Fantasy The Ninth Winter

[Chordling]

Callum Moore​

Callum couldn't help but marvel at the structure of the Ophelia. She was the most impressive vessel he ever imagined to board with all things considered. Most of Callum's ship days as a merchant were well in the past now but he could still recall all of the names for decks and sides. The one major thing that the Ophelia offered which Callum could not compare to his own sailing history was the resonance powered engines. He did not care to learn much about them and he would not be afraid to admit that. The direct thought of resonance, crystals, and the Mortalis always brought a sick feeling in his stomach. Callum, however, would not disagree that the Ophelia was well made for the resources of the time. He would also not deny that it was nice to be on a boat again. It gave him that feeling of going home but in the strangest of circumstances.

Callum entered a busy section of the hallway during his stroll on the ship. He turned the corner, and without realizing it, caused someone else to fall onto the cold floor. He would not have recognized that the person even bumped into him had they remained silent. Callum lowered himself to the ground and offered his gloved hand to the stranger wrapped in winter fashion. Her eyes were green, just like his own, but they held a different, indescribable intensity.

"It's my own fault for not catching you," Callum spoke in response to the woman's apology. "I'm Callum," he introduced. "I have never known of any fairytales about me in all my years." He wouldn't consider his own life to be much of a fairytale if it were anything in the first place. "But I used to read them to put young minds to sleep. Where were you headed off to, miss?"

Life.

 

[-ferret-]

Flora Jane Turner​

Flora had been drawing an intricate and detailed sketch of a small piece of resonance from memory and collecting notes when her stomach tumbled with an intensity that would make her mother scream. When she leaned back and stretched, thinking about what it was like before the everlasting winter when she could eat pretty much whatever she wanted from the spread her mother would make, her stomach grumbled again. She supposed it was time to pack away her notes and research and make her way down to the mess hall.

She placed her notebook and drawing tools away into her pack, making sure the papers wouldn't crinkle or bend. When she stood back up she dusted herself, hoping to be as presentable as possible, wiping away eraser bits and trying to smear charcoal from her fingers. She didn't succeed but at least she'd tried. Her mother would be abhorred at her conduct, but Flora had a hard time trying to care. Here on the Ophelia, they were all one in the same, trying to survive. Trying to make it to the mainland and trying to find a way to prevent Cask from becoming a mass grave of icy dispair. Flora found it fatefully ironic that her homeland was two letters from spelling casket, but she assumed most thought the same, just attempting not to mention the coincidence.

Flora strode down the halls, her skirts swishing about her, taking in the massive ship. She caught the ice filled wasteland outside a porthole but quickly looked away. It wouldn't do well for her mental state to dwell on anything but the silver lining. Truly a lining she was finding hard to discover. She felt as if she couldn't remember a time before the winter had come. It seemed that it had lasted so long. She felt that this expedition was doomed. But she shook her head and remembered that if her father were here, he give her shoulder a gentle punch and tell her to "chin up, Flora Jane".

So she pressed onward to the mess hall. She arrived with a skip in her step and happily took a tray full of whatever they were serving. She tried to keep a smile as she realized it was the same thing she had yesterday. The same thing she has most days. Some people don't get even this much so she should shut her mouth and not complain.

Sitting down near and older man and a younger man, she tried to make conversation and make some friends.

"Hullo! M'name's Flora Jane Turner! What's yours?" She asked, holding out a charcoal covered hand to shake. She probably looked a demon with her stained hands and face, crazy hair, and wild smile. She didn't care though, she was determined to make friends.

Interactions: Anne Boolean , Shireling

 

[Shireling]

Henry Monmouth
​

Henry was about to make a comment about the potatoes to Tulio, not noticing Flora until she clattered down at the table beside him. He studied her face, dark with freckles and hazel eyes was an unusual combination. Her expressions and gesticulations expressed an air of childlike exuberance. In fact, she seemed to be positively suffused with joy. Henry had not, even before the long winter of their mutual discontent, met someone with such a zeal. It startled him. He stared at her for a moment, not in a leering, predatory fashion but in one of genuine stupefaction. Then he coughed under his breath and he resumed his typical neutral, stern aspect.

"Well, Miss Turner," he began before swigging hot water tea and continuing, "I am Constable Henry Monmouth and this is Master Tulio Elesos." He indicated Tulio with his hand.

"We are," he continued, "at this moment, attempting to muster a company of crewmen who feel they can handle a weapon."

He glanced about to see sailors returning from their last minute preparations. As the Ophelia glided out of port, they returned to the mess to finish or begin their meals, or perhaps just to play cards or talk. He saw one of the sailors, an older gentleman in a sealskin coat and flat cap, take a handrolled cigarette from a silver case and light it with a match. The smell quickly filled the air, and Henry suddenly found himself yearning for the simple pre-apocalyptic pleasure of a smoke.

Henry's gaze fell, finally, on Flora once more. "You don't look the fighting type." He stated, matter-of-factly.

Anne Boolean -ferret-

 

[Goonfire]

Marina Pope

“Alright! Take that down to engine room storage. Shelf 3, shelf 3! Tick tock!” Hardy longshoremen hauled the final crates of tools and machine parts across the deck and down the tight corridors of the Ophelia. Standing on the deck overseeing this was Marina, one of the last combat engineers on the island—in fact, one of the last engineers, period. The cruel winter ravaged bright and dim alike; it was an unfortunate and simple truth she learned firsthand.

The low growl of an animal prompted Marina to glance around. The sight made her face fall; a man was calming a handful of dogs who seemed hostile towards... ‘Oh, no...’

Warrant Officer Isla, her immediate superior, was the obvious target of the canines’ aggression. Marina quickly stepped up, her posture turning stiff. “Pope reporting, Sir,” she stated clearly, without cracking a smile. Among the squad of Royal Marines aboard this ship, Ana had the hardest personality—a real dragon lady, as some would say. There was no room for nonsense in the ensuing conversation. “I’ve been assigned to the engineering deck. Has Lieutenant Mordis issued any further orders for us, Sir?”

The One Called X Zerulu

 

[Anne Boolean]

Tulio Elesos​

Tulio's attention was easily taken away from the lackluster meal in front of him when a newcomer sat down at the table. It was somewhat surprising, as they hadn't made it at all apparent that they were recruiting for their training. The idea of trying to make friends seemed like a frivolous chore to the mechanic at this point, so it would be the last reason he would assume for someone's approach.

He turned to Henry as he introduced himself, as well as once again introducing Tulio as well. Although this wasn't a formal business meeting and he would have been comfortable enough to introduce himself, the introduction was still appreciated.

"Hello," he simply followed up. Like Henry, he also noticed the return of crew members to the mess now that duties for embarking had been complete. After he heard the man explain their goal to Flora, he suggested, "perhaps we should extend the invitation to the rest of the crew that has gathered as well."

Upon hearing the somewhat off-putting description Henry gave of Flora a small frown came onto Tulio's face. In all honestly he had to agree with Henry, but potentially dissuading people from learning wouldn't help them in the long run. "She'll have a good teacher," the man said, offering a small smile to both. "Besides, we'll need all the resistance we can get if there happens to be an attack."

Shireling -ferret-

 

[Zerulu]

Anastasia Isla
​

Her attention was snatched by a growl, a very animalistic growl, but to Anastasia's surprise it actually was an animal... how... sanitary? She wasn't too stoked about the thought of animals being aboard the Ophelia, but to be honest she wasn't stoked about a lot of things. She also didn't fully know who the owner of the dogs were, it seemed his file seemed to have skipped her desk, or maybe she just never got around to reading it, in any case she still needed to evaluate him. "Animal man," She called for Frederick, "What is the purpose of these beasts being aboard the boat?" She was quite inquisitive and direct in her wording, not beating around the bush and of course skipping formalities like introductions, she just assumed everyone knew who she was, and that she'd find out who he was later.

Just as she was scanning the man a fellow Royal Marine found her attention, she was pleased with someone finally greeting her properly, not very surprised it was a fellow Marine, "I haven't heard from the Lieutenant, though I got my own personal orders for you loyal marines." Her expression showed no signs of emotion, "First I wanna know whats the situation look like with the volunteered rabble." She was of course referring to the folk who weren't Marines, "I have reason to suspect some people may not be performing to the highest of their abilities, and thus endangering this mission with their lack of skill." Her reasons for concern were mostly sparked by the recent run in with Lucien, a man she had now marked as incompetent in her mind.

The One Called X Goonfire

 

[Life.]

Verity Wells​

"Catch me? Why, I'm glad you even noticed me. You tower at, what height? I'm presuming a quarter over 6 feet?" Over the years, Verity had learned to gauge the lengths and size of objects to near precision due to the repetitiveness of gathering precise measurements for her research. Upon hearing the man's name, the scientist attempted to recollect any information or memories she had of the individual but nothing surfaced. Then again, even having lived on Cask for five years. With three having freezing temperatures encompassing the year, most everyone was wrapped up in their garments. But even before then, Verity never placed the effort to remember names and faces, her mind constantly consumed with her studies.

"Nice to meet you, Callum. Is this what people refer to when they speak of the phrase 'running into someone'. Or does that apply as a fact after becoming acquainted with them? Aside from those thoughts, my name is Verity," the woman accepted Callum's hand to help her off the ground, "Thank you." As soon as she stood up, Verity placed a hand over the spot she landed on her rear. "That's definitely going to be bruised," she mumbled to herself before returning her attention to Callum. She wanted to retort something back to him concerning the topic of fairy tales, but she caught his diction in the past tense. Probably a subject she shouldn't step into. "Where was I headed to? Oh, the mess hall. I am in need of food. What about you? Actually, would you happen to know where the mess hall is at? I thought I knew where I was going, but now that I look around. Everything is dull, grey, or white, not exactly easy to notice any indications to where anything is at."

Chordling

 

[Chordling]

Callum Moore​

Callum held his arm out and allowed Verity to lift herself off of the floor and he let out a soft chuckle to her subtle humor. Most of the people that he stepped on preferred to curse and yell. He didn't blame them but the change of pace was pleasant. These days, jokes were rare like luxury goods. He looked down as Verity inspected her hip for injuries. The last thing they needed was a broken bone. A bruise was guaranteed but Callum did not think something like that would come close to stopping the energy of Verity's spirit.

"Oh, the mess hall, I can show you the way. It's not far from here," he replied with a smile and nodded his head in the other direction. "Come and follow me. I saw some other folks gathering themselves in there. I bet it's nice and warm." Callum realized he could use some food, too, as he spoke with Verity while they walked through the hallways of the ship. His stomach could remember when he ate last or even what was eaten. Meals looked like gray, faded shells of what they used to be but culinary presentation mattered less when rations were slim. It was nice to imagine that there would be a grand spread to recognize the special occasion on the Ophelia but in reality, the crew members did not have such luck. The dishes were ordinary. Callum grabbed a prepared plate for Verity and handed it to her before grabbing another one for himself. "What brings you to the Ophelia?" he asked before scanning the dining area for a place to sit. It looked like there was some available room by a faraway table.

Life.

 

[-ferret-]

Flora Jane Turner​

"Oh dear! I'm certainly not much of a fighter," Flora laughed. "I'm a medic, but I'm always up for learning new things!"

Flora hoped she was making a good impression. The undertaking these two men were saddling themselves with was noble in Flora's eyes. She thought it similar to something her father might do and felt excited to be apart of such a mission. She did hope she'd never have to use such skill in combat, but the realistic side of her told her that she'd likely have to at some point. No matter. At least when the time came to fight, she'd hopefully be prepared. Maybe not as prepared as she was a medic, but prepared enough.

"I suppose I'm not built much like the rest of the crew. But I'm rather fast if not in skirts. In the event of an attack though, it'd be beneficial to be able to defend myself until better help can come along," Flora said holding the bread in her hands and picking off small bits to eat at a time. Her throat was rather small so dry foods tended to get stuck.

"What do you suppose you could teach me?" She asked.

Shireling Anne Boolean

 

[Coin]

Lord Odren Voslage​

The bridge was busy with commotion as final preparations were underway with the Ophelia's crew and flag officers. Voslage found himself with his eyes on the horizon, watching the sun creep its way forth from the shadows of night. The weary and weathered captain hoped the cloudless skies ahead would serve as a boon for not only himself, but the souls of every last person aboard the ship and Cask itself. They certainly needed it.

"M'lord?" Voslage's adjutant, Kasper Wescott reported with his hands tucked into a tight and practiced salute. "All crew hailing blue, Lord-Captain. The ice breaker teams have dispersed or have come aboard. Resonance core is operating at twenty percent, as ordered. We are prepared to depart at your word."

"Very well, Kasper. Send the sails to engineering," Voslage ordered. "Raise anchor, prepare for departure."

"Aye sir, raising anchors," another officer, Roland Abbot, reported as he disengaged the safety lever and began to turn a powered crank wheel. Massive chains began to reel into the ship until the anchors broke clear of the water. Once the anchors locked into place, Roland nodded to the messenger officer.

"Dropping the sails to engineering, aye!" Natalia Fisher, the master of messages, called out from her station.

She unscrewed the top to a slim copper cylinder and rolled a blue cloth depicting three sails full of wind into the canister before securing the cap once more. There were many tubes at her station that threaded their way across the ship; all could be pressurized to send or receive message flags to the bridge. The officer opened the hatch for the engineering hatch and dropped the message canister down the tube and let gravity do the rest. Several seconds later a bell rang many decks down, signalling the arrival of a message. In mere moments following the message's delivery, the entire ship began to hum as the resonance engine roared to life.

The Ophelia began its slow lurch forward, the ship's massive propellers carved through the water and sent it through the ice broken by hammers and picks. From the shore and docks, now behind the ship, the people of Cask waved their final goodbyes. Even from the sealed-off bridge, the cheers of goodly people could be heard in muffles. Still, it was enough to raise hope among the officers.

"All stations, prepare for impact," the Captain ordered as the Ophelia approached the unbroken ice ahead. Odren braced and held his breath, praying that their ramshackle engineering would hold fast over the unforgiving blockade.

Alarm bells rang on all decks as dispersed crew held onto anything appearing stable. Prayers and ancient litanies could be heard from whispered lips across the Ophelia. They were interrupted by a tremendous crashing as the cutter-bow collided with intact ice at velocity. The front of the Ophelia lurched upwards as it ground against the ice. A fraction of a second of suspense seemed to last eternity before the ship crashed back down, shattering the ice ahead. The entire ship listed starboard, then rolled back to equilibrium as a wave crashed over its deck. There was a collective exhale.

In the next few moments, several bells could be heard from the messenger's station as status reports flooded in.

"All stations blue, Lord-captain!" Natalia reported as she resealed the last message canister. "No flooding or hull breaches reported. We're carving through the ice!"

A cheer of relief and elation sounded from the bridge. They had survived their first obstacle at sea. The captain could not hold back a grin as his crew celebrated their very minor success. Every victory mattered in the Ninth Winter.

Adjutant Wescott was the only officer on the bridge that cast his gaze in their wake, rather than on the horizon. He squinted, a look of confusion upon his visage. "Lord-captain? People are, erm, following us? I believe we are being followed, some on foot on the ice, and some upon rowboats."

Voslage followed Wescott's sight astern and surely enough spotted about a dozen folk on foot and a few small vessels rowing in the path carved by the Ophelia. The captain withdrew the monocular from his breast pocket and sighted them in. When he saw the linen-wrapped corpses that dragged behind them on sleds and rafts, he understood.

"Ah," Voslage hummed as he collapsed his monocular, turning to his adjutant. "They are burying the dead. Now that the sea is broken, the sailors can give their comrades proper at-sea burials. It seems the graves are open now, and we are their undertakers, Kasper."

The captain chuckled to himself. Perhaps, it would be the Ophelia's grave, too.

Spoiler: Tags

-ferret- , Chordling , @The One Eyed Bandit, Shireling , The One Called X , @simj22, @Gallifrog, @Tenma, Life. , @Absurdisan, Zerulu , Goonfire , Anne Boolean

 

[The One Called X]

Frederick Tamerlane​

Frederick kept from wincing when the woman addressed him, but it was a near thing. Marines. He'd had little dealings with them in the past and no particular reason to be wary of them, save the automatic suspicion of authority inherent to those who live on the edges of its purview.
His brow knit a little at her question. "Ah- they're my team." He said, then realized that perhaps he ought to elaborate. "Transport. Dogsled team." Catching the eye of the second, slightly less severe marine, he chanced a smile. "Can't very well sail the boat on land, should we hit it. It's an optimistic gesture, I suppose."
He looked out, over the sea- and, more pertinently, the activity of the icebreakers, which seemed to have greatly slowed. "Ah," he mumbled to himself, "Almost time."
He'd half-turned to leave before he remembered his manners. "Ah- Ma'am. Miss." He nodded jerkily to each in turn and fled belowdecks with the dogs. "Could've gone worse," he mumbled as they went. Spot yawned at him. He found their quarters and busied himself with securing the beasts as best he could for the tumult to come.
"Could've been worse," he repeated, when all was said and done. Witch blinked at him balefully.
Zerulu Goonfire

 

[Dethrix]

Willona Henderson​

The sudden lurch of the craft and subsequent rumblings of machinery told Willona all she needed to know of their voyage. At least in regards to its initial beginnings, they'd made history. For the first time in what felt like years, the creeping warmth of hope burned its way through her frosted veins. Down in the lower decks, cheers and excitement could be heard echoing throughout the metal chambers of the Ophelia. The various engineers and laborers who had spent tedious time warping metal, and recreating such a vessel were all overjoyed with the new promise of success. They'd ripped through the icy barricade that for so long had trapped the entirety of Cask in its draining grasp. A small grin formed on her face, as she felt relief gradually settling in her stomach.

"Finally, results." She murmured in appreciation, as the icebreaker continued to function despite the thick unyielding sheets of ice that had coated the surface of their seas for far too long. Willona could only imagine the reaction of those back at home, seeing what many had believed to be a fools errand becoming a fledgling promise of survival. It felt good, to be a part of it all. The hum of machinery and the vibrations of the whirring noises of equipment soon overtook the sounds of celebration, and Willy took that as he cue to move on. Her shift didn't start for several hours, but she'd forced herself to witness their hard work in action. Truthfully, she'd needed to see it for herself. To feel the change they were working so hard to seize. As the thoughts stampeded through her mind, tears began to well in her eyes. Would it all be in vain, or would actual success come from their collective mission?

With a grunt, she shook herself from her thoughts and turned heel from the celebrations and labor. The growl of her stomach told her that she'd need something besides mixed feelings to sustain her, and that much she already knew. It'd been too long since she'd felt such overwhelming emotions though, the destruction of their wintery apocalypse had drained her of many things, joy and fear among them. However, it was all easily cast aside as climbed up the metal rungs that connected the deeper sections of the vessel to the more habitable areas. It didn't take long for her to find her way to the Mess Hall, having to hunch over slightly as she entered the greater space through the doorway. Interestingly, she wasn't the only one who'd felt the pangs of hunger. Many of her fellow crewmates could be found dining on the gray matter they called food, but it was better than starving if nothing else. Her appearance caused a great deal of staring, but at this point in her life, Willona was used to the leering and surprised glances she got from those around her. Disregarding the attention, she grabbed a prepared plate and sat down nearby to begin eating.

 

[Togy]

Malcom Soot
​

The thick steel hatch leading to the deck of the Ophellia slowly ground open, letting in a flurry of snowflakes rushing in below decks. With a heave, Malcom lifted up the large metallic hatch far enough to allow him entry. Scrambling down the ladder, his fingers and cheeks a light blue from the biting cold, the weatherman let out a frost breath as he grabbed the hatch once more and pulled it downwards. With a thud and a click, the stream of snow ceased and Malcom's body was overtaken by warmth. Letting out a content sigh, Malcom sagged off of the ladder as he began rubbing his hands together. It felt as if he'd been up topside for hours studying the weather. The cold always became unbearable after a certain amount of time, no matter how used to it you were.

Trudging through the steel tombs that made up the hallways of the Ophellia, Malcom stained the metallic floor white as he searched for his cabin. He passed other sailors as he went, not stopping to talk to any of them. He didn't know their names and would most likely never bother too. Most of them didn't know him either, really. Despite living in Cask as long as everyone else, he was still treated as a stranger due to his frequent excursions and avoidance of any social interaction.

Shouldering open the door into cabin 9, Malcom unceremoniously threw his rucksack to the floor. He was too tired to properly store the sack, so he simply pushed it into the corner with foot as he looked around. The average living facilities like the sink were expected, as were the two beds. The fact he expected it didn't make it any less annoying however, as he despised the idea of sharing a room with someone. Groaning, Malcom through the last of his gear onto the bottom bunk. He could only hope that the two of them had different sleeping schedules.

As he left the room for the mess hall, the weather man notable didn't undress. Nowadays, they felt infinitely more comfortable in multiple layers of clothing than they did in regular dresswear.

Slipping into the mess hall, Malcom grabbed a plate of food and a cup of tea as quickly as he could before slinking into his seat to eat. Pulling his Balaclava above his mouth, he grabbed the liquid that smelled faintly of liquor and took a sip. It was the single most disgusting thing he'd ever tasted in his life. It had the viscosity of oil, was so sugary that he felt his teeth were rotting, and the filth on the floor most likely tasted better. But, because it was liquor all the same, Malcom drank every last drop.

As he grabbed the water downed tea in a hopeful attempt to wash away the foul concoction he just drank, Malcom felt the table sag slightly under the weight of a newcomer. Curious, Malcom looked to his side to see a woman twice his size sitting next to him. Malcom may have been short, but never had he felt so tiny when compared to another person. Realizing he was staring, Malcom slowly pryed his eyes away and grabbed the small slice of Rye bread in front of him.

Dethrix

 

[Life.]

Verity Wells​

"Lovely!" With a guide established, Verity placed her complete trust in the tall man to show her the way to the mess hall. What would have taken Verity an hour to find only took several minutes for Callum to lead her to. The mess hall was quite packed with strangers of varying structures and demeanors. But it was certain that all held this silent anxiousness for the trip. Even Verity herself. Her hands stayed close together as she rubbed them furiously to warm them up, continuing to stand next to her newly acquired acquaintance. Hushed voices of listless conversations could be heard from here and there, but none sounded particularly interesting to the woman.

Her giant companion passed a plate into her hands before he grabbed a serving of his own. She murmured a soft thanks and looked over towards the general direction Callum was inspecting. A few open spots were calling their names. Verity moved ahead, glancing back a couple of times to see if Callum had followed along, and snagged a spot before any newcomer could. With a spot secured and food in front of her, Verity exhaled a deep breath, "Ah, nothing like the same old food from Cask." The scientist had caught a question from her companion earlier but wondered if she should answer truthfully. Although, at some point her true intentions were going to reveal themselves on this voyage so without holding back anything, Verity answered, "What brings me to Ophelia? Simple, Resonance. I wish to study more about this energy source and how it may have affected the climate. What about you?"

Just as she finished her question, Verity felt her body leaning forward as everything around her began to shift in position. From the sounds of the engines roaring, metals screeching and ice breaking, the Ophelia was working on overcoming its first bump of the trip. The petite woman clung onto the table and the tray of food in front of her as she felt her weight nearly lifted off her seat before she, along with everything else, fell back down to their spots. "Woo, that was quite a thrill," she had a hand on her chest to calm her heart down, but then she noticed as some of the mush that was on her tray landed on her pants, "Oh, well that's great."

Chordling

 

[Dethrix]

Willona Henderson​

She ate callously, without much care for manners or pleasantry. The tasteless contents she swallowed went down easily and quickly disappeared from her plate as her utensils swept about its surface. While she didn’t display necessarily savage or barbarian behavior, it also wasn’t something necessarily enjoyable to watch. Willona was raised not to question what was put in front of her, and the same principles applied here. As long as her stomach was filled, the food did its job. Truthfully, between living on the streets and the drought of viable sustenance that came with the Winter, it was nice to have scheduled and reliable meals. In a matter of minutes, with numerous scrapes of her fork and knife, everything had vanished from the tray with the exception of the bread chunk she’d saved for last.

While she eyed the last morsel on her plate, Willy grabbed for the small mug of tea that had come alongside her dish and gulped down its eternity in mere moments. A sigh of refreshment spewed forth from her mouth as she clattered the cup back down onto the table, laughing slightly as she did so. Unbothered, Willona turned her attention to the man she’d hunkered down next too as she grabbed the hunk of rye left sitting on her plate.

“I wasn’t aware bedrolls were growin’ legs on this ship.” She jabbed with a tone vibrating with snarky goodwill, only barely holding back the amusement that lit her eyes. A coy grin tugged at the edges of her mouth as she finished her remark, only further adding to the sudden quip she’d lobbed his way. Within the Union, this was common after a period of such strenuous but heartfelt work on a project. The Ophelia’s voyage was no different, at least overall. They’re accomplishment of cracking the ice showed that the strain that’d been put into harvesting and repurposing the skeletons of other vessels had paid off. Or rather, it had for now. Regardless, her contemplative mood had broken in favor of reserved excitement.

“Might have ta’ call the captain on that, can’t have equipment runnin’ around freely.” Willona teased further, while she grabbed and dipped the torn pieces of her bread into the murky depths of her alcohol. Although strange, she’d learned as a child that weighting wheat with whiskey gave both a greater presence in a diet. Simply put, the bread lessened the oversaturated taste of the booze while the drink itself caused the grain to expand like a sponge. For those trying to stretch a meal, it came as a handy trick, and with Willy’s eating habits she’d learned a multitude of strategies for that exact purpose.

Steadily, without missing a beat, she drenched and ate every last piece. Afterwards, she proceeded to swallow down the small remainder of swill in her cup as if it were no different than the tea she’d drained. As she did so, her eyes flicked once more to the tightly wrapped figure beside her. Truthfully, the two of them seemed to be polar opposites of the other. While the most obvious features revolved around their respective genders and size, ultimately it came down to more than that. Even in terms of fashion, Willona wore a light assortment of furs and cloths due to the heat that was generated down in the lower decks with the machinery. So much so that her forearms were nearly always exposed while within the icebreaker, and darkened from working with such high-intensity materials. He seemed hidden in his bundle of coverings, while she was undoubtedly far more exposed and prominent.

It provoked interest if nothing else, likely being part of the initial reason she’d chosen to speak in the first place besides her own personal joy over the beginnings of their journey. Of course, the potential consequences of their ice shattering quest hadn’t been lost on her. Everything was at stake, and even if they made it to the Belarian mainland there wasn’t any guarantee they’d discover enough to travel back to Cask. But, that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the small accomplishments they made on the way. After all, she’d done this to spare someone else the possibility of early death, there was no reason to dwell on her own.

Togy

 

[Togy]

Malcom Soot​

Frowning slightly, Malcom tore off a chunk of his bread and swallowed instantly. He felt as if he had to spring to the defense of his attire. Quickly gulping down his tea, Malcom slammed the cup down onto his plate and swiveled to face the woman that towered over him just by sitting next to him. Physically craning his head backwards in order to look up towards their face, Malcom let snow fall off his shoulders as he set down his food. "Well, miss, You may not be aware of this particular fact, which you may not be because it may not actually be common knowledge, but outside, in the arctic wasteland surrounding us, it's actually rather damn cold" Malcom replied casually, his faint posh accent being difficult to spot under his tone of voice. The audible howling of the wind coming from above the mess hall only helped accentuate his sarcasm.

Picking up the fish patty on his plate, Malcom tore the small food item in half with his teeth. "When you stay outside in aforementioned rather-cold weather for extended periods of time, two options become apparent, really. One, Dress in as many furs as physically possible to the point where you begin walking out the door dressed as your bed, or two, you become a wonderfully shaped ice sculpture" Malcom quickly rambled on as he swallowed his food at the same time. While the launch of the Ophellia did slightly raise his spirits as it did for many others, the experience of sitting on the ship's prow for hours writing down measurements while trying to stop the wind from blowing his papers away had also successfully mitigated most of his joy.

"And besides" Malcom said, sagging into his seat as he reached for another slice of Rye bread, "The captain is well aware of my sentience. They ensure that I'm never stored in the bunks again while I record the weather in exchange". With his final words uttered, the walking bundle of furs turned back to eating.
Dethrix

 

[Dethrix]

Willona Henderson​

“By Frost! Not only can ya’ speak, but ya’ve got some sass!” Willy roared with laughter, her boisterous tone only elevating the robust nature of her voice. In her exuberance, she slammed a fist down onto the table, unintentionally causing the nearby plates and cups to clatter about recklessly. The slight forms of a grin that had previously presented themselves now constructed a fully-fledged smirk that exuded a dangerously spirited joy. If nothing else, Willona only seemed to have been egged on further by the well-wrapped man’s defensive attitude. Even her eyebrows had raised at his retort, while her gaze seemed to have now fixated on every aspect of his attire. From top to bottom, she scanned his garments in their entirety with cruel preparation.

“Ya’ mean to tell me that a wee’ sleep sack such as yourself, was given free rein ta’ go freeze ya’re buttocks off while lookin’ at snow?” She further antagonized with mirth oozing forth with each and every word spoken. Willy went as far as to frame the question as though somehow she was truly puzzled, although the obvious teasing nature of the circumstance blew the ruse hilariously out of any realm of believability. She seemed set on making his serious and sunken demeanor the butt of her jokes, for no greater reason than his passive-aggressive annoyance.

“It’s a shame really. All the hard workin’ members of this crew could really use some extra furs on their beds, but instead, the captain has seen fit ta’ let ya’… What was it? Ah yes, record the weather.” Willona snickered as she continued to press gratingly against his nerves.

“Tell me, bundle of clothing, will there still be horrible cold and ice tonight? Or was our long winter magically ended mere moments ago?” She finished, now digging against his so proudly declared role on the Ophelia. Of course, Willy wasn’t dull enough to think weather surveillance didn’t have a proper purpose. Even in the midst of a continuous snowstorm, alerts of harder conditions could make the difference between life and death. Furthermore, understanding the hectic wind formations such disastrous tempests could take could offer their ship an opportunity to move alongside the maelstrom to their destination instead of fighting against such forces and exhausting their supply of resonance.

While she seemed aloof and almost predatory in her insinuations, Willona recognized the importance of such an individual held. Of course, that didn’t change a thing about the amount of shit she was going to give him, it was simply too easy. What she intellectually understood, and what she heedlessly spouted to get a rise out of him were entirely separate matters. Similarly, the poor man had even tried defending himself, and his mountainous amount of protective garb. An aspect that her sadistic humor simply ate up, and only fed her to crudely critique him further with mocking condescendence.

Togy

 

[Goonfire]

Marina Pope

Marina listened while maintaining her stone posture. Before continuing the conversation, she pointedly glanced at the dog-sledder. While she harbored no ill will towards the man, it was key to act tough and serious for outward appearances. Once Frederick and his animals filtered downstairs, she repeated back the orders in her own words: "Yes, sir. You wish me to assess the competency of the volunteers, especially those in the Labor Union." Since the Labor Union made up a large portion of the volunteers, she knew the reasoning behind her superior's orders. "Will that be all, sir?"

With the clock winding down, Marina seriously hoped that was all. She also needed to be in the engine room, as one of the key players in this. The longshoremen had vacated the ship, the preparations complete. It wasn't a moment too soon, as the captain had ordered the anchors raised. Marina braced for impact, the rumbling of the icebreaker bow striking ice causing her to grit her teeth with concern. Then, cheering resounded from several posts aboard the Ophelia. The engineer breathed the slightest sigh of relief; her and others' hard work had finally paid off.

The One Called X Zerulu

 

[Chordling]

Callum Moore​

Callum followed Verity to the open spaces in the dining hall and sat across from her. Suddenly, the frame of the ship rattled and quaked beneath them as it broke through the initial barrier of ice. Callum grabbed onto the nearest edges of the table to secure himself during the brief moment of chaos. His plate of food and warm drink danced across the surface of the table and every inch of movement raised uncertain anxiety within Callum's gut. Fortune would have it that his plate would remain intact but it seemed that Verity did not get to meet the same fate. Darn it, he thought. I left my cloth back in my bag. He would have offered it to the poor woman had he been prepared for the moment.

"Ah, a Resonance researcher," Callum concluded once the ship had settled. "I myself am no scientist. My reason for boarding the Ophelia is much different than yours. It is far simpler. I wish to see the end of all Resonance and mortalis." He turned his gaze to look at Verity for any signs of a reaction as he took a bite of his scarce meal. It tasted bland and yet he still wanted to wash it away with the warm, flavor diluted water. People chastised him for his views of Resonance and related topics before. It wouldn't surprise him at all if Verity scoffed at his words, especially since she was a scientist.

Life.

 

[Togy]

Malcom Soot​

Giving a small harumph in reply, the diminutive man threw down his Rye bread as he pivoted on the spot to look back to the woman. It was less the comments that irritated him and more so the insistence of dragging him into a conversation. He'd been hoping against all hope that by keeping his head down he wouldn't have to deal with anyone for the entire voyage. He'd planned on having his days consists entirely of work, eating, and sleeping, but the behemoth next to him had already dashed those hopes. Eyeing the giantess indifferently, Malcom pondered what they even wanted from him. They couldn't be idiotic enough not to realize the use of weather forecasting. Muscle headed idiots existed, sure, but only rarely nowadays. Idiots didn't survive 3 years into an ice age, after all.

"Well, I already said it, didn't I? It's rather fucking cold. It's nigh 20 below with wind speeds up to 23 miles an hour and the air humidity is dangerously high. Exposed skin will freeze in a little over 5 minutes. It's already horribly cold. As for the ice? Give it three days, we should have light hail. Wait," Malcom stated before taking on a thoughtful expression under his face wear. Furrowing his brows, he reached into the side pocket of his trousers for a small leather journal barely larger than his hand. In his rucksack laying on the floor of cabin 9, he had dozens of tiny books just like it, chronicling every weather event to hit Cask over the last 3 years. Quickly flipping through his hand held journal, Malcom stopped on a page momentarily before snapping it shut. "Right, yes, hail in 2 days" Malcom confirmed with a nod as he pocketed the booklet.

"And what is your job, exactly? If the ship breaks down cleaving through the ice, do you get out and push?" Malcom drawled, raising an unseen eyebrow underneath his Balaclava. He figured he had it one. Every endeavor needed muscle, and the woman before him looked the part.

Dethrix

 

[Destin]

Gareth Ashfall​

Gareth was in his living quarters as he felt the ship lurch forward, pulling away from the docks. He murmured a silent prayer of thanks as he felt the ship pause and then continue on its momentum, the sound of ice cracking reverberating through the ship's lower quarters. He took a deep breath and stood up. They were on their way -- away from Cask. He thought he would feel a sense of relief, but he didn't so far.

He didn't regret not being on the upper deck to wave goodbye. He and Karl and Ava had said their goodbyes this morning. It would have been harder on all of them to say goodbye twice, so he had wished his surviving siblings the best of luck this morning as he had left their small home and reinforced his promise to return. Karl had been sullen but Ava was as cheerful as ever. Gareth planned to try to hold on to her optimism as long as possible.

He was making his way to the mess hall when a thought struck him. He had expected to recognize at least a few people from Cask, having lived there his whole life. But somehow, not a single soul was familiar to him. He'd been anticipating feeling a sense of independence since he was no longer responsible for taking care of his family, but as other crew members rushed past him, he fought down feelings of loneliness. He shook his head to try to clear his thoughts. That wouldn't do on the first ten minutes of the voyage.

He arrived at the mess hall, which was fuller than he was expecting. The prepared meals didn't look the most appetizing, but they were certainly better than some of the meals he had prepared Karl and Ava over the last three years. He would take it over starvation any day of the week.

Gareth surveyed the mess hall, looking for a place to sit. If he was going to be on this vessel for the foreseeable future, it would be good for him to start to get to know his fellow crewmates. He saw a few tables with smaller numbers of people, which he reasoned would be easier to join. He walked over to one table with a red-haired bearded man and a woman with graying hair. They seemed to be deep in conversation but (hopefully) friendly enough to let him join.

"Sorry for interrupting," he said. "Would you mind if I joined you?"

Chordling Life.

 

[Life.]

Verity Wells​

The dull appearing lump of substance that landed on Verity's clothing felt wet and slimy as she scooped up most of the content. She held her breath as she did so in order to not gag. While she has seen more grotesque and foreign objects during her times of studies, the idea that consumption of the weird sustenance bothered her. With a small squeal, Verity placed the food on an empty spot of the tray. Her companion, on the other hand, managed to retain all his contents to his tray. But the more she stared at the food, the more her hunger began to dwindle. Despite living alone in her own quarters on Cask, Verity always managed to snag some appealing choices of food from colleagues. Now that she was on the Ophelia, her options have been limited to what is on, or maybe even around, the ship. Even if the food on her tray looked unappetizing, Verity understood she needed some sort of sustenance in her system. For a moment, her attention had been so involved with the internal struggle to force herself to eat that she forgot about her company until she heard his voice.

Her eyes had remained on the food while she listened to Callum's answer. Verity's posture stiffened and her eyes widened before they shot up to face the large man. For a minute, her pale, green eyes stared the man down. She dared not blink for it would confirm that what has been said was a part of reality. The scientist was aware that to everything, everyone had different stances on it. However, for Resonance she would ignore or move around to avoid hearing the dissension towards the topic. But, right now, she has heard it first-hand. A baffled smile appeared on her face then as she forced a chuckle, "Why, you seem to not understand-"

The growing, fiery light in Verity's eyes fizzled when she felt the slight increase of temperature in the air. This meant a new presence has entered their bubble. Verity's eyes snapped over to the newcomer as she tightened her lips into a polite smile. She wrapped her hands on both sides of the tray and gave it a squeeze. Her momentum had been interrupted and she did not know if gratitude or discontent should be felt. The scientist cleared her throat, "Why, I was just about to leave." Verity shot up from her seat and glanced over to Callum, "Callum." Only his name left her lips before she walked off, threw her tray--still full of food--away, and stormed out of the mess hall.

Chordling
Destin

 

[local cryptid]

Seren Cypress​

The ship's crew was a little more humble than he had been anticipating. It was a relief to recognize that he was no longer immediate danger, however at he same time he wondered if his services would have been more useful elsewhere. He didn't need to slip into the shadows to realize most of the people here had straightforward reasons for taking the risk and setting sail. Most of them, he would argue, were even good people. It would be a breath of fresh air if he could trust such simplicity, but he knew better than to expect the best.

Being the only one aligned with Creed of the Fox, he suspected that he would be considered an odd one among the Ophelia. The fineness of the black fur lined coat that he wore, the cleanliness and unblemished texture of his fair skin and hair suggested he came from a wealthy background, and had lived in relative luxury up until recently. His eyes shined blue with recently discharged resonance, giving a striking contrast against his dark hair, and heavy circles under his eyes. He ran his thumb over the side of the ring on his pointer finger, hidden by the fine leather gloves he wore as he stared out absently at the people who followed after the ship to put their dead to rest in the breach of the ice. A quiet, sickly guilt and worry settled in the caverns of his chest. It was just the motion of the ship that made him nauseous, he reasoned.

Feeling a set of eyes on him, he looked to the deck above and offered a practiced smile to the set of crew members who were looking at him, likely pondering his purpose for being here. The two of them turned quietly and disappeared, and so did he. There was no need to unnecessarily expose himself to the cold.

The halls were a bit quieter than he had left them. He stopped in the intersection between two halls to make a couple notes in a moleskin journal with a chunk of protected charcoal, and heard the distant chatter of the missing people. He stared off towards the sounds as he tucked his journal back within the inside pocket of his jacket, slightly jostling the layers of his tunic beneath as he did so. That was right, he remembered, this was a normal time for most people to eat. He moved towards the mess hall, as he had found much earlier that day. Passively he calculated the number of people there, what the mood was according to their tones, the food being served... he looked forward to none of it.

He stepped inside the mess hall and took a quick look around, recognizing many of the faces from his earlier observations. He even offered a light smile to those who took a second too long to look at him. He took his hood down and slowed his pace to a more casual walk, and peeled his gloves off his pale hands as he moved to collect his food. He looked at Verity, naturally drawn to her heightened emotions, and looked to where the possible source of upset was with a fleeting intrigue. He naturally veered to the side as he walked to give her more than enough room to move past him.

Life.

 

[Chordling]

Callum Moore​

Right then. A misunderstanding was all it was. Nothing more could be said about it. Callum let out a calm sigh and he watched as Verity's small figure became concealed by the mass of strangers. He kept a relatively plain expression and he stared down at the plate of food. The nature of Verity's reaction was much calmer than others. Callum supposed it was the least he could ask for. Suddenly, someone new seemed to arrive just as quickly as Verity had departed. Callum turned his head to see who it might be, and this time, he was face to face with a young man.

"Come, sit down," Callum spoke. "There was never anything to interrupt." He took another sip from his warm drink and swallowed a healthy bite from his plate of slop. "My name is Callum, in case the woman's attitude was any less of an introduction for you. What do you call yourself, lad? You look like you have had a fair share of time on a ship before," Callum observed from the way the young man walked.

Destin

 

[Coin]

The Ophelia, under the careful guidance of her captain and crew, carved through the ice sheets that once taunted the courageous to cross the treacherous bridge to the mainland. The Ophelia was a declaration that mankind had no intention to play by the rules, especially not with such unfavorable odds. It would be a turbulent journey at just faster than a crawl's pace, but even so, the Isle of Cask would soon disappear under the horizon behind the icebreaker. As true dawnlight filled the sky, the dizzying sight of ice on all fronts except astern where only sundered ice and wake remained.

Beneath decks, existential solitude was far removed from the minds of those cozy in the din of the ship's mess hall. It was easy to forget dread and drear with a belly full of hot fish porridge and staling bread, at least for most.

"Doesn't it bother you?" A young man of the Union by the name of Theodore, broke the silence at the table he shared with one other. His gaze was cast out of the porthole window, far into the frozen abyss.

"That you aren't eating?" His tablemate, a woman a few years his senior in a proper marine's uniform responded in jest. She was Corporal Hunter of the Artelok clique's royal marines, a woman of unsmiling humor. "Yes, it does bother me that you are wasting precious cargo so early into our voyage. It would bother anyone that put a single drop of sweat into putting food on your plate."

The two were opposites, one a welder, and one a soldier, but their companionship as two loners was well known even on Cask. They were terribly awkward around others, and only slightly less so around each other. Even so, they were seemingly inseparable.

Hunter reached across the table and plucked the slice of bread from Theodore's tray, helping herself to his meal. Theodore glanced at her, but did not react. He was used to it. "No, I mean, Nora's story from earlier. She said that there was no one left along the coast. Doesn't it bother you that we might be the last people left on Belar?"

The soldier snorted in midst of a bite, bread crumbs falling into her empty bowl, "Forgive me for being bleak, Theo, but who cares? You told me yourself that you didn't care if your kin survived the Long Winter."

"But what about everyone else?"

"What about everyone else? Hunter furrowed her brow. She ran her calloused fingers through her greasy auburn hair. Military precision had long disappeared from her appearance. "Why are you worried about people you've never met? For all you know, they all could have been terrible people."

Hunter knew they were all terrible people, she just didn't want to say it to Theo's face.

Theo was silent for a moment, contemplative and lost in his words. Just as he breathed in to respond, the porthole window beside him exploded into a shower of broken glass. A pale grey forelimb reached through the broken portal and skimmed the surface of the laborer's cheek with a harry of vicious claws. Theo dove for the floor, clutching his bleeding cheek and scrambling away as quickly as he could. His yelps of pain and surprise were almost lost in the chaos and rushing icy winds that flooded in.

On the other side of the porthole, a man-sized biped clung to the hull with one limb. The entirety of its form was covered in the same grey-ish wrinkled weather. Its bulbous head twitched from side to side, as if studying the panic within like a curious mutt. Many dark, beady, unblinking eyes fluttered back and forth before it opened its gaping maw, revealing several rows of flat macerating teeth. It let out a terrible clicking screech as it attempted to jam its body through the porthole.

The Mortalis already had the scent of the Ophelia's resonance engine.

Hunter flew into action on reflex alone. She darted up from her seat and immediately went for the pistol at her breast holster. Narrowly evading another raking slash from the monster, she stepped within its reach and grabbed onto its forelimb and pulled it closer to the window. It was surprisingly strong for its size, but Hunter managed to get close enough to press the cold barrel of her pistol to one of its eyes and pulled the trigger.

"Fucking die," The hammer of the pistol slammed down, igniting the gunpowder and sending a plume of fire and a lead bullet through the skull of the creature with a sickening crack.

But it did not yield. Grey flesh, ruptured eyes, and a shattered skull made its head look like a burst exotic fruit, but the trauma did not even earn a flinch from it. Hunter's eyes widened as its pulled its forelimb free of her grasp and backhanded her across the torso with enough force to send her skidding across the deck of the mess hall. She was unmoving as her smoking pistol clattered onto the floor.

The drone, now unimpeded, began to bend the metal of the porthole back like a fish tin.

Spoiler: Tags

-ferret- , Chordling , @The One Eyed Bandit, The One Called X , @simj22, @Gallifrog, @Tenma, Life. , @Absurdisan, Zerulu , Goonfire , Anne Boolean , local cryptid , Destin , Togy , Dethrix