handy. Just in case we need to make repairs at some point."

It was then that Dobbs walked over to a large crate and climbed atop, garnering the attention of sailors and others nearby. "We will set sail shortly!" he yelled out to announce, "And we will venture out towards the most inhospitable environment known to man. The journey will be harsh, and it will be a test of our mettle and wills. But we will make it, because we must. Not only do our lives depend on it, but so do our countries! The world waits with abated breath upon news of our exploration and discoveries, and we shall not disappoint!" Sailors of Albion clapped and cheered as Dobbs riled them on, before he continued: "Aboard are not just the finest men sailing under His Majesty's colors, but the finest sailors, thinkers, and pioneers one could ask for on such a venture. Together, as a united front, we go forward with more advantages than ever! And there is little that can't be accomplished in our position!"

The captain then pointed towards the helm, where one of the windows were slightly open for the helmsman to listen out of. "Mr. Jones! Get our bearings and set sail!"

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22 July 1857 - The Flats, The Dread Wastes
Captain's Log​

The first five days of travel offered amicable travels, though at the tail end of this period the weather soured; despite the rougher waters and the snowfall, Mr. Jones was capable of keeping us on track towards Llewelyn's Trail, with additional help from Angela. A few men have reported seasickness, to which they were promptly treated by Dr. Lonstray. The past two days, weather has been the true first test of the ship's mettle, and Mr. Wagne reports no issues with hull integrity nor issues with any other part of the ship. The rough waters and stormy weather do little against steel.

Some of the scientists aboard have taken to taking readings before reaching the wastes proper in order to have a control to measure against, which will provide a foundational dataset for any sort of measurements taken further along our journey. Lieutenant Wolf has done an admirable job of keeping discipline, with the help of the other officers aboard, and seems to work well with my First Mate.

Nothing else to report.

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Chapter 1 - The Approach​

"Halt the ship!" Jones shouted in a panic, which in turn brough the ship to a halt. "Drop the anchor!"

"What's the matter Mr. Jones?" Dobbs quickly asked, shooting out of his seat while the heavy iron dropped to the waters depths below.

Mr. Jones looked through a spyglass for the third time as he observed the Dawnbreaker's surroundings for any indication of their trail, but to no avail. A look of worry had overtaken him as he set down the tool and let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm positively certain we had the correct bearing. But... Llewelyn's Trail is gone." he stated ardently, maintaining his composure as the rest of the bridge scurried to figure out what was going on. The ice by now had grown considerably on their surroundings, but gone was the warm-stream that they had been following - as if it had simply disappeared from the face of the earth - and instead was replaced with a vast empty plain of white. Dobbs himself observed and gritted his teeth in frustration.

"Gone? What do you mean-"

"I mean gone, Captain. I can't see anything that shows we're even in the right place."

"Damn it all... this must be the storm's doing." Dobbs replied, squelching the leather of his gloves. "What are our options?"

"Either we press on, and hope we don't enter Leviathan territory... or we turn around and try another bearing?"

Dobbs was quiet for a moment, before shaking his head: "I will need to think. For the meantime," he said, turning to Angela, "You're dismissed for now, young miss."

Outside on deck, Lieutenant Wolf leaned against the railing of the ship to observe the empty and cold desolation that was the very furthest reaches of the Wastes. Save for a few outcroppings of wickedly jagged rocks, the Flats seemingly went on forever in a uniform manner. He, like the others, was wrapped in heavy winter clothing and nursed a cigarette in between his lips. Smoke and hot air escaped his mouth and nose like as if he were a dragon, while others above deck kept themselves busy either by keeping watch or simply chatting. There was not too much to do while they waited their next orders, as the anchor kept them stll.

"There's a certain serenity to all this." Wolf mused aloud to no one in particular, "Surrounded by nothing but a reflective gaze of man's folly."

"Getting into poetry now are you?" Wagne responded, taking his spot next to Wolf and pulling out a cigarette of his own. "Got a light?"

Wordlessly, Wolf flicked open his lighter and allowed Wagne to set his smoke before putting it back in his coat pocket. A moment of silence passed between the two, interrupted only by nearby conversations and rabble from the other sailors and crew members aboard, before Wolf spoke up again: "Have to wonder, what are the odds we even reach the Expanse? Most expeditions don't even make it past the Flats."

"The engine's stronger than an ox for a ship her size. We can break through the ice with ease-"

"And the Leviathans?"

"Well, we'll find out in that case if we do come across one."

Wolf took another drag of his smoke before flicking it overboard, content with the answer for the time being. "I suppose we'll see." he said before spotting Boots dashing above deck, having spotted a vermin skittering about in between the ropes and cargo. "If anything, Boots will be there to give them the ol' one-two." Wagne chuckled, before taking another drag of his own smoke.

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